#dianneking answers

[dianneking]

Okay but, what if, Larissa and Phasma, twins? Larissa is a shifter and Phasma sadly came out a normie. They both have they’re characters attitude, Larissa sweet and Phasma hurts anybody that hurts Larissa. They push each other for their dream jobs, Larissa principal and Phasma Air Force?

This might be stupid but👀

OH MY SWEET GOODNESS YESSS

That's not stupid at all!! It's PURE GENIUS. I so want to read/write it as a fic like right now.

-Phas, I told you a thousand times, beating people up is not the answer!

-They made fun of your dream, Rissie. A punch to the face was the least they deserved. I should have just blasted them to pieces.

[opheliauniverse]

I feel like it is now my turn to bring positivity to your inbox!! And that is in the form of a random hug!

You are an amazing human being. You are a pleasure to talk to, you are interesting, funny, kind, beautiful and so much more!

I hope this message brings a smile to your face and makes you feel somewhat better 😊💜

🥹🥹 you are way too sweet! Thank you, I really needed this. This made me smile so much!

I adore you and I’m sending a hug right back at you <3

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

a little treat (nsfw)

AO3 link

Summary: Larissa decides to treat herself to a massage. ;)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

♥ please do not hesitate to leave me a comment on ao3 if you feel so inclined -- it makes my heart sing ♥

taglist: @opheliauniverse @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @zephyr-is-tired @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @pro-weems-places @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @farahissaiamyloves @alexusonfire @missmacfire

It’s 10am and Larissa can’t focus for the life of her.

She’s wound too tight, her shoulders are achey, she has a throbbing headache and she feels a deep discomfort in the pit of her stomach. It’s the final month of the winter semester, and the stress is really getting to her. Wednesday’s latest stunt caused more grey hairs to appear on her temples and everybody seems to be on her case — the mayor, the parents, the teachers, the students. 

She needs a fucking vacation.

She can’t afford to take a vacation — the school would collapse without her. Wednesday would probably burn it to the ground if Larissa took a single day off. 

She could, however… perhaps… maybe… take an afternoon off. Nobody has to know. It would be just one afternoon — it could even be today. She desperately needs to unwind somehow. 

But what should she do? Just… take a nap? Is she even physically capable of taking a nap? She doubts it — she’s far too anxious for it. She’d just end up working again.

She arches her back, cracks her neck. Her shoulders are terribly stiff. 

Perhaps she should get a massage.

She’s never had a massage before. She never seems to find the time for something like that, and quite honestly, she always thought it a waste of money. However, her shoulders don’t seem to share her opinion — they might just petrify if she continues to live like this.

She googles massage places nearby. There appear to be plenty — but one in particular sticks out. People seem to love it. It has many reviews, all of which are excellent.

"really REALLY enjoyed my massage :) 10/10"   "Ask for Tilly when you come if you like gentle hands. Fantastic experience."   "The Best message place……. reccommend…….."   "I’m a regular here. I always leave satisfied. Highly recommend."   "my first time getting a massage like this.. but i loved it!"

Before she knows it, Larissa is calling the massage place and booking an appointment, and, fortunately, they seem to have an opening this afternoon. The woman on the phone asks her if she wants a regular massage and informs her that they only have female masseuses — Larissa finds that a bit odd, but thinks nothing of it. She just wants her massage. A regular one — whatever the hell that means.

She spends the rest of her day working and anxiously waiting for the time to leave. She answers parents’ phone calls, deals with insufferable teenagers, schedules an appointment with the Mayor for tomorrow afternoon — her headache gets worse when she thinks about how she’ll have to debase herself, grovel and beg for more funding. She, however, ignores most of her emails, despite the angry red notifications popping up on the app annoying her to no end. She makes a pact with herself to look at those after the massage.

The time to go finally arrives — she lets out a sigh of relief as she locks her office and goes to exit the school building. She loves Nevermore, but you can get sick even of your favourite things if you look at them every day. 

She gets in the car, ignores the phone that buzzes incessantly, new emails arriving every couple of minutes. The massage will need to be out of this world if she wants to forget about all this stress — and she doubts it will be. She already regrets doing this — it will probably be a waste of time and money. She wonders if she’s capable of relaxing at this point. Does she even remember what being relaxed feels like?

She's lost in thought as she drives to the massage place. She thinks about emails that need to be answered, anxiety pooling in her stomach, and listens to the robotic voice of her phone navigation — before she knows it, she’s already arrived. 

She parks the car and enters the establishment — the place seems decent. A young, cheerful receptionist greets her as she approaches the desk.

“I have a 5 o’clock appointment,” she says, not bothering with a greeting. She thinks about her emails.

The receptionist checks her laptop, and Larissa checks out her cleavage. She considers the outfit a bit inappropriate for the workplace, but Larissa isn’t one to complain about a pleasant view. However, if any of her employees dressed like that, she’d have a word with them. 

“Ah, yes, I have you right here. Miss Weems, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“A regular massage, is it?”

What is it with these people and their “regular” massages? What even is a “regular” massage? And does that imply there’s such a thing as an “irregular” massage?

She doesn’t, however, ask any of those questions — instead she just says yes and impatiently taps her fingers on her purse. She wants to be done with this as quickly as possible so she can return to Nevermore. She’s getting quite fidgety. What if she returns and finds the school in ruins?

“Alright. You can always change your mind during, you know that,” the receptionist says and Larissa ignores her, still tapping her fingers on her purse. 

“You can go inside and get comfortable. Your masseuse will be with you shortly.”

Larissa just curtly nods and goes to the massage room, eager to get this over with. She anxiously checks her phone. She has 36 unanswered emails. She feels nauseous. Maybe this was a bad idea — maybe she shouldn’t have taken an afternoon off. God knows what Wednesday will do if she realises Larissa left the school grounds. She then remembers her appointment with the Mayor tomorrow and her stomach churns. She has to think about how to best present her case — balance the grovelling with the persuading, and maybe throw in a bit of flirting for good measure…

Her mind is racing. She eyes the emails again. Maybe if she just responds to a couple of urgent ones… it will take a minute or two at most — and then she can undress.

She responds to three emails — none of which are truly urgent, but should probably be addressed sooner rather than later — when she hears a knock on the door that brings her back to reality, and she realises she’s still dressed. 

She opens her mouth, wants to ask for five more minutes, but the door opens before she can speak and the prettiest young woman Larissa has ever seen enters the massage room. 

“Hi! Miss Weems, I presume?” she asks. 

Larissa drops her phone on the ground and swears out loud.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You enter the massage room and the first thing you see is a tall, gorgeous, blonde woman in her forties, still fully dressed. You’re a bit confused — doesn’t she know how this works?

“Hi!” you say. “Miss Weems, I presume?”

The woman drops her phone on the ground. 

“Fuck,” she says, and immediately covers her mouth, as if surprised by her own reaction. “Fuck,” she repeats. “Yes. Sorry.” She bends down to pick up the phone.  

She — Miss Weems — is, by all accounts, rather odd — the tallest woman you’ve ever seen, dressed like a 1940s movie star, with hair so blonde it’s almost white pinned in an intricate updo, swearing instead of a greeting (to be fair, she has the most beautiful, velvety voice and a British accent that would probably make anything she says sound sensual and sophisticated), apparently unaware you have to be undressed for a massage.

You are immediately enamoured with her. 

“I can give you a couple more minutes,” you say as you watch her fumble with her phone, shoving it in her purse. “You do kind of need to be undressed for this.”

“I'm sorry, I seem to have lost track of time — I just needed to respond to a couple of emails. They were quite urgent.”

“That’s alright, Miss Weems, but we do have a limited amount of time.”

You have no one scheduled for another half an hour after her, and for this woman, you’d gladly cut your break short — but you don’t say that, deciding to remain professional. 

“I apologise,” she says, taking off her coat. “My head seems to be elsewhere. I’ll undress in a moment.”

“You can leave it on the hanger there,” you say. “I’ll leave you to it, I can give you another ten minutes.”

“Oh no, we shouldn’t waste time,” she says. She strides across the room, hips swaying in the tight skirt, to put her coat on the hanger. A pleasant scent of subtle, citrusy perfume reaches you as she passes by you. “I’ll undress in a moment.”

She hangs the coat, then pauses, turning towards you. “Do I need to… fully undress?”

She seems a bit nervous. You find her confidence and charisma mixed with clumsiness and nervousness absolutely irresistible. 

“People generally do, but you can undress to your comfort level. You’ve booked the regular massage, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been asked that about a dozen times today. Yes, I’ve booked the regular massage,” she says, sounding annoyed as she unbuttons her shirt. 

“We're required to double-check. Just know that if you change your mind during, we charge a higher fee.”

Larissa ignores you. You have a feeling this woman can be a handful. 

You don’t mind.

You try not to be creepy and stare at her chest as she takes her shirt off, so you go fumble with the massage oils, even though you already have everything ready.

She shimmies out of her skirt, and you can’t resist — you stare at her long legs, clad in nude stockings that are held up with garters. Who even wears garters nowadays? And why does she look so hot in them? 

As she undoes the garters and pulls her stockings down, your eyes drift from her legs to her lacy underwear. Your throat is suddenly dry.

Small talk would probably be a good idea. You have to remain professional.

“So, this is your first time getting a massage?"

"Is it that obvious?" she asks, giving you a pretty, practiced smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. You can tell her mind is elsewhere.

"How come you’ve never had one before?”

“Oh, I’ve just never really had the time. But the back pain has really been getting to me lately. I’ve been feeling rather stressed.”

You can believe that — despite being absolutely stunning, the woman is as stiff as a stick. You can tell the woman hasn’t relaxed in decades. Her shoulders and neck appear rigid, her jaw seems to be perpetually clenched, and she wasn’t even able to put her phone aside for five minutes to undress for a massage. 

“Oh? Is your job usually stressful or is it just a rough period for you?”

She scoffs. “I think it suffices to say my job requires me to deal with teenagers on a daily basis.”

“That does sound stressful,” you say, deciding not to pry further. You need to shift the conversation away from her job — get her to relax. “I'll try my best to make you forget all about that today, Miss Weems.”

“I do hope you manage that, darling, but I’m afraid I’m a tough case. And no offence, but how much experience do you have with this?” She flashes you a bright smile — it reads as condescending. It pisses you off — and turns you on. “You seem awfully young. Are you in college?”

Definitely more than you since this is your first massage, you want to say, but instead you decide to be polite. “I’ve had sufficient training. And yes, I’m in my last year of college.”

“I must tell you, I’m not sure I believe a massage could relax me — but I’m willing to give it a go, since I’ve already put the time aside for it.”

Oh, you’re never the one to back away from a challenge.

“I hope to change your mind then, Miss Weems.”

She gives you a saccharine, patronising smile, but says nothing.

You’d like nothing more than to fuck that smile off of her face.

You no longer bother averting your gaze as she removes her bra (a sheer, lacy thing that doesn’t cover much anyway) and reveals small, beautiful breasts. Your immediate thought is they’re the perfect size to put in your mouth. 

No matter if you’re attracted to your clients or not, you are always professional — you’re here to provide a service that you’re well payed for. You always manage to keep your own feelings and thoughts hidden and under control. 

It isn’t every day, however, that you have an actual goddess on your massage table — and one who challenged you, saying you couldn't possibly help her relax. Oh, how you wish she hadn’t chosen the regular massage… 

Suddenly, a devious thought pops up in your mind. You could… entice her a bit during the massage. Make her want it.

She appears a bit self-conscious walking to the massage table clad only in nude lacey underwear, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, but she keeps her head high and shoulders back, channeling confidence you aren’t sure she actually possesses. She’s still a vision, however, self-conscious or not. You watch her thighs and ass jiggle as she walks and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve seen in a while. 

Should you do it?

She climbs onto the table — she struggles to do it elegantly, as she’s a bit tall for it. You somehow find that very cute. Her ass jiggles as she finally settles face down on the table. You resist the urge to slap it. 

Oh, fuck it. It’s your last week on the job anyway.

You smirk as you rub the oil between your palms, warming it up. 

You’re going to play dirty.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Larissa tenses up as she feels soft, warm hands touch her shoulder blades. She isn’t used to people touching her. And to be quite honest, it’s been quite a while since she was naked (or almost naked) in front of anybody. She feels vulnerable.

“Allow yourself to relax, Miss Weems. This is your time.”

Her time — she hasn’t had an hour to herself in… who knows how long. She wants to relax, but it’s just so hard and…

Oh. 

She lets out a groan as the girl presses on just the right spot. Oh, that feels good. 

“Does that feel good, Miss Weems?” 

She hears the smugness in her voice, and she’s tempted to say no just to be spiteful, but then she presses on that good spot again and Larissa melts into the massage table.

“Mhmmm,” Larissa manages to utter. 

“Oh? I thought you were hard to please, Miss Weems.”

Now the girl is just being cheeky.

“In my school I punish the smug students when they talk back to me,” she breathes out and then moans as the masseuse finds another spot that makes her brain go fuzzy.

“Oh, you’d like to punish me? That’s kinky.”

Well. This seems to be going in a… direction. Not that Larissa would mind if the situation was different — she’s very much attracted to the girl — but this isn’t that sort of massage place…

….right?

“Are you… allowed to talk to me like that?” Larissa asks.

“Well, if you upgrade to the erotic massage, I can talk to you however you’d like. I could tell you how I’d like you to punish me. Or anything else you want, for that matter.”

Oh. So that’s why everyone kept checking if she wants the regular massage. And why the woman on the phone made sure to inform her they only have female masseuses available. And why the upgrade was so much more expensive.

The masseuse ventures a bit further down Larissa’s back, warm hands slick with oil gliding over her skin until they reach the band of her underwear. She rubs little circles around the edge of the fabric, sticking her thumbs underneath it, teasing, but not going further, and then going upwards again, following the line of Larissa’s spine. Her feather-light touch makes Larissa shiver. 

It’s been some time since Larissa was touched like that — couple of years, for sure. Four? No. Six? Oh, heavens. How has it already been that long? She’s just always so busy, and one night stands require so much effort, and dating requires even more, and…

Larissa’s brain is empty as the pretty masseuse runs her hands up her legs and starts to massage her buttocks, oiling them up, squeezing and kneading. Larissa moans quite loudly, and immediately feels her face go red with embarrassment at the sound she just produced. 

“I…”

“Of course, there’s no obligation,” the masseuse says, rubbing circles with her thumbs just where Larissa’s buttocks meet her legs. Larissa feels heat pool in her core. “You can have the regular massage.”

“And what does an… erotic,” she stumbles over the word, “massage usually imply?”

“It implies sensual touching, dirty talk, if you want, and we do offer mutual touch for a higher price. Oh, and we guarantee an orgasm.”

Larissa scoffs. “You guarantee it? That’s confident.”

Suddenly she feels hot breath on her ear. She shivers.

“Let’s make a deal, Miss Weems — if you don’t finish, I don’t charge you anything.”

Larissa hears herself speak before she’s aware she even made a decision. 

“Deal.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You glance at the clock as Larissa accepts your proposal. You have 40 minutes — that should be plenty of time. Worst case scenario, you extend the appointment into your break. 

You don’t know what it is about this woman, but you yearn to make her come undone. She’s wound so tight, seems to be some sort of a sick workaholic, and yet you can sense the suppressed desire radiating off of her. It’ll be a special pleasure to make her lose her composure. 

You rub her shoulders and back, trying to relax her as much as you can, finding the spots that make her moan, venturing lower and lower on her back.

“Can I take these off?” you ask, lightly pulling on her underwear. 

“Yes,” she says, and lifts up her hips to help you slide it off of her.

You fold her underwear, putting it to the side, but not before noticing the distinct wet spot on it. 

“I will undress — is that alright with you?” you ask.

“Yes,” she breathes out as you massage her lower back and buttocks. There’s a spot that makes her shiver when you run your hands over it — you make sure to repeat the motion, and you are rewarded with a loud moan. 

“Be aware you can revoke consent at any time,” you recite the obligatory line as you strip naked swiftly and efficiently. You do a quick job of rubbing oil on your breasts and stomach and then climb onto the massage table, straddling her legs and pressing your body against hers. She lets out a high pitched moan as you rub your breasts along her back.

“You said something about punishment, Miss Weems? Tell me, do you prefer good girls or bad girls?” you ask as you slide your hardened nipples against her oiled back.

“Fuck,” Larissa groans.

“Or do you prefer being called a good girl yourself?.”

Larissa whines.

“Do you like that, Miss Weems? Wanna be a good girl for me?”

“I— fuck,” she groans as you start running your palms over her thighs, squeezing and caressing, getting closer to her chore with each stroke.

“Is this alright? Be aware you can revoke consent at any time.”

“Yes,” she says.

“So you want to be a good girl, hm?” you say as you finally brush your thumbs against her core. Despite the slick massage oil, you can tell she’s wet. She spreads her legs as you touch her.

“Yes,” she says, quietly — as if she has a hard time admitting it.

“Will you turn for me?” 

You help her turn on her back beneath you. Her blue eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide, and a few stray hairs are sticking out of her updo. She is flushed in her face and chest, which somehow renders her milky, freckled skin even more attractive. 

“Good girl,” you say as you quickly grab more oil and rub it between your palms. She blushes a deeper shade of red.

“I just have to say that I don’t usually… do this,” she says.

Sometimes people feel the need to justify themselves, especially if it’s their first time having an experience like this — and even more so if they’re indulging in a fantasy they consider embarrassing or dirty — no matter if it’s something as common and innocent as being called a good girl.

You rub oil around her breasts and on her stomach. You feel her getting self-conscious, tensing up, glancing around nervously and fidgeting. 

“What a pity,” you say, palming her breasts, making her gasp, “that a pretty thing like you doesn’t know how to let herself be worshipped. You’ve been so good, worked so hard — you deserve to be taken care of.”

She produces a quiet whine — she seems to like that. Good. You’re back on track.

“Relax for me, that’s it,” you say, making sure to arch your back prettily, providing a nice view for her as you massage her breasts. You can feel she's slowly relaxing under your touch. “Good girl,” you praise her and run your thumbs over her nipples at the same time. She lets out a throaty moan. 

“Is it okay if I use my mouth?” you ask, lowering your head to her chest that's slightly heaving under your touch.

“Yes,” she says with a hoarse voice. You leave a trail of kisses across her chest, the oil greasing your lips, before you take her right nipple in your mouth and suck on it. She keens and her hands immediately fly to your head to press you harder against her chest.

“Fuck, sorry,” she breathes out. “Can I do that?”

“Yes,” you say. “Want me to suck harder?”

“Yes — ah — and bite, please — mmmm, fuck,” she mewls as you suck and bite on her nipple while you pinch the other one with your hand. You use your free hand to caress her torso, her hips, knead the soft flesh on the side of her upper thigh.

“Such a good girl,” you murmur against her breast, taking her hard nipple between your teeth. “Asking for what you want. Is there anything else you want, hm? Or like?”

You run your hand in the inside of her thigh, teasing.

“I, ah… I like… dirty talk,” she manages to say between moans as you bite on her nipple and gently run your fingers through her folds — she’s soaked.

It isn’t a common thing for you to be so turned on by a client — it’s just a job, after all — but the feeling of Larissa’s wetness on your fingers, her wanton, broken moans, her slow, but certain relinquishing of control… it’s just so delicious. You want to fuck this woman every day. 

You kiss your way upwards to her neck and plant a hot kiss on her jaw. “Is this okay?” you whisper into her ear. She nods.

“I need you to be a good girl and use your words,” you murmur. Your obligatory line is “I need verbal consent” — but Larissa inspires you to be creative with it. 

“Yes,” she says with a breathy voice.

“So you like dirty talk, hm? You’d like me to tell you how hot and wet your cunt is against my fingers? And how much it will turn me on to fuck you?” you whisper, spreading her wetness across her clit, making her gasp and buck her hips into your hand. 

“Yesyesyes, please fuck me,” she whines, rolling her hips into your hand. “Fuck me like you’d fuck a dirty slut.”

You feel heat pooling in your own core at her words — and at the idea of fucking this uptight woman like a dirty slut.

You slowly slide a finger inside of her, curling it, and she spreads her legs further. She looks absolutely magnificent like this, flushed, chest heaving, eyes closed, mouth agape and head thrown back, all spread out for you, begging to be ravished. You start pumping your finger in and out — slowly, curling it inside — and she grabs your back and pushes you closer to her. Her gaze is hazy and hooded as she looks at you. “Harder,” she rasps, and the sheer lust in her voice makes you shiver. You go harder. 

Her moans are becoming louder as you continue to fuck her, and you decide to add a second finger. “Fuckyes,” she groans and moves her hips to meet your thrusts.

“You look so pretty while I fuck you like a dirty slut,” you say, voice breathy with exertion. “Such a good girl. You look so hot.”

She whines and tangles her hands into your hair. You wouldn’t usually let a client do that — but you let her. 

“Add another finger,” she says with a husky voice. She throws her head back and moans as you slip a third finger inside of her, then pushes your head towards her chest. You suck and bite on her nipples, alternating between both breasts as you fuck her hard and fast, making sure to angle your palm so it hits her clit every time you pound into her.

“Go harder,” she pants. Your hand kind of hurts at this point, but you oblige. The pain is immediately forgotten as you feel her starting to clench around your fingers.

“Your cunt feels so good around my fingers,” you murmur before sucking on her nipple.

“Fuckfuckfuuuck,” she whines as you pound into her. You can sense she’s very close. She’s bucking her hips into your hand and digging her nails into your shoulders, and her moans are becoming higher in pitch. You make sure not to falter in your movements, keeping a hard and steady pace, and soon her moans become high-pitched whines and intelligible swearwords.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

As you say it, she grabs your hair, pulls your face up towards herself and kisses you.

Usually, you’d pull away if a client did that.

You don’t pull away.

It’s a hot, sloppy kiss, and she cries out into your mouth and closes her thighs around your hand as you fuck her through her orgasm. She spasms with the aftershocks and you can taste her cries of pleasure and her hot breath in your mouth. It’s raw and filthy and erotic.

You slowly pull your fingers out of her as she comes down from her high, her breathing slowing down, her grip on your faltering. She's putty in your hands, completely relaxed. 

You stay like that for a moment. Her eyes are closed, her chest still heaving. Your hand hurts, but you don’t care.

You glance at the clock — three minutes to spare. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, opening her pretty blue eyes. Her mascara is smudged. She looks absolutely ravishing, thoroughly fucked and flushed. “Do I have to go? What time is it?”

“No,” you say. “Take your time.”

She smiles nervously. You can tell she doesn’t know what do say or do — and to be honest, for the first time since you’ve started this job, you don’t really know either.

“Take your time, calm down, and then I’ll help you clean yourself up. I have half an hour to spare. I don’t want you to rush. I don’t charge extra for that.”

She nods, and closes her eyes. You stay like that for a couple of minutes — you rub hear arms, gently and reassuringly. 

“Well,” she says after minutes of silence, and smirks. She opens her eyes. “You won the bet. I’m pretty relaxed right now.”

You both laugh. 

The cleanup process is not as awkward as you expect it to be. The silence is somehow pleasant, rather than awkward. When you're both dressed and Larissa is heading towards the door, makeup freshly reapplied and her updo redone, she nervously glances towards you.

“So, uh, if I were to… come again,” she says, then pauses, and you can see her wincing at herself for the accidental pun, “would I be able to, um, I suppose, make sure you will, uh—”

“It’s my last week here.”

“Oh.”

She stands at the door awkwardly. “It’s been…” she pauses, glances nervously around the room, clearly struggling to find words. After a couple of moments, she finally meets your gaze, and you shiver under the intensity of it. 

“Thank you,” she says, her voice clear and genuine. You can tell she means it.

She turns to leave, but you stop her. 

“Wait,” you say. She waits, watches you grab a piece of paper from the side table and scribble on it. You approach her, awkwardly extending your arm, giving her the paper.

“My number,” you say, looking up at her.

She takes it. The corners of eyes crinkle in the loveliest way as she smiles at you before leaving.

She calls you a week later.

[weemssapphic]

can you share something about Miranda hanahaki disease?

hi! yes ahaha so basically this is @dianneking's fault because of this fic: The Disease (Larissa x Laurel). it made me aware of the trope Hanahaki Disease (in which the sufferer coughs up flower petals if their love is unrequited and if the love isn't requited they can die from it). so then i was like ahhh i need to write this trope and @dianneking said i should write it for our babygirl Miranda. (then, as i was writing, i got the idea to do it with Jane Murdstone too and that idea kept pestering me so I wrote that first and will post it soon!).

anyway. i still fully intend to write the trope for Miranda, it's just chillin' here for a lil bit while i work on other things!

all that being said. here have a snippet!!!!!!

Your throat felt tight and your vision blurred as your eyes tracked her face. This shouldn’t have happened to her. Not Miranda, who greeted you at the station every morning with a beaming grin; Miranda whose jokes were a welcome reprieve from the snide comments of your male colleagues; Miranda who had held you while you cried over your last breakup, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and stroking your hair as you covered her in snot and tears. Why couldn’t you have been there to save her? Why couldn’t it have been you?

editing this answer to jump back in and say you should read The Disease (linked above) even if you don't ship Larissa x Laurel because it was amazing (and then go read their other Larissa x Laurel/Marilyn fics because they're actually incredible and that is saying something coming from a Certified Marilyn HaterTM)

[may-or-whatever]

Ask Game - Get to know me

tagged by the wonderful @dianneking <3

Relationship: nope :(

Favourite Colour: dark blue. or dark green. or black. actually anything that's dark. also bright red for some reason

Favourite Food: is "no eating" an answer? I love chocolate cake tho (avocado is a good option too)

Song stuck in my head: "No Way" from SIX (actually the whole album but anyway)

Last thing I googled: W ou le souvenir d'enfance Georges Perec (because of literature homework for tomorrow)

Current time: 11:20 PM (I have school tomorrow lmao 🤡)

Dream trip: Germany, again (for the 4th time). I don't care WHERE in Germany, I just miss the school trip I did in September.

—————

Comfort Movie: Cruella

Comfort Food: chocolate

Comfort Clothes: long dresses, corsets

Comfort Song: Et alors ? by Adé and SOS by Abba

Comfort Book: Solitaire by Alice Oseman

Comfort Game: none

—————

3 ships: Queenie Goldstein/Vinda Rosier (Fantastic Beasts), Eda Clawthorne/Raine Whispers (The Owl House), Johanna/Kaisa (Hilda)

1st ever ship: I think it was Tonks/Lupin from Harry Potter

Last Song: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story from Hamilton

Current Read: both Frankenstein and Hamlet. at the same time. yes.

Currently Consuming: nothing

Currently Watching: nothing, but waiting for the next The Owl House episode

Currently Craving: coffee and luck on my philosophy test tomorrow

I tag @ashlunes to participate only if she want to (also because I want to annoy her with random notifications (désolé ma couille 😘))

If you haven't been tagged and want to participate, go ahead!

[readingtheentrails]

Answer the questions, then tag 12 people you want to get to know more!

Thank you for tagging me @coffeemelko 😄

If you see this, consider yourself tagged 🤍 ✨

1. Favorite Color(s)? Blue. All blues - purple-blues, greeny-blues, they're all good.

2. Any Piercings? Not a single one. Not even my earlobes Can't heal 'em. I've tried.

3. Any Tattoos? Not yet but I've been toying with the idea of getting one for a long time. My fear is, what if it hurts too much and then I have to sit through the whole thing?

4. Favorite TV Show(s)? Bob's Burgers. Xena is an old fave. Wheel of Time is a current fave.

5. Favorite Movies? It depends on my mood. I love old 90s era Disney classics (think Beauty & the Beast, Hercules). I love Yojiro Takita's Departures. I love Dogma.

6. Celebrity Crush? Gwendoline Christie, Rosamund Pike, Carrie Anne Moss

7. Favorite Music Artist(s)? Lisa Hannigan, Self Esteem, The Unthanks

8. Height? 5'4"/164cm. I'm short yo.

9. Favorite Thing To Do? Snuggle, play video games, read fics, watch things.

10. Introvert/Extrovert? I think I straddle the line a bit tbh. I definitely have limited social energy and I need time to recharge after social events, and I would consider myself to be an introvert. However, if you get me around the right people (people I'm really comfortable with), I'm as extroverted as they come. I'm loud, funny, and I don't mind being the centre of attention. Then I'm completely drained and don't want to speak to anyone for 4-6 weeks 😅

11. Favorite Book? I love the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman. I try to re-read them every few years when I've forgotten the fine detail, and I still cry every time, even though I know how it has to end. It's a beautiful story.

12. Last fanfic you read? Flagellum Dei by @yourlocaldisneyvillain. It's a Dead Dove fic so please do heed the tags if you click, but it is beautifully written, and cathartic imo.

13. Favorite Thing to Drink? I'm so fucking boring, I just really like drinking water, okay? Yeah, I like tea (ceylon is my favourite) and coffee but day to day I just drink water and I'm perfectly happy with that.

14. Favorite Food? I dunno about favourite but lately I have had such a craving for chilaquiles verdes from my favourite Mexican restaurant, but it closed during the pandemic and never re-opened so 😭

15. Favorite OTP? Siuan x Moiraine FOR LIFE! I love them so much they give me energy!

16. Favorite Actor/Actress (totally different than celeb crush)? I like Jonathan Groff, he's good. And Cate Blanchett too.

17. Favorite Song(s)? I couldn't pick a single favourite song, but one that I haven't mentioned before on these ask games that is really close to my heart is Come in from the Cold by Joni Mitchell. Truly, one of the sexiest, most beautiful songs ever. I adore it.

18. Currently watching (TV Show & Movie)? Star Trek: Discovery (only on Season Two). Last film I watched was Barbie.

19. Last thing you googled? The eircode for a client address

20. Last song you listened to? She Called Up - Crowded House

21. If you had a superpower, what would it be? The ability to speak, write and understand any language would be so cool.

Tagging the next 12 people:

These are no-pressure tags. Take part if you like and don't if you don't!

@dianneking @akacosima @sapphic-somethings @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @moodreaderlesbian @omgbrainstorming @thevillagegay @afeatherformills @geinobinarie @shyladyfan @clairebear1251

Answer the questions, then tag 12 people you want to get to know more! Thanks for the tag @tenderheartgrumpymind <333

If you see this, consider yourself tagged 🤍✨

1. Favorite color(s)? Many Shades of Red

2. Any piercings? Two ear piercings

3. Any tattoos? 5

4. Favorite TV Show(s)? Why Women Kill, Anatomy of a Scandal, Elementary

5. Favorite movie(s)? The Gentleman, The Imitation Game, Birds of Prey

6. Celebrity crush? Lucy Liu, Rebecca Ferguson

7. Favorite music artist(s)? Nej, KiNG MALA, Unlike Pluto, Lenny Kravitz

8. Height? 5’11/180.34cm

9. Favorite thing to do? Write, Read, Draw

10. Introvert/Extrovert? Introvert

11. Favorite book? Sherlock Holmes

12. Last fanfic you read? Thinning Patience ~Larissa Weems by @wh0re4women

13. Favorite thing to drink? Milk

14. Favorite food? *exclude if you wish*

15. Favorite OTP? Ineffable Husbands

16. Favorite actor/actress? *totally different than celeb crush* Actor: Cillian Murphy. Actress: Michelle Dockery.

17. Favorite song(s)? Lips of a Witch by Austin Giorgio, Gimme Gimme Gimme by ZACHARY

18. Currently watch (TV show & Movie)? Only Murders in the Building, Oppenheimer

19. Last thing you googled? “The Mummy 2017”

20. Last song you listened to? Angry Too by Lola Blanc

21. If you had a superpower, what would it be? Omni-linguist

Tagging next 12 people: @yourlocaldisneyvillain @coffeemelko @scream-queenlover @m1lflov3rrr @wandering-feather @gwenzone @catalystwriter @agnessharknes @lady-darkswan3 @ghostedpast @v3nusxsky

[dianneking]

And you don't want a sugar baby? 😗

oh, look at what the cat brought in...are you lost, little kissy anon? Did you stray here from @yourlocaldisneyvillain's ask box?

Darling, the true question is, do you have what it takes to be my sugar baby?

I'm not just going to take any applications, mommy has standards.

[dianneking]

I've been thanking writers who helped me on here for their works and you're one of them. I'm actually nervous about doing this but I want to appreciate you guys even if it's just sending this message. I graduated today , I'm no longer in highschool and i wouldn't made it today if it weren't for your works . I'm a simp for Larissa and your works gave me comfort cause it's been difficult to have that recently cause of things that happened . I'm probably bot here anymore if it weren't for you guys , I can't believe your fics a free like oh my god thank you TvT . I'm sorry for talking a lot , thank you for helping me without you knowing it XD

(I'm sorry if this is cringe)

-Ares (not the God of war XD)

Hi Ares (not the God of war) 😁

Thank you so very much for your message. This is absolutely not cringe, it is beautiful and I am so glad to have played a part in helping you.

Congratulations on graduating and I am sorry to hear it has been a tough time, but you were tougher, well done for pulling through!

I am already surprised that people actually read my fics, I could have never imagined they could actually help people out. I am very glad I have decided to post all the little things my mind thinks up then hehe.

If you ever want to come off anon and chat, my messages are open and judgement-free to everyone.

[dianneking]

Hello. I just came to tell you that I'm depressed because of you right now, but you're right, after everything Larissa has been through, it's understandable that she behaves like this. Sad but true. 🥲

I'm truly, honestly, dramatically sorry! I have a logical brain, and a need to find explanations for behaviors in characters as I do with people. It's fascinating and allows me to write hopefully somewhat believable characters, but it can be a curse in some moments.

But at the same time I thought that your little snippet of a scene was adorable, and I'm sorry if I've made it sad. <3

(more sadness below the cut)

It's just. Her face. The utter heartbreak. I cannot. (I cry every time I see this scene and yet it's so beautiful).

When she survives the whole ordeal (yes, when, not if, I am ready to ignore any following seasons of Wednesday like there is no tomorrow) she is not going to be okay. This is not the sort of trauma that you can just brush off. And Reader is going to have to work so hard to help her heal before she can even start thinking about trusting another human being again. And that might be the most romantic thing ever.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. Don't forget your used tissues on your way out.

[dianneking]

Ohhh and it was enough to teach me that this

is actually a spaghetto

and I know how to say bruschetta. Do I get plus points for that.

Oooh of course you get bonus points (although I'll have to be the judge of whether or not that statement is true 😂).

Another one that's apparently pretty difficult for German-speaking people is how to say gnocchi 😂

I love how most people start learning Italian from food. I wholeheartedly approve and agree it's the best course (hehe pun intended) of action.

[dianneking]

Oh, interesting!

Mm, and if they meet a person and if they want something serious.

Would the three have a relationship?

Or in the event that only one of the parties is interested in one of you.

What would that situation be like?

I hope you understand what I'm trying to ask. 😶

Okay it can go a lot of ways. For the purpose of this explanation I'll keep it to three people so as to keep it simple, but know that the same can be applied to more people in similar ways.

Three people (A, B, and C) involved in some way together in a poly relationship form a triad.

This can be what's called a "Vee", where A and B both date C but they don't date each other - if you connect the people they form a V shape, hence the name. In that case, A and B are metamours to each other and partners to C.

A triad with all three people date each other is called a throuple. All people involved are partners to each other.

Then there's plenty of other way people fit together, maybe they are romantic partners and not sexual ones, maybe they identify themselves and their relationship with different terms and/or labels and so on.

[dianneking]

I ask @cissyenthusiast010155 the same thing but you are also a good person 2 tell I feel.

I’m a woman, I identify as a woman but like I feel something missing sometimes but @ the same time nothing but here’s the thing, if someone calls me a good girl I’m ready 2 pop a couple of teeth out and it makes me feel icky BUT if someone calls me a good boy I preen at that shit. I need advice 😭

Imma switch btw 👀

Hello there!

Thank you so much for trusting me with such a delicate question! I'm super curious to see what Olive has to say about it, as well, but here's my answer.

My suggestion is not to be in a hurry to give yourself a label. See how you feel about different things in your life that society associates with gender expression, and allow yourself the time to get to know yourself better, it's such a magical experience!

For instance: see how you feel about your body, about traditionally feminine/masculine clothes and activities. About how you like others to perceive you, and whether or not that changes. Also, how pronouns and labels in different languages feel for you, if you speak more than one.

You like to be called a good boy? Good on you! You feel something is missing? Try to see if you can find out what that could be.

The world is at your feet, you don't have to conform to any preconceived idea of what "being a woman" or "being a man" is or isn't.

Also, it's perfectly okay to change with time. To use they/them pronouns for a while and then realize you've moved past them. To see your body differently, to want to decorate it differently. To change your mind about things. To identify as something and then as something else. To use a label and then not recognize yourself in it anymore.

It. Is. Okay.

There is no right or wrong way to be yourself and to discover bits and pieces of your identity with time. Enjoy it. It is freeing and exhilarating and sometimes scary but 100% worth it, I promise.

[dianneking]

Any updates on sugar mommy boss?👀

<- Previous Update - The start of the saga - Next Update ->

Heyyy there anon!

There are no big updates on the sugar mommy boss front, to be honest. She is currently enjoying her holidays in Provence after attending a friend's big gay wedding (of which she insisted to tell me all the details). She sends the occasional beach selfie, but apart from that, nothing major.

[dianneking]

so you have a sugar mommy and you are a sugar mommy? Is that a kind of chain?

Well, first of all, my boss is still attempting to be my sugar mommy, she still hasn't graduated (how dare she not bring me to provence with her?) - and then, isn't that how families are made? She could be my babies' sugar gramma XD

Sometimes mommy likes to kick their legs up and let the ladyfriend(s) pamper them in return, I feel it's only fair after so much work taking care of a gaggle of kids.

[dianneking]

Hii,

So are there any updates on your sugar mommy boss? 👀

Not a lot of updates tbh, a lot of the same slightly awkward, slightly flirty undertones as always. Sort of toeing the line between camaraderie and something else. Complimenting my style, sharing gifts, the odd hand on the shoulder or on the arm...

She did once again invite me to her place during our lunch break and cooked for me (this time there was no weird encounter with the son XD so it went way more swimmingly than the other time)...

Oh, and she told me in great detail about a friend of hers who came out as queer later in life and I was so sure it was going to lead into her coming out to me, but in the end she somehow didn't.

So yeah, no major drama going on, sorry to report that (or maybe not so sorry, if things moved past that line it would make things pretty awkward at work)!

(more on the sugar mommy boss saga can be found here, here, here and here) Edit: Next Update

[dianneking]

we getting food porn too now?? 🤤

Ahaha why not? I needed to take revenge on @yourlocaldisneyvillain's croissant pic from this morning...