#National Go Barefoot Day

[murderousink23]

06/01/2023 is International Childrens Day 🧒🌏, ALS Awareness Month 🇨🇦, National Indigenous History Month 🇨🇦, World Milk Day 🥛🌏, World Reef Day 🌏, National Go Barefoot Day 🦶🇺🇲, National Hazelnut Cake Day 🇺🇲, National Heimlich Maneuver Day 🇺🇲, National Penpal Day ✒🇺🇲, National Say Something Nice Day 🇺🇲, Caribbean American Heritage Month 🇺🇲, National Oceans Month 🌊🇺🇲, LGBTQIA Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈🇺🇲, Great Outdoors Month 🇺🇲, Black Music Appreciation Month 🇺🇲, Dairy Month 🐄🐐🐑🇺🇲, National Immigrant Heritage Month 🇺🇲, Volunteers' Week 🇬🇧, Global Day of Parents 👪🇺🇳

[rabbitcruiser]

National Go Barefoot Day 

Put your feet in direct contact with the Earth by going barefoot, or donate any shoes you don’t wear to those who have no choice but to go barefoot.

There are a lot of things in life that we take for granted, like the shoes we wear. You might not think it, but there are a lot of things you should think about when it comes to wearing shoes and making the most of them. This is something that can help you in day to day life, as well as coming with health and comfort benefits as well. Footwear is an integral part of our daily life, so much so that we take it for granted a lot of the time.

But, people across the world do not always have the luxury of wearing or owning shoes of their own, and many have to walk every day in bare feet. This is something that can cause a lot of issues, especially in underdeveloped countries. However, at the same time, there is something appealing about donning bare feet now and again, and this is something that is important to get right as much as possible.

This is one of the reasons that has led to the launch and development of National Go Barefoot Day. This is an annual event that encourages everyone, children and adults, to shed their shoes and socks and go barefoot as much as possible, wherever possible. Of course, commuting to work or driving the car will require the use of footwear, but if you are in the garden, at the park, or on the beach it would be ideal to go barefoot.

National Go Barefoot Day is an annual celebration taking place every summer, in which people are encouraged to kick off their footwear, let their feet breathe, and take the time to walk or run in bare feet as much as possible. There are actually quite a few excellent health benefits to doing this, so it is something we would recommend to everyone to try. Here are some of the core benefits involved in going barefoot:

Better foot positioning

Improved balance and body awareness

More comfortable and can help ease pain relief

Better foot mechanics, which in turn improves things like knees, hips, and the rest of the body

Stronger leg muscles and lower back support

Improved posture

Relief from footwear restrictions

Enhanced dexterity of the lower extremities

Growing strength and stability of muscles and joints

Another of the reasons why National Go Barefoot Day matters so much is because the idea is to raise awareness of those in the world who don’t have access to adequate footwear. Working in conjunction with the charity Soles4Souls, the idea is to work toward getting shoes for underprivileged kids globally.

Summer is the perfect time to get your shoes off and enjoy some barefoot therapy for a while. The weather is going to be good, and this means you have much more choice of when and where to take your shoes off and enjoy some shoe-free action. Take the time right now to get involved with National Go Barefoot Day this year, and try to make a big difference in the world as a result.

History of National Go Barefoot Day

National Go Barefoot Day was a celebration created and pioneered by Soles4Souls. The idea was concocted in the wake of the tsunami disaster that occurred some 15+ years ago, and decimated many areas of the world. This was a disaster that led to a lot of people being adversely affected and plunged into poverty. This is a day that was created to draw attention to this, and to help these people as much as possible.

The principal aim of this day is to get people to donate footwear, both used and new, that can be distributed to underprivileged people in need of shoes. Since this day was created, there have been around 19 million pairs of shoes donated globally, and providing this level of unprecedented support makes such a big difference to those around the world. This is a global celebration, and you will have the opportunity to take part on a yearly basis. It’s a great way of being able to give back and do some good for those in society who need your help.

National Go Barefoot Day is still observed in many countries around the world these days, and it is important for you to look at ways you can get involved. This is one of the best things that you can do to play a part in the process, and it is something you need to keep in mind. Make sure you focus on what it takes to make the most of this, and you

How to celebrate National Go Barefoot Day

If you are serious about having the opportunity to celebrate National Go Barefoot Day then you should be thinking about what you can do in order to get the best out of this. Consider the different ways of being able to celebrate this awesome day, and help make a difference to the world. Of course, the actual act of going barefoot itself is a great place to start, and, as we covered above, there are plenty of excellent health benefits that make this a great idea for you to start doing right now.

In addition to actually taking part in the barefoot process of the day, you can get involved in a more philanthropic way. Go through your closets and clean them out; set aside any shoes you never use or don’t want anymore, and use them to donate to this great cause. But, you can get even more involved if this is something that is close to your heart or that you feel strongly about.

For instance, in a lot of cases, you can organise a shoe drive in the local community, where you and friends can drive to people’s homes and collect the shoes they are looking to donate, before dropping them off with the charity. This way you can indulge in some philanthropy, and afterward you could organize a barefoot walk on the beach or in the park to help you make the most of this experience and celebrate being barefoot.

Whether you’re at work or not, find a way to rebel against shoes, be it running barefoot through the grass and pampering your feet, or kicking off your shoes under your desk at work when your boss isn’t looking. Show support to the charity Soles4Souls, a global charity trying to put shoes on the feet of 300 million underprivileged children.

Source

[shiny-jr]

not my world [ prologue ]

– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.

– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Grim.

– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.

– Pages: 11

“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?” 

As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears. 

This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.” 

That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.” 

“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–” 

A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides. 

Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?” 

“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.” 

“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?” 

“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!” 

“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).” 

“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?” 

You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach. 

Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure. 

“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat. 

You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers. 

“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.” 

At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds. 

“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?” 

“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!” 

As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind. 

“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!” 

As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree. 

Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?” 

He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!” 

Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––” 

“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited. 

“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.” 

Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.” 

Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face. 

However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!” 

“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again. 

“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?” 

Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!” 

“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!” 

“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?” 

Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.” 

“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched. 

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!” 

“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment. 

Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!” 

“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…” 

Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!” 

Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.” 

As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth. 

While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder, 

“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”

[greeneyed-thestral]

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

[aspiring-house-husband]

werewolves attempt to keep to themselves, mostly. they live as wolf packs in state game lands and national parks, keeping the ecological balance. every once in a while they’ll live on unclaimed lands, and when they do, they eventually make deals with landowners. 

your pack lives on thousands of acres owned by one man. he lives a fairly modest life; he just wants to keep out in the woods and tend his koi ponds. he is quite respectful to your pack, waving when you travel by and staying out of the part of the forest that you’ve requested. 

he’s never a problem. occasionally, though, he brings guests. those you have to watch more closely. 

they’re always good, too. you have to assume that the owner talks to them, tells them not to go off his paths, tells them to clean up after themselves. but that doesn’t meant that there can’t be sentries posted to make sure they don’t wander too far. 

usually, it’s the same family. must be some friends of the owner who bring their progeny. there’s a grandfather with his cane and his wisdom. there’s his daughter, with her happy smile and tendency to keep the campfires roaring. and then the daughter’s children. 

she has an oldest son, the most responsible. he has a family of his own now, a wife and toddler son to chase around and feed marshmallows to. there’s a middle daughter, who travels and has stories to tell. 

and not every time, but with rare luck, their youngest son travels to join them. and whenever you’re on sentry duty, he catches your eye. 

the others are respectful. they have fun, they clean up, they sigh and enjoy the wind. the youngest, though, he seems to revel in it. he strolls around the large fields and checks himself for ticks. he turns his face to the wind and closes his eyes like he can understand the twists and breezes. he runs barefoot, and while he’s not very fast, his form is almost familiar. he points out poison ivy and knows which woods burn the best and can tell which streams are safe to drink. he’s a bit small, but the way he entertains and plays with his nephew makes you imagine him taking care of pups, and even though you know it won’t take, you crave to fuck him full of them. 

he’s perfect. and one weekend, when all the others leave, he stays alone. 

the property is wide and beautiful. the parts of it that are more ‘tamed’ include a pond, a fire pit, a hammock, and an elevated pavilion. he sits there most of the day, just looking off into the forest. he almost seems like he longs for it. 

so you’re a bit daring. you stalk forward from the woods, hulking and rippling muscle and canine teeth parted to allow scent to pass through. 

he seems scared, but he doesn’t move. he lets you travel to him, and only twenty feet away does he step back. so you sit down and transform, and you watch his handsome face as he realizes what you are. 

“hello,” you tell him, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. you can’t blame him. he’s speechless, even a moment later, so you stand and approach him. he holds his ground this time, letting you come all the way up to his space, letting your hands wander over his torso. he seems to entertain you, letting you do as you please. 

emboldened, you tilt his chin up, and lavish your tongue over his neck. he’s missing the scent gland there, but you don’t mind, his own scent is perfect enough. he lets out a soft sigh, and that’s all you need. 

there’s a fancy table in the center of the pavilion. all it matters to you is that it doesn’t tip when you lift him and set him on it, pulling his clothing from his body. he can’t help but to touch you as you do, now gingerly giving kisses back across his shoulders and neck, and he teases his teeth across your skin. the sensation sets you alight, and even moreso you want him. you want him as yours. 

your weeping cock slides between his thighs a few times before he opens his legs to you and lays back, arching up his back as you prep him sloppily and hastily with your fingers. it’s all you have not to fuck into him, to pop your knot inside him, claim him and mark him and bite him and change him. you can barely stop yourself, but you do, and your reward is his sultry moan as you fuck him onto your fingers. 

you tell him your name just so he can moan it as you finally thrust inside him, all the way up to your swollen knot. he all but screams, bucking his hips already in pleasure, whimpering and panting. if you didn’t know better, you’d think him in heat. 

“please, please,” he begs, and you don’t know what he begs for, but even so you grab onto his hips and thrust into him, building a rhythm that hints to a crescendo of his moans getting higher and higher pitched, his legs locking behind you, his hole clamping down on you. you start to fear you won’t fit inside him with how desperately he tightens around you, so you pull him to you as you snap your hips forward, and he paints his own chest with the force of his orgasm at being knotted. 

you collapse onto his chest, still weakly thrusting as you pump him full. you can’t help but clamp your teeth down, only controlling yourself enough to not break skin. he lifts one hand to pet your hair, panting under your body, still sounding and smelling of heat. 

you have him twice more before the day is up. he turns up at a lot more of those family gatherings after that. he lounges in the woods with you, promising that one day, he’ll let you bite him for real, and bind him to the forest for good. 

[oneatlatime]

Hiii!!! I’ve been binging through your blog for the past few weeks and I noticed how you talk about how Kataang(Katara x Aang) is portrayed in the show. Honestly yeah, I will admit I didn’t like it at first but now I just don’t really care for it. But I’d be interested hearing an in-depth opinion on the ship(unless you already did and I just never noticed or forgot 😭).

Another question, do you think you’re going to read the comics that came out the series? If you’re asking my opinion I’d say they’re a uuuh 7-8 out of 10 IG?

I do have thoughts on Kataang which I haven't shared yet. Part of me thinks I should wait to answer your ask until I've finished the series; it's obvious to me that these two are being set up to be the big finale couple, which means if I talk about them now I'm probably missing the pieces I need to have a full, well-rounded opinion. But you know what? I feel like talking about them now. So here goes.

Short answer: It peeves me that Aang comes from a culture that seemingly doesn't even have parents, yet he still manages to date his mother.

Long answer: they're both way too young. I'm a huge fan of letting the kids be kids for as long as possible. Especially with these kids, who have been prevented from being kids by the war. As Katara points out in the opening scene of the very first episode, she's been the mother since her own died (or at least she feels like she has had to be the mother). Call me crazy, but I'd rather Katara spend a few years after the war doing dumb childish stuff to recapture that lost childhood than jump straight into a relationship. Isn't the safety and space to do dumb childish stuff one of the things those who are trying to end the war are fighting for? Shouldn't she get to enjoy that? And Aang is just way too young no matter what way you look at it. He's 12 right? I think that would make him a grade 6 student. Back in my day (yells at cloud) Grade 6 students collected yugioh cards and feuded over who had the snazzier lunch box. I could picture a 12 year old having a crush on a slightly older girl that goes to the same school, but it would be short lived and unactionable. I guess Katara would be around 14? So, a grade 8 student. A grade 8 girl would not date a grade 6 boy. It would just never happen.

They've both got bigger fish to fry. Aang is the last Air Nomad AND the current Avatar. When he fully takes on both of those positions, what time will he have for a girlfriend? Katara is the only Southern Waterbender. Whether or not she wants the responsibility, it will be her duty to single-handedly reconstruct a huge portion of her nation's culture from the ground up once she returns south. Does she have the time to ping pong around the globe mothering her boyfriend as he rides giant animals or does Avatar stuff? Say she wants to: what will her family and the rest of her tribe think of the only person who can access such a huge part of their culture riding off into the sunset?

Their current relationship dynamic is still too mother/son. This is more obvious in season 1 than in season 2 (maybe that's growth?) but you can't depict a male/female pair as pieta and then expect me to ship. I think this could change somewhat, but I've already been disappointed in that. I thought that once Katara had mastered waterbending and therefore felt she had something other than mothering to contribute to the group, she would back off with the mothering. And she did, a little, but not enough for my tastes. Maybe as Aang fully steps into the Avatar role and the last Air Nomad role (sidenote: no idea what the latter would look like) he'll move on to a more equal relationship with Katara.

I think Katara is meant for better things than rebirthing a nation. Bending seems to be at least somewhat genetic. So if Aang wants Airbending in any form to survive after his death, he's going to need a billion kids. While I could definitely see Katara wanting children, I don't see her as the barefoot pregnant type.

I'm not convinced that Aang has a clear picture of Katara. She has flaws, which is good! Does Aang see them?

I get the feeling that, while they are helping each others' skills grow as they travel the globe, they are also preventing each others' personalities from growing. As long as Aang is around, Katara has someone to mother. As long as Katara is around, Aang has someone who prevents him from feeling the full weight of his responsibilities. Again, this is worse in season 1, but how often did Katara deny that Aang was to blame for something that was at least somewhat his fault? Aang will never become a fully rounded person until he can look at his flaws and mistakes dead on and say "my bad" without a Katara in the background going "no you're perfect!" Katara deserves to find out what kind of person she is outside of a nurturing role. Quick thought experiment: what if you pair Katara with someone who needs no nurturing, or better yet, nurtures her? And what if you pair Aang with someone as bluntly truthful as Toph? Katara and Aang might find both of those situations uncomfortable at first, but I think it would contribute to their growth.

Aang having a crush on an oblivious Katara would be a great single season arc. I think it would fit both of their characters well, and I think Aang growing past latching on to the first person he saw after the iceberg would be a good way to show that he's rooting himself in his time-displaced present, and fully committing to ending the war. And don't get me wrong, I love Aang and Katara both as a fighting team and as friends.

These kids are all fighting a war, and all kids. I don't mind the supporting characters having romances, because it's not like Sokka or Suki can end the war, no matter how hard they try/might want to. But I'm a big believer in doing one thing at a time, and I think if you're the only person in the whole world who can end a war, then ending the war should take precedence over dating. I'm aware that that's an unrealistic expectation and out of step with the show's theme of balance. In the real world, birth rates skyrocket during war time because people live for the moment and grab happiness (read boinking) wherever they see it. But both these kids are pre-boinking age so I'm going to be a cranky old fart about it.

Being the wife of the Avatar is a position that will often come with being relegated to second place, especially with the amount of work that undoing a century of war will take. Although she works well in a team, Katara is a naturally dominant personality. Katara did enough of putting herself in second place before the series started. I think Katara could very easily fall into the pattern of subjugating her own needs and desires and putting her husband's first, but I don't want that to happen. And one way to prevent that from happening is to prevent her from dating the single most politically important person in the universe. (To be clear, Aang would never deliberately squish a wife like that, I just think the workload of being Avatar and last air nomad would cause that to happen)

A lot of my objections to this pairing are very adult objections. I don't know what I would have thought about this pairing when I was the age of the show's target audience. It undoubtedly would have bothered me less, although I probably would have been put off by how twee it is. As an adult, all I can see are babies playing house.

As for the comics, I hadn't made any concrete plans to read them. I don't know where I'd get access to them. I'm not sure how canonical they are. I guess I should probably decide whether or not I want to read them after I've finished the whole series. I've been told that my girl Jin appears in one of them, so I definitely have some interest. I have also had the Avatar Kyoshi novels strenuously recommended to me. But so much of Avatar's charm, to me, is in the medium. And while comics are closer to animation than books are, they're still static. Avatar does movement so well.

[tokidokitokyo]

埼玉県

Japanese Prefectures: Kantō - Saitama

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

埼　さき、さい、みさき、キ　cape, spit, promontory

玉　たま、～だま、��ョク　jewel, jade; ball

県　ケン　prefecture

関東　かんとう　Kanto, region consisting of Tokyo and surrounding prefectures

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Saitama City (さいたま市)

Saitama is Tokyo's neighbor to the north. Much of southeastern Saitama is considered a suburb of Tokyo, but the western parts are mostly rural with mountainous forested areas, and include a castle town and the Chichibu-Tama-Kai National Park. Saitama has historically been a fertile agricultural region and is currently the major food supplier for the metropolitan area of Greater Tokyo. Some of the first currency in Japan came from copper discovered in the Chichibu area in the 8th century. Saitama's central location has made it a historical hub for transportation to all parts of Eastern Japan, and the modern radial roads and railroad system are designed for ease of transportation to all parts of Japan. Saitama is also the backdrop to the famous Miyazaki Hayao (Studio Ghibli) film "My Neighbor Totoro."

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット Kawagoe - 川越

Kawagoe

The Edo-period castle town of Kawagoe is also known as Ko-edo (小江戸 or "Little Edo") because of its many traditional buildings dating from the Edo period. The streets have been maintained as-is since the Edo period (1603-1867). The weekends are the most popular times for visitors to gather here and experience the atmosphere, shops, and popular seasonal events. In the third week of October, the Kawagoe Festival is held with a parade of traditional ornate floats and a musical competition.

The Warehouse District is lined with old earthen storehouses, which are unique two-story buildings that have remained unchanged since the days when the city was a major transportation and commerce hub for Eastern Japan. The Toki no Kane, or "Bell of Time," has marked time for the town for centuries, and continues to ring four times daily. Candy Street is a street lined with stores where traditional Japanese sweets are made in the old-fashioned way.

For more recent history, the Taisho-Roman Street has old, retro western-style buildings from the Taisho and Showa areas. There are also no overhead power lines, which makes this a popular spot to shoot many Japanese period films set in these eras.

There are severable notable temples and shrines in Kawagoe, especially Kitain Temple, which was built over 1,000 years ago. This temple has 538 stone statues of Buddha, each with its own face and unique posture. No two statues look alike, and the popular belief is that there is a statue to resemble any visitor to the temple. Kawagoe Hikawa-jinja Shrine is a Shinto shrine dating back to the 6th century that boasts a torii shrine gate that is 15 metres tall. Kawagoe Kumano-jinja Shrine has fortunes, lucky charms, and also boasts the "stepping health road," which is a path to walk barefoot to stimulate the acupuncture points on the soles of your feet for health benefits.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理 Miso Potato - 味噌ポテト

Miso Potato (source)

Famous in the Chichibu region of Saitama, miso potatoes are a well-known winter treat in the area. This dish is similar to a baked potato covered in sweet miso sauce and is traditionally from the rural areas in the mountainous part of the prefecture. It is now a popular street stall snack that combines the sweet and savoury miso flavours with the earthy baked potato texture.

Saitama Dialect・Saitama-ben・埼玉弁

1. むじっけー　mujikkee　cute

むじっけー猫だね。 (mujikkee neko da ne)

Standard Japanese: かわいい猫だね。 (kawaii neko da ne)

English: What a cute cat.

2. ああみぃ　aahmii　no good, can't do it (also, ああみ, aahmi)

ごめん、明日ああみぃ。 (gomen, ashita aahmii)

Standard Japanese: ごめん、明日行けない。 (gomen, ashita ikenai) or ごめん、明日はダメ。 (gomen, ashita wa dame)

English: Sorry, I can't go tomorrow. or Sorry, tomorrow is no good.

3. かみぎっちょ　gamigiccho　lizard

庭のすみっこにかまぎっちょがいたで。 (niwa no sumikko ni kamagiccho ga itade)

Standard Japanese: 庭の隅にとかげがいたよ。 (niwa no sumi ni tokage ga ita yo)

English: There was a lizard in the corner of the garden.

4. ��ちゃる　ucharu　to throw away

そこにうちゃるなよ。 (soko ni ucharu na yo)

Standard Japanese: そこに捨てるなよ。 (soko ni suteru na yo)

English: Don't throw that away there.

5. こわい　～kowai　hard

このおせんべいこわい。 (kono osenbei kowai)

Standard Japanese: このおせんべい硬い。 (kono senbei katai)

English: This senbei is hard.

*Note: senbei is a Japanese rice cracker

6. えらい　erai　a lot

今日はえらい食べるな。 (kyou wa erai taberu na)

Standard Japanese: 今日はたくさん食べるな。 (kyou wa takusan taberu na)

English: Don't eat a lot today.

[adelarsims]

OC QUESTIONNAIRE: IVO

thank you @simarcana for the tag :)

if any of you wanted to know ivo a little better, here's your chance.

hello, my dear. i believe we never met... i'm the spellweaver here at the Academia, and a substitute librarian for the time being, until they find someone else for the job. so... in which capacity i may be of help?

NAME: that would depend on who you see in front of you right now, me or the... oh. then just Ivo is more than enough, there is no need to stand on ceremony ~

NICKNAME: with such a simple name as mine, no one really called me anything else. if you don’t count common words of endearment, but i don't think that counts.

GENDER: ...hmm. that made me think. i’m used to think of myself as a man, but when i imagine being offered a different opinion, it doesn’t feel alien or make me uncomfortable either... there's always something yet to be discovered about ourselves, isn't it.

STAR SIGN: Pisces, but you might not find it very fitting anymore, now that i... oh, apologies, i got a little distracted for a moment.

HEIGHT: i never bothered measuring my own height exactly. probably about 185 barefoot, a little over 190 on heels... why, does height difference bother you? i assure you, 171-cm-on-heels worth of the Grand Sage in a bad mood can be much more intimidating. ah, you want me to get you this book from the upper shelf? in that case, my dear, how about i teach you a little beckoning spell, if you have some free time on your hands? it will come in handy when i’m not around to help. ~

ORIENTATION: there was a time when i preferred one gender over all others. now i prefer not to prefer either. that is just for the best for everyone. i’m truly sorry if you asked out of... personal interest, my dear.

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: i’m afraid even i don't have the answer. i was here for as long as i can recall, but my childhood memories are rather... hazy. it was definitely warmer than here though, that much i remember.

FAVORITE FRUIT: peach, the juicier the better. even imagining it in my hand, its fuzzy skin still warm from the sun, juice streaming down my fingers and palm and staining my sleeve... ah, it almost makes me feel the taste in my mouth.

FAVORITE SEASON: summer. cold and damp weather can be very hard to endure, it takes a huge toll on my mind and body alike.

FAVORITE FLOWER: a whole field of forget-me-nots. and the apple tree blossoming in the warmest month of spring. it’s not something you could pluck for your amusement and put in a vase... you can only appreciate it and step away, carrying this moment of peace in your heart.

FAVORITE SCENT: oh, you know these thick, spicy scents that are an essential part of every tiny store that sells all kinds of fake occult knick-knacks impressionable young humans are so obsessed with? yeah, this scent. it’s just... so nostalgic for some reason.

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: i much prefer pomegranate wine, my dear, but alas, now that i’m not allowed to drink alcohol anymore... it would be linden and melissa herbal tea. aside from its mild taste and soothing qualities, another great thing about it is that it never becomes tart even if you forget about it for a long time... however, i would also never say no to a cup of hot chocolate in a pleasant company ~

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: more than nine, preferably. sadly, i’m rarely given that luxury. everyone always needs something here, and you can't really say no when it's the Grand Sage who's asking, now can you?

DOGS or CATS: neither, my... guest doesn’t like animals. or, rather, they do not like to be in my presence anymore. why are you looking at me like that? i thought professor Ember warned you about... i see. apologies for confusing you then. at any rate, if i have to choose, then cats. a cat sleeps for twenty hours a day and wouldn't give me any trouble, while having a dog demands too much physical activity for my taste.

DREAM TRIP: anywhere warm, my dear. (...where i really want to go is to go back in time and make a different decision, one i won’t be regretting for the rest of my days, but...) oh, i look sad? these cold stones just aren’t good for my morale. winter this year was awfully long.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: indefinite. nothing better for the night than making a warm cozy nest out of thick fluffy blankets. the flip side is that the warmer and cozier your blanket nest is, the more heartbreaking it is to leave it in the morning.

RANDOM FACT: there’s a belief among academia students that if you jump across the hall all the way to the statue of the First Sage on just one leg the day before the exam, and throw the note with your request, and the note stays in the statue’s hands, you will get an A+ without trying. no, no, not lazy, most of them prepare for exams anyway... it’s more of a tradition now. sometimes they write completely unrelated things. poems, love confessions to each other... someone even begged the statue to make professor Ember have a crush on them, poor soul. at least three poor souls a year, to be precise. how do i know all that? well... whose responsibility it is to retrieve all these notes from the statue, you think?

--

tagging @kisica-plays, @pralinesims for OC you didn't answer this for, @agena87, @adoringsentiment, @kri-babe, @puppycheesecake and anyone who sees this and suddenly wants to hop on that train

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

https://x.com/voguemagazine/status/1790064461908263408?t=h425DKiaOSS_FRmsP5YhCg&s=19

What do you think they meant by "carrying the future of the nation" ?

No idea. It sounds like one of Meghan’s word salad quotes that they might’ve copied from her Hotmail press release.

This is the full quote:

With perhaps the exception of the Parosh dress she wore to announce her engagement and the Claire Waight Keller gown she was later married in, that dress is one of the most important fashion statements she has ever made: lounging barefoot in the gardens of her Montecito mansion with the casual ease of a woman carrying the future of a nation. “With the tree of life behind them and the garden representing fertility, life and moving forward, they didn’t need any direction,” said photographer Misan Harriman of shooting that moment. “Because they are, and always have been, waltzing through life together as absolute soulmates.”

Just about only thing I can think of is that it’s a reference to Meghan being the mother of the future king — but that’s not true, because she isn’t the mother of the future king, or even a heir.

Otherwise it just reminds me of this screenshot from Harry’s mental health documentary, The Me You Can’t See, and I wonder if that’s what the author is trying to plug - that the future is going to be more biracial than lily-white WASP? But even then it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense because it’s such an obscure reference to a photo that’s 3 years old in a blink-and-miss it showing.

Sorry for the jump scare. I still can’t get over that she purposely left her hair tucked inside her shirt and allowed the photo. She mustn’t have had her extensions in that day.

[parksphotography]

Olympic National Park, WA (Aug 2023)

First Beach, on the Quileute Reservation. The fog began to roll in as I walked barefoot down the beach, going from a bright clear day, to a misty afternoon in 15 minutes. One of the best experiences I have ever had

[murderousink23]

06/01/2024 is International Childrens Day 🌎, World Milk Day 🥛🌎, World Reef Day 🐠🌎, National Go Barefoot Day 👣🇺🇸, National Hazelnut Cake Day 🇺🇸, National Heimlich Maneuver Day 🇺🇸, National Penpal Day ✒️🇺🇸, National Say Something Nice Day 🇺🇸, National Trails Day 🇺🇸, Volunteers' Week 🇬🇧, Global Day of Parents 🇺🇳

[vivakitkt]

A place you only know

Synopsis: You watch as your Empire falls apart into ashes. But only one thing is on your mind. Your precious lover, the reason why you haven’t lost who you are yet. But the heavens gather his soul too soon. Any where he would be, you would as well. But this time it was a place they only knew.

Warnings: Cringe(?). Angst/no comfort, fem implied reader!(reader is suggested to be a princess of imperial blood), bad grammar/spelling, !not completely proofread!

A/n: this is a refined, improved version of other fix I wrote when I was starting this writing thing so I decided hey I’ve kinda improved? Let me try writing it again! So that is what we have here! With that being said(here’s the fic Heavens Promise)

Please enjoy!<3333

You ran to the burning enchanted forest at full speed. Ignoring the way that your feet hurt from being barefoot and the way the thorns tore at your dress. As you made your way over to the palace that was once your home now reduced to a giant fire. While covering your nose from all the smoke coming from the fire you frantically started searching around for a blue and sliver familiar uniform.

You tried yelling out their name hoping they would be able to hear you. Pleading that they weren’t dead just yet. Finally, you spot a glimpse of a glimmering sapphire gemstone immediately rushing towards it, jumping over the palace rubble and flaming pieces of wood from the villages nearby. Hardly anyone could tell that you were royalty by your disheveled look.

Huffing and running across the fallen trees and burning bushes as you make your way to them barely laying against a rock clutching their side. Not breathing.

please

No..

You pled to no one in particular but to yourself to ignore the creeping thoughts in your head.

Almost as if someone heard your call, your lover suddenly erupted in a unsettling cough

/name..do not grief for me please/ they said with the faintest smile on their face completely smoother by your beauty even in the state you were in. As they weakly attempted to raise their blood filled hands to your face to comfort you as they always had done.

/ I don’t wish this to be the last impressions of each other./ They grinned towards you, breath becoming more unstable by the second

You knew you couldn’t save them. But you were the goddam princess. The crown princess. From the earliest age you could remember, you were trained to one day become this empires empress. But look at you in this state. No future ruler should be sobbing on the floor, covered in blood, and clothes tattered. No ruler could display themselves in such a vulnerable state. But not in front of them. You no longer felt the heavy weight of the crown and suffocating glares from the other nobles. You had to grow up so quickly that you couldn’t savor the moment of weakness. Being a child. Being around your loved ones.

But now those memories were gone now. Burned away along with the rest of your family and nation you cared so deeply about. And now the person that got you this far, was about to leave.

/Do not be afraid my love/ they spoke with tenderness, clutching their hand on their heart

/We will be reunited once again and nothing shall stand in our path./ They said with one final breath and soon life fled out of their eyes. Slowly but surely, they were now gone. All was left was their empty body that once contained the most precious soul. Silence filled the air with the remains of the raging fire dying down due to your people coming close to you. But surrounding you felt nothing but your own domain of sorrow and grief.

You feel a burning sensation in your throat that just won’t go down no matter how hard you swallow. And a constricting feeling starts as you continue to struggle to breathe. That silence is not held any longer as a threatening scream is let into the cold air. Uncontrollable tears run down your face hitting the ground, leaving a small drop of tears that is soon joined by others rushing down.

You feel empty. But you have your soul. It was not taken by those above yet. But you lost your life. You feel hopeless and don’t bother to wipe the multiple streams of tears rolled off your cheek. Your eyes and nose starting to hurt from how hard you were sobbing. Your vision getting obscured from the tears that brimmed your eyes. You don’t stop for several more minutes.

The blurring of your vision clears a bit now so that you could see the glistening sun hitting your eyes and various people yelling your name in the back. The lilies that gone through the blazing fires, seemed to have survived somehow. By a sorcerer or perhaps by miracle, they started to sprout once more as if to grief your lost loved one with you. As you began to recover and stand back up, you looked down onto your hand, that had been covered in blood and dirt, and stared at the ring your loved gave you as a promise. You continued to look at it and gave it a quick peak, despite how dirty it was, turned once again to your beloveds body and gave it a warmth felt smile before moving to where the voices led.

——————————————————>

Thanks for reading (∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

[lufanahufflepuff]

(English is not my first language, if you find any grammatical mistakes or something that doesn't make much sense, please let me know)

Name: Inês Ofélia Da Graça

Nickname: Ophelia, Ines

Date of Birth: June 16, 1875

Nationality: Portuguese

Blood Status: Muggle-born

House: Hufflepuff

Patronus: Goldfish

Physical Description: Inês Ofélia is a short girl with wavy blonde hair that extends to her ankles. Her green eyes stand out on a face adorned with freckles, and a mole is located beneath her lower lip. Her front teeth are distinctly separated.

Personality:

Inês is a remarkable child due to her vivid imagination, although her distractibility is equally remarkable. She struggles to stay focused on tasks that don't deeply engage her.

Her difficulty in understanding social norms and behaviors occasionally makes her awkward. Furthermore, she has trouble interpreting others' emotions, often failing to notice sarcasm or jokes, which makes her naive in some situations.

Despite that, Inês makes an effort to understand people by observing their behavioral patterns.

Family History:

Inês doesn't have much information about her own family beyond what her mother, Joana Da Graça, shared with her while she was alive. She never met her father or grandparents, although, she doesn't seem to care about this lack of information.

Her mother, Joana Da Graça, was a very young mother who immigrated to the United Kingdom when Inês was just a baby. Inês's story is marked by the early onset of her adult life, working from a young age while her mother struggled to build a better life for both of them. During these years, Inês took on the responsibility of taking care of the household and later her ailing mother.

Background Story:

At the age of nine, Inês faced a significant trial when her mother fell seriously ill. Although the nature of her mother's illness remains a mystery, Inês cared for her for many days with the hope that her effort and patience would heal her. Unfortunately, her mother passed away suddenly, leaving Inês alone.

After her mother's death, Inês was sent to a Catholic orphanage, where she finally learned the English language properly, although she still struggled with pronunciation, reading, and writing.

Inês spent much of her life in the orphanage, unaware that she was a witch or that magic even existed.

Inês's life took a turn when she met Professor Fig and began studying magic. It was at this moment that she discovered an intriguing fact: wizards possessed knowledge capable of healing ailments afflicting Muggles. This revelation struck her deeply, stirring a wave of frustration and regret. She began to wonder if, had she known her true nature as a witch earlier, she could have found a cure for her mother's illness.

This personal tragedy is one of the reasons why Inês is so determined to help Sebastian find a cure for Anne, so that no other family has to endure the suffering she and her mother went through.

Unconsciously, Inês sees Professor Fig as a father figure. She once caught herself calling him "Pai" and at that moment, she fervently hoped he didn't understand Portuguese.

Sebastian has a crush on Inês, and everyone except her has noticed. She doesn't realize when they're flirting with her.

Inês is bisexual, but she's in the "bisexual denial" stage. She think that everyone must feel that way, liking a bit of both men and women, right? But Inês, not everyone feels that way...

Inês has a crush on Anne, but she hasn't realized yet.

Inês refuses to cut her hair and has never done so in her life. Even though it's a lot of work to care for, she simply dislikes the idea of cutting it.

She also doesn't like wearing shoes and takes any opportunity to go barefoot.

Inês doesn't have much ambition regarding a career. She simply doesn't think too much about the future or what she'll do after Hogwarts. She has a more "if I make it out of here alive, it's good enough" mindset. Her "plan" is to live a peaceful life in contact with nature.

Her Patronus is a goldfish because I think it suits her kindness and short memory, which could reflect her gentle and distracted nature. (In my head, this makes a lot of sense.)

My friend said Inês is a Hippie, and I thought about it for a bit, and yes, she's basically a Hippie but in 1890.

[workingforitallthetime]

something in the group chat just reminded me of rutger mcgroarty's canonical stars and stripes swim trunks, and i remembered they are referenced (rule 63 style) in the next section of my adam/rutger WIP, so here's an installment in honor of our nation's birthday. (first installment here)

“Can I ask…” Brendan perches on the arm of the battered chair where Rutger’s sitting and thinking about prying off her cowboy boots. She’s been on her feet all day: dancing, running between different house parties, sinking winning ping pong balls into keg cups. 12 hours of cowboy boots is a long time. Real cowboys must be tough.

“Sure, yeah.” Rutger stretches her legs out and props the heels of her boots on the floor, trying to take her weight off the soles. She’s not sure about going barefoot on the floors of the senior house, and she’s also not sure about going upstairs to find her slides. Who knows what’s going on in the bedrooms in the middle of this party.

Brendan’s eyes cut over to Adam, who’s weaving through the crowd with a keg cup held over his head, on his way through the kitchen for a refill. “What’s up with you guys?”

Rutger manages not to roll her eyes, because she’s a team player and she wants to get along with all her teammates, even the annoying ones. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.” Brendan makes it sound like yeah right.

Rutger lets herself have an eyeroll this time. “Sorry we kick ass at Corners.” Maybe their celly was a little extreme, but nothing feels better than winning. Adam’s the same way. If – when, Rutger corrects herself – they score together this season, it’s going to be phenomenal.

“He literally has thirst traps of you on his instagram.” Brendan slides off the arm of the chair and into the too-narrow space next to Rutger, wiggling in like she’s ready for girl talk time. As if Rutger’s in need of a girl to have this conversation with, the same conversation she’s had with all her girlfriends ever.

“No he doesn’t,” she says automatically. She scoots over and swishes her ponytail away from Brendan. “Did you ride the mechanical bull earlier?” That was one of the sickest parties today.

“You’re in a bikini,” Brendan accuses. Brendan sucks at girl talk.

“Oh, in California?” That’s not a thirst trap. She and Adam were both awake before everyone else, ready to get the day going, and so they ran down the beach and jumped into the Pacific.

Rutger still remembers surfacing with a whoop, blowing chilly salt water out of her mouth, the exhilarating feeling that the entire clean morning world belonged to them. Someone took a picture of them as they walked back up the sand, hotel towels over their shoulders and broad grins on their faces. Rutger didn’t put it on her own insta because her hair was already starting to dry into salty clumps. It was so not a thirst trap.

Brendan rolls her eyes. “No, the other one.”

Rutger shrugs. “Okay, you got me.” Brendan leans into Rutger so she can pull her phone out of the part of her yoga pants that’s supposedly a pocket but is not a place anybody should ever actually keep their phone.

Some drunk guy Rutger doesn’t know yet almost trips over her cowboy boots. Rutger throws up an arm in a futile attempt to catch him as he stumbles. “Oh no, are you okay?”

Drunk Guy finds his feet and hits a gymnastics pose like he stuck the landing. “Trip me anytime, babe.”

Rutger giggles and angles herself to look at Brendan’s phone so she can ignore Drunk Guy. Saved by girl talk, ha ha. Brendan’s thumbing through Adam’s saved stories. Rutger should have figured Brendan’s the type to go through everyone’s instagram. Well, obviously Rutger did that too, but Brendan doesn’t understand that you’re not supposed to let everybody know.

Brendan’s insta was boring. She didn’t even have any cool photos of Alaska. If Rutger played in Alaska, she’d be posing in front of glaciers in a big Canada Goose parka with a furry hood. She’d be staging epic snowball fights. Going dogsledding or something.

“Got it!” Brendan holds up her phone to Rutger like she’s a cop questioning a suspect. It’s a picture Adam took a couple of summers ago of Rutger floating on a raft in his pool in Toronto, wearing the American flag bikini she packed because it was the Fourth of July and it’s fun to be a little extra about it in Canada.

“Oh,” Rutger sighs. “I miss those sunglasses.” She lost them the next day at the Jays game.

“So, yeah.” Brendan gives her a look.

Rutger rolls her eyes. “We’re friends,” she repeats.

“Boys and girls can’t be friends,” Brendan decrees.

“What, there’s like a law?” Rutger’s heard this before. Maybe other girls can’t be friends with boys, but she’s never had that problem. She’s always played hockey with boys. Boys are funny. They think of the best pranks. They’re always doing fun stuff. Like when there was a crazy downpour in Plymouth last spring, none of her girlfriends on the team wanted to go to the park by Rutger’s billet and slide in the mud, but the boys did. It was so much fun, and Rutger couldn’t even take any pictures of all of them covered in mud head to toe because her hands were too filthy to touch her phone. She’d never pass up on something like that to hang out with girls.

“It just always ends with somebody falling in love.” Brendan says it like she’s the world’s foremost 20-year-old authority on friendship, when she probably just got burned by some loser she slept with in the NAHL. “If you’re the one who thinks you’re friends, it means the other person’s in love with you.”

“That’s…” Rutger almost says so dumb. Like, it’s universally dumb, because it’s so narrow-minded to rule out half the entire world as friends, but also really specifically dumb about Rutger and Adam. “...really not it,” she edits. “I have a boyfriend. He has a girlfriend.”

Rutger’s never met Maddie, but they follow each other. She was posting photos from sorority rush at DePaul this morning. Or maybe Loyola? Somewhere in Chicago. Rutger always gets them confused, which Adam says makes her a bad Catholic. Rutger says Adam’s a worse Catholic for convincing Rutger to decommit from Notre Dame and join him at Michigan.

“Okay.” Brendan gives it the yeah right tone again. Which is so unfair to Cutter. Cutter exists, and if she calls him right now she can get out of this dumb conversation with Brendan. 

She’s opening FaceTime when Adam hollers at her from the beer pong room. “We’re up!” Seamus beckons at her from the opposite side of the table. Next to Seamus, Gavin bounces a ping pong ball and catches it, testing the surface.

“I’m in!” Rutger pops up from the chair, tucking her phone in the back pocket of her skirt and waving a good-bye to Brendan behind her as she weaves across the room through the party crowd. Her feet feel better after a rest. “Gotta defend home court!”

“Technically it’s our house too.” Seamus lines up across from Rutger. The knots in her bandana top are starting to slacken. No imminent disaster, but they’ve done a hard day’s work holding up Shea’s rack. “At least this week.”

“Gavo!” Rutger stretches out a hand, signaling for him to bounce the ball to her for her first shot. He looks up from the place where the curly end of Seamus’s braid trails into the bandana gap that’s opening over her cleavage and snaps the ball her way.

Rutger takes aim. “This one’s for Moyle’s floor tonight.” That’s where Seamus slept last night while Rutger took the couch. Jacob offered a spot in her room next door, but Adam and Luca and Gavin are all staying at this house, and Rutger can’t stand to be away from all the fun. She bounces on her toes as she lines up her shot. “Maybe some year it’ll be all of our place, for real.” That will be the best thing, living with her best friends in a hockey house. College is already so much fun, and it’s only going to get even better.

[sama-not-sam]

SAMA ALI ( AIYSHA HART ) is a THIRTY-TWO year-old UN POLITICAL AFFAIRS OFFICER in GENEVA, SWITZERLAND. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only THIRTEEN years old. They are known as THE AMBITIOUS because they are STRATEGIC but also COMPETITIVE. Let’s see what choice they make regarding the fate of Woodrow House.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Sama Ali Nickname(s): n/a, call her Sam at your own risk Date of Birth: born 1972, exact date of birth unknown; birthday celebrated October 30 Age: 32 Occupation: Political Affairs Officer for the United Nations Current Residence: Sama has a small apartment in Geneva. She’s traded space for convenience, opting for a 290 square foot flat within easy walking distance of work. Her job does require her to travel frequently and occasionally for extended periods of time, but Geneva is her home base.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: black; worn straight and more or less shoulder length, depending on how long it’s been since she got it cut Eyes: dark brown Height: 5’9” Notable Features: high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, sharp jaw

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: strategic, assertive, determined, pragmatic, resilient Weaknesses: competitive, single-minded, reticent, show-off, insensitive (especially when it comes to other people’s feelings) Quirks: ⬧ Sama has a bad habit of checking her watch when she’s bored or frustrated, and she’s never without it, or her Blackberry. ⬧ She walks very quickly, for no reason other than to get to where she’s going that much faster. ⬧ She will also speak for others, especially people she knows well, if she feels like they’re not answering quickly enough, or if they pause and seem to be searching for words. ⬧ Her default stance when standing is her feet in third position and her hands resting on one hip, muscle memory left over from her years of ballet. ⬧ Sama hates going barefoot, and usually will wear a pair of ballet slippers instead of shoes when indoors. Vices: ⬧ Card games; not for gambling, she generally dislikes games of chance, but more for the thrill of winning. ⬧ Dance movies; they take her back, whether they feature ballet or not, and Dirty Dancing is actually the romantic ideal. ⬧ Suppressing emotions; Sama would probably cease to function if she was ever forced to actually look at all the feelings she ignores. ⬧ Whipped cream; not necessarily a vice, but it is Sama’s favorite treat.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Poetry, feminism, global politics, ballet, the wives of famous/powerful men(think Eleanor Roosevelt, Vera Nabokov, Catherine of Aragon), The West Wing (an American political drama that she still keeps up with). Hobbies: Sama doesn’t have much time for hobbies these days, she prefers to keep herself busy with work. One hobby, which is almost a habit, that she keeps up is journaling. As a child, she journaled religiously, making sure to keep a detailed account of her life so she could update her parents when they came back for her. While she’s long since let go of that childish dream, she still journals frequently. As a result, Sama is a pen snob. Special Skills/Talents: ⬧ Sama is a polyglot; fluent in English, Arabic, French, Persian, and (Swiss) German, as well as having some conversational Italian; she is also currently learning Mandarin. ⬧ She taught herself calligraphy in high school, one of many attempts to connect with her heritage, and still practices enough to keep her skills sharp. ⬧ She has an admirable talent for landing on her feet, for making the best of a bad situation or snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Some may call Sama lucky, but to do so would discount all the work she puts into getting what she wants.

BECOMING A WARD

Sama is one of Richard’s most famous ward, not that anyone outside of herself, Richard, and Mrs. Tristan ever knew that. In October of 1973, there was quite a stir over a baby found in Grand Central Station, initially assumed to be lost until it became clear she’d been abandoned on purpose. With no identifying information other than a name pinned to the back of her jacket, the authorities were unable to find her parents and Sama was ultimately shuffled into foster care. Think pieces and op eds will still occasionally surface about the Grand Central Girl, which Sama has a morbid fascination with.  What is common knowledge in Woodrow House is this; in 1986, an essay about the foster system was submitted to Kingsbury College’s annual writing contest, and it caught Richard’s attention to the extent that he just had to meet its author. He loved telling the story of his shock and delight on discovering that the essay had been written by a 13 year old girl, despite the fact that Sama insisted she never forgave him for the discovery that disqualified her from the contest. Over the course of a summer the two kept in touch, and letters turned into phone calls and eventually became face to face meetings. It didn’t take long for Richard to decide to take Sama on as his ward, but convincing Sama to accept his offer was another matter.   By the time she met Richard Woodrow, Sama had long since learned that things that seem too good to be true usually are. Like the foster mother who told Sama she was never going to adopt but that she’d keep her until she graduated from high school, only to adopt a different child 14 months later, dumping Sama in the process. The temptations of Woodrow House were almost too much for a girl to resist, Sama had never had her own room nor access to private tutors in whatever subject her heart desired, but this was exactly what made her skeptical. Ultimately she decided it was too great an opportunity to pass by and, with the condition of continued access to her social worker, Sama agreed.

LIFE AS A WARD

To say that Sama was prickly when she first arrived at Woodrow House would be an understatement. From the first day she was all sharp edges. She cursed too much, a habit that she eventually eliminated under Mrs. Tristan’s example, and she seemed to have a perpetual glare, an expression that only softened some rather than completely. It was her seventh foster home, so by the time she got there, she knew how to carve out a space for herself, and how to defend it. She decided at an early age that she was never going to be anyone’s whipping girl, and she came on a little strong initially. Even when she realized that Woodrow House was not a typical foster home, she was still assertive, and sometimes too assertive, about her right to be there and her authority over her own space. While she mellowed with time, she was never a warm and fuzzy person, and she never wanted to be a sister-figure. By the time Sama arrived at Woodrow House, she was already the ambitious one, already driven, already striving, already putting herself out there in order to prove… something. Even at thirteen she was the one with big, big plans to become a household name, although she never told anyone why. She was always busy, always doing something, never making time to really build meaningful relationships. Which is not to say she was anti-social, but she was selective. She would crash someone’s private tutoring, or try out another ward’s latest extra-curricular. She learned who had similar goals or preferences to her and who didn’t. She loved learning new things and honing her skills, and she appreciated people who could help her to those ends.  The roles Sama played in Woodrow House were simple. She firmly established herself as one of the older wards, usually holding herself above the younger ones. She was a favorite, of both  Richard and Mrs. Tristan. She wasn’t afraid to use that to get what she wanted when the occasion called for it, but she also maintained that the reason she was a favorite was because she never asked for too much. She remained generally a loner, seeming to occasionally grace certain wards with her presence more than seek out anyone’s company.

AESTHETIC

Sama’s style icon is CJ Cregg, from the American political drama The West Wing. She’s a big fan of power suits and loose blouses, and prioritizes high quality, classic styles over seasonal trends. She eschews many of the moment Y2K styles in favor of the designs from her twenties, maintaining a sleek and minimalist wardrobe. A businesswoman to her core, her version of dressing down is a sweater set and slacks. She favors neutrals and darker colors, and generally avoids prints. She likes headbands and still wears scrunchies when she’s having a rare casual moment. She has a modest collection of subtle stud earrings that she rotates in her single lobe piercings, and are the only jewelry she regularly wears.

EDUCATION

As soon as it was permitted, Sama chose to attend a prestigious, and private, all girls’ school that she knew about from having a former foster home nearby. It appealed to her because it was prestigious, because it was an all girls’ school—the pre-teen misandry stayed strong in her—and because none of the other wards already at Woodrow House attended it. Once there she made rather more enemies than friends, but at least she made them on her own and as herself, not part of a set. She was quickly identified as a teacher’s pet and know-it-all, because the purpose of school for Sama was to learn and climb to the top of her class. However, any classmates who tried to bully her quickly learned that she was more than capable of standing up for herself. When she graduated, her valedictorian speech brought many of the parents in the crowd to tears, but most of their daughters rolled their eyes.  For college, Sama set her sights on Columbia University from a young age, and not even Richard’s fondness for his own alma mater could dissuade her. Just like high school, she wanted to attend college on her own terms, and not as one of Richard Woodrow’s charity cases. At Columbia, she double majored in Human Rights and Women’s Studies, ultimately graduating Summa Cum Laude and at the top of her class. More importantly, she learned how to network with her peers instead of alienating them, and still has connections, some might even say friends, from undergrad to this day.  Sama welcomed Richard’s offer to pay for her undergraduate work, but when she was ready for grad school, she insisted on taking care of it herself, even though she didn’t have to. She covered her law school with a combination of grants, scholarships, some student loans, and the savings she built up with her allowance from Richard as a ward. Her last step in formal education was a degree in International and Comparative Law from Georgetown. She was accepted to other schools that were arguably more prestigious, like NYU and Yale, but decided that a school in the nation’s capital would align best with her long term goals.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Ballet, tennis, debate, school newspaper, volunteering. Sama dabbled in all sorts of extra-curriculars during her years at Woodrow House, but only a few were truly hers. Ballet was an interest that started before Richard came into Sama’s life, but her multiplicity of foster homes before Woodrow House made it difficult for her to truly commit to it, so Richard arranged for her to take private lessons in order to catch up with other dancers her age. The precision and structure of ballet appealed to Sama, as well as the fact that it was a challenge. Tennis was something she did because Alison did it, which is to say that she liked having an opponent who was as competitive as she was, and that she liked being around Alison. Debate and school newspaper were both things that looked good on her college resume, but she enjoyed them, as well, especially when she was made editor of the newspaper her senior year. Volunteering was something that Sama did ostensibly for the same reason she did debate and school newspaper, but the truth was she wanted to give back. She felt like she needed to use her privilege as a Woodrow ward not just to better herself, but others as well. 

THEIR LIFE NOW

After graduating from Georgetown, Sama didn’t pursue a legal career; that had never been the goal. Instead, she got a job at the United Nations headquarters in New York City, where she began steadily working her way up through the ranks of the political affairs department. She quickly established a name for herself as a driven employee and a creative problem solver, but also someone who cared deeply about the work the organization was doing. She jumped at any chance to travel for work that was presented to her and never balked at the long hours her job required.  Through it all, she never went back to Woodrow House, despite it being relatively close. There was always some sort of excuse, and it always boiled down to she was just too busy. She refused to admit that there could be anything else keeping her away. She didn’t go out of her way to keep in touch with her fellow wards, but if any of them were willing to put in most of the work, she wouldn’t ice them out, with one obvious exception. It was always uncomfortable for Sama to know that Alison was out there, in the same city as her, knowing that they might just run into each other one day, but she didn’t want to be run out of town, not again.  Following 9/11, it became clear that her skin color would be a detriment to Sama’s plans, and in 2002, she transferred to Geneva, wanting some distance from the rising Islamophobia in the US. She likes to think she’s settled into Geneva admirably, even though it was a rough transition initially, and she prefers it to New York in some ways. She remains married to her work, pursuing her goals with the same single-minded fervor that prevented her from getting more attached to her fellow wards as a teenager. Work-life balance is not a concept that Sama has any interest in and, after one situationship with a coworker that ended very messily, the only thing Sama keeps separate from work is her romantic life. Not that there’s much romance in her life, Sama doesn’t really date so much as she has habitual hookups, always strictly feelings-free until someone, usually the other person, drops the ball. Whenever feelings start to get involved, Sama’s mandate is to leave before she gets left. You’d have to have her at gunpoint to get her to admit that she’s lonely, or that all of her achievements are starting to feel empty, but she’s been fighting for the approval of the parents who didn’t want her for so long, she doesn’t know how to do anything else.

TIMELINE

1972: Sama is born, probably sometime in the spring.

1973: Sama is found abandoned in Grand Central Station in New York City on October 30th. She is placed in her first foster home in early November.

1974: Sama is officially made a ward of the state when the case to find her parents is closed.

1986: Sama anonymously submits an essay about the foster system to the Kingsbury College writing contest, of which Richard is a faculty judge, in the spring. Sama and Richard meet and get to know each other over the summer. She moves into Woodrow House as Richard’s ward in late August.

1987: Sama begins her freshman year at a private girls’ school in the fall.

1991: Sama graduates from high school in the spring. She begins her first year at Columbia University in the fall, never returning to Woodrow House.

1995: Sama graduates from Columbia in the spring. She begins her first year at Georgetown Law in the fall.

1998: Sama graduates from Georgetown Law in the spring. She begins working at the UN headquarters in New York City over the summer.

2002: Sama takes a job at the Geneva branch of the UN.

2005: Sama receives the news of Richard’s passing and returns to Woodrow House.

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 306: The Pink Wave, p4

I, uh, know I shouldn’t complain. I’d been surrounded by beautiful girls all night, fawned over at the bar. I’d been nearly stripped but rescued and taken away by the tallest, most gorgeous of them all, who just happened to be my girlfriend, swept into her friend’s car where she passionately made out with me in the back seat like a woman possessed while they drove me home. I survived with my tonsils still intact to find myself being carried like a babe-in-arms up to my apartment where she plopped me on the couch and immediately turned on the television. Tough, right? I know. You’d probably kill to be in my size-6 loafers. Then why did I feel so uneasy?

“Thank you, America! Thank you for electing me as the next President of your United States! Women - today is our day! Finally Finally! Finally!!"

“Omigod I feel like I’m going to bust out of my jeans…” Melissa said offhandedly as the blonde woman behind the podium spoke to the nation. I watched Melissa  pulling her Levis down her curvy hips, drunkenly wiggling herself out and dropping pants to her feet. She’d been barefoot, having left her apparently too-tight boots in Shanette’s car, and now she was kicking her jeans away. It was dark in my apartment, the only light in the room coming from the TV, and I couldn’t see where they landed but I think I heard some plates clatter.

In an instant she was on me, swinging a huge, bare leg over me and straddling my lap, leaning in to explore my throat again with her strong, aggressive tongue. My whole body stiffened - legs shooting out straight, arms finding themselves stock-straight at my sides - and I gurgled in surprise. Plastered back into the seat cushion, my worldview eclipsed by the corseted torso of the female enormosity that was my new Office Manager, I could no longer see CNBC’s feed of - yikes - President-Elect Martin but I could hear that her victory speech continued. Her tone had become more serious:

“...and this is also a message to all the men out there, those watching. I will be your president too. For generations we’ve fed you, taken care of your homes, your families. We’ve kept you warm. But you’ve seen in recent years how we’ve grown, how we’ve been doing more. We’ve moved on to running your schools, the majority of your businesses, your banks. Now, men of America, we’re going to govern you. It just. Makes. Sense.”

Melissa broke our kiss, and turned at the neck to look over her shoulder where a crowd had erupted in cheers. “Omigod she’s so beautiful,” she groaned, consumed by passion, inebriated by countless chocolate Martinis, and inflamed with female pride. She’d shifted a bit so I could peer around her and also see the screen, where the tall blond politician and ex-fitness competitor stood at the podium in front of her jubilant crowd. She was a striking woman, for sure but-

“She’s nowhere near as pretty as you,” I truckled, bringing from Melissa an immediate new groan and, once again, her full attention. 

“Oh, babyyyy,” she purred as she abruptly hugged me to her chest, the ardor in her voice heavy as syrup, “flattery will get you everywhere!”

“urk,” I ejaculated, face suddenly plastered to her great warm tits, cheek and nose and chin entirely consumed by them, my head nearly slipping fully into the big cleavage she had on full display this evening. My eyes goggled in shock as her smooth, perfumed skin ran over my pallid face. I should have expected this. As the night had worn on, I’d apprehensively become more fawning in my affections, complimenting her broadly for her beauty, for her curves, for how she smelled. She loved it. Now my hands had found themselves on her thickly wide hips and running themselves up and down the sides of her huge, smooth thighs. Silky was her skin, but with powerful muscle beneath. “You’re so strong…” I murmured, bringing another groan from her. She liked those compliments best of all, and I nuzzled my nose in between her breasts. Jesus she smelled and felt wonderful, and as I breathed in the perfume from her cleavage, her warm air and skin, I shuddered. 

All night had been about female empowerment, and I’d taken it too lightly at first. As the election results had come in though, as the women around me at the bar had become more and more drunk on presage and portent and more aggressively unyoked, I’d slowly become more and more anxious. What the fuck was actually happening? All I could do was find myself grow more obsequiously ingratiating, towards Melissa and her friends, more passive and complaisant. It was, I see now, a defense mechanism. I’d told myself they deserved it, this night of celebration: women had had it hard for so long…good for them. Little did I know how far the tables had already turned, and that I’d need to find myself some protection, somewhere to hide, a safe burrow.

Speaking of…

Melissa pushed me, my head, deeper in between her full breasts. She purred resonantly, rumbling her seism all around me, taking my unctuousness for the praise it was. She began to pet my hair, the back of my head, and coo sweet, drunken diatribes. “My little man, my sweet little guy…” she hummed, “he’s so small tonight, he needs me so much, he’s gonna need me soooo much…” She wasn’t really making a lot of sense, she hadn’t been for a while - I blamed it on the vodka, but it was also the messages she’d been fed all night from the election coverage. In fact, with one hand she reached to her side and picked up the remote for the television. She turned up the volume as if, though she’d buried me to the ears in her tits, she wanted me to hear this…

“And, men of America - thank you, too. It was many of your votes as well that brought us here. We know, though, that there’s sure to be some resistance. Not all of you are happy, or will accept the results. Some of the resistance, we know, may be violent. We realize that’s how some men lash out when they don’t get what they want, or they feel threatened. But rest assured that…”

I’d been just barely able to hear what was being said, and I know it should have given me more pause. Melissa had tossed the remote aside again, and with her free hand she was now reaching down between us, feeling my swollen cock rising up in my scrub pants, hard for her. She squeezed it and moaned, pleased by my tribute and with a quickness she had the drawstring untied. Struggling to control myself my hands gripped the flesh of her womanly hips, holding on. I felt her pull me out and then - frustrated by how the waistband of the scrubs did not fall adequately away - she tore both pants and boxers away with an audible <rrrrrrrrripppp!> My eyes went wide, facing the darkness of her cleavage, and as I felt new air around me down there I next heard another quick <rrrip!> and suddenly her panties were gone, too. It was dark - dark in the room, and I was blind between her breasts - but I knew what was happening. She shifted her hips, and I felt the warm fur of her, and a thick, syrupy wetness.

“Don’t worry about protection, baby,” she murmured, feeling my apprehension,“I’ve got it covered…”

“holy shit, Melissa…” I mumbled into her chest, not knowing if I should stop her. She was drunk, she was really drunk, and…could she hear me anyway? And, if she could, would she listen? She rubbed herself over me, once, twice, lubricating my shaft, my face sliding down and up in her bosom’s valley, and then I felt her hand grip me.

“Melissa, w-w-wait…” I tried, pulling my face out the little I could, looking up at her. She had her eyes closed. Did we want it like this? Our first time? She was, again, obviously inebriated. But beyond that, there was something else. The night had become about women becoming stronger, taking control of the government, about men ceding authority. I, myself, had grown quietly sycophantic and passive while she had become more and more aggressive. Was this love that was making her do this, her affection for me? Or was she acting on other feelings? Was this a…a display of dominance? Was I about to be made love to, or…was this something else? “Sh-shouldn’t we-“

With my right hand I took her wrist, to pause her. 

“C’mon, Jay, shhh…” she quieted me, now looking down at my face peering up at her from her bosom. She was obviously overcome and running on pure hormones, impatient with my hesitation already, "Aren't you excited? It's our turn to take charge."  Her other hand took me, now, grabbing my right wrist and easily pulling it off her own. “Don’t you want a woman telling you what to do?”

On instinct, I moved my left hand, now, to grab the wrist of her hand that still held my erect cock. Quickly, she shook it off and grabbed it, too, releasing my shaft for the moment. She now held both of my wrists in her strong hands. Ow. 

“M-Melissa…” I began, but I don’t think she heard me. 

“Shush,” she quelled me, considering the situation for a moment but then raising both hands above my head and now taking both my wrists into the grip of one hand of hers. Her free hand now shot back down between us to grab my boner anew. She sighed, feeling that I had - god help me - only gotten harder from the manhandling. My arms now stretched helplessly above my head, I tentatively tugged, trying to struggle free but felt immediately that she was considerably much stronger than me. 

"It’s our turn, now, to lead the way..." she continued. If she felt me trying to stop her she gave no notice, and rather I now felt her lifting her hips, repositioning the angle of my boner. I felt her lips on my head and-

“Melissa..?” I began again, trying vainly to pull my hips back, away. She was so big, so heavy. If I’d felt meager before, I now felt utterly without mass, like the sensation of weightlessness as the rollercoaster begins its descent down a plummeting drop. I was on a ride and I couldn’t get off, the bottom dropping out from under me. Thrill and anxiety consumed me both, in equal measures. “w-what are you d-?”

Forcibly, she hugged my head to her chest, abruptly muffling my complaints. I struggled, helplessly, and as I felt myself begin to enter her, her voice became breathless. “We’re going to take…” she spoke, as her tightness slid down my god-awfully huge rod with agonizing slowness, as I - big as I was - gradually disappeared into her, being swallowed deliberately,  “…every...inch.”

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. 

“YES,” she groaned, suddenly transported, her voice empowered with some new rapture as I sunk inside her completely, “yes yes yes!” She slid up, slowly, and then back down, feeling me groan into her chest and completely give in to her body and thrust my hips up into her. She breathed, deeply, filling herself with new strength and told me, as she began to fuck me: “You’re finally…fucking…mine.”

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