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#like the women quizzes are at the same time way more difficult because there are too many good options and almost all of the women on the
ronanlynchbf · 3 years
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so we’re doing this again, huh?
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#hello and welcome this week on another episode of questioning my sexuality: am i actually attracted to men or am i convincing myself i am#because however awful it sounds if i'm bi there's still a chance i end up with a man meaning there is still a chance of not disappointing#my parents while if i'm a lesbian the option of not disappointing my parents is completely out the window#like. is it my parents' expectations and heteronormative standards that are making me convince myself i'm actually attracted to men?#because at this point i really don't know anymore#all those uquizzes where you have to pick a man i always pick the ones that look the prettiest but does that mean i pick the ones that i am#attracted to or does that mean i pick the ones i think are pretty but am not attracted to because i am not attracted to men#like the women quizzes are at the same time way more difficult because there are too many good options and almost all of the women on the#quiz are soooooooo attractive so it's hard to pick and then at the same time it's easier bc i am actually attracted to women and it's very#easy to pick one out of the 3-5 options while with men it's always harder. and not like in a / there are too many good options \ way but a#/ i don't know which one to pick \ way like genuinely a lot of the time i am literally just. not attracted to the men on the quiz but idk#if that's just me being particular and picky or if i'm just not attracted to men#then again i do think like. dev patel and manish dayal and jungkook and steven yeun and zayn are attractive. but like. is that me thinking#they are attractive or is it me being attracted to them like i never know which one it is#my attraction toward women feels different from my attraction toward men and i don't know what to make of that#i KNOW i'm attracted to women like that's crystal clear to me now but i'm SO doubtful about being attracted to men#like i think i'm attracted to men? but i'm really not sure???#anyway. i'll figure it out eventually i have the rest of my life to. just want to stop constantly doubting myself 😔#🔮.txt
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donutloverxo · 4 years
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No more waiting
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Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!
Note - Part two to Pink Lady.
Dividers by @whimsicalrogers
Summary - Andy is determined to wait. But will he be able to?
Warnings - 18+ only smut (m/f), professor/student relationship, unprotected sex, dom Andy, many mentions of spanking but no actual spanking, sir kink.
Pairing - Andy Barber x reader
Word count - 3320
Masterlist is linked in the bio!
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You groaned as you tossed out yet another piece of clothing. Professor Barber had asked you to come to his house, so he could give you ‘private lessons’. Obviously, you had no interest in actually studying. Especially with a man who looks like Andy Barber. You intended on milking the time you did have with him by getting what you wanted.
You settled on a tight skirt that hadn’t fit you in years. It was sexy enough to be enticing but innocent enough that you could claim plausible deniability.
You are not trying to tease him. You would never! You’re just wearing a normal skirt and taking lessons like the diligent and sincere student that you are.
You whistled lowly, pulling over in front of his house, impressed by the sheer size of it. He was an actual adult with a big, sophisticated house in the suburbs. The most valuable thing you owned was a Louis Vuitton bag an ex gave you.
You couldn’t be intimidated. Not now, when you were in this deep. Checking your lipstick one last time you rang the bell, holding your books up and eagerly waiting.
After a minute he opened the door. Leaning over the frame and examining you.
You felt butterflies pool in your stomach at his casual loungewear. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tones arms to you and those dark jeans hugging him so perfectly. You really couldn’t decide if you preferred this or those business suits.
“You’re late.” he scolded you as you rolled your eyes. Of course that’s the first thing he'd say to you. “What have I said about rolling your eyes at me?” he cocked his head to the side, as if daring you to provoke him.
You hummed in thought, “I don’t remember.... Oh yes!” you beamed as if you’d had an epiphany “to do it as often as I can!”
He stared you down for a moment before shaking his head as he chuckled. “Get in here. What am I going to do with you?”
You were about to be a smartass some more, cooking up a dirty response in your head, just to see how far you could push him but then he put his hand on your lower back. You felt shivers run up your spine, goose bumps all over your skin as you squirmed under his touch.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, shutting the door behind you.
You gulped as you nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I’m just here to study.” You laughed to ease your own nerves.
“Go sit on the table,” he instructed.
You pulled out a chair, placing your books on the dining table. He sat in front of you, nursing a beer. “Let’s start. Where do you struggle the most?”
“Can I have one too?” You were about to take the bottle from him to take but he swatted your hands away.
“Absolutely not. You need a clear head to study. And we both know you can’t handle your alcohol.”
You scoffed incredulously, “I can so! And if I can’t have it then neither should you.” you puffed your cheeks before mumbling “beer tastes gross anyway.”
“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s not forget, I’m doing you a favor here.”
“I know, maybe I could thank you for it.” you licked your lips. Thinking of his heavy cock in your mouth, the biggest you’ve ever had, it was a challenge to deep throat him. You weren’t one to just give it away for free and not expect anything in return. But... anything for professor Barber.
“That’s cute,” he said condescendingly, giving you a fake wide smile. “Now start studying or I’ll have to spank you,” he warned.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you giggled shamelessly, not really understanding how that would be a punishment, but then opened your book when he gave you a stern look.
He got up and walked to the stove check on his sauce. He just needed to get away from you for a moment and take a breather.
He hasn’t thought this through.
His original plan was to tutor you and get your grades up. So that you could graduate and he could ask you out without endangering his job and reputation. He intended to keep his hands to himself till then. One slip up and you both would have to face grave consequences.
The blow job in his office - was a mistake. Although it was too good to be something he mourned or regretted. He should’ve said no but you knew just to push his buttons. Just like the ridiculous schoolgirl skirt you were wearing tonight. Or how your tight shirt and cleavage left nothing to his imagination.
Worse of all was that fucking red lip. He hated that you had tasted him and he couldn’t even kiss you. What he wouldn’t give for just a quick peck.
“Mr Barber,” he heard you call for him and groaned as his cock stirred at your chirpy tone. He loathed just how far gone he was for you. You, sitting up so sweetly with your breasts pushed up together, certainly don’t make it any easier.
“I’m all done. Can we get on to the fun part now? Pretty please?” you cooed batting your lashes at him.
“The fun part is studying - keep telling yourself that and you might actually like it.” he suggested and you rolled your eyes again. He had half a mind to bend you over the table, lift up your skirt and pull down your panties, even though he was pretty sure you weren’t wearing any, and teach you a lesson. “Careful. Or they’ll get stuck up there.” He tapped your forehead with his finger.
“I meant the actual fun part.” Boldly, you reached over and palmed his crotch through his jeans. Not really surprised to find him aroused.
“Stop,” he gritted as he grabbed at your wrist with a bruising grip. “I told you, we’re not doing that. Not till you graduate or I’ll lose my job.”
“What about what we did in your office?” you pouted.
“That was a mistake. You left me no choice.”
You frowned, “Right. I overpowered you because you’re so weak and helpless.”
“Enough. Now study and then we can have dinner.”
“And then we have dessert?” You wiggled your brows suggestively.
“No. Then you drive back to your dorm.” he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes and sat across you, working on his cases. Maybe that would inspire you to actually get some studying done.
“Do you not like law?” he asked after over an hour.
You hummed as you heard him. Too engrossed in studying, you didn’t even register his words. You didn’t remember the last time you had concentrated so well. “Meh. It’s alright I guess. I wouldn’t wanna go to law school though.”
“Then what do you want to do?” he dropped his pen leaning back on the chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“I don’t know. I guess what you do sounds nice,” you mumbled making notes with your glitter pens.
“Being a DA?”
“Yeah. It just sounds so hard though. Like going to law school and then being an intern for years and then working for like eighty hours a week...”
“Anything worth having is always hard to achieve.” he stated. Aware of how the same applies to his situation. He wants, no needs you, but if he wants to do this the right way - he has to wait.
“I guess you’re right.” you agreed.
After going over your notes and quizzing you, he was satisfied with your progress. He set the table for dinner.
“Good job,” he smiled, feeling his heart swell with pride. “See, you put your mind to something and you can absolutely achieve it.”
You squinted your eyes, “No spanking then?”
He chuckled “Nope. Not for now. I’m your tutor, that’s all.” he said more so to himself, to remember, to have some self control, it will pay off.
“Oh my gosh!” you moaned as the creamy tangy sauce burst your taste buds “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t ramen.”
He shook his head “You need to eat better to study better.”
“But I don’t know how to cook!” you whined.
“Then I guess I’ll have you teach you that too.”
He helped you pack your things up, moving as slow as a sloth. Not wanting you to leave just yet. He couldn’t have enough of you. Maybe he’d ask you to stay in the guestroom. He had a perfectly good excuse, it was late. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep his hands off of you.
“Goodbye then. I’m going to quiz you tomorrow. Don’t forget.” he said walking you to his door. He turned to see you blinking up at him.
He never thought he’d be so smitten with someone so different than him. All his life he dated women his age or older. They suited his old soul much better, none of his relationships really went anywhere, maybe he was too cautious to actually let someone in. To open up enough, to reveal his true self to anyone.
But you were unlike anyone he had ever met, it was as if you were exotic. So bright - almost blinding. So young and sweet. You made him feel things he never thought he could. You could be the proverbial ying to his yang.
“Yeah yeah, I remember,” you waved him off. Still salty that you didn’t get to do any of the naughty stuff you had planned. “Is there something on my face?” You touched your cheek when you caught him staring at you. Letting out a shaky breath and cowering under his predatory gaze.
“I’ll try harder next time!” you panicked, assuming you did a bad job at studying. You tried your best. What else were you supposed to do? The idea of a spanking sounded more scary than sexy to you now.
“Fuck it,” he gritted as he crashed his lips over yours, grabbing your waist and your hip to still you. He invaded your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to explore all your nooks. Sucking your bottom lip between his lips before releasing it with a smack he pulled away. Both of you heaving and trying to catch your breath.
You threw your arms around his neck, pressing hot and quick kisses “I thought we were going to wait,” you said against his lips.
“I can’t. I thought I could. I’m only a man, you know?” he sighed as he pulled you in, exploring your body with his hands “What do you want to do?” As impatient as he was, he would never force himself on you or do anything without your permission.
“I just... I - ” Your cheeks instantly heat up as you stutter. As naughty as your filthy mind was, it had to choose this moment to betray you. “You know, you know! Oh my god,” you smacked your forehead “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down to suck your earlobe “say it.” He peppered butterfly kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Sucking thoroughly on a spot that made you moan.
“Fine!” you huffed. Feeling his fingers ghost over your inner thighs. “Professor – sir, will you please fuck me. As in put your man missile in my special princess place.” you said in a mock seductive tone.
“Don’t sass me.” he groaned, pushing his erection into you, he put his hands on your shoulders to turn you around, lightly smacking your butt he urged you to go upstairs. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all night.” You did have all night but his patience, as it often did with you, was running thin.
You made yourself comfortable on his bed, working on his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’ve never been this addicted to a cock before, professor,” you husked pulling him out of his underwear and licking a firm stripe up his slit, his hand holding onto your head. “I hope you know you’re special.” you beamed at him through hooded eyes. Wrapping your lips around his weeping tip, about to swallow him whole but he pushes your head away.
“Right back at ya, honey. Now,” he laid down on his back beside you as you stared at him, so adorably confused, “come sit on my face.”
“What?!” you unintentionally screamed -in delightful horror. It had always been a fantasy of yours, so downright dirty, and you have a chance to do it with your dream man? You would be a fool to turn him down, but you were anxious, that beard between your thighs would be a bit too much for you to handle.
He didn’t give you any time to think about it, grabbing your hips and swiftly placing you on top of his head, “Oh!” you yelped at the coarse feel of his whiskers against your pussy. You held onto his short silky locks for support as he worked on steadying you “That’s - ” you were cut off when he wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking it harshly.
“You’re already so wet,” The vibrations from his words sent a jolt up your spine “And you’re not wearing any panties,” he tutted before diving back in, determined to not stop until you’re seeing stars.
“Are you really surprised - holy shit,” you gasped as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance before slipping in. It was so strange and new, the velvety warm feel of it was almost too good. “Oh, I’m gonna come.” you whimpered.
“No,” he pulled away “you don’t come without permission. Is that understood?”
You frantically nod your head, under any other circumstances you would’ve argued, who the hell does he think he is to deny or control your orgasms? But you were putty in his hands and desperate to have that sweet release. “Please, sir, can I come?”
“May I come.” He corrected you “You need to learn some manners.”.
And you had to supress the urge to call him names, “May I come, sir? Please.” you said breathlessly as he lapped you up.
“Yes, you may.”
You sobbed, his fingers digging into your ass and his tongue working magic on you was too good all at once. A string of curses and loud moans left your mouth, your climax hitting you in waves of pleasure, you held onto the headboard as your legs turned into jello.
“That was amazing,” you panted, mewling as he nipped at your sensitive flesh.
You got off of him, kneeling beside him as he got up, his beard drenched in your juices which he rubbed off with the back of his hand. Placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, to make you taste your own arousal, he pushed you down on his mattress and worked on ridding you of your clothes.
You pulled the helm of his shirt up “Off!” you whined. He was too far gone to chastise you so he took off his clothes, throwing them away before he got a good look at you.
He groaned at your naked form. He had thought of you while pleasuring himself more than once. He wouldn’t even be bothered to be ashamed of it. He thought of your lips and small hands wrapped around his girth, how tight and hot your cunt would feel, but most of all how beautiful you’d look when you were completely bare.
He painted a pretty picture in his head, but really, he never could do you any justice. His imagination could never be that strong.
“Is something wrong?” you bashfully averted your eyes from him.
“No. You’re just so... perfect.” he couldn’t come up with a better word.
You scoffed, “You’re just saying that. There are a million things I’d change about myself. I’m not the one who’s perfect!” you frowned. Tempted to touch his defined abs. His broad shoulders and bulky form looked ridiculously big between your legs.
“I don’t have time to argue,” He absolutely would not have you or anyone else, putting you down. Bur right now, his cock was aching to be buried in your heat. If he waited any longer he was afraid he’d burst. He lined his cock up to your entrance, watching intently as he slowly pushed in “but we will have a discussion about that, later.” he groaned as he bottomed out.
“What?” You had no idea what he was even going on about. His cock was stretching you out “It’s too big,” you cried. You felt as if you were being split in half.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can handle it. I’ll be gentle.” He was aware that he was much bigger than average. So he stayed inside you for a few moments, letting you get accustomed to his length. He slipped a hand between your joined bodies, spreading your lips open with his fingers.
“Don’t - don’t do that.” Him looking at your pussy like that, when you were so vulnerable before him made you flustered.
“Look,” he told you and you only shook your head. He sternly said your name and ordered you to look again.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, gulping as you sneaked a peek, whimpering at the sight of his girth buried inside you.
“You have such a pretty pussy you know that?” He gushed before making a ‘tch' sound and stilling your hips, stopping your pathetic attempts at wiggling them. “Wait a minute, will you?” he wasn’t done admiring you and savoring you.
“Please,” you begged as tears fell down your cheeks.
He grumbled something under his breath before pulling out of you, his tip still buried in your heat, he pushed back in forcefully.
You threw your head back, clutching your pillow tightly as his hips rutted into you. His pelvis rubbing your swollen clit every time he bottomed out.
“Can I - can I come?” you remembered to ask him even though you were too delirious to even comprehend what you we’re sayings. Everything around you slipped into an abyss. His groans echoing in the room, his bruising grip on your hip, and his cock driving into you again and again, touching all your sweet spots.
You weren’t sure you could stop yourself even if he said no. But you knew he’d never be that mean. You vaguely heard him say ‘yes' before you let go. Clenching around his length as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming anymore.
His hips stuttered, pulling his length out of you, he stroked himself above you. Your fucked out state only fuelling his aggressive jerks as spurts of his seed landed on your stomach and your titts.
He held onto your knee, swirling his cum that painted your skin so beautiful with his fingers, “Looks pretty on you,” He smeared some on your nipple before pulling it between his fingers.
“Ouch,” you grimaced as he released it. “Too sensitive right now.” you closed your eyes, already feeling drowsy.
He hummed “I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.” He used his discarded shirt to clean his cum off of you before throwing it away and pulling you in his arms. He nuzzled his nose in your hair, feeling satiated with your soft warm body against him.
“You have god tier stamina, man.” You murmured “Andy, you couldn’t even last a day. What happened to being patient? What will people say?” you giggled, burying your head in his chest.
“That’s Professor Barber to you.” he smiled, kissing your temple. Even tired, you were still a spitfire. He’d deal with all that the next day. “It was worth it.”
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Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤
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kinksandkurlsss · 3 years
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Reader x Shino Aburame (One night stand)
Shino meets (Y/N), who happens to be a lecturer in the Entomology Department at Mountain Oak College, during a seminar at the Land Of Fire’s triennial teacher’s retreat. The two come across each other at the hotel bar later in the evening and one thing leads to another...
Warnings: NSFW, cursing and smut of course since it’s for @naruto-smut-monday​​’s Feb. “Love Bites” edition
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Rows of empty coffee brown, cushioned seats stretched across the one-tiered auditorium. The four tall cream walls that encompassed the room were each swathed with heavy gray curtains that fell to the floor and patterned valances decorated with specks of gold, blue and the same color brown.
At the front of the room stood a large tacky poster. The high-letter yellow square had a clunky big, red font at the top that read “Land of Fire’s Teacher Retreat.” Underneath the font were four medium-sized squares colored in a harsh pink with dozens of white tabs detailing events and seminars scheduled for educators to attend over the next four days.
Less than half of the other roughly 400 teachers who had turned out for the retreat this year actually showed up for this morning’s first seminar. Truth be told, the bulk of the group was likely still sleeping off the effects of last night's open bar...
Shino involuntarily pursed his lips at the thought as he adjusted his lower back to settle more into his seat, which he found surprisingly very comfy, despite the uninviting, cumbersome golden loops and turns that lined its trim. Unlike the vast majority of his coworkers and colleagues who decided to stay out the night before, reaping the perks of the all-inclusive triennial engagement, Shino had been back in his hotel room by 9:50 p.m. to work on his lesson plan for the coming year.
It probably would have been time better well spent for the reserved educator, who had gotten great at suppressing his urges this past year, if he’d just allowed himself to loosen up and perhaps forgo his standard 2-beer minimum for once last night. He could have at least stayed at the bar for another hour or two to hang out more with his colleagues before retiring to his pajamas early, only to draw up potential pop quizzes for his students in preparation for the coming school year.
He had about 12 weeks to prepare his curriculum for a year-long course. And the 29-year-old, who was set to begin his third year teaching around the end of summer, had already outlined a 380-point lesson plan for the preteens.
But he was happy to get an early start on the work. He had no interest in things he perceived he’d argued to be an unnecessary waste of time when he weighed the impact he held in helping shape the future of the Leaf’s development in his hands.
At least not entirely...
He’d been about 15 minutes into the current seminar on children’s reading comprehension with two pages full of written notes -- front and back -- and there likely would have been more if you hadn’t been in the room, just several seats away from his.
He was finding it rather difficult not to steal glances at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking as you typed away on your laptop.
Your legs were of particular interest to the academy teacher, who had to force himself to look down at his notes every so often when he felt his face get hot as his eyes travelled the scope of your lower half.
You had worn a black, high-neck, sleeveless dress. It was professional, just above knee-length, but it also hugged your curves perfectly -- something Shino could certainly attest to.
Just… probably not out loud.
In his early twenties, when Shino had just begun seriously dating, it took him a while to become comfortable with pursuing a woman in his own way before she was actually able to tell he was interested. Whenever he developed an interest in a woman, the usually laid-back, cool shinobi would all of a sudden avoid talking to them, primarily in fear of tripping over his words in front of her … or actually just tripping.
And because he could be so flustered at times when he did communicate with the women he’d actually taken an interest in, he would have trouble holding a conversation early on and reading social cues.
The nervous energy he’d muster in these moments also didn’t mesh well with his actual bugs, which could become really excited sometimes under his skin whenever his pulse would suddenly sky-rocket after thinking himself into an internal meltdown.
But, with help from some of his friends, like Naruto and Kiba, in addition to a few pointers from Hinata, who could actually relate to Shino’s struggle with trying to talk to someone he liked, the young Aburame was able to improve his confidence and eventually find it easier to approach women.
In the following years, Shino even had a few relationships. Only, none of them were really serious. Although, it wasn’t from a lack of trying either on the women’s end of things.
As Shino transitioned from a shinobi to his path in education, he had just found himself busier and busier with trying to become the best teacher possible over the past three years.
A perfectionist at heart, the teacher constantly worked at improving his lesson plans, the class trips he organized and anything else that would require him to devote his days and weekends to reaching some pinnacle that even he, at this point, wasn’t sure looked like.
So much so, in fact, that he’d also been dealing with quite the dry spell -- which is where you started to come into the picture.
Today made Day 253 for the teacher without …. making some friction.
And by now, Shino could probably say the lack thereof in his life for the better part of a year could be a contributor to some of the growing frustration he’s been experiencing on and off in recent months.
Thanks to his bulky glasses and your own work for the present moment -- not to mention his background as a shinobi -- Shino was able to sneak more than a few glances at your figure at the start of the seminar. And they certainly were helpful in easing some of his pent-up frustration whenever he allowed his mind to wander for longer than a second.
The visuals of your ankles, especially, which had been wrapped in strappy, heeled sandals, leading up to your smooth legs, the curves of your waist and higher, were more than sufficient to help let the insect-user’s imagination run loose.
The sight immediately brought Shino’s mind to his hotel room, where he could see himself in flashes standing at the foot of his bed. There, Shino just stood as he drank in the sight of your legs laying bare before him on the surface of the bed, crinkling the crisp white top of the comforter that lay atop the mattress. His hungering gaze then travelled from your knees to your thick, naked thighs as they parted in the opposite direction, giving him access to your longing heat.
For a few moments, Shino shut his eyes to relish the brief images as he sat in the middle of the auditorium before straightening himself out in his chair after feeling a familiar stiffening in pants.
The teacher again suddenly found himself very appreciative for his clunky eyewear. Though he started to grow annoyed by the pink tinge he felt had begun to make too often an appearance on cheeks whenever he allowed his attention to succumb to his more … primal urges.
While Shino was taking moments between his notetaking and glances to imagine a lesser-clothed version of you, you had still been working on your laptop -- the same thing you’d been doing since about the time you arrived at the large room roughly 20 minutes before the seminar started.
You were writing a book exploring the nesting behaviors of some of your favorite insect species -- an area you focused on heavily as a lecturer in the Entomology Department at Mountain Oak College.
Out of the 90 teachers who actually arrived at the non-mandatory, but still advised, engagement set for 8 a.m., you and Shino had been the only two attendees to arrive before start time.
After squinting briefly at your name badge as you passed him into the auditorium earlier, he discovered you were a university lecturer with a focus in entomology. He wasn’t able to find out where you were employed since the font spelling the school name had been three sizes smaller, much to his disappointment.
But he also didn't try to gaze too long as he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of you possibly looking down from the notepad you’d been reading only to see him focusing too much on your breast area, where the tag was pinned.
For the record, he was just looking at the tag… initially.
You surprised him though when you’d decided to take a seat roughly five chairs down from him, especially given the nearly six empty rows of other chairs that filled the auditorium at the time.
He’d also been surprised when you immediately greeted him upon looking up from your notepad after settling in your chair, sending him a soft smile. You then took out your laptop and began typing.
You’d worn your thick [y/h/c] hair pulled back. You thought it felt way more kinky this morning than it had on other mornings, but that’s just because you had to spend extra time moisturizing and parting it today since you’d worn it up yesterday.
Your curls were also a point of attraction for the insect-user, who thought they’d looked regal. Halfway through the seminar, he started wondering how long your hair was while gazing briefly at the spirals between taking notes. How it smelled. How it would feel between his fingers.
He’d wanted to expand on the greeting when you both first met before the seminar to try and strike up a conversation with you. But he stopped short of opening his mouth again once he saw you take your laptop out to continue your work.
Though he was instantly drawn to you upon meeting you for the first time today, his thoughts had initially been more on the innocent side at least.
First he tried to guess what area of entomology you specialized in by looking at you. He thought it was stupid, but that didn’t stop him from drawing up a list of a few focuses. It ended up being a tie between medical entomology or forensics.
To his credit, you had previously considered writing a book expanding on a dissertation you devoted a year to on the impacts of certain insects native to the Land of Fire on human health.
Twenty minutes had probably gone by in the seminar when Shino began to randomly click the end of his pen from time to time to help him regain focus on the speaker, a grumpy balding man whose monotone voice had half of those who did bother to show up this morning buried into their phones. But Shino’s glances still managed to find your figure every so often, adding fuel to some of the more inappropriate thoughts he’d tried to quiet earlier.
Scenes of your parted thighs found their way back at the front of Shino’s mind yet again. Your breathing had grown husky as you began to prop your upper half up by your elbows. Your eyes were half-lidded, lust-filled as you started to raise one of your hands to motion for him to come to you. In his thoughts, Shino had also suddenly been naked, eager to join you as your mouth parted a small gap at the sight of him.
Then, out of nowhere during the seminar, your head turned slightly in his direction, snapping him out of his daydream and prompting him to almost give himself whiplash when he abruptly looked up at the stage to avert your attention.
He didn’t know for sure if you had seen him looking at you from the side, but neither did you. You had actually just turned your head a little to give your neck a small stretch when you noticed his head tilted in your direction. He also hadn’t been taking any notes at the time, but perhaps he was thinking of something? With his glasses on, it seemed hard to tell.
Even though he hadn’t really noticed, you had also allowed your gaze to wander over him at random points during the seminar whenever he seemed to actually be taking notes.
You found the teacher attractive, which was a big part of the reason you’d taken the seat several spaces down from him -- though you weren’t as easily distracted at the time since your book had kept you occupied.
At least at first...
For about 10 more minutes, Shino managed to at least pretend to be tuned into today’s seminar. But that task proved way more difficult when he heard a small squeal from your direction.
When he slowly looked over your way to figure out the source of the noise, he saw you swiftly, but quietly, clasp your hands together over your mouth for a few moments after you had just closed your laptop for what felt like the first time in months.
You had just officially finished editing the first draft for your book.
Feeling his eyes briefly look in your direction for that moment, you welcomed the glance, giddily looking back at him while also trying to suppress the urge to hunch your shoulders in excitement before quickly mouthing “sorry” to him and the seminar speaker seconds later.
Shino smiled at you in return, seeming a little amused by your antics, which prompted you to further embrace the excitement stemming from your newest achievement with a wide grin.
“I’d been working on that book nonstop for 8 months,” you told him in a strained whisper from a few chairs down.
Shino widened his eyes with realization in response.
So, that’s what she was working on, he thought.
“Congratulations,” Shino responded to you in a soft, raspy whisper. “What’s it on?”
You eagerly took a big breath and, to Shino’s surprise, started to collect your laptop and purse. Moments later, you then tried, as softly as you could, to click-clack in your heels over to the seat next to him.
You were always excited to talk to anyone about your book, which would be your first as an author. But a part of you had also been interested in feeling out the attractive teacher.
You could tell from his legs that he was definitely much taller than you, thankfully. You were tired of being eye level with some of the guys you’ve been out with in the past when you’d decide to wear your heels.
He also had great bone structure and a nice smile. But he seemed a little serious. He looked smart. His broad shoulders were definitely a magnet for you, in addition to what seemed to be a solid set of abs from the way his green button-up shirt clung to his frame. And his cool, scratchy voice. Lord, send help.
Spending the last few months devoting almost all of yourself to your work and new book had taken a toll on your schedule, particularly when it came to your personal life.
And, at first encounter, you couldn’t help but think Shino definitely seemed the trappings of a good lay. Potentially.
You also made a mental note to give yourself a pat on the back later for setting up the play by sitting in his row for the seminar earlier. And since you were pretty sure he had checked you out a few times during the start of the seminar, even though you’ll admit it was difficult to tell from his glasses, you began to surmise a game could be in motion.
You ended up spending the next and final half hour of the seminar gushing over your book and the migration patterns of the species you explored in the work in your conversation with Shino, who also turned out to be way more interested in the subject than you’d predicted.
During your conversation, the skilled insect-user opened up about how he would take his fascination with insects further at an early age than the other kids in the Aburame Clan. Whenever he got the chance, Shino said he would use any spare time to conduct research and observation on the species most commonly found in Konohagakure. He also wouldn’t shy away from taking the time to document other species he’d encounter on his earlier missions for fun.
Bugs had always been intriguing to Shino, which prompted him to learn about a number of areas of study pertaining to the arthropod animals, feeding his thirst for knowledge in the field outside of his duties as a shinobi and, now, educator.
The sensation you enjoyed from sharing whispers close to his ear as you took advantage of the small space between you both also wasn’t lost on you.
He smelled like soap and a hint of spice from some kind of body spray. His shoulders were easy to stare at, broad and muscular. You found yourself imagining being held in them at one moment before snapping out of the daydream and continuing to listen to him.
His voice, which was low and gruff, was also a turn-on. What you’d give to hear him say your name in the throes of passion. Shit.
A second later, you found yourself bringing your hand to your neck, touching your necklace, as you let visions of what he would be like in bed flash in your mind.
Effects of the tiny space you both now shared were also felt by Shino as well. Sometimes, you could feel him tense his legs together on and off whenever he felt your breath lightly touch the side of his face.
He didn’t usually take it upon himself to try and decipher when someone was flirting with him, but he was definitely hopeful that you were. So, he allowed himself to take advantage of the close proximity too, briefly moving once in a while to allow his leg to touch yours as you both shared whispers back and forth.
Though the occurrence seemed to happen at random, you also took special notice when it did, sometimes smiling a little bit wider in response.
Halfway into the conversation, you began to study his frame with short glances while pretending to lean back for a stretch.
You figured he had about 8 inches on you -- height-wise, of course. Though you began to wonder at one point what else he had around 8 inches before slightly choking on your tea at the thought. He stopped in the middle of talking briefly to ask if you were okay, genuinely looking concerned as he put his large hand on your shoulder, exciting your nerves there and eventually further below before you were able to collect yourself and tell him you were fine.
He then reluctantly removed his hand from your skin, which he found very soft, before he continued on discussing the nesting habits of some of the species he recognized that you mentioned researching in your book, all the while fighting off tempting thoughts of how soft the rest of your body would feel against his touch.
After the seminar ended, you both stood up and collected your items. The close, intimate proximity you both shared in the brief discussion felt more pronounced after the sudden change in altitude settled in, coupled with the bright yellow lighting in the auditorium.
While taking a brief glance around the room, which seemed to have filled a little more than halfway up since the seminar started a while ago, you began to take in some of the nosy stares from a few of the older educators nearby.
Realizing the optics of how his and your cozy conversation probably looked to some of your colleagues -- two teachers huddled up tightly together toward the front, whispering close to each other’s ears and stealing glances -- you and Shino started feeling a little awkward.
You then turned to Shino with a wide grin at the situation, which, in turn, elicited, an intrigued, knowing smile of his own.
“Welp,” you exclaimed. “It was nice to meet you, Shino,” you told the teacher before giving him a somewhat firm handshake.
“I’ve got to jet, but don’t be a stranger,” you added. You thought it best to play it cool since you were certain you’d see the teacher again during the retreat, which you were scheduled to attend for the next two days before you had to take a train to a few towns over for a speaking engagement.
“Likewise,” Shino said in that raspy voice that made you feel like you had a heartbeat in your panties. You also noticed he’d been holding onto your hand a little longer even after you loosened your grip as you started to turn for the other direction of the door.
“And congratulations on finishing your draft. I am more than sure it will make for quite the captivating read,” he added before letting go of your hand, allowing it to slide out of his.
“Thanks, see you later,” you breathed out between a smile, prompting a half up-turned grin from the teacher, while you continued to head for the door.
After gathering his items and putting on his backpack, Shino casually walked out of the door about a minute later, sliding his hands into his pockets. By the time he exited the room, you had already been nearing the staircase down the hall to go up to your room.
Aware of the possible view the teacher might have had of you from behind, you swayed your hips slightly as you sped up to the stair entrance. You couldn’t help but beam from the built-up excitement of the moment as you took out your cell to text your friend and coworker, Indigo, about finishing your draft and, of course, the teacher from Konoha.
Luckily for him, he was able to enjoy an uninterrupted view of your backside for several moments, watching you adjust the hem of your dress as it hiked up slightly, before entering the staircase.
Shino stopped briefly in the hall to collect himself as an almost involuntary hum started to build in his throat. He then channeled some of his pent-up energy into dragging his hand through the roots of his hair and biting his lip for a second before continuing to head back to his own room, where he was no doubt in for a long shower later on.
--
“By the time I turned to go up stairs, I saw him looking down at the ground. Girl, he looked like he was biting his lip,” you recounted to Indigo between screams inside your hotel room roughly 10 minutes later.
Indigo, who had bolted from her room to your door with her baggy polka dot pajamas and a huge grin as you walked upstairs after seeing your text, offered a hearty cackle in response.
“Damn! If I’d known there would have been some fine ass teachers in the AM seminar I would have at least tried to get there maybe 30 minutes late after the night I had,” Indigo exclaimed.
Indigo had been one of the large number educators on the retreat that had opted instead to stay out late last night and enjoy the open bar. And, honestly, you couldn’t blame her. You would've likely been there right alongside her getting buzzed if it hadn't been for your last shred of determination to finish the small amount of editing that remained for the first draft of your book.
“Oh wait! So, does this mean you’re coming to the bar with us tonight?” Indigo said, practically reading your thoughts, “since your draft is done, congratulations again by the way, and, you know,” she continued cheesily elbowing you, “the sexy teacher?”
“Um, yeah! I’m celebrating tonight, and, hopefully getting some,” you said with a wide smile before you and Indigo burst into another fit of laughter in your room.
You and Indigo had been working together at Mountain Oak for the past few years. She was a lecturer in the Biology Department, where she specialized in plant breeding. You both met during an orientation for faculty since you were hired around the same time.
She’d been in the same group as you when she heard you share a stupid joke about how photons would probably save money on luggage during vacations because they travel light. She snorted a gulp of water she had been taking at the time through her nose in response, and the rest was history.
As the laughter began to die down between you two inside your room, you took the chance to ask her a question you’d been keeping in the back of your mind for the past several minutes.
“Sooo… this brings me to something I kinda wanted to ask you,” you said, before awkwardly fiddling your thumbs as you put on your most innocent smile.
Indigo, very aware of what that smile meant, then straightened her face before going on to ask you flatly: “What, woman?”
“Okay, damn!” you said laughing. “I …. wanted to know if I could borrow your really cute, very sexy freakum dress for tonight.”
You adored that red dress of hers.
Both of you had spotted it at the mall in your village during one of your monthly shopping trips and instantly fell in love. To make matters worse, there was only one dress left in a size [y/s] at the time, which you both wore.
You both decided then to settle the matter of who would get to go home with the fitted number with a battle of rock, paper, scissors. But, whoever won, you agreed upon then, would have to let the other wear the dress one time as a kind of consolation prize.
Unfortunately, you obviously lost the match, as well as the “two out of three” and “6 out of 10” matches that followed, that day -- rock, paper, scissors had never really been your forte -- and Indigo went home with the dress. But, luckily for you now, you hadn’t used your freebie yet and you knew for a fact Indigo had packed it because she always packs the dress for backup on trips like these in case she meets a sexy stranger of her own and has to pull out the stops.
Indigo was instantly aware of the dress you were referring to and, in response, gave you a most annoyed eye roll.
“You and this ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’ bullshit,” Indigo said with an irritated glance, eliciting a cackle from you.
“Wait a minute though, you came up with the idea of letting whoever lost that day have one freebie to wear the dress!” you said back.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have if I had known how trash you’d be at the game,” Indigo said, laughing at you.
She then dragged her feet to walk to her room across the hall, and, within a few minutes, opened your door to reluctantly hand over the dress.
You stood up to grab the backless number, smiling at your beloved friend and coworker, as you started to retreat back to your bed. Only, you noticed Indigo hadn’t let go, donning her saddest little pout while gazing at the dress. She then set her gaze on you suddenly, before her face went flat again to say, “Please, don’t fuck until after the dress is off.”
Indigo then let go, prompting a smile from you as you gathered the dress in your hands. “I make no promises!” you said before quickly telling Indigo you were kidding after her jaw dropped.
“Thank you, thank you, thank youuuuuuu!” you told her excitedly while squeezing her in a bare hug.
“And wear panties!” she managed to breath out in the tight hug.
--
Once Shino got back to his room after the seminar, he rushed to take off his backpack and clothes, eager to hop into a warm shower to continue some of his thoughts about you from earlier without disruption this time.
The teacher was out of his shoes and button-up top within seconds of reaching his bathroom door, bringing his hands to his tented zipper to free himself from the increasingly restraining fabric.
For the first time since he’d seen you in the seminar a little while ago, Shino allowed himself to imagine him joining you naked on that hotel bed, slowly making his way to your frame, hearing your breathing intensify as you felt him start to lower himself onto you.
A deep breath released Shino’s clenched teeth as the insect-user began to feel his bugs buzz below his skin once he brought the zipper down completely. Shino then palmed himself through his boxers, while scenes of you gasping from below him ran through his head.
But then, out of nowhere, he heard a series of knocks sound at the door.
The sudden noise caused Shino to immediately stand upright before prompting a string of silent curses seconds later from the teacher, who had been feet away from turning on the shower.
Looking down at the inches that had begun to poke out from the new opening in his pants below his waistband, Shino took a few deep breaths before snatching a sweater from the top of his open suitcase and heading to the door.
“Yes?!” Shino had said more loudly than he intended as he started to adjust himself in his pants, becoming more frustrated while pulling the zipper back up as he approached the door.
When he opened the door, Shino mentally let out another round of curses once he was met with a smiling Anko, his coworker.
While Shino had a great deal of respect for Anko for her contributions to the Leaf, and also continued to view her as somewhat of a mentor since he’d met the former shinobi during his first time taking the chunin exams, he hadn’t been exactly happy to see the instructor at this time for obvious reasons.
Anko, immediately sensing Shino’s seemingly perturbed state, stilled momentarily before saying hello to the teacher.
“Hey,” Shino said in a tone that sounded more strained and slightly higher than his usual smooth, low voice, something Anko had also taken notice of.
“Err-- hey, buddy,” she said seconds later, furrowing her eyebrows some to try to get an idea of what was off about him.
“I just wanted to see if you wanted to come get some dango with the rest of us,” she continued to say before gesturing to a group of other educators at their academy that were going along for the snack.
After taking a look over at some of his coworkers, who also seemed to be looking at the teacher more attentively after picking up on the slight moodiness, Shino took a deep breath and agreed.
“Sure,” he said in a tone more cool and closer to his normal voice after managing to yet again stuff his frustrations further to the back of his mind . “Let me just grab my coat.”
--
You both didn’t see each other again until around 11 p.m., which was around when the bar downstairs started giving out free drinks to attendees that had their laminated tags for the retreat.
You had come down to celebrate finishing your draft with some of your coworkers when you noticed Shino at the back table, surrounded by a group of other people with tags that you guessed were some of his coworkers.
Shino wasn’t initially interested in going to the open bar tonight, wanting to do more to fine tune his lesson plan instead. But he decided to take the trip down after Anko told him on the way back to the hotel from their dango trip earlier that the “hot bug lady” could also be down here celebrating later.
The teacher, who still wondered why he said anything to Anko about you at all earlier, rolled his eyes at the nickname she had given you before he began trying to look inconspicuously around the dimly-lit bar a few times. He had only been there for 20 minutes before he started getting tired of some of the loud, slurred conversation erupting from the group around him.
It wasn’t until after he started to run close to his 2-beer minimum that his eyes finally connected with yours across the bar.
You both shared a smile with each other before you looked back at your own coworkers, not wanting to be rude, which prompted Shino to also return his gaze to his table momentarily, even though he had still wanted to focus his attention on you.
You both went on to steal a few more glances at the other, however, until you and him caught each other’s eyes at the same time about 15 minutes later. This time though, you started to laugh and Shino even chuckled to himself before you began to break away from your group. Indigo, the only coworker you told about Shino, saw you getting ready to leave from the other side of your group and made a knowing grin at you as she saw you exchanging looks with the teacher making his way to the bar counter.
You got there first and got drinks with your retreat badge for the two of you as he cut through a jam-packed crowd of teachers partying at the end of the bar counter.
Once he’d gotten halfway through the group, you could feel him giving you a brief onceover when he started to approach as he took in your red, snug dress while you pretended to look at the menu. The look melted your insides and the temperature only seemed to get hotter when you turned your body toward him as he quickly licked his bottom lip.
The teacher had worn a sharp, dark green jacket, adorned with what looked like a wooden design at the collar along with a pair of black pants and dress shoes. It was difficult to make out the design at first glance because of the lighting at the bar.
You fought back a giggle when you saw he seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes off of you again tonight as he made his way closer, at least judging from how his head tilted slightly down and up as he approached, following how your curves were accentuated by the tight number, which stopped around mid-thigh, and your black, closed-toed heels.
You’d also worn your kinky hair half-up, with the rest of the curls framing your face and kissing the top of your shoulder. You paired the look with medium-sized golden hoop earrings and used an excessive amount of shea butter lotion to give your skin a subtle sheen, which managed to shine a little when the light hit right.
Not to mention, you had also opted for your black backless lace bra and a matching thong in the off chance you bumped into the handsome teacher again tonight, like you had hoped, while celebrating.
By the time Shino settled into his seat on the cushioned stool next to you, the drinks had already arrived.
“Bourbon,” he said, taking a deep exhale after taking his first sip.
“Just one of those nights,” you responded, trying to give him your most innocent grin possible before starting to laugh in an attempt to ease any of the nerves you felt bubbling in your stomach.
“You deserve it,” he said with a slightly more serious undertone after a few moments of looking at you.
“Thanks,” you replied with a softer smile, taking another deep breath as you took in the view in front of you.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to just sit at a bar and not worry about having some book deadline hanging over me,” you added before allowing your eyes to close for a few seconds and exhaling more deeply.
“I can relate,” Shino responded candidly, inching his upper body a little closer to you in his seat. “I’ve spent the whole beginning of my summer vacation trying to develop the ‘perfect’ lesson plans,” he continued, smiling softly as he used his fingers to make air quotes with the adjective.
The two of you spoke more about Shino’s classes and his students. When he stopped briefly to finish the remainder of his drink, you took a double look at his collar. This time, you rubbed your eyes quickly in the dark bar to make out what the pins were at the top of his jacket.
“Wow, that’s so cool!” you said while jumping to your feet to examine his collar more closely. “They’re kikaichūs!”
The acknowledgement jolted Shino a little bit, especially when coupled with the feeling of your thighs touching the inside of his legs, bringing back that familiar stiffening.
Shino’s breath hitched quickly as you inched back a little to the edge of your seat, and began excitedly naming random facts about the special insect breed that had held such significance to his clan’s way of life. You pretended not to notice his brief reaction to your sudden movement, though you couldn’t help but break into a wide smile.
Damn, he smelled intoxicating. This time, there was a hint of something a little sweet. Maybe apple or pineapple. And underneath that scent, notes of leather? Was that wood?
You allowed your mind to journey to thoughts of how it would feel to snuggle your head in the crook of his neck in the bathroom at the end of the bar. Being pinned against the wall as the teacher gripped your sides, quickly sliding you up and down, drawing a series of moans from the both of you only to be drowned out by the loud noise of the bar.
You averted your eyes momentarily after feeling yourself cock your head as you ventured further into your daydream, staring at Shino’s soft lips. At least they looked soft.
You smiled as you saw a light shade of red form on the teacher’s cheeks during your short-lived daydream, making you lick your lips as a short breath escaped his.
From there, as the alcohol began to set in more, you both just let loose of any other nerves you still had and talked about anything. Not just bugs, though there was a longer window of time you both devoted to the territoriality of certain insects, but you also discussed music and dissected your favorite films and foods.
The conversation between you two hit pause sometime around 1:00 a.m., when you both realized how late it was and thought it might be a good time to hunker down for the night.
“Well then,” you said with a smile.
“Yeah,” Shino said, lightly chuckling -- something you noticed him doing a lot more of tonight. You chalked it up to the effects of the alcohol.
A moment of awkward silence passed as you both started to slowly collect your room keys and tags.
Neither of you wanted to leave the other. It was clear you both had some chemistry. Plus, he laughed at your bug puns -- an instant way to win brownie points.
The sexual tension was also undeniable. Throughout the entire night, you both had been stealing glances at the other, checking them out when it seemed like they weren’t looking, excluding the few times you ogled his frame when you knew he was.
Your more blatant stares also did not go unnoticed by Shino, who would reposition his thighs in his seat sometimes to better conceal the hardness forming in his pants when he saw your eyes traveling there in brief moments before you hastily brought them back to his gaze, softly pursing your lips.
“You know,” Shino began to say, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the dark gray carpeted floor, “If you’re still interested looking at some of the documents I have on the nesting behaviors of the kidaichū, I’d be h-happy to show you a few I have on hand in my suitcase upstairs.”
Trying to read between the lines, you took a closer step to his build, smiling.
“Sure, when were you thinking?” you responded in a more airy tone.
“W-Well...” he started with a deep breath, looking up to process the closened proximity between you two and your soft voice.
“I mean I’m not tired now if you wanna,” you started to cut him off eagerly before tilting your head in the direction of the upstairs. “So long as you’re not tired yet.”
Shino’s mouth gaped open for a brief moment before you began to say, “Or we could do some other ti—”
“I-I would love to,” he tried to say cooly but ended up blurting out.
The teacher felt his bugs jitter slightly under his skin as he worked to keep his nerves in check. While Shino had certainly had sex before, it was a somewhat of a rarity for him to become intimate with a person he just met. It usually took at least a few weeks of knowing someone beforehand until he would feel more comfortable with the idea of sex.
“Great,” you responded, trying to fight back another giggle over the show of excitement on his end. You then started for the door, wading through the crowd of drunken patrons as he followed close behind.
When you both approached the staircase, Shino sped up briefly to open the door for you as you slipped inside.
“Thank you,” you cooed in response.
“My pleasure,” he responded slowly while savoring the sight of your passing frame.
You took the first steps up the stairs and Shino allowed a little distance between you both before he also started on the stairs as he took in your form on the short trek up.
The teacher’s eyes were glued to your bare backside, watching as your hips swung from side to side with every step. He could feel himself hardening as his gaze travelled from the top of your shoulders to the small of your naked back. His eyes would then make their way back down to your ass and, later, your calves, which he fixated on as he saw how the muscles would flex from the arched step of your heel as you closed in on the top of the staircase.
You slowed your pace, allowing Shino to close the gap between you once you were feet away from the door. You then stopped suddenly to turn the handle before taking a large step back to open the door, which made you bump into Shino briefly, allowing your ass to brush against the erection that had begun to form in his pants before continuing to walk through the doorway.
You heard a heavy inhale in your ear as you arched your back against his front in that second. It took everything in you to continue through that door after you lightly bumped against his bulge.
Once you both got to his hotel room, which had been all the way down the hall from yours, he started to fumble with the key. His hand seemed to tremble for a brief moment as he went to slide the plastic through the slit to open the door.
You locked it immediately once you both were inside.
“So, my documents are somewhere over here,” he began to say as he hurried over to his stacks of folders and lesson plans on top of the dresser next to his bed.
“Okay, I’m just going to go to the bathroom real quick,” you said, playing along with his mini charade, pointing at the door at the other side of the room as you rushed inside to freshen up.
After taking several moments to force yourself to pee, you wiped and removed the panty liner you had put on before leaving your room just to make sure everything stayed nice and fresh down there.
While washing your hands, you took a few moments to check out your hair, adjust your bra, do a sniff check under the arms and quickly look for anything in your teeth.
You also took a second to text Indigo your whereabouts, prompting a series of eggplant and splashing water emojis to fill your chat with her in less than a minute, before taking a few breaths and opening the door.
Shino had already taken a seat on the burgundy couch across from his bed with one hand briefly waving a packet of papers, donning a slightly strained grin as his legs were tightly closed together.
“Found ‘em!” he exclaimed as you stood in the doorway of his bathroom, offering your own forced smile while pondering how this night was about to go while you hoped he wasn’t serious.
Refocusing yourself on the mission at hand, you straightened up before taking a seat close to him on the couch, letting your thighs touch.
Shino deeply exhaled moments after as he began to gather the papers in his lap and started to show you some he had on the external anatomies on the kidaichū.
“Oh, very interesting,” you said, leaning your upper half closer to his as you looked over his shoulder. And you weren’t lying. They certainly were interesting to you.
But it was safe to say something else preoccupied your mind for the time being as you started to feel Shino tense up while you turned your head to face him.
Feeling your breath on his cheek, Shino started to tense up and began trying to pace his breathing as he felt the bugs underneath his skin shudder when his pulse rate started to rise and his dick pressed further against his pants.
You both shared a deep look at the other as you started to lean further in, slowly raising your hands to his glasses. You paused in place for a moment when Shino’s breath stopped momentarily as your hands started to touch his frames before you went on to continue removing them.
His cheeks pinkened as you stared at his features, specifically the deep, ebony eyes that stared back into your own.
“Very handsome,” you said breathlessly as you started to cradle one side of his chin, prompting a light smile from Shino, who’d begun to breathe more rapidly, before you inched closer to share your first kiss of the night.
You both exchanged sweet, soft kisses as he started to bring his hands to your waist. You then opened your mouth a little to lightly take the tip of your tongue across his lips, encouraging him to deepen the kiss.
Eager to increase the heat after your hand slightly brushed across the now very hard imprint in his pants, you brought your leg over his front to straddle him.
The move earned a low grunt from Shino as he began to reach for the bottom of your dress, hastily rounding up the inches of fabric in his hands to grab your ass.
The sensation caused you to moan against Shino’s lips while rotating your hips against his before settling yourself directly over his solid bulge. You began to feel a fire grow in your lower stomach, your bodies becoming more entwined as Shino’s hands roamed your body, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat behind them.
Shino clenched his teeth as you brought your lips to his neck, alternating between love bites and sucking along the tensed muscles stretching from his ear to his collarbone, while you pressed your breasts against his chest. The action prompted the teacher to squeeze your ass even harder while beginning to buck his hips against yours.
Shino couldn’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. Underneath his skin, a low buzz began to build as he felt himself growing against his zipper while you both rolled your hips against each other, gaining in force as the sound of heavy breathing started to echo in the quiet room.
Feeling a slight vibration from under your fingertips, your kisses and hands paused in their movements briefly around his neck to look at the teacher.
Shino quickly grew anxious, becoming insecure about the effects of his bugs. “They’re -- the kikaichū -- it just ha-happens sometimes when I get excited and my p-pulse starts to go faster,” he said with an awkward smile, concerned about how you would react.
“I’m sorr--” he went on to say before your mouth slammed against his for another wet kiss, arching your back against his front before you began to suck on his bottom lip and give it a soft tug with your teeth, prompting a gulp from the teacher.
“I think that is very sexy,” you breathed against Shino’s lips as the teacher let out a small whimper before you licked along his lips and devoured his soft mouth again.
“Shit,” Shino managed to say breathlessly between your kisses after you went on to start rolling your hips against his.
When he felt his pants become too tight, Shino clenched your ass forcefully before suddenly loosening his hands to reclaim your dress and raise it over your head, tossing it somewhere across the room.
The quick move garnered an airy laugh from your end as you grinned once he turned to his gaze back to your face and then your frame, seeming to make a mental record of the sight of you in your underwear before letting out a deep breath.
“Great,” you said, smirking. “I look forward to having to find that in the morning.”
Shino smiled in awe at you before taking a few moments to stare more intensely into your eyes. “You are the most stunning woman I have ever seen,” he said, allowing his eyes to rake in your body once more.
The moment prompted you to let out a loud laugh before you slowly found yourself growing lost in his unfazed gaze moments later, looking more closely back at him with squinted eyes as he remained in what looked like a trance.
Neither of you were sure what you felt in this second. You both knew you had only just met each other literally hours ago. But there was also something about this unquestionable connection you both felt for each other in this moment.
Maintaining the gaze you and him both held, you reached both of your hands behind your neck as you unhooked the clear straps of your bra, letting it fall to the ground.
Shino’s breath stilled at the image.
You smiled at him while bringing your hands to the collar of his jacket, unzipping the green garment before he leaned closer to your face. His eyes were half lidded and his mouth was slightly opened as he brought his lips to yours while you began removing the clothing.
The embrace grew deeper when he pressed into you, both of you explored the others’ mouths with your tongues as you reached for the back of his head to free his long hair from his bun, only to drown your fingers in it.
Shino’s breath stilled again when your hands began to travel down to his waist band before he raised one of his own hands to cradle your head while the other kneaded your lower back. He had never felt this aroused before. The more he tried to restrain himself, your touches and kisses intensified, as if you were chasing him, refusing to quit until he allowed himself to submit to you.
Once his pants were unzipped, Shino grabbed both of your thighs on either side and picked you up, remaining locked on your lips as he brought you to his king-sized bed.
His pants were off by the time he started to hover over you on the feather-filled comforter, dipping lower to kiss your neck and fit his hands around each of your breasts, drawing a whimper from you.
The teacher then took one nipple into his mouth, planting kisses and light nibbles around the rest of the breast while massaging and pinching the other before alternating.
By the time Shino travelled to the center of your legs, you had both hands outstretched to either side of the bed, clenching the sheets.
“Dear god,” you said, panting as Shino steadied on his knees while taking your figure in again, smirking when you shuddered as his large hands slid up your bent knees, spreading them apart further like butterfly wings. The sudden vibrations from his digits felt on your knees made you jolt for a second before you got used to the faint on-and-off buzz.
Shino then lowered his lips to your laced trimmed thong, dragging his pointed tongue from the wet spot that formed in the middle of the underwear up to your clit through the thin fabric.
His tongue travelled up and down the sides of the flesh that rested outside of the small bit of clothing, teasing you as you started to feel a swell of anticipation for whatever the teacher had planned next.
When you took a moment to breathe in a hail mary to pace yourself for what was to come, Shino used one finger to slide the thin fabric to one side of your lower lips before flattening his tongue to take a lap from your vagina to just short of your clit.
A loud gasp left your mouth, prompting Shino to grin before he started to work his way around your lips below, making slow licks up and down repeatedly before bringing up his other hand to enter a finger while the first held down your hips.
After turning his finger to press against your g-spot, his mouth traveled to your bare clit for the first time, where he began to suck as he repeatedly bended his finger with light pressure to make the come hither motion.
The combination of his tongue and the low vibration from the kikaichū in his finger yielded a series of moans from you as your legs widened while you took hold of his hair in your hands. You began to grind your pussy against his chin as he started to use his tongue to flick your clit as you tried to reach your first climax.
“There! Shino! Yes!” you exclaim with no care for your neighbors as you reached your peak.
Your moans and whimpers served as gasoline for the teacher’s ego as he used the sounds as fuel to continue greedily sipping and slurping at your lower lips and clit. Overcome with pleasure, you tried to scoot away from Shino after the sensation became too much, only to be gripped by the waist by both of his buzzing hands until he finished lapping up the last of your juices.
It wasn’t until after he felt your legs completely gave out on both sides of his head that Shino finally came back up, his lustful eyes zeroing on yours as he started to yank down his boxers. When you were able to hold your eyes open again for more than a second moments later, you couldn't help but drop your jaw when you saw what the teacher did next.
With his gaze glued to yours and a smug look beginning to form on his face, the teacher then went on to raise his wet hand and use it to collect the excess juices that shined on his chin and lips. Once his cocky grin was clean, he dragged the slippery digits below his waist and slid them up and down his bouncing dick for lubricant.
His eyes remained the same the entire time, consuming your splayed figure and letting out a grunt when he saw you bite your lip as you tried to figure out whatever the hell just happened here.
“Sweet Devonian Rhyniognatha hirsti,” you muttered in a low, broken voice to yourself as you started to brace yourself when you saw Shino prepare to crawl toward you, his broad, muscular shoulders appearing to rotate while he move on his hands and knees like a predator in your direction.
But then suddenly, to your surprise, Shino stopped in his trail. The teacher’s eyes, still hungry, became more squinted as his mouth evolved into an amused, confused smile at what you just said. “Wait, what did you just say?” Shino asked, genuinely intrigued for a moment.
“Oh, you weren’t supposed to hear that,” you shot back, with an embarrassed smile and a light chuckle. “I say it in the office sometimes wh-whenever something really absolutely,” you said with a deep exhale, “crazy good happens. It’s widely considered to be the oldes--”
“The oldest known insect,” Shino said, grinning ear to ear now as his knees resumed their slow stealth prowl over to your direction, his dick bouncing with every closer inch.
“Yeah,” you said before your breath caught in your throat as his face hovered above yours, giving you that same lustful gaze he had been making at you since you both got in bed.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he said in a deep voice just inches away from your mouth, before slowly lowering himself between your parted thighs and locking his lips with yours as he started to wrap one of your legs behind his back.
Your hips rolled against his as you started to feel his dick twitch against your thigh. You gasped against his lips as he began to reach down between you two to slide his dick up and down your wet lips before reaching the outer edge of the entrance.
Your hands dug into his shoulders as he began to enter, tilting your head back momentarily to bask in the sensation of him filling you.
Shino’s mouth dropped as he started to feel your warm, slick walls suck him in. The buzz underneath his skin had managed to stay at a low vibration during the night as he tried to continue pacing himself on and off throughout your heated affair. But you both felt it begin to grow stronger beneath his flesh as his pulse started to rise during his first thrusts.
He wanted nothing more in this moment than to be consumed by you, and you, by him. As the sound of your wet skin slapping against his started to fill the room, Shino fell deeper under your spell.
“Damn,” Shino exclaimed against your lips as he started to feel your walls pulse, prompting him to dip deeper as your legs began to wobble around him.
It felt as if a current had rippled from your center through to the edges of your body. Your breaths became more shallow as the sensation flowed through you, while Shino’s panting only grew louder along with the vibrations below his flesh from the feeling of being squeezed in short bursts inside you as the thrusts continued.
Shino gritted his teeth at the feeling, while bringing your legs to his shoulders as he gained speed.
You savored each others’ bodies, touches, scents in minutes that felt like seconds.
Everything felt amazing to Shino. With every press forward, Shino felt himself become more satiated by your body, and, yet, yearning even more for you at the same.
“God, yes, yes, yes!” you said, your words beginning to slur as Shino grunts became louder in between your sounds.
Shino arched back before releasing a series of animalistic growls against your cheek while his thrusts began to grow more sloppy and out of control. The buzz you felt from the teacher’s skin started sending vibrations along your frame at every point you and his naked flesh touched.
As Shino felt himself dive into his approaching bliss, the teacher, still craving more of you, further indulged himself in the touch of your soft skin, paving a trail of greedy kisses and nibbles to your calves and thighs as he started to work his way up again.
His lips found yours as he began to forcefully rock against your hips, allowing the vibrations underneath his skin to explode throughout his body as he began to cum inside you.
“You -- are a goddess,” he said as he rutted into you, his dick filling your insides with continued tremors amid spurts.
Shino continued to thrust uncontrollably, grunting as he continued his release, squeezing your thighs until he was completely finished. His hands remained gripped to your thighs for several seconds as the buzzing beneath skin slowed to an eventual stop once his pulse began to return to normal before he slowly exited you and took his place next to you in bed.
By the time his head hit the pillow, your eyes had been closed, holding your stomach with a soft smile as you allowed the recent events of the night to marinate in your mind.
You opened your eyes to look up at the ceiling before turning to notice his gaze. He had already been turned on his side, drinking in your naked afterglow.
“Wow,” he said looking at you.
“Wow, yourself,” you said lightly laughing as you turned to the side to put your hand on his chest, wrapping your leg around his waist as he secured your thigh with his hand.
You both drifted off that way and slept several hours before you woke up to a series of alerts on your phone.
--
“Girl, where are you?! I knocked at your door for a whole minute,” Indigo had texted you roughly an hour back.
“Wait, are you still with that hot teacher with the bun?”
“If so, good job, girl!”
“But for real, did you forget about that series thing at 3 pm?”
“Remember, your train leaves at like 9, sis!”
You suddenly sat up, snapping out of your sleep daze. Next to your side, Shino remained unfazed in his deep slumber, lightly snoring with his arm wrapped around your waist.
Holy fuck. That was today??? I could’ve sworn that was tomorrow.
You released a rushed exhale after letting the 7:30 am time on the clunky hotel alarm clock set in briefly before reluctantly slipping out of Shino’s embrace and quickly putting on your clothes from just a few hours ago.
Damn, where did my dress go?
You ended up having to crawl halfway under the bed to fetch it from behind the bed frame.
Once you were dressed several minutes later, you scurried out of the room and bolted to yours at the end of the hall to hurry up and pack. Luckily, you’d only been here for like two days, so there wasn’t much to do.
Meanwhile, Shino woke up groggy after hearing the door close and began to stir after feeling for your now-empty space.
Shino shot up after realizing you were no longer in the room, instantly wondering where the hell you went.
If not for the distinct smell of shea butter left from your lotion on the pillow, he would’ve started to question whether you were even here last night.
7:45 a.m.
By now, you had already scheduled a car and had been rushing to quickly brush your teeth and tend to your hair to try to make it look at least somewhat presentable for the day. You’d also changed into a jumpsuit and did a quick hoe bath with a washcloth and some soap in the bathroom sink.
When you were getting ready to run downstairs to meet your driver, you bumped into Indigo, who'd also been heading downstairs for early continental breakfast at the time.
“[y/f/n], you’re okay!” she said, hugging you while you attempted to lug your suitcase and carry-on bag out of the room. “You’re also hella late, girl! You —“
“I knowwwww,” you responded in a whining-like voice, still sleepy and upset you had to cut your morning short with Shino.
Oh, shit. Shino! You’d just remembered you were leaving without saying goodbye as a door opened in the direction of his room down the hall.
He’d put on whatever pair of lounge pants was closest, a random white tee shirt and his glasses, of course, after he’d heard sounds that were so similar to your voice from down the hall.
He stood in the doorway, smiling once he saw you. But his expression became more confused when he saw your luggage and sudden change of clothes.
Indigo looked at Shino and gave you a knowing glance that translated to something along the lines of, “you know we’ll be talking about this later,” before heading downstairs to get breakfast.
You then turned your attention to what was arguably your greatest one night stand and awkwardly whisper-shouted his name down the hall, “Hey, Shinooo!”
Your antics earned a quiet but still just as confused chuckle from him in response. “Hey,” he said in a groggy, but still very enticing raspy low voice from the door, shuffling a little bit as he tried to make sure he hid part of his bottom half out of sight given the thin fabric of his pants.
You were getting ready to walk down the hall to bid him a proper goodbye and, maybe, your phone number. But then your cell buzzed with a message from your driver.
“Hey, [y/f/n] I have arrived. I will wait for 2 minutes,” it read.
“Fuck!” you said aloud, this time much louder.
“What’s wrong?” Shino asked, beginning to look concerned as he inched further out the frame, mentally cursing his decision to just grab whatever pants he saw to talk to you.
“Damn,” you said from the end of the hall, hurriedly grabbing your luggage and bag as you started to walk backwards to the door to the staircase. “I’m sorry, that’s my ride, I forgot I had to do that speaking series thing today and have to leave now to make it in time.”
“Thank you for last night!” you shouted apologetically as you rushed down the staircase to get to the car in time. “It was amazing!”
“Wait, do you need help?” Shino started to ask, beginning to head out of his room with one hand covering the morning wood that was erected in his thin lounge pants. But you were quick, and had already been halfway down the staircase by the time he’d asked.
He then quickly ran back into his room to put on a pair of less revealing pants as he left to hurry after you.
7:55 a.m.
You had just gotten in the car. And, by the time Shino got downstairs about a minute later, it had started to slowly drive away.
You took a deep breath while attempting to assess the situation. You had your ticket in your email and you’ll be at the train station in about 40 minutes. That means you have about 10 minutes to check in and hopefully make it for the 8:45 a.m. boarding if traffic isn’t terrible.
You looked back at the hotel out of your tinted car window, thinking about the last 24 hours, the progress made with your book and your phenomenal night with the teacher from Konoha.
As the car started to make its way down the block, you thought you saw someone darting after the car. You paused in shock after rolling the window down to get a better view.
Wait, is that-- it is!
A grin immediately began forming on your face as you started to see Shino come into view.
“[y/f/n]! Wait!” you could hear him yell from about a block away, completely barefoot, before you started to laugh with joy.
“Here!” he then yelled, smiling as he outstretched his hand in your direction while his pace began to slow to a jog.
The move drew a confused smile from you until, within seconds, you noticed a bug appear on the hand you had resting along the window.
It was a female kikaichū, which you knew from your studies that the Aburame famously used them for tracking since a male bug could easily pick up its scent over extremely long distances.
The gesture prompted you to let out a hearty laugh and, after realizing Shino had very much intended to see you again, you blew a kiss back to the teacher as the car stopped to turn the corner.
“Come find me next week!!!” you shouted back at him. “I’ll be back home then!”
Shino nodded and grinned at you in response, casually standing barefoot in the middle of town with his hands in his pockets as your car drove out of view.
“Sweet Devonian Rhyniognatha hirsti,” he said slowly, chuckling to himself before he started back to the hotel.
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joshjacksons · 3 years
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Joshua Jackson interview with “Irish Independent”
It was during a childhood visit to his granny’s house in Dublin’s Ballyfermot that Joshua Jackson smoked his first cigarette.
“My memories of those visits to Ballyfermot are quite sweet really,” the Dawson’s Creek actor recalls. “I was always running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble. Not bad trouble, just little-kid trouble. Although, technically it’s where I smoked my first cigarette, so that in itself isn’t the sweetest memory.”
Jackson’s handsome face surges with deep laughter lines and quiet dimples at the mention of mum Fiona’s home turf. “She might prefer I’d say she was from Chapelizod”, he jokes, before proudly pinning his mum’s allegiance to “Ballyer”.
Was the young Canadian treated like a shiny, exotic object by the local kids? “I was a bit, but I became less exotic the older I got. Culturally, I was so far away from an Irish kid but in a little pack of children, everyone finds their level. It also helped that I had my own cousins, my own blood, around with us. I had that family connection so I never felt too exoticised.”
An entry on his IMDb profile suggests his late grandparents Rosemary and Patrick were opera singers in Dublin, indicating that performance runs in the genes. The actor seems unaware. “Mum tells me they used to sing to each other a lot. My grandparents lived in council housing with a little kitchen out the back, garden right outside, and they would sing to each other through the window as he was out pottering about while she was cooking.
“But he was known more as a snooker shark around Ballyfermot. And my grandmother, she was known as a sainted mother of seven.”
Having welcomed his first child, Janie, with his wife, the actor Jodie Turner-Smith, last year, it’s obvious family is paramount for 43-year-old Jackson, as he Zoom-calls from a rich hotel suite with dark wallpaper and plump cushions in the background. It stems from an evident bond with his mum, whose presence lovingly peppers our conversation. Just 16 when she left Dublin, Fiona Jackson travelled through Paris, Amsterdam and Geneva before embracing the vibrancy of London’s Swinging Sixties and ultimately making for Vancouver in her early twenties.
In an entry on her blog, she speaks of falling for “the spectacular beauty of snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean” and ultimately scoring an entry-level position at a Canadian talent agency. It led to a career as a successful casting agent, working on film classics including Carnal Knowledge with Jack Nicholson and McCabe & Mrs Miller with Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.
She met and married Joshua’s father, John Carter, and the young family moved to Los Angeles. Sister Aisleagh was born shortly before John walked out on the family, leaving a profound effect.
“My father, unfortunately, was not a good father or husband and exited the scene,” the actor disclosed last year, before adding it’s something he “will never get over”.
Young infants in tow, Fiona returned to Vancouver and, having found early success in casting, helped contribute to the foundation of the burgeoning “Hollywood North” industry on the Canadian west coast.
Accompanying his mum on set, young Joshua’s interests were piqued. “She introduced me to this world and saw from a young age that I enjoyed performing in a way that kids do. She allowed me the opportunity to step into her work world, but it was also very clear that it was work.”
He appeared as an extra on MacGyver and as a child actor’s double in The Fly II, and Fiona could see her son’s talent and genuine desire to impress. So she allowed him to audition. However, permission came with strict caveats.
“I don’t think my mum would have ever put me anywhere near the entertainment industry if I didn’t have something to offer to it. And not just for myself; she’s a prideful woman and didn’t want to be embarrassed by her kid.”
Casting 1991 melodrama Crooked Hearts with ER’s Noah Wyle, Fiona gave Joshua a chance to shine. Impressing the filmmakers, the then-12-year-old secured the part, setting him not only on a path to stardom but away from the troubles of his teen years.
“My mother gave me the guard rails I needed at that time and also recognised, being a working single mum and with me a young boy, transitioning into a teenager, I needed structure in my life. I needed something that I was passionate about and had a respect for, because I was kind of a typical teenage disaster.
“I look back on those times in my life and the two parallel tracks I was running on. On the one hand, getting into all sorts of trouble and, on the other hand, my professional life, where I showed up and learned my lines and did my job in order to be respected by the adults I was around. If I hadn’t had that professional side of my life, the other side would have taken over, and Mum saw that. Who knows where I would have ended up?”
So Jackson was a full-on teen delinquent? “Yeah, I was, to a certain extent. It was relatively innocent — nobody died — but I was a teenage boy who didn’t have a father in the home, didn’t have a man to be scared of, frankly, and as a teenage boy, I think that helps. My mum had to work and she wasn’t always in the house so I learned to get into more and more trouble. I got into just enough trouble to have a good time and learn some lessons but if I hadn’t had my work life, I might have tipped over into the kind of trouble that you don’t come back from.”
Three decades in and Jackson remains one of the hardest-working, most recognisable actors in the game. Hitting pay dirt at 18 as Dawson’s Creek’s Pacey Witter — the wisecracking, teacher-bedding antithesis to James Van Der Beek’s beleaguered titular drip — the actor was a revelation: the soul and bite of a seasoned character performer in the guise of relatable poster-boy idol.
Teens swooned, so did the industry, and alongside Van Der Beek, Michelle Williams and Katie Holmes, Jackson had Hollywood at his feet.
A string of popcorn offerings followed — Cruel Intentions, Gossip, Shutter, Cursed — some quality, others derivative, with the small screen ultimately best utilising his skills. A five-season run on sci-fi series Fringe was followed by an outstanding turn on Showtime’s The Affair. Last year, he maintained a brooding presence opposite Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington in Little Fires Everywhere. And this year, he takes on arguably his darkest work yet in Dr Death.
The new miniseries is based on the non-fiction podcast of the same name, and Jackson portrays Christopher Duntsch, a former spinal surgeon who maimed 33 patients owing to gross malpractice while operating in hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. Two of these patients lost their lives. Convicted in 2017, Duntsch is currently in prison and serving life imprisonment. He still maintains his innocence, with his defence arguing that he was merely a bad surgeon, not a criminal.
Exuding a simmering malevolence, the actor showcases Duntsch’s disturbing complexities and terrifying behaviour as a narcissist and sociopath with a keen insight. Did Jackson meet with Duntsch? “I wanted to, but that was going to be really difficult because he’s appealing his case and his lawyers would’ve advised against it. And as I got deeper into the materials and podcast, and got a better understanding of the man, I don’t think it would’ve helped because he still really believes he’s the victim of his own patients, and the lawyers and the legal system. I’m not sure asking a liar for the truth gets you any closer to the truth.”
When it came to the victims, Jackson wanted to maintain a respectful distance. “I didn’t need to drag them through those awful memories again and I’m always a little dubious about asking people to delve into the worst moments of their life just to satisfy my curiosity. The questions had already been asked thanks to the podcast.”
Dr Death came at the right time in the actor’s life. New baby daughter Janie offered a crucial respite from the intense, and often dark, six-month foray into Duntsch’s malignant psyche.
“Inhabiting Mr Duntsch was an ugly space to live in for six months. If I’d been coming home to an empty house every night, it would have been a pretty bleak existence. It was so much better to come back to a loving home. My one-year-old doesn’t give a damn what I was doing that day. She just wants to be loved and hugged and cuddled, and it was the perfect antidote when some days were particularly heavy.”
Recently Jackson confessed that the Dawson’s Creek cast won’t be returning for a retrospective reunion like the Friends stars did earlier this year. “If you put our mid-forties selves together on a couch now, with our creaking backs, it might shock people.”
Quizzed on an actual reboot of the drama, Joshua reckons he’s simply too old to replicate the iconic rapid exchanges of dialogue between the garrulous young characters. “We were like The West Wing for teenagers,” he laughs, referencing Aaron Sorkin’s hit political TV series, also infamous for speedy script delivery. “My 43-year-old brain couldn’t do a show at that pace. Back then, we were doing seven, 10 pages a day and, to deliver dialogue at that speed, you have to have a certain mental capacity for that, and I don’t have it anymore. That’s the real reason why we’re not doing a reunion — I’ve become too dumb to keep up with that script.”
He remains in touch with his DC co-stars, including Holmes, his one-time girlfriend of two years. There’s even a text chain. “It goes through spurts every once in a while. I’ll have a bunch of messages on it and then it’ll go dormant. We’re like college friends — there are moments we’re all in contact and then long, fallow periods as we get on with our lives.”
While maintaining a busy slate, Jackson’s overwhelming purpose continues to circle the women in his life. Turner-Smith is currently shooting a new movie with Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, so he’s assuming full-time dad duties. It’s an equitable arrangement given the flexible needs of their individual commitments, and one he appears content with.
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fourmarkdove · 4 years
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South-Bound Polecat
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Title: South-Bound Polecat
Words: 1.6k
Summary: Sy is furious you’re not taking better care of yourself.
Paring: Syverson x reader
Warnings: Disordered eating
A/N: Based off of this post. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!
Setting down your oversized bag on the bench near the door, you then leaned over to tug off your heels. You moaned out loud and stretched your toes, unbuttoning your suit jacket. Sy came around the corner and leaned against the double door frame leading out to the hall. Arms folded across his chest, he tilted his wrist and checked the time.
“It’s 9:30,” he complained, watching you shrug out of your jacket. “You said you’d be home three hours ago.”
“I know my love. I’m so sorry.” You came to him and lifted up onto your toes to gently kiss his bottom lip. “Time just got away from me. Good news is that I got all of the quizzes graded and entered into the system.”
“You’re runnin’ yourself ragged, babe.”
“I’ll be fine, darling. I just need a hot bath and then to fall into bed.”
“I grilled steaks for us tonight,” he called up the stairs after you, “three and a half hours ago.”
Ever the keen observer, he caught the scent of - what was that? Ranch dressing? Instead of heading back to the couch, he thumbed open your bag to find the offending smell.
Since he was back from deployment and had more free time than ever, he took it upon himself to look after you like he always said he wanted to. And like you apparently needed. He’d taken to waking on schedule, hours well ahead of you, and he’d go for a run, have a shower, and sip coffee while making your breakfast - usually a smoothie because you flat out told him your “nervous stomach” couldn’t handle eating real breakfast with him.
Every morning he’d pack a lunch for you too. He thought of it as an extra little reminder during the day of how he cared for you by taking the time to slice up thin baby carrot sticks or apple slices earlier that morning.
He sighed a gruff sound, peeling sticky note reminders off of the cracked open container. Ranch dressing had spilled out and leaked all over inside your bag. He popped open the container heading out to the kitchen, discovering you’d not even touched any of the chicken tenders he’d made. That made three times this week that you hadn’t eaten lunch.
When he was all done cleaning up, he sat on the couch and flicked through channels mindlessly. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar padding of feet coming downstairs and wandering over to the fridge to scrounge for food before bed.
“Babe?” you called, pouring yourself some water. “Any more of that steak? Oh nevermind I found it.”
Coming to the couch in his t-shirt and freshly washed hair, you slide some of the thinly sliced meat into your mouth and cooed, tasting the salty goodness of the rub he’d seared it with. You fold your legs under you as you come to sit next to him, mesmerized by the football game on the screen.
He sat a few long minutes, arm thrown over the back of the couch, and watched you devour the sweet potato fries, steak, and grilled pineapple. Sliding your plate onto the coffee table, you sighed and laid down, using his muscular thigh as a pillow.
Two minutes into the game and you were rolling over onto your side, drawing your knees up and whining about a stomach ache.
“Course it hurts, bug. You just inhaled dinner. You know you’d not come home every night ready to eat the north end of a south-bound polecat if you’d just dig in to the lunches I been makin’ ya.”
You sighed and rubbed your cheek against his leg. “I know. I just get busy…”
“Ain’t nothin’ I ever heard about in your particular line of work that means you can’t stop for 10 minutes to get chow.”
Sitting up, you didn’t have much fight in you between the stomach ache and exhaustion, but still you want him to understand. “Lunch is the only time I can get stuff done. They’ve taken away my planning period. I have to get papers graded. I’ll try to be better about eating but…”
“You an’ I both know ‘try’ is about as worthless as tits on a bull,” he huffed, flexing his fingers over the couch armrest.
Stunned, you gave him a wide eyed look and pulled the damp hair from your face. “Sy, are you angry at me?”
“Geez, woman!” Yes, he was in fact angry. “All I’m asking is for you to look after yourself better. I’m not askin’ for the gotdamn moon!”
He stood up abruptly and paused halfway out of the room. Even in the dim light you could see the muscles across his back were tense and twitching. His fists were balled up and his whole body was rigid.
Your Sy had a temper and there were times when that rage benefitted both him and the men and women who served under his command. His unit needed the discipline he provided because every last one of them knew the training built trust that kept them alive even in the most desperate situations. Most of the time his temperament was fairly sanguine as a natural leader and his charisma was enough to get the job done. If pressed, however, he could and did square up with any soldier who dared to step over the line and disrespect him, the position he held, or ignore instructions given. Even the charisma was calculated. There was never a moment of downtime even if he appeared relaxed.
That’s what frustrated him so damn much dealing with you. He planned to look after you, calculated to make sure you were prepared for long days you faced on your own front line of sorts. He wanted you to feel that same kind of “until the end of the line” support that his unit felt when they trained, when they fought, and when they had down time. Together.
That was the thing - he couldn’t do any of that from home while you went to a school campus. You had no down time together other than collapsing in his arms always for sleep. And he sure as hell couldn’t engage in any kind of training like he was used to. The one and only time he barked at you was earlier on in your relationship, over something altogether innocuous, like how the ladder wasn’t set properly when you climbed up to wash windows. He was correct and it was unsafe but the delivery sent ice through your veins. When you climbed down and approached him, shuddering with fear and bottom lip quivering, his heart broke in two.
He spent the rest of that night cuddling you up in his bear arms, nuzzling your neck and barely speaking above a whisper. He swore he’d never raise his voice to you like that ever again.
When things came across like this not eating lunch thing, it was difficult for him. What was that bullshit book you made mention of about love languages? His was clearly acts of service; why weren’t you seeing that?
I make you lunches because I want to provide for you. I want you to feel supported and loved even when I can’t physically be with you.
That’s what he wanted to say; what he meant to say every time he closed the lid on those containers and slipped them into your bag as you ran out the door and forgot your smoothie.
For you not to even have opened them? Whether you meant to or not, he felt flat out rejected. Did you really not want him? He tried so hard in his own way to tell you how desperately he loved you. But it felt like you couldn’t be bothered enough to care, hence ranch dressing spilled in your bag.
“I’m goin’ to bed,” he sighed. “Night, bug.”
Ten minutes later, he heard the bathroom sink and then the sheets being lifted as you silently slid in on your side of the bed. He faced away, feeling like sinking down into himself and closed his eyes.
Twenty minutes later, he heard a faint whimper as you curled up smaller in your sleep and began to rock yourself. Sitting up, he glanced over his shoulder and sighed. Your belly must have still ached.
Rolling over, he pulled you close and turned your body over so he could rub his large hand over your stomach soothingly.
He felt your little gasp and fingers curl against his chest when you woke with a start. “Mm I… bad dream…” you mumbled. He wrapped a steady arm behind your back so you could use his bicep as a pillow while he rubbed your midriff.
“I know, babe. Shh you’re safe…” he whispered, pressing his cheek to your forehead.
“Please don’t be mad,” you sniffled barely awake, pressing your nose into his neck. “I love you.”
Even barely awake, you said it so easily. It felt like a miracle every time the words fell over your beautiful lips. He tucked a hand behind your head and kissed your forehead gently. “I love you, bug.”
You cooed and settled down, drifting fast now that you were tucked into him.
“Can I take you out for lunch tomorrow?”
“Mm… sounds nice…” you sighed one last time before passing out completely.
He could not have been more awake, however.
His cheeks burned and something tightened in his throat - what was that - choked up like tears? Even if you didn’t remember it, he’d managed to say it out loud.
I love you, bug.
But you remembered.
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marastriker · 3 years
Note
The red caboose for the ask game?
I didn't know which number you wanted so I just did them all 🤷
1) CB doesn't necessarily see anything about himself to be proud of. He's content with his acting ability and being able to keep his lifestyle of crashing trains under the wraps so well. But it's not something he would brag about to others, unless, of course, they attempted to undermine him.
2) At first, he really wants to please Greaseball when the diesel is paying him to rig races in his favor (not always with money. Sometimes with sexual favors.) He thinks that, perhaps, if he can get Greaseball to reigning champion, GB would maybe give him more of the time of day. Maybe see him as more than just a tool. It's a foolish endeavor, of course, since Greaseball has eyes for a certain dining car instead. CB can't bring himself to be angry or resentful, because Dinah is his best friend and she also genuinely likes him. He just feels like a forgotten third wheel. I think he finds new purpose in helping Electra rather than Greaseball, though. And even if Electra treats him as more of an equal, he still doesn't want to let them down. 
3) I guess the funny thing about being the token errand boy is that many engines depend on him. It gives him a feeling of power that he knows he can't misuse, but he does have his own fun in knowing that he could ruin everything at the drop of a pin if he wanted to. 
4) Come to terms with it. Very quickly. He would actually probably shut himself away from the world and wait for it to happen, or maybe try to accelerate the process. If Electra was in his life at this point, they would probably encourage CB to live life to the fullest in the meantime. It would take a lot of convincing though. 
5) His Chessie System sticker/tattoo (I see them as tattoos, personally). His mother was an original Chessie yellow caboose and it reminds him of her.
6) CB has gotten so used to being on his own for so long, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't wish his parents were still alive. Things could have turned out so differently. 
7) Electra or Dinah. They're the ones he's closest to.
8) If CB had the money, he would dish it out on a fancy red convertible. But he's just fine rolling himself where he needs to get, or if not, public transportation is just fine. 
9) Someone playing with his hair, massaging/scratching his scalp. It's like a damn reset button, it immediately puts him at bay. He only trusts a select few with this information though. 
10) He simply lives with it. End of story. He never wants to be seen as weak or vulnerable to anyone and has learned to bottle up all his problems so no one will know just how broken he really is. 
11) His neckerchief is especially important to him. It was the last piece of his old baby blanket, and he still likes to keep it close. It's a comfort thing. 
12) How doesn't he sleep? He moves around so much that he's fallen off the bed multiple times in his sleep. It doesn't wake him up, because he is a very heavy sleeper. But he needs to be a special kind of tired to stay still during sleep.
13) Someone who would vow to make sure nothing would ever get in the way of them having a normal childhood. He's not going to make them go through the same bullshit he did, no one deserves that. 
14) CB was one of those students who didn't do any of the homework and goofed off in class (typical class clown, of course.) But he would ace the tests, quizzes. Teachers thought he was just cheating, and asked him questions out of the blue during class. All of which he got correct. He's not stupid, by any means, in fact he's a genius. He just doesn't feel the need to do homework over stuff he already knows. 
15) Something crisp and clean once he can afford it. Perhaps he might also use body sprays traditionally marketed toward women, but he likes the fruity scents. 
16) It's actually quite confusing, after trying to date Dinah, he assumed he was gay after not being as attracted to her sexually. Sexual stuff with other men turned out to be much more enjoyable. But in actuality, he's probably Pan, since he doesn't mind Electra being genderfluid. 
17) I have this idea that he's actually really into Disney movies so I imagine him and Dinah would have fun doing some Disney duets. Love is an Open Door, A Whole New World, etc. But in the way that Sharpay and Ryan always played the romantic leads in High School Musical - just because they're comfy with each other, not because they're in love. 
18) He's a very bendy lad. He has some mad contortionist/acrobatic skills that he casually shows off. Totally didn't think it was special or interesting until others pointed it out though. He's just like what? You can't put your leg behind your head? 
19) CB is someone who despite being able to hold his own and take care of himself, desperately wants someone to be there for him. That's why he feels safest with Electra. Electra is someone who thankfully sees him for who he really is and fiercely loves him despite his flaws. 
20) Washing dishes. He hates touching wet food, it's a sensory issue. That might be one of the only things that could get him to easily vomit.
21) The first Christmas he could remember when his parents were still alive was when he got his first kid's radio set. It really fueled his love for radio communication and he appreciated it greatly since he knew his family was always tight on money. He can clearly remember the happy look on his mom's face when he opened the present. 
22) Foolishly. He will pour hundreds into his hobbies and interests but not on stuff he actually needs to survive like food. Or even proper bed sheets. He thinks it's completely justified, because he thinks life isn't worth it if you can't do something you enjoy. 
23) Don't get me wrong, CB is very much a lightweight, but he likes his blackout nasty liquor. He will do shots of basically anything you give him. Though if he had a choice of drink, it would be a fruity concoction that's sure to get him wasted ASAP. 
24) He's always longed to rise above his station. Racing is something he truly enjoys and wishes he could be an engine like Greaseball or Electra. Unfortunately, that's just something that's not possible. Crashing trains aside, he loves the feeling of the wind in his hair as he's speeding down the track. It's when he feels the most free. 
25) Others would probably prefer that he didn't crash trains, but it's not like he cares. That's not something that's worth changing about himself in his mind. He wonders if people actually got to know the real him they would understand what he wants out of life better. But it's always difficult for him to trust someone enough to be that vulnerable with.
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chuckbass-love · 4 years
Text
Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 14
A/N : Just finished a Loki one shot, it’ll be posted tomorrow and i’m so proud of it. 
Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome.
No smut in this one unfortunately but i really enjoyed writing this chapter. Hope you guys love it as much as i do. 
Why Him? MASTERLIST
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Ransom’s POV
“It was lovely to see you again Claudia, and you Ransom” grandad says as we all say our goodbyes. “You too, thank you for having us” Claudia hugs him before bidding farewell to my parents. “Hope to see you again soon” they say and we wave to them as we get into my car. “They love you” i beam as i start driving away. “I love them too” she admits. “So it’s 5:30pm now. We have to meet them around 7 ish. I think we should get ready when we get home” i suggest and she nods. “Sure thing babe” i place my hand on her thigh, squeezing it slightly.
“Are you okay?” a hint of worry in her voice “I’m fine doll, don’t sweat it” she shrugs before turning the radio on in the car and bopping her head to the music. To tell the truth, i’m shitting it. I’ve never had to meet a girls friends before, my ex didn’t have many and the few she did have she didn’t want me to meet because she was worried that being with me would ruin her reputation. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
We get back home and she runs inside and up the stairs to choose an outfit. I follow closely behind her since i need to change too. “Okay, this dress or that one?” she holds up a little black dress and a knee length body-con dress that would accentuate her features perfectly. 
“The red one” she shakes her head, unsure “The red one, trust me” she walks over to me on the bed and she straddles me. “What are you doing doll?” i raise my brows “Just can’t keep my hands off of you that’s all” i pull her face closer to mine and kiss her. I swipe my tongue across her bottom lip and she opens her mouth, letting me in. We both get lost in the kiss and eventually i pull away. “We don’t have time for this now baby” she gets off of me in a huff.
“Someone sure is sulky when they don’t get their way huh?” i stand up and head into the closet, she follows. “I just, i can’t stop thinking about how good you fucked me this morning, my pussy is still sore” fuck. 
“Well maybe later we can do it again. If you behave that is” i wink and she bites her bottom lip. I start changing in front of her and she whistles as i pull my shirt off. “Quit it, i’m not a piece of meat doll” she throws her head back laughing. “No, you’re a god. A sex god at that” she’s making it real difficult to be able to control myself.
I finish getting changed, i’m wearing a white shirt, which i rarely wear. My usual slacks and a grey cardigan which i can just take off when we get there. Just as i’m about to leave the closet, i remember something. The love egg. Time for some fun.
“Hey baby, come here” i call out and soon enough she wonders in, all innocent looking.
“Before you change, i’ve got something for you” i was gonna surprise her with the diamond necklace but that’s for another occasion. Since she’s been nagging for my dick, i’ll make her earn it for later. I hold up the toy and dangle it in front of her, her jaw drops. “Bend over” she does and i rub her pussy a little, also making sure to lube up the egg, no need to lube her up since her pussy is always soaked for me. I work it in and she gasps. “That’s it, keep it in there until we get home. You understand”  she nods “I have all the control though doll” her eyes widen at the sight of the little remote in my hand. “No moaning either, got it?” she nods once again and she starts to change.
As she finishes getting ready, she turn to me and i hold her hand, twirling her around. “So beautiful” i’m in awe of her. I can’t help but feel extremely lucky.
We head out to the beamer and i drive us to the bar to meet her friends. I start tapping my fingers on the steering wheel whenever we come to a red light. “Babe, calm down. It’ll be fine i promise” she leans over to place a kiss onto my cheek, to give me some reassurance.
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“Darcy” she yells in excitement as we enter the bar and she sees her friends. She holds my hand and leads me to through the crowd. This is the same bar that we met at a couple of weeks ago. Funny how one night changed our lives. We reach the back of the bar and her friends are sat in a booth. They all file out of the booth to greet me. 
“Hi, i’m Ransom” i smile, reaching out to shake hands but Darcy pulls me into a hug. “So you’re the one that’s got this one over here all love struck” Claudia gives Darcy a nudge as if to say ‘shush’. I chuckle as i reach Luke “I’m Luke, that’s Darcy and this is James but i think you’ve spoken to him before. It’s nice to meet you” he gives me a hug and then so does James. We all take our seats in the booth, i sit next to Claudia. Opposite James, Darcy and Luke.
I reach my hand into my coat pocket to where the remote is and i press the first button, turning it on. Claudia jolts slightly “What’s wrong?” Luke asks, a look of confusion on his face but she waves it off. “Just accidentally knocked my knee against the table, no biggie” tonight is going to be a lot of fun.
“Wait so your grandad is Harlan Thrombey?” Darcy’s mouth is practically on the ground. “Yeah, Claudia told me and my family that you’re a big fan and he said he’d love to meet you” she squeals “You did not” Claudia laughs. “I did. You know i got you girl” they both start smiling at each other. Brownie points to me.
“So Luke, I know you like cars and well Ransom here has a beamer” he stares at her “Shut up, i’ve always wanted to ride in one. I know, not the best dream but you have to let me tag along in it one day man” i shake his hand “You’re on, i know a track we can race it on if you’re up for it” his eyes go wide as he sips his beer. “For sure, i’m down” i look over at Claudia as i press the second button on the remote, she starts biting at her lip. It’s working.
Tonight is going perfect, i’m getting along so well with all of them. We have loads in common which is great plus i know at the end of the night that Claudia will be like putty in my hands, she’ll be soaked for me. Just how i like her.
I order more drinks, getting myself a non-alcoholic beer since i’m driving and i get chatting to James about interior design. Claudia told him about my house and he said he’s looking for inspiration for his new home that he’s just purchased. 
“Seriously though, you’re welcome to come and look around, maybe it’ll give you some ideas. I can even set you up with my mother too, she helped me with most of it and she’s very good at that sort of thing” we sip at our drinks and continue to chat about everything and anything. Claudia excuses herself to go to the toilet, Darcy follows. Just me and the guys now.
James’s POV
“So now she’s gone, we have to know man. What are your intentions?” Luke quizzes and i nod in agreement to his question. “If i’m being honest, i’m never like this with women but she’s different you know. I truly believe that she’s the one” me and Luke smile from ear to ear, in pure happiness at Ransom’s response. Claudia has been hurt before like most people and we just want the best for her. I can tell that Ransom has a past but what matters the most now is how he treats Claudia.
Claudia’s POV
“So, what do you think?” i ask Darcy, a cubicle separating us. “He’s lovely babes, i approve. He seems to be making you happy, am i right?” i gush at the thought of my man. “I am, i’m genuinely happy for the first time in a long time” i giggle as i feel the egg vibrate more inside of me. That fucker. I have every right to tease him when we get back out there. We finish up and head back out to the guys. I strut up to Ransom and sit down, making sure to flash him a cheeky wink. “I wanna dance, you guys coming?” i suggest but they wave me off. Darcy decides to join me though.
We walk over to the dance floor, i make sure to walk extra sexy, as i know Ransom’s eyes are fixed upon my figure. The song Please Me by Bruno Mars and Cardi B comes on, perfect song for what i’m about to do. I feel the vibrations go up a notch as i sway my hips to the music. 
‘Please me baby, turn around and just tease me baby’
The music goes and i slut drop to the floor with Darcy, my ass in full view of Ransom’s eyes. I know i’m looking sexy and it’s clearly getting to him. I start grinding my hips in a circle as i move up and down, i turn my head and glance over my shoulder at him. He’s covering his crotch and i see him holding the remote. I wink at him again and the vibrations get more intense. Luckily for me, he can’t hear the quiet moan slip out of my mouth.
The song Privacy by Chris Brown comes on next and i get more freaky with my moves, Darcy follows my lead as we start grinding on each other. That’ll send him right over the edge. Minutes later i feel a hand on my waist, i turn around to find Ransom. 
“Hi baby” i whisper in his ear and he glares at me, hunger in his eyes. “What the fuck are you playing at” he growls into my ear as i wrap my arms loosely around his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about daddy” i give him my puppy dog eyes and bite my lip in an innocent manner. I can see i’m driving him crazy. I turn around so my ass is pushed against his crotch.
‘Partition’ by Beyonce comes on, time starts going really slow. All the couples in the bar start grinding on each other. Me and Ransom are no exception. I push my ass back even more and i swirl my hips round in circles. I feel his breath on the back of my neck. “You’re really pushing me now doll” this is what he gets for denying me sex earlier and forcing me to wear this vibrator inside of me. It’s time i teased him for once. 
“Someone is gonna get it when they get home” the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, just what i wanted. He thinks he’s getting sex tonight and i have him right where i want him. “We’ll see about that daddy” i lean my head back, resting it on his pecks and leaning up slightly so he can hear me. I stop grinding and walk off of the dance floor to go to the bar, ordering some shots. He follows me.
Ransom’s POV
“I think you’ve had enough doll” that doesn’t stop her though. She pays and takes two shots, one after the other. She then heads back to the booth, me and Darcy join her. 
“I think we should get off now, this one has had one too many” i chuckle, nodding my head towards Claudia who is drunk. “Spoil sport” she scoffs and we all laugh. “It was so nice to meet you” they all say, accidentally in unison as we leave the bar. I hug them all and we part ways. I help Claudia into the passenger seat before jogging round to the driver’s side.
We’re halfway home and Claudia is just sat there in the passenger seat, giggling away to herself. “Doll, you really should know better than to tease me like that” i tap away at the steering wheel, wishing i could get home quicker. “You deserved it” i roll my eyes as i speed up, trying to get home faster.
I pull up and help her into the house. My staff left hours ago. “You’re about to learn a lesson princess” she raises her brows, pushing me off of her. She manages to get away from me and get upstairs as i head into the kitchen to get her some water.
“FUCK” i yell as i run after her with a bottle of water. “Unlock the door NOW” i snap as she locks it just before i get there. “No” i can hear her giggling again. I keep knocking in hopes that she’ll unlock it “Quit the games now doll” she sighs. “You wanna have sex baby? Well too bad” there’s that famous laugh of hers again.
I stop hearing any noise in the bedroom as i press my ear to the door. “Babe” i call out and i get no answer. Shit, i have a spare key for the bedroom door. I head downstairs and into my office. I open my desk drawer to find it. Ah here it is. I race back upstairs and immediately unlock the door. To my surprise though, there she is. Fast asleep on the bed. Snoring slightly. She looks adorable like this. She can’t sleep in that dress and those heels though. I lift her up slightly and do my best to undress her without waking her.  
I leave her in her panties and i pull the covers over her body. I’ll have to get that toy out of her in the morning and leave her to sleep for now in peace. She’ll get her punishment tomorrow.
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checkoutafrica · 3 years
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Zimbabwe’s Afronomads and their journey to revolutionize African Travel
Travelling has always been one of those activities which brings the unexpected, unforgettable and intimate experiences. Dalai Lama once said that at least once in a year one should go someplace you have never been before. Personally travel is my unconventional massage for the soul. It has always been viewed as one of those undertakings that waters the garden of Eden in our lives, exposes us to new cultures and reveals the truths of the our own origins, rejuvenates a tired soul and so forth. Social media has brought a new wave of young travellers or travel influencers and travel content creators exposing the hidden gems around the World.
Having studied outside of Zimbabwe and being introduced to travel at a tender age by their parents makes the Mutyavaviri twins no strangers to the world of travel. The curiosity of knowing more about Zimbabwe dampened the seed for their love of travel. Starting their content creation journey with only a mobile phone, Afronomads have travelled to countries such as Tanzania, Kenya, Mozambique, Malawi, Botswana, Zambia, Swaziland, South Africa, India and United Arab Emirates (UAE). In Zimbabwe they have been to destinations such as Victoria Falls, Kariba, Chipinge, Chimanimani, Hwange, Honde Valley, Inyanga and Umfurudzi National Park. Tariro and Chiedza Mutyavaviri, the pair who make up Afronomads Zimbabwe are travel influencers, travel content creators and travel agency owners.
“The reason we started Afronomads was to showcase travel in Zimbabwe and basically other countries in Africa. Our aim was to showcase other places that are in Zimbabwe besides Victoria Falls. Another main thing that we wanted to highlight was that you can travel to a lot of places out there that are not only five star rated. There are so many options when travelling in Zimbabwe, so many accommodation options, so many things that one can do that are not really known by a lot of people; hence we really wanted to highlight that through our travel” conversed the duo on the inception of their enterprise.
The Afronomads. Image courtesy of Afronomads Zimbabwe
The Afronomads started off showcasing their travels in Zimbabwe and other African countries through content visuals on Youtube which consist of the content creation side of their entity. Through their content creation an opportunity arose to create a travel agency to service an audience which was influenced by their travels. “So many people were asking us how we travel and asking us to help them; we saw that as a business opportunity and also help people because already on our social media platforms we were giving out information so the agency handles from as little as an itinerary or help you plan your whole trip.” They reiterated that their intention is to inspire young Africans to travel and capture a community of young travellers who want to travel locally which will in turn give a purposeful contribution to the domestic tourism in Zimbabwe.
Group Experience. Image courtesy of Afronomads Zimbabwe
The duo has concocted exciting initiatives such as the Afronomads Travel Tribe which consists of a community of young African travellers interested in the work the content creators do. As an entity Afronomads Zimbabwe are also working on thought-provoking initiatives to bridge the gap brought about by the lack of travel information in Zimbabwe of other small tourism destinations. “Some of the initiatives that we want to do in the future are mostly travel related for example working with locals in small towns because we noticed that a lot of locals have more information on their hometowns. In Chimanimani we observed that there are more locals who know about the hidden gems like secret waterfalls; that is what we are currently working on, to work with more locals in Binga and Chimanimani, in the small towns mainly” unpacked the Afronomads on community empowerment interventions they intend to do.
The world of travel has evolved and the traditional cumbersome processes of travel have been ironed out making the world more accessible to the general public. Tourism has been revolutionized by entities such as Airbnb and Couchsurfing. Asked about what the duo thought of these sensations they added that, “From our point of view when you think of travel you think of a hotel and when people think hotel they also think expensive in the same line of thought. That doesn’t give room for flexible budgets. People are now looking for experiences rather than just booking at a hotel. So when someone wants to travel like a local; what is the next best thing? why can’t l stay at couch surf where l can get more information from the local? and interact with a local and that person will show me the different places that are in the area.”
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Group Experience. Image courtesy of Afronomads Zimbabwe
The duo’s favourite travel experience so far was in Tanzania where they got an opportunity to sock in the culture with the Maasai women where they were introduced to the traditional bridal wear. Quizzed on their ultimate travel lesson the duo unpacked that, “Expect the unexpected; don’t expect too much because sometimes you get the unexpected. So have an open mind wherever you are going to travel to. It is always good to go somewhere with an open mind and bring your own sunshine. Just have fun with it wherever you go; expect the unexpected.” Domestic travel in Zimbabwe can be a bit costly but the travel influencers have found a way around accommodation options through camping and resorting for budget friendly accommodation. “For example in Inyanga, sometimes we would rather go and stay at Inyanga National Park and do more activities that are in Inyanga. Another thing that we do is camping. For us its more about the experience, there is time where we want to have nicer accommodation and want to relax and but we really feel that we are young and now is not the time for us to be travelling to 5 star hotels, for us it is really about the experience. So when we are calculating our budgets we are always thinking how much is accommodation; the goal is that it really needs to be the least of our expenses.”
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They go on to say that the most rewarding and gratifying portion of their travel experiences and business has been the influence it has had on people to travel due to the information that they would have shared through their platforms. Adding on some of the challenges in the tourism in Zimbabwe the pair singled out the challenge of information on smaller tourism destinations. Hence their intention to work with locals in areas such as Chipinge and Chimanimani to cover the information gaps that exist and amplify domestic tourism in Zimbabwe. “Another challenge we face on the travel agency side of things is online paying platforms. Those are like really difficult to come by. We can receive payments from travellers but it difficult to get withdrawals; it is just so much hustle to get a simple transaction done which sometimes can be frustrating. However we have found way to navigate that obstacle. Also travel insurance is also hard to come by in Zimbabwe; some countries have varieties, whereas not many choices exist when it comes to Zimbabwe which is very important for anyone that is going to travel.” To address some of these challenges they think the Ministry of Tourism should give young independent travel influencers and content creators an audience to help them air new and fresh ideas they have to help accelerate and promote domestic tourism and integrate activities which promote Zimbabwean authentic cultural experiences.
With so much done in terms of their travel business and travel content creation, the Afronomads would like to visit more African countries, with Rwanda being on top of their list, they also intend to climb Mt Kilimanjaro, Mt Kenya, visit Egypt, Ethiopia, and in Zimbabwe to visit Gonarezhou National Park and Matopos. Having found their market niche in organizing group experiences for young African travellers the pair encourages potential travel influencers and travel agency owners to go for it and make use of whatever available resources to accomplish their dreams.
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in-flagrante · 4 years
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'I feel sexier as I get older': Back on TV in a compelling new drama, Michelle Dockery tells how her own confidence has soared after playing a succession of strong, sassy women
By GABRIELLE DONNELLY FOR WEEKEND MAGAZINE
22 May 2020
Since she burst onto our screens ten years ago as Downton Abbey’s Lady Mary, all cut-glass vowels and nerves of steel, Michelle Dockery’s kept us in a permanent state of emotional whiplash with the sheer variety of roles she’s taken on.
She was a drug-addicted con artist in the 2016 TV series Good Behavior, a gun-totin’ cowgirl in the acclaimed 2017 drama Godless, and a Cockney gangster’s moll in Guy Ritchie’s crime caper The Gentlemen.
One thing you will not see, she insists, is Michelle Dockery playing a piece of arm candy.
‘I like to play strong women,’ she says when we meet for coffee pre-lockdown in New England, where she’s been shooting her new TV mini-series Defending Jacob.
‘And even if they’re not strong, they have to be interesting. Multi-faceted, complex, complicated, three-dimensional... and flawed too, because people are. Anything but boring!’
That doesn’t mean they can’t be sexy though, and she says the added bonus to playing these characters is that, at 38, she’s finding herself feeling sexier than ever.
‘Sexy is not about having anyone else make you feel sexy, it’s about how you feel inside, and I have certainly felt sexier as I’ve got older.
But I think that’s a confidence thing too. I’ve been lucky enough to play such strong, confident women, and when you do that you definitely take something from them with you into your real life – you sort of get inspiration from them.’
Her latest character in the thriller Defending Jacob is a straightforwardly good woman – although one thrust into bewildering circumstances.
Laurie Barber is happily married to handsome local Assistant District Attorney Andy Barber (Captain America film star Chris Evans), and mother to her wise-cracking 14-year-old son Jacob (Jaeden Martell).
She’s the sort of woman who goes for a run before breakfast, then quizzes her son on vocabulary over coffee before heading to her high-profile job managing a home for abused children.
She’s just so together... until her son is accused of one of the most hideous crimes imaginable – the cold-blooded murder of a classmate – and her entire life and social circle begin to unravel as the police investigate.
‘It’s a really gripping story, because it’s so difficult for this couple to comprehend that their child might commit any sort of crime, let alone a murder,’ says Michelle of the story, based on the 2012 novel by William Landay.
‘They’re both defending their son, and like any parent would, Laurie’s asking at the same time, “Where did I go wrong?”
'There’s conflict between Laurie and Andy because at the start of the story she’s the emotional one and he’s the calm one, but then as the story goes on there’s a need for Andy to be emotional too.
'So they’re always seeing things from a slightly different perspective.
‘It’s a very human, raw story about what something like this can do to a family, and what’s so interesting about Laurie is that as her life is turned completely upside down, she also begins to question things about her family – “How well do you really know your partner? How well do you really know your child?”’
Michelle’s own family background is modest but as stable as anyone could wish for. The youngest of three girls born to Irish-born lorry driver turned surveyor Michael Dockery and his redoubtable wife Lorraine, a former shorthand typist turned social worker, she was brought up in Romford, Essex, working class and proud of it.
‘My mum is loving but she’s also strict,’ says Michelle. ‘When I was about seven I stole some penny sweets from a shop. Mum caught me and made me go back and apologise to the shopkeeper, and I’ve never stolen anything since!’
She was also raised – as were her sisters Louise and Joanne – to speak up for what was right.
‘I was brought up to stand up for myself. To speak up when I felt passionate about something, when I felt the need to make my voice heard about something that mattered.
'I think a lot of that comes from having sisters, because we’ve always supported each other all along.
'If I’ve ever felt bullied or pushed into a corner, I’ve always been able to stand up for myself. And if I see it happening to someone else, especially younger actresses, I’ll stand up for them too.
‘I hate bullying. I have huge admiration for women in Hollywood and elsewhere who have come forward to tell their stories about that, and have stood up against people like Harvey Weinstein.
'It’s horrendous what they experienced and I’m glad something has been done about it.’
It’s safe to say no one has succeeded in taking advantage of Michelle, and she says now that when she first broached the idea of going into acting to her parents they were not in the least bit concerned.
‘They weren’t alarmed by it at all!’ she laughs. ‘They made sure I had a good education so I had something to fall back on.
'Both my parents are wonderful. My mum is the most incredible woman, she inspires me.
'And my dad’s amazing too – even though he spent our growing-up years with a bathroom that was never free! They let me be who I want to be.
'So between them and my two elder sisters, who are still my best friends, I’m very lucky. We call ourselves the Essex Mafia!’
Her career choice can hardly have come as a surprise to the family, as she says she wanted to be an actor ever since she can remember.
When she and her sisters were small they attended a stage school in the evening, and they would put on plays at home to entertain the family.
Michelle apprenticed at the National Youth Theatre when she was a teenager, and as soon as she’d taken her A-levels she enrolled at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
‘I feel I learned more at drama school than I did anywhere else,’ she says. ‘Even when I was at regular school I was never out of the drama department, so I didn’t do very well in other subjects.
'I just didn’t want to be taught anything else. But there’s a huge amount you learn in drama school besides acting, like history and literature, and that was where I came into my own.’
It was, of course, Lady Mary who made Michelle famous. ‘It happened overnight,’ she says.
‘Well, I’d been working in the theatre for seven years, so it wasn’t really overnight, but I remember after the first episode of Downton Abbey aired, walking into my newsagent’s where I was living and seeing a picture of myself, Laura Carmichael and Jessica Brown-Findlay, the three Crawley sisters, on the cover of three papers and that was huge.
'Then the first time I was recognised on the street was in New York, and that was even bigger because that’s when it hit me how big the show had become if I was being recognised in America.’
With talk of another feature film in the works after last year’s hit Downton movie, she says playing Mary is as comfortable as slipping into a second skin.
‘I have huge fondness for her, she’s been a big part of my life. That was a very special show, and I hope it’s one that stays with people forever.’
It was through Downton that she met the man she thought she’d be married to now.
In 2013, her co-star Allen Leech, who played chauffeur Branson, introduced her to Irish-born public relations executive John Dineen.
She and John fell in love, became engaged and were in the process of planning their wedding when John was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. He died in December 2015 with Michelle by his side.
At his funeral, the day after her 34th birthday and a day before what would have been his 35th, she told mourners, ‘He was my friend, my hero, my king, my everything.
'We celebrate him, we honour him, and we will miss him.’ She has not spoken out about her grief, but has admitted that it was her friends and family who helped her pull through, saying, ‘They are the ones who see you through the most difficult times.’
She has been dating Jasper Waller-Bridge, brother of Fleabag’s Phoebe, for a year now.
They met through friends and Jasper, who is six years Michelle’s junior and the creative director at a talent agency, accompanied her to red-carpet events before lockdown.
It was also reported that she bought a £1.7 million house in north-east London before Christmas.
Michelle hasn’t commented on the relationship but she does say that a sense of humour – surely a given with any member of the Waller-Bridge family – is vital in a relationship.
‘My parents always taught me to see the funny side of life and never to take myself too seriously.
'I find that more and more as I get older – I’m finding ways to laugh things off much more than I used to be able to.’
Right now, Michelle Dockery would seem to have plenty to smile about.
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-8336165/I-feel-sexier-older-Downton-Abbeys-Michelle-Dockerty.html
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gaiatheorist · 4 years
Text
“50% Feminine.”
I’m going mad again, I’m listing probable reasons, but going mad isn’t reasonable, it’s something that just happens to me from time to time. This is one of the slow, creepy-uppy episodes, not one of the sudden, explosive ones, possibly less dangerous, but incredibly draining. It’ll pass, it always does, it had better do, it’s bloody horrible.
Standard disclaimer, I am at increased risk of harm, but I have no intent or ideation of deliberately harming myself, apart from drinking too much cheap-and-nasty wine, which is my standard maladaptive coping mechanism.
I woke up at 1.30am, and, after a brief discussion with my wonky brain, acknowledged that I was Awake-awake, and there was no chance of going back to sleep. This will have a knock-on effect for a few days, there’s a fair chance I’ll fall asleep in my dinner, but it’s mostly containable. (The madness, as well as the dinner.) Scrolling through Twitter, to see if I’d ‘missed anything’, I found a link to ‘My Gender Coordinates’, and decided to take the quiz, no better or worse use of my time than a Fakebook quiz to tell me what sort of sandwich, or shoe I am.
There are 35 questions, I can’t remember exactly how they’re worded, but it’s along the lines of “I am...” or “I consider myself...” about various character traits, or behaviours, you ‘answer’ on a sliding scale from double-thumbs-up to double-thumbs-down. There’s a ‘middle’ option, which, when I’m going mad, is always a bit tempting, I’m indifferent, I don’t care much about much when I’m in this state.(Until I do, and get all emotionally peaky, HATING an empty shampoo bottle on the bathroom floor, but refusing to move it, because it’s not mine, or finding myself close to tears because I think I’ve offended someone, and not quite knowing how to check.) 
The ‘results’ come out on a quadrant-graph thingy, Masculine/Androgynous/Undifferentiated/Feminine, I deliberately didn’t look at that first, because I would have skewed my answers, aiming for ‘undifferentiated’, I’m awkward like that. My results were that I ‘fall between quadrants’, no big surprise there, my dot was bang on the line between ‘masculine’ and ‘androgynous’, all in the top half of the square, ‘68.3% Masculine, 50% Feminine’, I don’t know how that works, it’s numbers, and maths and stuff, and my brain doesn’t work like that. (Haha, because I’m a girl, and girls are better at biology than physics. Bullshit.) 
What does it mean? In all likelihood, nothing, it does look kind-of scientific, which is why I answered all of the questions, instead of giving up at the first hint of a cartoon dinosaur, or a ‘pick which colour-scheme appeals to you’. (Cartoon dinosaurs are my new pet hate, I’ve recently had to wade back through the clip-art infested worksheets from the last mental health course, and I’m fairly certain I’ve imagined a cartoon dinosaur, but that’s a tangent I’ll try to avoid.) I have strong opinions on the concept of gender, for however-many years I’ve been writing on here, I’ve identified as ‘meat no-one eats’, my biological sex is female, and my uterus is certainly reminding me of that fact this week. My gender? Human. Probably. 
“Identified as”, how very modern, it’s not ‘really’ a new thing, to me, or the world, what I’m trying to do here is type out a safe-release, to vent, I suppose it all boils down to my resentment of being ‘told’. There are vague childhood memories of being told “Ladies do/don’t do...”, and I have a ridiculous rage-bubble of “Yes, and sloths poo once a week, what’s your point?”, too late one thinks of what one might have said. I’m no more a lady than I am a sloth, I’m probably leaning more towards sloth at the moment, I’m overdue a bath.
Working through the statement-ratings, I noticed I was pulling a face at some of them. All of them, to be honest, which surprised me, because, with a diagnosis of autism, there’s the preconception that my response would be binary-linear, black-or-white, always/never. It wasn’t, my response was invariably “That’s a stupid question.”, and they weren’t questions, for every single statement, I decided “Unable to answer without context.”, and had to imagine a scenario to contextualise “I am generous” or “I am decisive”, or whatever. ( I *am* decisive, given sufficient context.) I need to watch that I don’t fall into a psychopath/sociopath rabbit-hole here, my sometimes-linear approach could be viewed as psychopathic, and my bending/masking could fit a sociopathic profile. Too many personality quizzes in my teen-girl magazines, and an on-going desire to name and categorize things.
I was pulling a face at the statements that are usually associated with the concept of femininity, there really isn’t a male-brain/female-brain. (All brains smell horrible, I have smelled my own brain, wasn’t pleasant.) There are some biological differences, most notably the reproductive bits, but not really a great deal else, the ex used to say that humans were evolving to be more androgynous, but I see now that he was trying to justify the societally-imposed feelings of inadequacy that I was as tall as him, with more body-hair. He ascribed to the concept of androgyny when it suited him, lauding Bowie in public, and insisting I was ‘better’ at housework in private. A product of his upbringing, but deeply coercive-toxic. He enjoyed my androgynous-atypical nature up to a point, I was a trophy in more ways than just my long legs and pretty mouth, I confused the hell out of his ‘traditional’ family, though. 
The statements that made me screw up my face could have been coloured pink, they were the ones that ‘ladies do’, some, I consciously, deliberately-don’t, and some are just a natural hard-no, nature vs nurture in evidence. I have learned behaviours, and innate, natural tendencies, there was a bit of a domestic issue the other day when I noted my son being manipulative, and destroyed-devastated myself wondering if he’d learned-observed that from me.  I don’t think so, my avoidance-behaviours are quite different. I was pulling faces at the stereotypical ‘female’ traits, initially an “Ew, no, I don’t do that!” response, but, as I realised I was doing it, I wondered WHY I was repulsed. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with being kind/sensitive/compassionate, they’re human responses, not ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’, but even the quiz itself refers to them as  “Traits commonly found in people of the ... gender.” (Androgynous is referred to as high in male- and female-typical traits, undifferentiated as low in both.) Commonly, not exclusively.
Part of the issue is that I associate femininity with vulnerability and weakness. I choose not to ‘present as’ female most of the time, my sex usually isn’t obvious until people get close, and I don’t let many people get that close. (Even before the virus-distancing.) There are ‘historical and complicating factors’ behind some of that, but there’s also the gender-conditioning I grew up with, girls-should, and boys-should, I didn’t have particularly positive experiences or role-models, but, even aside from that, the general concensus was that male was stronger, better, more important, female was secondary and subservient. To do something ‘like a girl’ was an insult, but, by the same token, I was often criticised for not being ‘girly’, ever the outlier. I’m wondering how much of the non-femininity is reactive-protective, how much could be part of the autism, and how much is just ‘how I am’? 
Girly-females irritate me, vacuous conversations, hair-and-make-up, dependence on others, incessant diets and fads, I don’t ‘get’ any of it, and I don’t buy into it, I don’t see why I should, just because my genitals are in the more difficult-to-kick arrangement. (True to form, my son has more make-up and hair-stuff than I do, I can’t remember how he referred to my presentation a few weeks ago, but it might have involved goblins, and a bin.) Occasionally, people tell me I could be attractive if I made an effort, my go-to response is “What for?”, I do generally look as if I live in a tree, it doesn’t bother me. That’s not wholly a girl-thing or a boy-thing, I do know some very well-presented people of both flavours, but I’ve genuinely never overheard a group of men discussing razor-blades or underpants the way I’ve heard gaggles of women banging on about make-up and such. 
Women who talk in baby-voices, women who giggle and simper around men, women who don’t even try to pick things up themselves, I think what I’m saying is that I don’t like women who ‘act as’ women, and it is an act, my mother’s phone-laugh used to make me want to scream. 
Before I became annoyed at myself for placing more value on the traits more commonly associated with masculinity than femininity, I’d had a mini-argument with myself that it was impossible to rate any of the statements objectively. Am I kind? It depends on the situation, last week I helped a little old lady sort out a mis-delivered parcel, but the week before that, I’d sped up my walking pace, so I could get into the corner shop before the person behind me, it might have been the same little old lady, I wasn’t paying attention. I’d viewed the thumbs-rating as a never-always continuum, so, technically, all of the responses ‘should’ have been middle-option, for ‘sometimes’. (There might have been an explanation in the site somewhere, it was daft o’clock in the morning.) For each behaviour, I was thinking of a situation, which was wrong, I think I should have been rating least-likely to most-likely. The situation has an influence on the behaviour, if I had friends, I’d behave differently with them to the way I’d behave with a doctor, or a manager, or my son, and even that behaviour would depend on multiple external factors, it wouldn’t be static-consistent, it would be dynamic. We all do it, we’re socially conditioned to behave according to audience and environment.
I didn’t go to finishing school, I didn’t even go to university, there were no elocution or deportment classes at my rough-as-arseholes comprehensive school, and most of my childhood meals at home were eaten from a plate on my knee, on the sofa, in front of the TV. There were still expectations, though. Standing up if a teacher came into the classroom, not interrupting an adult speaking, letting elderly or otherwise infirm people on the bus first. I don’t remember my brother being given as many instructions as I was, though, and I think that was more to do with me being a girl than being two and a half years older, he did pretty much as he pleased, and was a ‘rascal’, or a ‘scamp’, whereas I was told to sit down (nicely), be quiet, smile, be helpful etc long before the wear a bra, brush your hair, show a bit of leg nonsense started. 
I’m fairly certain that the gender-specific conditioning is part of the reason my autism wasn’t diagnosed until I was 42. I’d had expectations drummed, and sometimes beaten into me all my life, everything was already an act, a performance, so I just assumed everyone else was ‘faking it’ all the time, over-riding gut-instinct on everything, and acting according to these confusing social scripts. The “What for?” streak in me is problematic for other people, I’m viewed as difficult, challenging, sometimes plain rude, and overly bold ‘for a woman’. I don’t speak much, but, when I do, I make it count, I’m tenacious and determined, and, most of the time, completely exhausted trying to remember and correctly apply rules and boundaries, scripts I don’t understand the reasoning behind, and constantly-consistently assess environments and audiences, to avoid ‘getting it wrong’. 
I am blunt at times. I can be articulate and eloquent, but sometimes a situation demands just-enough information to convey the salient point. I don’t tend to ‘waste words’, and am frustrated when people fanny about with “Does that make sense?” and “This might sound silly, but...” Anecdotally, I hear that from women more than men, we’re discouraged from being too much to-the-point, to go the long way around things, instead of straight at them, and to check for reassurance. I speak ‘like a man’, it’s more efficient. (”Does everyone understand what they are to do?” was my preferred meeting-closing-statement, I’m brutal.) 
I sometimes see the reverse-of-me in my son, he isn’t the least bit blunt or brutal most of the time. (He did shout “Stop it!” at me quite forcefully one day last week when I was having a meltdown after getting bin-juice on my face. He saves his command-voice for emergencies.) He ties himself in knots about communicating with people, and avoids most conversation, although he’ll babble incessantly to himself to process thoughts and ideas. (I have sores inside my ears that won’t heal, because I keep putting my earphones in to drown out his waffling about D&D plots and such.) He’s nervous-anxious where I’m bold, he’s scared of a million things that I’m not in the least bit concerned by, but then, I am an idiot. Biological sex is not gender, but neither of us are really binary-gendered. (I’m not going to suggest he does the quiz, he’s so incredibly indecisive it would melt his brain.) I never conditioned him ‘male’, he’s always just been another human to me, but he has had conflicting messages from his Dad’s side of the family, boys-don’t-cry, come-and-kick-this-ball, look-at-the-tits-on-that, and the girly-girl aunts and cousins. Confusing times, but he has referred to himself as a pan-sexual trans-humanist, and I don’t really know what that is. (He hasn’t asked me to use different pronouns, or a different name, so he’s still ‘him’.) 
I’m rambling. I’ve been pecking away at this for hours, but I do feel a little more settled for doing it. I didn’t go off on as many ranty tangents as I thought I might, which is reassuring, this episode of going mad has been mostly-irritable, and I don’t like it. Catch-22, there, as a female, I’m ‘supposed to’ be all pink and fluffy, and nice, but the lazy stereotype of a woman can also be a nagging old harridan, I’m straddling that line as well as the line between quadrants on the quiz. I bet you 10p that if I did the quiz again, I’d be able to skew the answers to place the dot dead-centre in the grid, but I might blow up the internet if I did that, and imagine the mess that would make.          
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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years
Text
Bulletproof -- Part Ten
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Fandom: Marvel/College AU
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers
Author: @amandaoftherosemire
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 6,927
Format: Series (Complete)
Warnings: Implied smut, platonic nudity, sexual nudity, explicit language, fluff.
Summary: You and Bucky take some time to flirt. You have your last session for Steve’s art project. You run into Bucky in their kitchen and make some plans.
A/N:  I wasn’t intending to have a short hiatus but real life intruded. I am working on catching up, however, and this is my first peace offering. I thought about adding angst to the warnings, but for the first time, I don’t think the angst is enough to worry about. This chapter wasn’t difficult to write; I just didn’t have any time to do it. 😄🤷  I hope it’s as much fun to read as it was to write, because I had a blast with this one.
Edit: Added banner by @hellzzzbelle and keep reading break. I should probably not get these ready to post when I’m severely sleep deprived.
Part Nine here
Texts from reader in italic indents; Texts from Bucky in bold indents.
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 Monday night saw Bucky laying on his bed reading and trying to ignore the faint lingering scent you’d left behind. He loved that his bed still smelled like you, but it was entirely too distracting when he was trying to concentrate. Why he’d decided to major in chemistry as a pre-med student he didn’t know, especially on nights like these when he was being smothered in endless, tedious reading.
Even though he hadn't seen you since Saturday morning, he'd been in a phenomenal mood ever since. Watching you grill Steve had been not only fun, but informative. Discovering that Steve's date was your friend, that you'd introduced them in the hopes that they would hit it off, had been both a surprise and a relief to Bucky.
Surprise because he had assumed you and Steve had been getting closer to dating rather than further away but setting him up with someone else sure made it seem like you were looking elsewhere. Bucky was determinedly ignoring the guilt still sitting in the back of his mind. A small, snide voice would not stop reminding him that Steve may have still been looking at you until you set him onto the mysterious Peggy. That same voice also kept pointing out that if you hadn't been looking at Steve, it might have been because you were too busy looking at Bucky.
Relief and elation were currently drowning out that guilt, however. Relief because he knew now you weren't hurting because Steve had gone out with someone else, had, in fact, picked out the shirt that had so offended Bucky. Elation because he wasn't a consolation prize; you hadn't turned to him out of a need for comfort, but because you'd wanted him with the same mindless desire he had for you.
His current mood also might have something to do with the fact that the last time he'd seen you, earlier today, you'd been across the street running to class as he'd been on his way back to his apartment. You'd paused when he'd wolf whistled at you and given him a long, hot look out of hungry eyes and a sassy grin before you'd blown him a kiss and resumed your quickstep. That look had set him up all day long.
A hint of blue in the corner of his room caught his eye. You’d left the bra you’d been wearing the other night on his floor. He’d hidden it from Steve under a pile of clothes, but they’d shifted and exposed a little of that pretty color. He got an idea and hopped up with a grin.
He grabbed the bra and propped it up on the table he used as a desk. He then grabbed a note card and a sharpie and jotted a quick note:
If you want to see this again, come hang out with me. I miss you. – Bucky
He set the note against the bra and snapped a picture on his phone, sending it to you in a text message. Smiling in anticipation, he settled back on the bed with his phone on his stomach, his book back in his hand, and his eyes unseeing on the page as he grinned.
You heard your phone buzz with a text message but ignored it. You’d put your phone on silent while you did your calculus homework for a reason. You had to take insanely hard math for your degree; you had to concentrate, at the very least while in mid-problem.
Once you'd gotten to a spot where you didn't think your brain would melt if you took a break, you picked up the phone to check what you'd missed. Bucky's message made you grin. You had been planning to get the bra back when you went over for your session with Steve, but if Bucky wanted to ransom it, you'd play along. You snapped a quick picture of the textbook and pages of equations spread across your bed and sent it along with a quick message.
I miss you, too. 😘
Figuring you weren't going to be getting any work done for the next little bit, you decided to stretch your legs and grab a snack. You stuffed your phone in your back pocket and opened your bedroom door into the living room. Padding toward the kitchen on bare feet, you waved at Nat and Gamora as you walked by. Gamora was quizzing Natasha in Mandarin; she was learning multiple languages with an eye toward pre-law.
"Ni hao," you chirped as you passed on your way to the kitchen on light feet, feeling smug. Whatever was going on with you and Bucky, you were having fun. Right now, you were something more than friends, something less than lovers, but the discovery of what exactly you could be to each other was turning out to be incredibly exhilarating.
You were staring into the fridge, ostensibly trying to decide what to eat, but in reality you were daydreaming about that wicked smile Bucky had shot you from across the street earlier. Whatever else, you knew Friday night was not going to be a one-and-done. He was simply too delectable to resist.
You straightened when your phone vibrated in your pocket, coming to a sudden decision and grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. You leaned on the counter that separated your kitchen from your living room with your elbows and forearms flat and smiled indulgently at the phone in your hand.
Bucky's message had taken a few minutes because he'd spent most of that time staring at your message with a big, dumb grin on his face. He knew he was being ridiculous, that your message could hardly be taken for a protestation of unending devotion, but he couldn't help himself. For the first time, he felt like everything he wanted was within his grasp. 
Huh. It’s cool that you’re learning an alien language but now I'm worried that trying to understand extraterrestrials might break your brain. Is there anything I can do to help?
Not wanting to push it, but desperate to keep the conversation going, he added the little bit at the end as an invitation. He didn't want to fuck up your studies, but he needed to talk to you, to know that he wasn’t merely dreaming, that you were with him in this. Hoping his stupid joke would make you smile, he grinned like an idiot when your response came through.
😄 Says the chem major. But it's standard for engineering, so I'm afraid there's nothing you can do. How are you holding up?
Bucky wasn’t the only one grinning like an idiot. You were also stretching one leg and twisting it back and forth as you beamed at the phone in your hand and typed out your response. Gamora lifted an eyebrow in your direction, shifting Nat’s amused attention to you, not that you noticed.
Bucky, meanwhile, was delighted to see you were willing to keep the conversation going. He was still absently carrying his book around, though he was long since done paying attention to anything but you. He crossed to the desk and went to grab a cigarette out of the pack when he realized he still had the book in his hand. He tossed it on the desk rather than give up the phone, too focused on both answering you as a friend and as a flirt. He sent two texts, one right after the other.
Chem is mostly about algebra, thank god, because I hate calculus. I'm doing okay. I only cried twice this week. I also hate anatomy.
You know, you could come over here and study. Or I could come over there. Then we wouldn't miss each other. 😏
You didn’t know it, but your face was easily giving you away to Nat and Gamora. The two women were much alike, with oddly similar trauma in their childhoods. Natasha was there on a gymnastics scholarship, which was also how she and Gamora met. You didn’t know much, but she’d been born and raised in Russia. Though she was too young to have trained under the Soviet gymnastics model, remnants of that worldview had remained active in post-Soviet Russia. Natasha had gotten caught in one of those remnants. They had made her a phenomenal gymnast and a deeply traumatized woman. She, like Gamora, had a watchful care that made it difficult to hide anything from her.
Right now, your face was sly, an expression they’d seen; but you were biting your lip in breathless excitement, something neither of them had seen in years. Altogether, your body language would have been obvious to anyone with a rudimentary understanding of what a human flirting looks like. You were as subtle as neon.
Once at the open window, Bucky lit the cigarette and kept an ear tuned toward your apartment in the hopes that he would hear something to add to this amazing interaction. He was wrapped up in this minor chitchat with you as though he thought you were about to impart the meaning of life. When your next text came through, he felt like you had.
Why you lying to me like that? 🤨 I happen to know for a fact that is demonstrably untrue. You showed your appreciation for my anatomy quite thoroughly the other night.
Which is how I know we won't get any studying done if we "study" together.
“Who’re you texting, sis?” Gamora called out, using the nickname she used only when she knew you were up to something.
“Nowhere,” you replied, loudly, your voice a little panicked.
Bucky couldn't hear every word coming out of your apartment through the open balcony door, the approaching summer making the fresh air a necessity as the temperature climbed, but he heard enough. Gamora's voice came through loud and clear and he assumed she was closer to the door. As she spoke your text reply came through, and for the first time since Saturday morning you acknowledged what had changed between you. The opening of that subject had him rock hard and riveted.
Now that you'd opened it, he was happy to continue it. When he heard your pathetic response to Gamora's question, a wicked smile bloomed on his face. His eyes sparkling, he tapped out a quick reply.
Baby, I don't appreciate your anatomy. I worship it. And I'll gladly do so again whenever you'd like. And you're right, if I have your anatomy in front of me, I'm gonna want to study you, not my textbook.
Bucky had this expression, this curve to his lips, a dip to his eyelids, a lift to his cheek that caused irreconcilable desires within you. On the one hand, that smug, you-know-want-me smirk made you want to punch him.
To help you protect yourself, and give you (and Steve, who had these lessons also) a better chance of winning one of the many, many fights one or both of you started, Bucky had taught you the basics of bare-knuckled boxing. Sometimes, you wanted to use your fist and everything you'd learned to wipe that smile off his pretty fucking face.
On the other hand, he was right, the fucker. You did want him, and that smirk just reminded you of it, made you want to curl and coil around him like a serpent in search of warmth.
Since you’d now seen him smirking like that while in the throes of passion, his eyes burning and his heart pounding against yours, you had begun to fear that the second desire had become dominant. If you could have seen Bucky as he typed his response, wearing that smirk in spades, you’d have known you were doomed.
The response itself made you squeak a little in agitation as you remembered just how much you'd enjoyed exactly what he described. You'd certainly felt worshipped, and the knowledge that he saw it the same way had your knees going to rubber. However, you couldn’t forget you weren't alone. Because you could see Gamora and Natasha watching you out of your peripheral vision (you were not going to look at them you were not going to look at them you were not going to look at them), you knew you they were about to get nosy.
Going for casual, you straightened and turned around to lean with your back against the counter, tapping out a response as quickly as possible. You didn't know why, but you wanted to keep this flirtation between only you and Bucky for a little while longer. There was something exciting about keeping it secret, though you were doing a terrible job of keeping it.
Straight up? I can't do this right now because both G and Nat are looking at me like they're onto me. Also I have to finish that calc, and there's no way I can do that while trying not to think about fucking you.
Bucky's heart kicked like a mule when he saw your text. He'd always cherished your style of honesty, especially with him, but this was new. He fucking adored this kind of honesty on this exact subject. The blunter you wanted to be in expressing how you wanted him, the more enthralled he was.
So, changing the subject, I took both calculus and algebra this term, like a moron, so I've cried every day. I'm expecting to spend all of dead week in tears.
Still trying to maintain that casual demeanor, you grabbed your water bottle and an orange out of the bowl of fruit on the counter and headed back to your room, keeping your eyes trained on your phone. You didn't even look at Nat and Gamora out of the corner of your eye, too terrified to be caught by one or both. Since you were studiously ignoring them, you didn't see them watch you walk by, identical pitying looks on their faces.
You thought you had a chance of escaping without an explanation. They shared a look. Cute.
Meanwhile, Bucky was having to talk himself out of pushing, of seeing if you were as easily diverted by this subject as he was. He didn't want to go back to his reading, didn't want to let you go back to your equations. He wanted to keep going, to tell you he'd dreamed of you every night since the night you spent together, wanted to ask if you'd done the same.
Bucky stubbed out the cigarette and was considering going to the kitchen for a beer when your answer came in. He wasn’t hearing anything out of your apartment now, so he wandered out of his room, his attention still on his phone. Instead of testing the boundaries, he typed a response that mostly disguised his baser urges, at least for the moment.
Let me know if and when you'd like to come back to this conversation, gorgeous. I'm FASCINATED.
You rolled your eyes in exasperation, but only because your skin was heating just thinking about the other night. You made it into your bedroom before you sighed long and loud in pure lust, leaning against your door. You jumped when your phone vibrated in your hand.
I'll accept the change of subject. For now. 😏 And if you need a shoulder, mine's always available, babygirl.
When you sighed this time, it was pure romance. You knew it was silly, that the offer of a shoulder to cry on was hardly a declaration of undying love and fidelity. But something about the sexual invitation immediately followed by the emotional one was another slug in that useless vest of yours.
Giggling happily, you hopped onto your bed as you texted Bucky back, giving in and enjoying the giddy anticipation for once instead of trying to stifle it.
Good to know. 😊 Now, about that bra. Is there a time frame on when I can ransom it with my company?
As he passed by Steve's studio, Bucky saw the light underneath the door that told him his roommate was once again working late into the evening. It wasn't until the last couple of months that Steve had taken to working behind closed doors. Bucky wanted to knock, to nose his way in and find out what Steve was hiding, but he was busy hiding secrets of his own. Keeping his head down, he walked by without a sound as he replied.
Nope. Only rule is: if you want it, you gotta come and get it.
You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, the papers and books scattered around you long forgotten. You hadn’t had this much fun flirting with anyone in forever. There was something about the way the old melded with the new, the familiar with the unfamiliar, that left you breathless.
You can't be that lazy.
Bucky laughed out loud when he straightened from his stoop to check his phone. He'd grabbed a beer as he went, turning with the intention of raiding the cupboards for anything salty and crunchy he could find in there. Once he'd snagged a bag of chips to go with his beer, he started back toward his room with his thumb tapping out the honest truth, hoping you'd accept it.
I'm not. I miss you that much.
Bucky’s answer had you sighing again, a smile wide and dreamy stretching across your face. Not that you'd admit it to anyone, least of all yourself, but there was a fair amount of giddy anticipation making your heart jump in the kind of excitement that comes from hope.
As soon as I have a spare minute, it's yours. 😊
Bucky sat on the side of his bed to stare at your response, a happy but baffled smile on his face.
Somehow, he was charming you, though he didn’t really understand how. He knew how to talk his way into a woman’s bed. He’d never tried to talk his way into anyone’s heart. But still, every time he saw you, spoke to you, he saw you open a little more to the love he wanted to give you.
Dizzy with delight, but still confused, he fell back on what he was good at. When he saw what he’d typed, however, he decided to let it stand, curious to see how you’d respond.
Do I get to decide what to do with that minute?
You laughed out loud when you saw Bucky’s text, unaware that two sets of ears were listening outside your door and two sets of eyes were narrowing in suspicion. You figured Bucky was up to something, but your curiosity insisted you play along.
I was all, how much trouble can me and Bucky get up to in single minute? and now I’m laughing so hard I might die. But sure. Why the fuck not? 😉
This time it was Bucky’s turn to laugh out loud, delighted with you and the world in general. He hadn’t expected this conversation to turn out as well as it had, but he’d discovered that the thoughts he’d always kept to himself had a match in you. The knowledge was intoxicating.
You ARE trouble, babygirl. Not that that’s a bad thing. I loved being in trouble. Please, let me know if and when I can get in trouble again.
Oof. Bucky somehow managed to find a way with every word to make you feel insanely sexy. He seemed enchanted, addicted to you and the thought was dizzying in its power and possibilities. What if you were enough?
Your heart pounding, an excited smile on your face, you took a chance.
Soon. I adore the way you get in trouble. Have a good night, pretty boy. 😘
Bucky’s laugh had drifted in through the open balcony door and though Natasha and Gamora were listening at your bedroom door, the dark beauty had ears like a cat and heard it easily. Silently, she indicated that Nat should stay at your door while she moved closer to the balcony.
When your final text came through, Bucky muttered, “Sexiest woman on the planet, I swear to god,” and fell back onto his bed to stare at the ceiling in starry-eyed frustration. He shrugged philosophically. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made do with his hand and thoughts of you. He was simply grateful to now have memories instead of only dreams.
Gamora heard Bucky’s low exclamation and smiled in amusement. Once it became clear that the fun was over for the moment, she and Natasha settled back on the couch and very quietly discussed the situation. Nat, still wary and unwilling to see you hurt so badly again, was less enthused than Gamora, who approved as long as you were happy.
Still, Nat liked to hear you giggling like a girl even if she rolled her eyes. Though she was wary, she agreed to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. Gamora, on the other hand, fully intended to help Bucky woo and win you in any way she could.
She'd thought that your plan to seduce Bucky had been the dumbest thing you'd ever come up with, but based on what little you'd confided about your night with him, Gamora had come to the conclusion that Bucky was as stupid in love with you as you with him. In that case, as long as you kept sashaying cheerfully around the apartment she was on his side and working on his behalf. She understood Natasha’s wariness, but the fact was she’d never seen you happier.
She just hoped he didn’t fuck it up.
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The following Friday saw you sitting for Steve for the final time. He was working on the last of the four works that made up his final project and this was the last chance the two of you had to get together before it was due. Thankfully, he was nearly done; he only wanted to see if one last sitting added anything special to this last one.
Steve's final project was four works, each in a different medium and depicting mythical or legendary creatures. Working together over the last few months, the two of you had found a rhythm that allowed you to express a mood or emotion with your face and form in a way Steve could interpret into images. The nature and depth of your relationship had given him an opportunity to do so in a way he would not have had with another model. It had been the best challenge he'd ever set himself and he was incredibly proud of the work he'd done.
Not only was he thrilled with what you'd helped him create, he was deeply grateful for the chance to deepen and strengthen his friendship with you. Over the course of a school term, the two of you had forged an even stronger bond than ever before. The act of trusting him with your body like this made you vulnerable in a way almost more powerful because of its lack of a sexual component.
Steve had been intensely aware of both that vulnerability and the trust you'd shown him in allowing it. His care in the face of that vulnerability had cemented the certainty that he was the best friend anyone could ever hope for. After everything the two of you had been through together, you had already trusted Steve with your life. Now, however, you'd trusted him with your psyche, and he'd taken the utmost of care. You could count on him, no matter what, beyond a shadow of a doubt. You knew it, because you knew him now as well as you knew yourself.
Which is how you knew the creative process was frustrating him at the moment, rather than energizing him as it did when it went well. You wondered what he was struggling with and hoped forcing him out of his head with conversation would help.
"Last one, huh?" You spoke into the quiet, but it was easy, as were the words, and the sound didn't break the silence so much as scatter it. "I'm kind of going to be sad. It was a unique experience."
Steve looked over at you to find you smiling sweetly at him. He smiled sweetly back, but you still weren't wearing the expression he was looking for. He needed something mischievous to match the Kelly-green frock coat hanging mostly open and giving you a rakish look. His lips twisted wryly, thinking back to that first horribly awkward day.
"I know what you mean. Nerve-wracking, but ultimately worth it."
"Right!?" Your voice was happy and excited, and your smile spread to light up your face. "I feel like we're better friends now than we were when we started." Your tone softened, as did your expression as you continued. "It means the world to me. You mean the world to me, Steve."
Steve's cheeks flamed and he ducked his head, a pleased and tender smile on his face. "Feeling sentimental, huh?" he teased.
You lifted a brow. "You're not? Then why are you blushing so hard?"
His face went even redder, if that was possible, and he struck back, partly to tease, partly because he couldn't stand it anymore. "If we're better friends now, why don't you want to talk to me about what's going on with you and Bucky?"
Steve felt like a dick when the smile fell from your face. "Wow." You blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject. "I didn't know you’d been practicing your passive aggression," you shot back, then immediately regretted it at the look of chagrin that crossed Steve's face.
You'd always been honest with Steve, however, and you felt guilty shutting him out. You just weren't sure what to say, really. You figured you might as well tell him that. "Because I don't know what's going on with me and Bucky," you sighed.
Steve rolled his eyes. "Come on! I’m dying of curiosity over here!" He fixed you with a suspicious look that made your lips twitch in exactly the way he was looking for and his attention immediately shifted back to the painting even as he kept speaking to prompt more of that mischief to light your face. "Bucky’s been in a great mood all week. And you’ve been conspicuously absent."
"Would you like to do my homework?" Your eyebrows lifted in challenge even as the gossip about Bucky sank in. He had been a ray of sunshine every time you'd texted with him but hearing about his cheerful disposition from Steve made you wonder if it had the same cause as yours. You were getting confident enough in whatever was between the two of you to bet that it did.
"I would not." Steve replied quickly and firmly. He wanted nothing to do with your homework, considering you took science classes as electives.
You grinned and Steve got to work adding the lightest of shadows to your face to capture that roguish expression. "I’ve been buried. I feel like we’re barreling towards finals--," Steve slanted you a look of pure commiseration at that, "--and I want to put in an appearance at the boys’ frat party tonight. Gamora asked me to go in case she needs help with Quill. I had to bust ass to have the time to waste on a party."
Now that you mentioned it, Steve could see the signs of sleeplessness around your eyes. Your sunny disposition masked it well, but you were clearly very tired. He understood well. The end of term had snuck up on him, too. It wasn’t the first time and he didn’t expect it to be the last.
“Why would she need your help?” he asked, well aware Gamora was more than capable of dealing with Peter Quill.
Your mouth twisted in sympathy tinged with amusement. Quill had been chasing Gamora all year, but she had been only barely receptive. She had a soft spot because he had a roguish charm that made her smile and a genuinely good heart for all he hid it behind humor and a thoughtless careen through life. She claimed she wasn't interested, but you suspected she didn't want to be, which you knew from experience was a very different thing.
You shrugged, not sure why yourself, and gave Steve the same excuse she'd given you. "In case she decides to turn him down again. She’s afraid she might actually break him this time."
Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, too focused on the hint of white he was brushing along the curve of your lower lip. He didn't ask again, knowing that he would only need to stay silent long enough. He knew you'd give in eventually if he gave you enough time to feel guilty.
He wasn't wrong, but not for the reason he thought. When he wanted you to feel guilty enough to give in, he gave you what you privately thought of as the eyebrows of disappointment. You couldn't stand this look for more than a couple of minutes. You always gave in because he looked so damn sad and you just couldn't resist it. That didn't mean you liked it.
"Ugh!" you exclaimed, the sad, shamed feeling crawling up your spine and making it impossible to keep silent in the face of that particular expression. Giving in, you continued, telling Steve some of the truth, "Bucky is being… sweet." Your face softened as you thought of the brief but electrifying chat you'd had with him the night before. "Attentive. He texts me every day just to check on me." You shrugged, going for casual, but Steve could see the stars in your eyes. Though it wasn't the expression he needed, he still loved to see you so happy, especially considering who was responsible.
"Last night he texted me on his way home," you went on. Now that you were confiding in Steve, you wanted to keep going, if for no other reason than you needed another brain to help you figure this out and no one knew Bucky better than Steve. "I told him I was slogging through my reading for molecular biology and dreaming about a latte. Twenty minutes later he was at my door with a salted caramel cold brew. I don't know what's going on." The last you said with a touch of petulance that had Steve's lips twitching.
"Sounds like Bucky wants to be your boyfriend." Steve spoke casually, but completely honestly. Bucky hadn't treated anyone that way since high school, when he'd been chasing Dot, the last girl he'd dated seriously. He couldn't help himself; when his heart was engaged, Bucky always went overboard.
Steve realized when your gaze turned inward as you considered his words that he may not have gotten the mischievous smile he'd been looking for, but he'd gotten something far better. His hand was careful but sure as he added the light that had come into your eyes at the realization that you'd have said the same thing if Bucky had been treating anyone but you this way. That astonishing thought led to ideas of how you could test the concept.
Steve didn't know what gave your sly smile the sultry edge it had, but he also didn't really want to ask. He simply appreciated that he'd finally gotten the mischief he'd needed to finish his work.
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Bucky twisted the knob on his front door with his heart pounding. He shouldn’t have skipped class again, but he couldn’t make himself go when there was a chance he’d find you here alone.
He had noticed a pattern. If he was right, and you were here, he hoped he could talk you into staying awhile. The smell of fresh coffee had his breath catching. He dropped his bag next to the door and moved toward the kitchen.
He went hard as a rock when he stepped into the kitchen to find you standing at the sink, rinsing out your coffee cup. “Oh, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice already heating, as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”
Your heart had started racing as soon as the sound of the front door closing verified that your dawdling hadn’t been in vain. The mischievous smile Steve had been looking for earlier spread across your face as you set the cup in the sink and turned slowly. "Same thing I’m usually doing on a Friday morning," you replied and braced yourself against the counter, letting the edges of your robe fall open to bare a leg.
Bucky's eyes dropped immediately to that bare expanse of skin, his mind quickly falling into speculation as to how much more of your skin was bare underneath that infuriatingly tantalizing robe. "Which is?" he rumbled as he pushed away from the frame to ease toward you.
"None of your beeswax." Your eyebrow lifted in challenge as you shot him a teasing smirk. You shifted as Bucky approached, but neither away nor in denial.
Rather, your posture seemed to open and invite so that he was smirking in response by the time he stopped in front of you, his arm coming up to grab a coffee cup from the cabinet behind your right shoulder. He was close enough that you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours.
“Uh-huh,” he retorted as he set the cup on the counter and reached around you for the coffee pot “And why are you still here?” he asked with a knowing smile as he poured coffee simply for the excuse to stay close to you. “Steve should be gone by now.”
“He is.” You weren’t certain Bucky was asking if you were alone, but you confirmed it anyway. “I was finishing my coffee. Do you go to class anymore?”
The sound of sultry teasing in your voice combined with the challenging yet inviting body language had Bucky’s breath shuddering out on a laugh as he put the coffee pot back. “How could I when I knew you might be here waiting for me?” he murmured. Instead of picking up the cup, he moved closer, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you, caging you in with his big, sexy body.
You lifted your hands to slide them slowly up his chest, fascinated by the way his eyes fired in response. “Cocky. Why would that matter?”
“Not cocky,” he rumbled, his arms coming around you and his body pressing to yours, “starving.” His head dipped to breathe into your ear as his hands began to roam over your back. “Because I just can’t stay away from you.”
In the next moment, his mouth was on yours and you were drowning in him once again. You knew you should be worried at how quickly he had you desperate for him, but since he seemed similarly afflicted, you gave yourself up to the heat, letting your heart lead this time, if only a little.
By the time Bucky reluctantly pulled his mouth away to rest his forehead against yours, his hands had a firm grip on your ass as he pressed you firmly together. Your hands were fisted in the hair he’d let grow almost to his shoulders and you were using the leverage to arch and rub against him. “Tell me to stop, babygirl.” His voice was a rasp, and though the words were a warning, the tone was a dare. “I can't stop myself, not when it comes to you.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You didn’t know how or why, but something about the way Bucky treated you, a glint in his eye, the brush of his hand, allowed you to find this seductive creature inside yourself. Powerful in your confidence, and to Bucky’s eyes the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, again, you pulled away to yank at the tie at your waist. Running your hand under the edge to bare yourself to his gaze, you shot him a coy smile and bit your lip.
Bucky’s hands immediately accepted your invitation, following your hand to leave you naked in front of his burning gaze. “Good god,” he almost moaned as you arched into his touch, his hands wandering ever more frantically over you, “is this for me?”
As his hands closed around your bare ass, you boosted yourself up, with his enthusiastic assistance, to wrap your legs around his waist. Your mouth a breath from his, you smiled. “I can’t stay away, either.”
Awhile later, you were still wearing your robe, on one shoulder at least, while you caught your breath pressed between the kitchen table at your back and an equally winded Bucky Barnes at your front.
“Holy shit,” you croaked, your normal voice off somewhere with the rest of your breath.
Bucky wheezed out a laugh in response. “You're dangerous, babygirl," he murmured as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. "You should have a warning sign on you, like 'Caution: Highly Combustible'."
"Me!?" you exclaimed in mock outrage, prompting Bucky to lift his head so he could see the look on your face. He loved your expressions when you teased him like this, playful and sweet. "You're the dangerous one; everyone knows it." You went on with a raised eyebrow in playful challenge as you pushed at his chest to indicate you wanted to sit up.
Bucky reluctantly disentangled himself from you, though he'd rather have scooped you up to take you to his bed for the rest of the day. He knew that wasn't an option, however, not this close to finals. He'd never be able to talk you into it. He hiked his boxers and jeans back up; he'd been too frantic to be inside you to bother undressing beyond the necessary to make that happen. You'd been too frantic to complain.
He collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and grinned at you as you sat up and pulled your robe from its tangle around you to slip your bare arm into the other sleeve. "Obviously we've come to different conclusions. We should collect more data." He was smiling sweetly, which had you opening your mouth to retort but you stopped at his next words. "Let me take you out tonight, just you and me. Dinner, a movie, dancing, whatever you want."
Your hands slowed as you tied the robe closed around your waist, though your heart was racing again, this time in hopeful excitement. "Like a date?" you asked, your voice carefully casual.
"Yes." Bucky's voice was anything but casual, and had your eyes lifting to his as they blazed with intensity. "Exactly like a date."
Your expression turned sweet, and Bucky knew he'd made the right call in asking you out like this. He wanted to show you how special you were to him, so he hadn't considered the usual trappings, but he could see he needed to be direct in his intentions as long as you wouldn’t let him speak his heart.
“I’d love to go on a date with you, Bucky.” You were feeling shy and vulnerable, so you got to your feet to allow the robe to swirl around and cover your body.
Bucky hopped up to snag you around the waist and squeeze, making you giggle. “Really?” he asked excitedly, and you realized he was as caught up in this as you were. The thought settled you more than anything else had. “Whatever you wanna do, name it.”
You had opened your mouth to answer when you remembered your promise to Gamora. “Fuck!” you exclaimed, fighting the urge to whine. “I promised Gamora I go to that stupid frat party with her.” You rolled your eyes and sagged petulantly in his arms as you’d done a thousand times before.
Bucky simply tightened his arms, used to your antics of old and happy to play the classic games, absence not making the heart grow any fonder, because he’d always loved you, but making the heart more steadfast, now that it knew the pain of missing you. “Tomorrow, the next day, whenever?” He grinned as he nearly begged.
You straightened to wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. You were seeing everything you needed and wanted there but you couldn’t yet believe you weren’t seeing it only because you wanted to. Still, you were willing to try. “I’m swamped until after finals, but I promise we’ll go out on a date as soon as my last final is done.”
Bucky’s face lit up like the sun and took your breath away. “I’m holding you to that, babygirl.”
“Come with us tonight,” you heard yourself saying and hoped to god you didn’t end up regretting attending a frat party with Bucky considering what happened last time.
His lips twisted wryly, and you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. As a matter of fact, he was, but he was also dismissing it as immaterial because he didn’t plan on leaving your side the entire night. “Where would you put my chances of talking you into a closet to make out?”
The roguish grin he shot you had your shoulders relaxing. “Well,” you replied in a considering tone, “that was one of my fantasies in high school, so… high eighties?” You finished with a shrug and your mischievous smile.
“You, too?” he asked with wide eyes and a self-satisfied smirk even as he sweetly nuzzled your nose and mouth with his own. “Then I’m fuckin’ in.”
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Part Eleven here
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Posted on Quora
By Tony Castaldo
Q: My IQ is at around 151 (Mensa). What can I expect to achieve in life?
Welcome to the club! You can expect to achieve absolutely nothing!
This is like saying, “I have a race car engine. How fast can I go?”
Well, buddy, you need the rest of the car, and unfortunately nature will not always match your engine with all the rest of the mechanical parts in your car. All the parts are randomly chosen and then forced to fit together.
The “rest of the car” in this case is both your physical self, and your emotional self, all you have proven with an IQ test is that you are capable of fast analytical problem solving. That doesn’t automatically make you well-adjusted emotionally, it doesn’t automatically make you an athlete, it doesn’t mean anybody will love you or you will love them, it doesn’t mean you will make a ton of money.
Here is the key you will learn when you get older. It may take time, but I’m giving you the hint now, so you’ll recognize it more quickly than I did: Emotions are king, and will ultimately determine your fate. Not rationality, that is a servant to your emotions, and it will always be.
The neocortex is called that because it evolved recently; before that we were ruled by instincts and emotions and very limited reasoning power, like all other animals. Well, in this case evolution worked by adding something new, not subtracting. Before the neocortex, our instincts and emotions were completely in charge of our actions, and guess what? They STILL hold the throne!
There is an “accidental” brain experiment* with a man that lost his amygdalae in surgery (basically the structures that act as an emotional clearing house) to excise a brain tumor. As a result, he was rational, he could solve math problems, ace quizzes, he did not lose any of his intellect. But he was incapacitated anyway, because he could not make decisions. Asked to pick out clothes for a day, he dithered in the closet for hours, until he had to go to the bathroom. And narrating what he was doing, he could endlessly analyze and come up with reasons to pick one shirt over another, depending on who he might meet, where he might go, what the weather would be, and never come to a conclusion.
You might think he’d get bored or angry or frustrated and just grab a shirt: Nope. Those are emotions. He wasn’t embarrassed by taking so long; he didn’t hate himself, he didn’t worry about what it meant that he could not make a decision. All emotions. In essence, he just did not LIKE any shirt more than another, and he had no rational reason to pick one over another. So his intellect just came up with one thing after another to present to the king (the amygdalae), which was dead on the throne and never indicated to the intellect “I prefer that option.”
Now bladder pain, hunger, muscles and joints hurting and getting tired from standing too long; those are not emotions, and he knew how to respond to that. Physical discomfort is a thing; but also not intellect. Given orders, he knew how to respond to that.
So what is the evolutionary role of Intellect, then? It is a SERVANT to your physical and emotional self, and provides you information, projections and predictions, and understanding for you to emotionally react to.
Why stay in school, when, emotionally it would be much more satisfying to have some money by getting a job? Your intellect will project those two futures, in one you likely have a better job and better life, in the other your short-term indulgences will lead to lesser jobs and a more difficult life. And when you emotionally consider one of those options better than another, the intellect has done its job and you stay in school, despite the short term allure of not being a broke ass student.
You have to learn to manage your emotions, delay gratification, and your intellect can help you with that, but it also depends on your emotional constitution right now. The Intellect can let you breeze through school and college. Mine let me finish a Bachelor’s in Mathematics in 3 years flat, and my Master’s in same in 18 months. It let me go to college for 12 years, earning five degrees with a 4.0 GPA, including my PhD.
Academic success is yours, and getting it will help you become financially successful, because our society pays (literally and figuratively) way too much regard to advanced college degrees.
But your emotions can derail all that. Mensa itself has studied this**; their members are not all successful, even in their own judgment, not all of them are living happily ever after. They have had members get addicted to drugs, get defrauded, go to jail for committing impulsive crimes. They have had high IQ women that got pregnant and bore children at 15. Mensans end up as janitors, truck drivers, and Amazon warehouse workers. Mensans have struggled with depression, and committed suicide. Mensans have attempted stupid stunts and ended up paralyzed for life. Mensans become obese and diabetic and get diseases because they cannot control their eating, their depression, or resist impulsive temptations.
And guess what? All of that shit at about the same rate as the general population that is NOT high IQ.
Why? Because emotions rule our lives. The best thing you can do with your intellect is not to “gain control” of your emotions; you cannot dethrone the King and should not try. But what your intellect CAN do is manipulate the King, learn to convince yourself to choose the best balanced outcome of short, intermediate and long term gains.
Should you study Computer Science and within that Algorithmic Science, there is an interesting class of Algorithms called “Greedy Algorithms”. Greedy algorithm - Wikipedia . The hallmark of such algorithms is that always choosing the optimal short term solution is guaranteed to produce the optimal long term solution, so it is very easy.
That is how basic animals work, as if this is always true of the world. It is why we can trap them: We humans can devise traps so the optimal short term solution for the animal will NOT lead to their optimal long term solution, it will kill them instead. The rat taking the bite of cheese triggers a spring-loaded bar that breaks its neck. The deer chased by a human takes the route of fastest escape and lands in a concealed pit.
People have all that same Greedy Algorithm equipment built in. The purpose of the intellect is to let you defeat this very strong tendency to choose the optimal short term solution, because the Greedy Algorithm does NOT solve all problems. Animals, and us, evolved emotions to use the Greedy Algorithm because it is the simplest and easiest algorithm to implement, one step up from the random action of bacteria and viruses.
The intellect is there to help you accurately predict the consequences and outcomes of your actions in the future, so your emotions can make an informed choice about what will give you the most emotional gratification in the long term, or at least for as far as you can see the future.
There is often a tendency amongst the high IQ crowd to put undue importance on the value of their intellect. They want to “Spock it out,” dismiss emotions as unimportant.
Well, Spock is mythical bullshit, humans don’t work like that, so figure that out as soon as you can. The point of life is emotions, and the best thing you can do with your intellect is use it and delayed gratification diligently to ensure you live a happy life, find love, avoid fear and embarrassment and prison and disease and disability, work at a job you love that uses your talents.
There is no point in being smart if it doesn’t make you happy. You have been gifted with a superior ability to solve problems and understand consequences. A bigger hammer to solve life’s problems, or avert them altogether. But it is useless if you don’t use it, there is no point in being proud of just owning a big hammer, you need to use it.
And remember that your Intellect is a servant to your emotions, it isn’t there to replace them, but to inform them, so you can resist short term gratification when your intellect sees it is likely to sabotage your long term future. That is how you avoid being trapped like an animal and suffering at the hands of others.
* Amygdala results: I believe I first read about this in the book “The Man That Mistook His Wife For A Hat”, but for a neurologist’s talk see Antonio Damasio | Speaker | TED.
** See for example High intelligence: A risk factor for psychological and physiological overexcitabilities.
The remainder of the conclusions and advice are my own based upon reading several such studies, and the implications mentioned.
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happymetalgirl · 4 years
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Band T-Shirts
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Okay, so this has been an ongoing matter of contention for quite awhile, and it’s not even a particularly complicated issue, but it seems to rear its head every now and then. And it had seemed to be a more frequently and hotly discussed topic over the past few years.
The topic is people wearing band t-shirts when they don’t necessarily listen to the band on the shirt they’re wearing, and it has become a more commonly spotted phenomenon, especially in the metal community as of late after fashion culture spurred a lot of this kind of thing going on. I don’t know exactly how it happened or who initiated it, but a few years ago wearing t-shirts of bands who played primarily metal music and bore such associated imagery picked up a mild trend within high fashion culture, and naturally metalheads had something to say about it.
The trendy whims of the fashion world don’t really tie much into the main subject here, but they did, in this case, kind of amplify a lot of sentiments that a lot of people involved in various music cultures feel about the intersection of music and fashion in band t-shirts. And the discussion mostly recently got re-ignited by a plain-ass picture of a dude in public holding up a cardboard sign reading something along the lines of “don’t wear t-shirts of bands you don’t listen to”. Just a picture of the most basic platitude in the discussion got people talking again, and it seems like the same talking points just get recycled again and again so I figured I’d sum up my perspective on what’s going on and why I don’t think this should be such a tense and frequently discussed topic. And I think that metal culture in particular, with its recognizable visual art and fashion aesthetics that are used to signify it, is kind of poster boy for this topic.
Granted, I am definitely biased in that I’m much more immersed in metal culture than any other musical culture and recognize more instances of it pertaining to metal, but I don’t see too many people regularly sporting clothing (t-shirts particularly) relating to hip hop, or jazz, or country, much less people getting contentious over it. Not that those genres don’t have fashion associated with them, but I don’t see people wearing cowboy stuff and getting questioned about their love of country music and Ronald Reagan. Nor do I see hip hop heads pointing much to particular fashion choices as signifiers of hip hop fandom and quizzing people wearing it on Aesop Rock trivia.
Maybe it does happen in those cultures and I don’t see it, but it definitely happens in metal culture, and despite the fact that I have never experienced it myself (I’ll get to why, later) I’ve heard enough testimony from people frustrated about getting questioned about the authenticity of their metal fandom and quizzed by people who seem to doubt how much they really listen to the band on their shirt.
So first of all, if this really is as common of an occurrence in that form as the many of testimonies I’ve heard suggest, I get it, that’s annoying, and that really shouldn’t have to be said. Coming from someone who certainly could rattle off tons of lyrics and trivia about any given band I like enough to get a shirt from, I would sure as hell get annoyed if someone felt compelled to give me an oral exam on whatever band I’m repping rather than just talking to me like a human being about a band we both clearly love. And that’s the thing though, given that someone isn’t giving signs they want to be left alone, it’s totally fine to ask about what they like about the band on their shirt, in good faith, not some kind of gatekeeper-y sentinel kind of way. People can wear whatever t-shirts they want, but anything you wear makes at least some kind of statement on its own, and being really deeply tied to metal culture, such band t-shirts tend to make pretty specific statements. I’m wearing a Gojira shirt right now in public, and anyone who knows of Gojira knows that I really like them.
That’s something that is deeply woven into the relatively quiet, but widespread, culture surrounding heavy metal, and if you’re annoyed that people keep asking you about Blood Incantation, requesting that metal culture stop using band t-shirts as a way for community members to identify each other and feel solidarity together is a much bigger ask than to not wear it if you don’t want new people you talk to to bring it up. Not that metal culture could never theoretically change or that because it’s an established culture, it gets the right of way on this kind of issue, but this is essentially an analog of the oft-public dialogue surrounding cultural appropriation of ethnic or national groups’ symbols by larger cultures. And the answer here is the same, which is to simply be responsible and respectful of the culture being borrowed from. And aside from the ways some people seem to tend to approach talking to someone about their band t-shirt (which I will get to in a minute), I can’t really think of anything particularly problematic about metal culture using band t-shirts as part of an identifier of one’s participation in metal culture and fandom of a certain band; so I can’t say I see any convincing reason for metal culture to give that up just to spare people outside the culture who want to appropriate something from it (which, again, isn’t automatically problematic) a question about that part of the culture they’re comfortable making their own use of for their own (likely mostly solely-minded) benefit.
Even if you don’t like metal or whatever band is on the shirt, you can sport it respectfully and interact with the culture respectfully, and if that’s too hard for you and you can’t stand the band on your shirt being brought up in conversation, maybe save yourself and metalheads the annoyance and confusion by not wearing that band t-shirt.
Now those past few paragraphs might have made it seem like I’m painting metalheads as the pious, reasonable victims of outsiders trying to take from our culture only to reciprocate angry defensiveness about it. But metalheads are certainly not all off the hook for the tension surrounding this subject, and sometimes it’s metalheads being the assholes about someone else’s choice to wear a band t-shirt.
Like I said, I have never experienced a pop quiz based on the shirt I’m wearing, but it sure seems like a common enough occurrence that it’s not a negligible issue. But that’s because I probably look the part. I’m not a patch-jacket-rocking, long-haired stereotype of a metalhead by any means, but I look like your average, inconspicuous metalhead who has to look professional for grad school interviews. My fiancée on the other hand, has been given the pop quiz treatment for her Slayer shirt. And while she’s not nearly as immersed in metal culture as I am, she truly does love Slayer’s music; I can attest. However, that doesn’t mean she wants to be quizzed on Slayer history every time she wears her Slayer shirt. Like I said, I look the part, but why should not looking a certain way make their knowledge of about a band up for fair question, and what is looking the part?
Well, based on the numerous accounts of people getting questioned in bad faith about their band t-shirts, not looking the part seems to involve various combinations of being inconspicuous (not deviating from mainstream fashion too much to signal potential alternative tastes in music), being known or suspected to be likely to listen to (or creating) “opposing” genres of music, or being a woman. And aggressive interrogations about fan authenticity seem to tend to come from people skeptical based on the above factors looking to make sure whether or not what they doubt to be genuine is or isn’t, which sure isn’t fair for women or musicians in the pop world to have to put on more performativity to not have their credibility called into question. And apart from skeptics, this behavior also seems to come often enough from people being gatekeeping assholes, which I shouldn’t have to explain is stupid and not the proper method of maintaining and assessing cultural boundaries and grading cultural immersion. Like I said, women shouldn’t have to goth up their look around their Behemoth shirt to a gratuitous level to not be questioned about their knowledge of Nergal’s kvlty early days, and looking any certain way or making any other kind of music in the public eye shouldn’t spur a scene-cred pat-down.
I know I said that this wasn’t a particularly complex topic and then proceeded to go on an essay about it, but the bottom line of all of this is really not that difficult to comprehend. Just be respectful of people and graceful in interactions with someone who might not know the band on their shirt so well. It should be an opportunity to encourage and welcome them closer to metal culture rather than a dogma to police and push people away through enforcement of. And if you know your shirt is connected to a music culture you aren’t really a part of, it’s disingenuous and reductive to ignore it as part of that culture and demand that that culture’s memebers just cede it to you. The cultural appropriation aspect of this topic with respect to band t-shirts being used as signifiers and symbols of cultural solidarity is the only ground I haven’t really seen tread and retread repeatedly as this discussion pops its head up from time to time. But yeah, it’s pretty simple and I hope this sums the whole thing up in a way that people looking for clarity on the various viewpoints and motives can appreciate and help them make sense of why this contentious topic really should be so contentious.
That’s it.
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leahazel · 4 years
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7KPP MBTI - over-long and completely unedited meta
I’m just copy/pasting this from my notes software with no editing. If you’re brave enough to read the whole thing, more power to you. It’s about 3K words all in all.
I was in a doctor's waiting room this morning (I have the flu and I was waiting for a chest x-ray) and while I waited, I was thinking about some recent thoughts I had about D&F, and how they've changed my mind on some MBTI typings I've had for the 7KPP NPCs. I've been musing on the MBTI subject on and off for as long as I've been playing the game (first post here: https://leahazel.tumblr.com/post/126655090075/congratulations-on-the-kickstarter-also-if), and I've typed most of my own MCs and other OCs. In fact, for some of them, their MBTI and enneagram types are pretty central to their character arc.
But some characters are more well-developed than others, and some are quite difficult to type. And, of course, impressions are subjective. Since I'm fluish and too tired to actually write any fanfic (I have several unfinished), I might as well do a proper post of all my typings.
If I were at full strength, I'd so a whole resources section with links about what MBTI is and how it works. Since I'm not, I'll give the bare minimum background. MBTI is a personality typing system based on Jungian cognitive function theory. You can find everything from official descriptions written by professionals, to jokey quizzes and Tumblr memes, all over the internet. My favorite fannish MBTI account is @funkymbtifiction. I love their character typings and I rely on them for nuanced takes on the different types.
Without getting too much into my typing philosophy, here are the 7KPP NPCs, grouped somewhat arbitrarily.
Introverted sensing types
The four types marked SJ use the introverted sensing function as either their primary or auxiliary cognitive function. Stereotypically, Si-using types are hidebound, dutiful and traditional, reliable but also stubborn and rigid. Certainly unhealthy SJ types act like this a lot of the time. More mature, healthier people of the same types have access to all of Si's strengths -- an eye for detail, conscientious work ethic, a strong sense of honor -- while being aware of their weaknesses, and compensating for them.
ISTJ - Cordelia and Jasper are both ISTJ types. They share some of the same strengths and vulnerabilities. Both are very emotionally contained, but have difficulty expressing affection openly. At the same time, they have a strong moral compass and inner sense of right and wrong. This is typical of the Te/Fi function pair in the secondary/tertiary positions. Both of them have personal dilemmas and character journeys revolving around the tension between tradition and novelty. When frustrated or at a loss, they're prone to retreating into loops of rumination (Si-Fi loop), or spiraling into anxiety about future possibilities and everything that can possibly go wrong (inferior Ne). Cordelia is the more stable of the two. When we meet Jasper, he's already in the midst of a personal crisis. I suspect Sayra is also an ISTJ and generally write her with this type in mind, but not enough is known of her to pin her type down.
ISFJ - Penelope and Ria are both ISFJ types. Both of them are kind, gentle and helpful as ISFJs often (stereotypically) are, and are prone to putting other people's needs ahead of their own, as Fe-users often are. ISFJs thrive on the power of friendship and community, and excel at promoting harmony for the benefit of all. Disharmony, cruelty and rudeness make them anxious and upset, but they also possess hidden reservoirs of both fortitude and courage, especially in defense of others. As Si-users, they have a keen appreciation for the aesthetics of small, everyday details, and as Fe-users, they feel a strong need to put up a persona that reflects what others expect of them. When their desires are at odds with group harmony, they can struggle to assert themselves. Both Penelope and Ria have character arcs that show them to be strongly motivated by a sense of justice and fairness, being stronger than they initially appear to be, and willing to come into conflict with established mores when necessary.
ESTJ - General Falon is an ESTJ, and I believe he's the only one out of the characters I've named here (there are some characters that I don't feel I know enough about to type). As Falon is a minor character and not very well-developed, he adheres closely to ESTJ stereotypes and doesn't provide much nuance. He's driven by duty and honor and values tradition, hierarchy and efficiency. When driven out of his comfort zone he becomes easily flustered. He has a hard time seeing things from other people's point of view, is weak at diplomacy, and his discourse style lacks tact. Many traits that are typical of the extroverted thinking function.
ESFJ - Emmett and Lisle are both ESFJ types, and both pretty typical, although in slightly different ways. Here's the controversial part: I now think Jarrod is also an ESFJ, and I'll explain why, but I want to start with the simpler, more linear characterization.
ESFJ types use extroverted feeling as their leading cognitive function. It's a powerful emotional function that excels at both reading people's behavior and intentions, and reflecting that behavior back at them. Fe-dom types, when healthy, switch handily between personas appropriate to their surroundings, they know how to read the room's mood, and when they want to influence people, they know how to form an argument that's tailored to their conversation partner. On the downside, Fe-users can get lost in their masks or lose sight of their own goals, because they read other people's desires so readily. When supported by Si, introverted sensing, their desire for stability and continuity can hinder them from considering the possibilities of positive change. They can be cautious to a fault. Lisle is a typical ESFJ and his difficulty in opening up about negative emotions can be attributed his the Fe-driven desire to promote social harmony above all. Emmett does not initially seem like an SJ type or a J type at all, because judging types are not usually perceived as being as open-minded and easy-going as he is. This however is more of an adaptation to the circumstances his family life thrust him into, not by his own decision, and Emmett several times expresses a desire for a more stable home and family life.
Now, about Jarrod. On the face of it, his behavior is more consistent with a thinking type than a feeling type. He has no patience for anything soft or tender, he's quite aggressive and demanding, comfortable handing out orders. These are behaviors associated especially with extroverted thinking, which would make one think he should be an ESTJ or ENTJ. Likely ESTJ, since he shows a clear preference for a stable subjective sensory environment, typical of an Si-user. In fact, I'd initially typed him as ESTJ and I was comfortable with that typing until recently. However! You can't type a character based only on a type's weaknesses. If he's really an ESTJ, he should have an ESTJ's strengths, too. Looking at General Falon, he might be hidebound and inflexible, but he's also hard-working, efficient, and has the kind of natural air of authority that's so useful to a general. Jarrod yells at servants, but struggles to get them to obey his orders. He's not very organized or efficient, and can't manage to wake up on time even with a battery of servants at his disposal. The only sphere he shows any discipline in at all is his physical training. He's... not very smart, and his week one dialogue shows a lack of basic strategic understanding, quite aside from being tragically ill-informed. Jarrod doesn't act like an ESTJ, he acts like someone trying to be an ESTJ and failing, badly.
In MBTI circles, a lot is made of statistics that show that thinking types are disproportionately men, and feeling types are disproportionately female. This affects a lot of people's self-typing, because it introduces bias. Gender norms in the 7KPP universe are based on our own, and while we haven't seen a lot of direct evidence of the idea that men are inherently more logical and less emotional than women... it's not implausible that this belief is just as common in the Seven Kingdoms as it is in reality. Jarrod's particular flavor of "rationality" looks a lot more like the rationalization of a feeling type, in the grip of his inferior thinking function. The Si/Ne function pair still fits, and so ESFJ is my conclusion. I would elaborate and say that the mimicking abilities  of extroverted feeling as a dominant function are especially suited to a young person attempting to emulate a stronger personality in order to gain acceptance and social cachet.
...Wow. That was long.
Extroverted sensing types:
SPs, sensing perceiving types, are very different from sensing judging types. The sensory cognitive function they use is extroverted, less subjective and personal than Si, more grounded in external reality. This makes them more flexible but also more disorganized. Part of the reason why so many cast members are Si-users is because the Summit itself is such a socially rigid environment, where perceiving types in general are less likely to fit in. Se-users especially are more impulsive and that's reflected well in the two main SP types in the cast, Hamin and Anaele. Both of them struggle with the strictures of the Summit's schedule and rigid behavioral codes, and are constantly seeking outlets for their enormous physical and social energy.
Aly has said explicitly that Hamin is an ESFP, and that tracks. His superficial behavior is driven overwhelmingly by the demands of the energetic Se function, which demands a lot of attention and forms most of his public persona, his reputation. His quieter, more hidden side is emotionally driven and has a strong moral core looking for an outlet, both in terms of his desire to do right in the world, and in terms of his strong interpersonal relationships. Subtler still, you can see the signs of his tertiary function, Te, in his leadership ability and his efficiency in accomplishing tasks -- as long as he deems them important enough to be worth his attention (Fi-Te). Thinking about the future makes him anxious, because his future-oriented inferior Ni function is weak and under-developed. That's the main thrust of his personal character arc.
I went back and forth on Anaele, but eventually typed her as an ESTP. ESTP and ESFP types can appear similar some of the time, simply because the leading function is so extroverted it can overwhelm the expression of the auxiliary function, especially in public. Ana's Ti function isn't always super obvious, but her tertiary Fe is evident in her constantly struggling with the idea of social consensus and social responsibility. Her reputation and the reputation of her warriors is important to her, as is Skalt's standing among the kingdoms and her standing with her mother. At the same time, she resents the need to fit in and to conform herself to other people's ideas about who she is and how she should behave. She also has some of the positive aspects of tertiary Fe, she can be charming and reassuring and supportive, and generally has a good grasp of how to influence the mood of the room, when she's willing to put in the effort. Her insistence on speaking with Skaltic cadences even though she knows they sound wrong to the speakers of the common language is exactly the kind of stubborn oppositional behavior typical of ESTPs who like to provoke a reaction, without necessarily thinking through what they're provoking.
Jaslen and Blain are also probably ESP types, but I'm not confident about their typing, at least not enough to pin a specific type.
Introverted intuition types:
NJ types are targets for all sorts of stereotypes and mystification in MBTI communities. In fiction, they often appear as extraordinary characters, world-changing types, great heroes or villains or even mentors. The Ni function is described as being big picture oriented, very abstract, intuitive and futuristic. Judging intuitives sometimes seem to be reaching for "a target no one else can see", which is probably why they're often seen as being intellectual or artistic geniuses. Or, at least, really good at faking it. NJ types in the 7KPP universe are usually characters who are hiding important secrets, mostly about things bigger than themselves. They're driven by great conviction and not easily derailed from their plans.
ENFJ: Aly has stated that this is her type and also Clarmont's type, and in fact a significant part of his characterization seems to revolve around it. Feeling types are more ethically-driven than thinking types, at least stereotypically, and Clarmont is not an exception. He has a vision for the future that he's willing to sacrifice for. He has deep convictions, but he's also able to dine and dance with his mortal enemies, without betraying his true thoughts or feelings. In fact, he so excels at hiding his intentions that the Matchmaker makes a point of remarking on it.
INFJ: Look, I know I just said that feeling types are ethical, but the prototypical INFJ in the 7KPP verse is Gisette. It's easiest to explain by contrasting her with Avalie. Both Gisette and Avalie show certain common traits: they are contained, composed, ambitious, manipulative, and unscrupulous. They both know how to pull people's strings and like peeking inside people's heads to see through to their true intentions. The difference is, the way they do it is different. Avalie is a thinking type, and she operates like a chess player. She sets people in scenarios that cause them to reveal themselves. Gisette is an INFJ, and her auxiliary function is extroverted feeling. To execute her grand vision (Ni), she manipulates people through social convention, using gossip to tear down reputations and carefully curating her own public image. Gisette's weak one event is absolutely typical of an amoral FE-user. She doesn't hesitate to use the power of social convention to position people according to her needs. He tertiary Ti function shines through in her tactical thinking skills, and her inferior Se function is apparent in her love of fashion, as well as her ability to pounce on opportunities when her carefully laid plans go awry.
As a side note, I believe that Countess Yvette is also an INFJ, but it's harder to gather evidence for it, since she has a fairly minor role, all in all.
INTJ: Avalie and Woodly are both INTJs. INTJ is often touted as the chessmaster type, and it makes perfect sense as a type for people who prefer pulling strings in the background, as opposed to openly passing out orders, like General Falon. Not much more to be said about that, except that the manifestation of INTJ functions can be affected by social convention. Avalie is an attractive young woman and Woodly is an older man who is much more socially established, and naturally this affects how agreeably they interact with others. Thinking types are not stereotypically known as being particularly polite or graceful, in the social sense. But, the introverted intuition function is very calculating, and the extroverted thinking function is results-driven. With time, a woman with a TJ type can learn to mimic behaviors that create the illusion of the feminine softness that's expected of her. Avalie in particular does this very well.
ENTJ: My second controversial typing, I insist that Zarad is an ENTJ. The persona he puts up is that of an ESFP, like Hamin, but as his opening narration says, no one whose reputation is that consistent can be exactly what he seems. Zarad's public persona, that of the careless flirt and black sheep, is a bit too much of a textbook description of an ESFP. It lacks the depth and nuance of Hamin's internal conflict. Putting up an elaborate facade for years on end is not something that an Fi-user, like an ESFP, is typically proficient in. A judging type is more likely to succeed at this, specifically either an Fe-dom or a Te-dom. The reason why I zeroed in on ENTJ for his true type, is that ENTJs and ESFPs have the same cognitive functions, but in a different stacking. This commonality would allow Zarad to more effectively access the thought process that would be typical of the type he's assuming -- it's all there under the surface, it's just not his natural, instinctual behavior. I also think part of the reason that he and Hamin collaborate so well is that they're not the same type, but rather they complement each other's strengths and weaknesses. The confounding factor is that the difference between Hamin and Zarad is not just in type, but in environment. Hamin definitely couldn't maintain the type of long-term deceit that Zarad engages in, but maybe an ESFP who was raised in the secretive and backstabbing Corvali imperial court could.
Extroverted intuitive function:
The only NP type in the cast, as far as I can tell, is Lyon. He is canonically an INTP, which Aly has confirmed is based on several of her family members. His introverted thinking function fixates on the idea of an internal, consistent and logical inner world, at the cost of interacting with the messy and subjective outer world. This causes him to rationalize emotional behavior patterns and close himself off. As part of his character arc, the auxiliary function of extroverted intuition opens up possibilities for him, because what Ne excels at most is offering up lots of alternative explanations based on existing parameters. For example, "what if not everyone hates me?" or, "what if sometimes things actually go right?" I'm being sarcastic about this because I'm an Ne-user myself, so I'm allowed.
Odds and ends:
Minor characters like Imogen and Mrs. White don't have types, because we don't know them well enough. Specifically, we don't get to contrast their typical, healthy behavior with their behavior under stress. Kade, Leala and Greer don't yet have types or enough characterization for typing, but based on my intuition and what I've learned about Aly's writing, I have preliminary predictions. Leala is probably an ESFP like Hamin. Greer is most likely an INTP, or else possibly an ISTJ or even ESTJ. I would guess that she's an introvert, but as her leading function is definitely a thinking one (as her blunt speaking style reveals), Te-dom is also a possibility. Kade is a bit of a wild card, but I'm placing bets on either ISTP or ENTP, just for the sake of novelty.
Among my own problem princesses, I have an assortment of at least three quarters of the types. Least represented are the FP types, excepting Princess Felicity, who's an ENFP, and widow Selene, who's an ISFP. If you add in the supporting OCs, they really run the gamut.
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excathedras · 5 years
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Hold Onto Your Butts: I’m Coming Out
     Oftentimes, when I look back at myself, it seems like who I am now is the product of a coalition of different people all taking control of my life for different periods of time. Who I am now and who I once was are, at times, unrecognisable, though a number of central things about me remain. I can remember writing stories when I was six years old, imagining characters and a world vastly different from my own. I have pictures of myself in a purple velvet leotard at ballet, and in pink lipgloss at my first orchestra concert playing in an elementary school cafeteria. These are the big ones that come to mind, but sometimes, it is very difficult for us to look back and understand how the smaller things have snowballed over time. For me, these include trust issues that have accumulated from constant moves, a changing world, and the selfishness of humanity that seems so new to me. Another one is my adoration of classics, which began during the Scholastic Book Fair at my school, when my English had finally gotten good enough to read the popular “Goddess Girls” series, which has led me, almost a decade later, to pursue that sort of thing as a career. 
     Some things, however, are even more difficult to understand, let alone recognise. With the increasing attention of the general public to the inner workings of the LGBT community, especially with understanding gender on a global stage, this allows a place for a personal reflection of my own self and how I feel and how I want to be perceived and, in some ways, how happy I am with the body I was born into. For me, those questions have been incredibly difficult to answer. The way I see them and myself has changed many times over the years, and, though it seems backwards, has become more confusing to me the more I learn about what gender truly is and how I choose to define it for myself. 
    When I was little, my hair didn’t grow much. It is wild, Greco-African, and my white adopted mom had no idea what to do with it, so we left it to it’s own design, and it made like unkempt undergrowth. In my second grade class, I remember my teacher splitting the class in groups or halves in different ways, sometimes by eye colour, birth month, patronymic name, and, occasionally, length of hair. In that case, all of the girls were on one side, and all of the boys, plus myself, were on the other. My mother complained to the school once I asked her if that made me a boy, or less of a girl. What I couldn't articulate at the time, and haven’t been able to until recently, is that I never saw it as a degrading or empowering thing. It is just how things were and just who I was, and I didn’t think more of it than a cisboy about being a boy or a cisgirl about being a girl.
     There are hours, days, months, where I feel trapped in my own body, out of place distinctly not who I am. I look at government forms and don’t know how to label myself. I see transmen’s transition diaries and I wish that could be me. I look at ancient statues of men both virile ( The Antinous Braschi ) and dumpy ( any visual art of Socrates ) and I know that I would be happy with bodies like theirs. My schedule of ballet classes includes classes with the men just as they do pointework. I think of men, and I include myself. Yet, at the same time, I take a lot of pride in my femininity and the parts of me that are distinctly womanly, whether they be from my physical self or from within. There is power in me that comes from feeling effeminate, and the history of women is something that instills a great sense of identity and belonging in me. A great part of me takes solace in my desire to be masculine and in the ways that I am masculine. Another part of me is quelled by my feelings of femininity. This is all well and good, and many people can relate, but the issue is that these parts are not created equal, not all the time, and the presence of both is dominating in my scholastic, artistic, natural, and spiritual life. 
     For so long, I thought of transgenderism as an ensnaring commitment for me, in which fulfilling my view of myself as a man meant that I would have to sacrifice my femininity, or to stay a woman would mean lying and suppressing a large part of me for the rest of my life. I didn’t want to do either, so I ignored it. Which, as it turns out, is also not a great thing to do. I faced a manic number of years going through reinventions and obliterations of myself as I tried to force myself into a binary I knew would never make me happy. I bullied myself with the words of ignorant people with my own form of “self - help conversion therapy”. I told myself it was a phase. I told myself I was just doing it for attention. I told myself that I was making this all up, and that there are only two genders, and that I was between the phase of committing to being a transgender man or just staying a woman. I told myself to just settle for what I have because I’m beautiful and because it’s easier to just stay put and that it’s safer to stay put, and that, if I’ve already lasted this long ignoring these strange wills, I can live the rest of my life like this too.
     I found myself a few months ago taking a myriad of “Am I Transgender?” and “What Should My Gender Be?” and “Am I Nonbinary?” quizzes, as if cisgender people need to validate their gender so many times. The last time I did something like that, I was asking if I was a lesbian, and here I am, a decade later, still liking women. For some reason, I didn’t (or more accurately wouldn’t) put those pieces together. I would lie on some of the tests, seeing two answers for each question. One answer described, albeit shallowly, how I felt. The other answer was perfectly how I wanted myself to feel. One allowed for dynamic personality and the room for me to feel comfortable, and the other sought to place me in a box. Some tests came back saying I was distinctly male or distinctly female, and these were only a temporary comfort. Some tests came back saying that I exist out of the gender binary. And somewhere along the way, I figured that lying to myself or denying myself was no longer going to get me the answers that I wanted, so I started to research. 
     Instead of telling myself that I was nothing more than an attack helicopter who would never be taken seriously, I started reading articles and hoping that they would reassure me, in a healthy way, that I was simply cisgender and trying to protest societal norms. Considering this post, I’m sure you can assume that the effect they had on me what the exact opposite of that. Instead, they taught me about the history of gender across numerous societies and its presence in nature, as well as what gender means in a practical sense, and how to find what it means in a self - centric sense. As strange as this sounds, the most prominent and most important thing that my research gave me is validation in my confusion. I hardly understand how I identify myself; there is no word to encompass me and my identity entirely, but, in real life, there are no labels like that. We have broad ones, such as being transgender, being a student, being an American, but those experiences are different and beautifully undefined (You may have noticed an influx in my use of this word in my writing, in fact, as it has shifted for me from being something to be afraid of to something take refuge in.) for everybody. I don’t have all the answers about myself, but nobody has the answers for themselves either. To want to conquer those mysteries is to not want to enjoy youth, or enjoy life, or enjoy the intricacies of humanity and the human experience as a whole. 
     Some days are better than others, some days are filled with confidence and pride in my diverse self, and others have me feeling out of place and lost. The hardest step in this journey has been being able to come out to myself. I had a very distinct idea of who I was, and deviating from that and re-examining that meant being unsure and admitting that I am not as strong as I like to present myself as. I revel in the good days, and in the bad days, I remind myself that I should be happy with my confusion and my vulnerability; I am too dynamic and too broad to ever fit in a box. I don’t know how I define being nonbinary yet, but I have a long time to figure it out. And in the meantime, I know where I belong, I know who my friends are, I know where I want to go, and I know who I want to be, and that’s more than enough for me. <3
TL;DR
     I would like it if you referred to me with they / them pronouns and any variation on the name Frankie you want. Gendered terms of endearment like “gal”, “bitch”, or “bro” are just fine. I’m begging you not to treat me any differently akdakjdsa
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Gormless Ch. 9 -  Maccon’s into violence, hypocrisy, raceplay, but worst of all progressive politics.
A well-meaning friend gave me a book series that is hilariously bad. The first book was Souless and my riffs were entitled brainless. This second book is entitled Changless and these riff are then gormless.
I mean to say I have entitled them gormless! Not that my riffs are dumb, and the effort I spend on them stupid since I’m the only one who enjoys them. HAHA!
The story is SUPPOSED TO be about how a badass lady wearing a rad-looking carriage dress hits baddies with her umbrella and bangs her hot werewolf husband.  In reality it’s mostly poor attempts at being witty, flirty, and superior.
For the last book check out the brainless tag.
If you want the TL;DR version but want to read these new riffs anyway?
This story is set in supernatural Victorian steampunk England.  Alexia is our NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS protag.  She is a soulless, which means she’s able to negate the abilities of vampires and werewolves by touching them. She’s recently married a big oaf, named Lord Connel Maccon.  He’s the manchild in charge of the supernatural police with a zillion dollars and he’s totes super hot too ok.  Their relationship is mostly arguments about how Maccon can’t tell her fucking anything.  Alexia has also recently become head of ~Soulless affairs~ in Queen Victoria’s government.  She has a dumb friend named Ivy, a gay vampire friend named Akeldama, a family who’s evil because they do the same shit as her but while being blonde, and most importantly Alexia is better than everyone cause…cause.
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Last time on Gormless:
There’s some mysterious force that’s turning the Vampires and werewolves into humans. Alexia is in charge of figuring out that deal, and she is doing a bad job at it.  They are at her husband’s old pack castle about it.  Are they hiding something?????
Chapter 9 – Maccon’s into violence, hypocrisy, raceplay, but worst of all progressive politics.
So off to dinner we go!  They talk about what a FRIGHTFUL sight it was that Alexia didn’t style and unfrizz her hair before going down to dinner with such dramatic terms that make me wanna gag. But I went from that to barfing myself inside out when I read the following line about Alexia’s frizzy hair:
“Lord Maccon adored it.  He thought she looked like some exotic gypsy and wondered if she might be amendable to donning gold earrings and dancing topless about their room in a loose red skirt…”
GOD DAMN AUTHOR!  We went from some poor choices but plausible deniability to straight up…
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Like a lot of my racism complaints are subjective and nit-picky I will give you that.  But the author done goofed good and fucking proper with that line jesus fucking Christ.
GY*SIES IS A SLUR, AND ROMANI WOMEN ARE NOT ~EXOTIC~ SEXUAL OBJECTS! GOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCK YOURSELF!
I could fume about that fucking egregious shit the rest of the day but let’s try to distract myself with the parts of this story that aren’t openly racist.
At dinner, LeFoux is talking to some nerd about nerd shit.  Ivy is trying to talk about fish to some dude even though both of them don’t know anything about fish.  There’s a bit of drama when Lady Kingair (aka Sidheag) allows Maccon to sit in the Alpha seat, which TO BE FAIR is kinda bullshit, but the drama dissipates with a harmless distraction.  There is a brief interaction between Alexia and Maccon on the subject of the Tunstell/Ivy drama.  Maccon says they’re a bad match and Alexia agrees DESPITE THE FACT SHE LEGIT TRIED TO HOOK UP THE TWO AT THE END OF THE LAST BOOK BUT THAT’S FINE! Maccon ends the conversation about this slipshod ship-fest by sighing out a perplexed…
“Women”
Maccon you’re literally agreeing with a woman right now!  Boy howdy am I getting increasingly sick of how Maccon uses that word. If a male partner of mine used that word (woman) the way Maccon uses it (as this bullshit signifier that #yesallwomen are so hard to understand and difficult to deal with) I would uppercut him in the fucking taint.
CAN YOU BE ANGRY ABOUT THE ACTUAL CONTENT OF THE STORY FAPS INSTEAD OF THESE THROW-AWAY LINES THAT YOU’RE OVERANALYZING!
BLATANT RACISM AND SEXISM AREN’T THROW-AWAY LINES, BUT YOU BET YOUR ASS I CAN BE MAD AT MORE STUFF! I AM ALWAYS HUNKERING TO ANGRY IT UP!
There’s a point where they call Alexia curse-breaker multiple times (cause she’s a soulless that can negate the powers of the supernatural.)  Ivy and Felicity have no idea what that means and don’t know Alexia is a soulless but nobody bothers to inform them.  I don’t know if this is going to be a conflict at some point or not.
Alexia then has to ~make a fuss~ by asking them about the humanization problem. They act like she is breaking some taboo, but honestly I don’t understand why.  They’re having a problem; it’s her and Maccon’s job to solve the problem, so they should ask about it so they can solve it right? Also these Scottish folks seem much more down to earth and don’t subscribe to the stuffy social mores of British society. So it’s dumb that they act as if Alexia is rudely asking why cousin Larry has two weeping pussies where his ears should be, while jabbing at them with a pencil, and making sexist jokes about it.
But she doesn’t ask questions that are going to be useful until a few pages into this conversation which means just in time for the author to avoid it with a distraction.  I have a feeling the author is going to do the same thing in this book that she did last book.  Started with a mystery, dances around it for the vast majority of the book without adding much to it, and just ¾ the way in the book SUDDENLY SHIT HITS THE FAN ALL AT ONCE AND IT’S REAL DUMB!
So it’s now after dinner and the men and women are separated to chit-chat. Alexia starts quizzing Lady Kingair. Lady Kingair says she wishes she could be a full blooded werewolf.  The only werewolf within a zillion miles who is powerful enough to turn someone into a werewolf is Lord Maccon, cause of course it is.    But Maccon doesn’t want to try to turn her because she’s his last heir and women very rarely survive the transformation.  
Which like, there’s no reason so far why the werewolf club has to be vast majority male.  No ALL MEN orgies, and no SINCE YOU’RE THE ONLY GIRL WE’VE SEEN IN 80 YEARS ALL OUR ERECTIONS POINT TO YOU FEMALE PROTAG!  Perhaps there is some plot point later on.  But honestly? I suspect it comes down to the bias that simply werewolfism is considered a male phenomenon. You can read all sorts of analyses of this but basically it comes down to that men are supposed to have a violent, animalistic nature that they try to suppress.  But women aren’t supposed to be angry, powerful, uncontrollable, or like worst of all HAIRY!  So I don’t want them even as no-name background characters yuck!
Also, oddly enough, last book they said that werewolves sought out actors, and arty types cause they seemed more likely to survive the transformation. Creativity is tied to ~extra soul~ or whatever.  So I want to know why all these werewolves are dim-witted, gruff, military philistines instead of sweet, sensitive, arty twinks, smooching each other?  Is it cause her type is gruff meathead and like an idiot she outright contradicted her own story for no particular reason?
SEEMS SO! GOD I WANT A CASTLE FULL OF HAIRY BESTIAL WOMEN AND/OR CUTE SENSITIVE TWINKS! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR?
Nothing else really comes out of the conversation with Lady Sidhaeg Kingair and thankfully we’re saved from that conversation by the sounds of the men folk fighting.
Maccon is fighting with the current beta.  Maccon wins, cause of course he does.  They both grumble bitterly at each other for BETRAYAL and nothing is revealed. Like I am glad there was action, but this was so limp and tepid.  It could have easily been dramatic and they should have revealed something, especially considering they dump the whole story at the end of this chapter.
So Alexia takes him upstairs for fade to black SEX, cause of course she does. Like I won’t kink-shame much, but getting all hot that your husband beat up another dude who is clearly weaker than him for no real reason is bogus yo. A thousand kink-shames upon you.
Afterwards Maccon FINALLY fucking explains something.  He says the reason why he left the Kingair pack is because everybody in the pack was planning to kill the queen of England and didn’t tell him about it.  They’re Scottish and Supernaturals and APPARENTLY the crown hates both of those things.  She appoints Scottish and Supernatural people to the highest places on her court and we have not seen any oppression but just trust us okay.  They kept it from Maccon, because Maccon is a ~progressive~ and thought killing the queen would be a bad idea.  He believes this because the Queen is giving Supernaturals more rights and that if they kill her that it would make Supernaturals look real bad and innocent Supernaturals would be targeted.
That’s a reasonable fear, and honestly since we’re supposed to be on Maccon’s side she doesn’t really try to explain the other side.  Like was it supposed to be a military Coup so that werewolves would be in charge of Britain, since the military is made up of werewolves? Cause that’s honestly pretty fucking interesting.  I know the author says there are a lot more humans than werewolves…but I don’t know why they would fear much of a backlash if they all have superpowers, lots of the money, and are the ENTIRE military.  The fucking Spartans quelled every slave uprising even though slaves vastly outnumbered their military cause their military was trained as hell. Those masc 4 macs thug bros weren’t even able to turn their faces into dog faces.
Also Maccon’s feelings were really hurt when they were going to kill the queen with poison.
“Poison is for bitches amirite?” Maccon laughs misogynistically.  Alexia chuckled in kind and sprinkled something in Maccon’s 5th glass of Scotch.  As he dies in agony Alexia licks her fingertips in triumph. Oops they still had poison on them and she dies.  LeFoux travels to reality and she has the good sex with me. The End!
Okay that exchange didn’t happen, I just wish it did.
So anyway due to the ~betrayal~ Maccon left his pack and it really fucked his pack a big one because nobody was powerful enough to turn other people into werewolves so their pack couldn’t grow and outsiders were disinterested in serving them.  (BTW humans who serve werewolf packs in exchange for being turned into werewolves are called Clavigers in this book.) But this was their punishment for betraying him.  Not punishment for the high treason of attempting to murder a queen and thus throwing the entire country into violent chaos which could have resulted in millions of deaths. The focus for the punishment is highlighted as Maccon’s feelings were hurt.
I have a million questions about this situation but I can forgive the author for not going into more detail. This is a fluff story and doesn’t need to be bogged down with politics.  I can’t help but be  frustrated because the author doesn’t give anything of substance, so when something mildly interesting happens I want to latch onto it but it’s just plywood stuck to a cliff with bubblegum, it ain’t gonna hold my weight.
Thus I plummet back into the pit of frivolousness, hoping futilely there maybe something enjoyable I can grab in order to save my sanity from this stack of bullshit.
PS – I’m way into the fact that the thing they did reveal is not relevant to the actual conflict at the center of this book.
LOVE THAT!
PPS – The fight should have had the Beta forcefully removed from the fight. That he thrashes against another werewolf about how ineffectual Maccon is.  That he has all sorts of strength, power, and money but he’s just a complacent lapdog.  Since he has been dubbed ‘one of the good ones’ he’ll let the less fortunate ones of his race rot while he nibbles pheasant in his castle.  Maccon fires back how hypocritical it is to say you want what’s best for werewolves/Scottish folks while picking fights and putting the less fortunate on the line.  That he’s proving to the kingdom that werewolves are valuable by being a good example and working within the power structure to help his own kind. Afterwards Maccon goes back to his room physically and emotionally exhausted, and cuddles with his wife while he explains the backstory. He cries over his guilt of hurting his pack, and wonders if what he is doing is the right thing.
Problem with that is it doesn’t make the conflict easy to understand and cut and dry.  It also makes Maccon emotionally vulnerable…which like I’M INTO but seems as if it’s not the author or this set of reader’s fetish.
Say something nice Faps:
After pulling teeth for a book and a half we learn something about Maccon.  And it’s actually potentially interesting.
Ivy’s back and forth about her lack of knowledge about fish was genuinely cute and funny.
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