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crimson-mage-02 · 4 years ago

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Spy x Family Mission 2: Honeymoon (Smut/Fluff)

Summary: Loid wanted to go on a family outing with his daughter and wife until he was asked to go on a mission and had Yor to come along on their new mission to save newly wedded brides on their honeymoon.

A/N: This is my Christmas gift for @kadhis-stuff!! This is for you! I also posted this in Ao3! I had so much fun writing this fanfic of Loid and Yor! I really, really, really, hope you’ll like this! Please forgive me if you spotted any errors. Everyone and @kadhis-stuff, enjoy reading, comment and give feedback!

Merry Christmas and and stay safe!

Anya was walking along the path with her adoptive father, Loid was following her on the way home and listened to her talking excitedly about how she’ll spend her time with her uncle Yuri and Franky. He wished they wouldn’t teach her anything that was unnecessary unlike the last time they had taught her how to handle a knife and a gun.

But luckily it was a plastic knife. Much to his relief, he chuckled remembering Yor was teaching her hand to hand combat before attending the Eden academy. He didn’t really say anything much, but right now, he finds it cute. “Papa!”

“Ah, yes, Anya?” Loid looked down at her with a smile.

“Is Mama coming home to cook dinner with us?” Anya asked him as she tugged in his pants.

“Mama will be coming home a bit late and we’ll be cooking dinner together. How does that sound?” Loid asked her.

“Mmm, yeah!” Anya smiled brightly as they walked in hand in hand together on their way home. When they got home, they immediately got started with preparation of making dinner while Yor comes home from work.

It has been months since he and Yor have become an official married couple. He loved spending everyday with her and their daughter Anya. He definitely will not abandon them as he loves them so much. He vowed to protect the two of them. “Anya, get changed and wash your hands.”

“Okie!” Anya saluted with Bond licking her face. She ran into her room to get changed while Loid had changed as well and gave some dog food for Bond in the corner near the new table they had bought. Franky and Anya both had promised they won’t be destroying another table ever again.

He had started some buttered chicken with some sauce while hearing Anya was running towards him and hugged his legs. “Oh, Anya. You ready? Here, you start by stirring the soup.” He gave her a spoon to use to stir while he cuts the meat and then put them into the soup.

At 5pm, when the sun had set and it was dark, Yor came home tired with a worn out look on her face. “Oh no! Mama!” Anya exclaimed worriedly.

“I’m home.” Yor said tiredly as she walked towards the couch and lay down for a bit. Loid turned off the stove and had asked Anya to give them privacy which she complied as she went to study in her room.

He turned to his wife and let her lay on his shoulder. “Tough day at work?”

“Mmm hmm, I have been working so hard. Yet there is so much needed to be done. Oh, how I want a vacation, Loid. It would be very helpful just to relax every once in a while.” Yor said hugging him around his waist.

Loid smiled and then rubbed her back. “I do hope that some dinner would help you relax tonight then maybe I can plan for a trip. Just us three.”

Yor’s eyes brightened and sparkled. “I really do love your cooking. And a think a trip does sound wonderful.”

“Great. I will tell Handler that I will be unavailable for the entire week or month.” Loid smiled at her and stood up with her.

“Oh? Handler is the one who tells you about your missions as a spy?” Yor asked as she helped setting up the table.

“Yes, she’s the one. I think she’ll understand.” Loid chuckled putting the pot in the center of the table. “Plus, she now saw how things had gotten better with us, I think she’ll understand I could have a few days to spend more time with you.”

“I am sure she’ll understand. And I’ll get Anya since dinner is ready.” Yor smiled as she walked towards daughter’s room. “Anya, dinnertime.”

The three of them had dinner together with Bond eating some of the leftovers. They all had discussed what they all had done for the day including Anya showing the art projects she had made in classes.

After dinner, Loid was reading some paper in thinking where he could take Yor and Anya to for their trip. He hummed in deep thought while Yor washed the dishes and Anya was taking a bath. “Loid? Are you searching for a place where we could have a trip?”

“Yes, I am. We went to the aquarium last time. I thought we could go to the beach while renting a beach house to stay in. How does that sound?” Loid asked her.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful.” Yor agreed while clasping her hands together. “I cannot wait!”

The next day…. Loid walked to the agency to request for a few days off with his family. But it wasn’t all he ever had hoped for until Franky had informed he has a new mission on the same day of his vacation with his family. “What? Can’t you find another agent to do this? I really need to spend more time with my family as possible.”

“Sorry, Loid.” Franky apologised to him. “But—But it is a really interesting mission. Just wait until she explains to you.”

Loid sighed and muttered. “This better be good.” They both walked into the office and found Handler was putting some champagne in a basket with red ribbons and some love hearts inside it. Loid gulped softly and cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Oh, good Twilight, you have arrived.” Handler smirked.

Loid’s eyes twitched and gritted his teeth but took a deep breath in and out before speaking up. “Handler, what is it that you want to discuss?”

“Well, I was informed by Franky that you wanted some alone time with your wife and child. Well, I have this mission that involves with kidnapped brides in this honeymoon spot for newly wedded couples.” Handler started explaining the mission for him.

“And…?”

“And you had told your lovely wife that you were a spy and that was not a part of the plan, Twilight. So, I will let this slide and give this chance for you to spend your time with her there to rescue these poor brides.” Handler continued with a grin.

Loid blinked and shook his head. “Wait…wait… are you saying you are granting me permission to bring my wife on a mission with her? Are you testing her abilities as a hitman?”

“Well, yes and no. I can truly see how strong and capable she is, but I need to know that she won’t breathe a word that you are real life spy. Of course, I am granting permission for you to spend time with your wife.” Handler replied as she handed him the basket. “Oh, and I added a few things in the basket just for you as a reward. But before I do let you look into the basket, I am going to let Frankly get you up to speed with the rest of the information of the mission.”

The two boys walked of the office and Franky took out some files for the mission. Loid was really overwhelmed seeing stacked papers on the table, some were categorised and in order. He even looked at the recent kidnappings and the grooms complaints.

“Some papers are growing and growing. There’s a lot of women who are captured. Grooms are getting worried.” Franky said while shaking his head seeing all of the papers.

“Hmm, we’d need to do this quickly. But who will look after Anya?” Loid asked him as he looked through the files.

“I could look after her. I mean, this mission is gonna be for week. You will have time to spend your lovely moments with Yor.” Franky teased him and then sweats nervously seeing his eyes staring at him deadly into his soul. “…Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I am just…. Been so protective of Yor. She has been a center of attention when I had introduced her to everyone here.” Loid said as he remembered every men were trying to get her attention and really wanted to hold her soft hands.

“Maybe I should ban everyone from having contact with her.” Loid continued while clenching his fists with a vein popping.

“What? No! I mean, I am sure she was trying to get settled in. And besides, she had helped us a lot during our other missions.” Franky pointed out.

“True. Alright, I suppose I can let you take care of Anya. But on one condition. Yuri can help out.” Loid said to him.

“What?! Why?!” Franky exclaimed in shock.

“Because it has been months, he had seen her. It would be nice if you two got along well and try to work together to look after Anya while we’re gone.” Loid replied as he got the files in his bags and reluctantly grabbed the basket that Handler gave him. “Alright, I am off and come to eat dinner at 6pm.”

“Good luck, Loid. You may need it.” Franky called out to him as he prepared himself to get to his house and pack up his things for his stay in their apartment. He wished it was just him and Anya, rather than Yuri, him and Anya. He scares him.

(~)

On the way home, Loid arrived early to tell Yor that their trip will be their new honeymoon. And he will tell her about their new mission together. He waited for her at home while packing with Bond watching over him.

“Loid? Are you already home?” Yor called out to him.

“Yes, I am in our room.” Loid replied, putting some clothes on their bed. Yor came in and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Handler was kind enough to give us a week to let us rest up.”

“Oh that is wonderful. I cannot wait to pack everything! Who will tell Anya that we’re going on a trip?” Yor chimed excitedly and then felt his hands grabbing hers.

“Actually, Handler said it was also a trip and a mission.” Loid explained clearly to her as she frowned.

“Mission? What happened?” Yor asked in alarmed, looking into his eyes. Loid offered her to sit on the bed and sat next to her.

“Okay Handler has assigned us to a mission where we have to act like we are on a honeymoon. And our main focus is freeing all of the brides who were captured and reunite them with their grooms.” Loid explained the mission to his wife.

“I see. Then if it is a really urgent mission, then I must pack right away.” Yor understood how important it was and packed all of her clothes including her hitman attire and her weapons. “So, when do we leave?”

“Right after we start packing. I hope you don’t mind, I invited Franky to look after Anya as well.” Loid said to her.

“Oh, sure it’s great to have him accompanying Anya and Yuri.” Yor smiled, getting her clothes folded and placed them on their bed with Loid giving her luggage and heard the bell ringing. “Must be Yuri.”

“I’ll get it.” Loid smiled at her as he walked over to the door and opened it seeing Yuri. “Hello, thank you for coming in.”

“Anything to look after my darling sweet little niece. So, she is still at school?” Yuri asked with Bond licking his shoes.

“Yes, she is on her way with her friend and classmate. Not to worry, she will be here on time for dinner while your sister and I pack.” Loid replied with a smile.

“You two are going on a trip instead of me looking after Bond and your apartment?” Yuri asked in confusion as he rubbed his neck while Loid sighed deeply.

“Well, I am going on a long-awaited deserved honeymoon with your sister.” Loid smiled at him with Yuri’s eyes widened in fear and shock. He knew this day would come! And he never wanted to let Yor be fully attached to this man ever! But he must accept the fact, she loves him very much.

“W-well, I do h-hope you two enjoy it. You really do deserve it.” Yuri smiled while clenching his fist and a vein was popping out while Loid slyly smirked at him. Seeing him crack just for a little bit was so satisfying for him to see.

The door opened with Anya came running inside and hugged her papa on the legs. “Papa, I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Anya!” Loid happily greeted and carried her in his arms. “Look who’s here. It’s your Uncle Yuri.”

“Uncle Yuri!” Anya reached for him with Loid letting him hold her. He let them have a few minutes with each other and went back into his room seeing Yor was putting something in her luggage rapidly as if she doesn’t want him to see.

“Yor? Something the matter?” Loid raised an eyebrow.

“No. No! I am all packed now. Is that my brother?” Yor asked quickly as she left the room to greet her brother. Loid shrugged and then decided to put the luggage’s out in the living room and then saw Franky had brought in a lot of cartoons for them to watch.

“Look, Franky was kind enough to bring in a lot of cartoons for Anya.” Yor smiled at Loid who smiled cheerfully and then looked over at Franky who gave him another file. Loid watched Yuri and Franky were eyeing each other with a glare on their faces.

This is going to be a long week. But all that’s worth, he gets to have some alone time with his lovely and beautiful wife. He also remembered the basket and held it in his hands and placed it on the table. Also putting the secret envelope Handler had given him.

“Anya, I am very sorry that we cannot take you to our trip. But Papa and I are going on a special trip. I want you to be good to your uncles.” Yor said to her daughter with a smile and then gave a stern expression to her brother as he understood that he’ll do whatever he needs to do to take good care of

“Oh, that’s okay, I do understand!” Anya smiled brightly at her parents.

“Also, I left the numbers on the fridge. Be sure to call us if something has happened.” Loid smiled at her as she hugged the both of them. “So behave and listen to your uncles. We will be back soon.”

“Okay! Have fun Papa, Mama!” Anya chimed while Bond barked.

They all had said their goodbyes to Anya, Franky, and Yuri. Both of them went inside the car that will lead to their ‘honeymoon’. It seemed like a quiet place to have a honeymoon. It was nice. Clean air and beautiful sights to see and go to. The beach house looked so beautiful, it has great architecture, wonderful spacious rooms and it is a breathtaking luxury beach house.

“Hmm, I love it Loid, how did you afford this? It must’ve cost a lot.” Yor wondered as she took off her sun hat and put her bags on the floor next to the table.

“Well, Handler handled everything, the money, the activities, the food and everything.” Loid replied as he looked at the papers. “So, tonight, there is a restaurant that is opening on the beach. We should get ready. You have your uh, weapons ready?”

“Of course, but if you don’t mind, I would like to get changed first.” Yor said as she got her dress out.

“Sure, I’ll just wait in the main room.” Loid nodded with a smile. He thought it would be a good chance to go over the mission and look for certain clues where they might be. He had looked through some of the photos but never got the chance to read the rest of the information that Franky had given him.

He also wondered if Yor wanted to go on a real honeymoon. He would love it if he would take her to dancing and take her on a walk down to the beach, then play in the waters. Maybe even kissing her with the sun setting. Sounds like a perfect honeymoon.

“…..Loid? What are you smiling about?” Yor asked him while she fidget with her sunflower dress with her hair down past her waist. Loid blushed seeing her in a beautiful dress and has fallen in love with her all over again.

“Uh… j-just how we are doing this missions together that’s all. Ahem, and that we are on our honeymoon trip.” Loid smiled nervously with a small blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, then I am very excited. I also got my weapons ready.” Yor chimed with Loid standing up, smiling at her.

“Alright, we should get going.” Loid smiled back.

They both walked along the footpath, holding hands together and act like they are a real married couple. Yor blushed a little, remembering the moment he had confessed his feelings of love. She was so happy she got to experience in going on a honeymoon.

They had reached to their destination and sat at their table. Loid pulled the chair for Yor shyly which she happily accepted and sat on the chair with him sitting opposite of her. They both had looked into the menu together and had ordered what they would like to eat.

“Hmm, this place does look romantic, don’t you think, Loid?” Yor asked.

“Of course. When we get home, we can go on another date.” Loid smiled lovingly as he held her hand across the table while she blushed bright pink and looked into his eyes until something caught her eye.

“Loid, two men are outside the restaurant. Possibly waiting for a newly wedded couple to come out.” Yor said softly with Loid nodding with a stern expression.

“Appearance?”

“Dressed in black, both in coats with golden and silver watches on their waist.” Yor noted while she play with his hand which Loid blushed yet, he played along until their food has arrived.

“Alright, we have to be on our guard. For now, let’s just be our normal selves.” Loid winked at her while she giggled and began to eat her meal which was absolutely delicious! Yor also fed some of her steak to Loid which he shyly accepted.

“So, do-do you think we could do this some other time? I mean, someplace else?” Loid asked while he rubbed the back of his neck watching her eating her dessert.

“Hmm, I would love to. Oh, I wonder how Franky and Yuri doing.” Yor wondered while Loid whimpered as he was supposed to call them, but they call them now. “You’ve forgotten to call when we got here, didn’t you?” Yor asked, seeing his reaction.

“Yes, I did…Sorry, sweetie.” Loid apologised seeing her arms were crossed and she narrowed her eyes at him then she chuckled softly.

“It is alright, Loid. It’s our first time. So there will be no mistakes next time.” Yor smiled at him while she drank her water. Loid looked on the reflection on the glass, seeing a wedded couple were walking out of the restaurant and heard car wheels screeching from outside.

Loid and Yor both looked outside seeing the bride was being taken away while the groom had called in for the police. The spy and the hitman had paid for their food and disappeared from the restaurant and had ran back to their beach house to get ready.

They were both on a roof top and he had brought in his binoculars to see what they were doing. It looked like there has been multiple missing women inside. He looked to the side seeing Yor taking off her coat seeing her revealing outfit. He blushed deeply seeing her in a halter-style black dress, showing her shoulders. As well as her cleavage. She also wore a rose choker and rose pattern on the inside of her skirt. He also noticed she wore a pair of black thigh-high boots with black fingerless gloves.

And she had changed her headband to a golden coloured with a rose and two spikes coming out each side. “Uh, ahem. Yor?”

“Hmm yes?”

“Is, uh well, you do certainly l-look lovely…. Um, doesn’t make you feel cold?” Loid asked her, trying not so hard looking at her cleavage.

“No. Not at all. I have been trained not to be bothered by the cold.” Yor replied with a smile as she twirled her weapons in her hands. “Shall we?”

Loid nodded as they both jumped off the rooftop down to the warehouse and had heard the men were trying to select a woman which made Yor more furious to hear such crude words that has been side. The spy held her hand tightly to calm her down as he grabbed his guns from his holster.

They successfully went inside the warehouse with Yor swiftly taking down two guards with Loid punched one in the face. Yor gave him another gun to use and she looked over at the women who were whimpering in fear. She desperately wanted to save them badly. She walked around with her husband following her.

If he ever had lost her to these men, he would hunt these men down if they hurt Yor in front of him. His eyes glanced over at the table and he got Yor’s attention as she looked over at the board with her eyes scanning all over the papers.

All of the women who are targeted by these men. It boils her blood inside and she wanted nothing more but to take them down. Loid heard footsteps and then held onto Yor and hid behind a pillar, holding her closely to him.

“Looks like these are all of the women.” Said one of the men.

“Heh, too bad we didn’t get that new bride that came in today at the restaurant. She looked like a real snack boys.” With that comment, it made Loid even more furious. They were thinking of capturing Yor to be one of their……toys to be played with. He cannot allow those men do such a thing to those women or to Yor.

“Loid…. We must get them out of here.” Yor whispered to him.

“Yes, and fast.” Loid nodded and looked at how many men were there in the warehouse. “Okay, here’s what we are going to do. I’ll distract them and then once I got their attention, you take the women out of here. If one man touches one of them…”

“I’ll fight them off.” Yor finished as she went to the other side of the warehouse to try and get to the women. She made sure they all stayed quiet, not to get her caught. She heard some rattling noises and turned to see Loid was the one who was doing it to distract them while he fought off against the men.

“Get him!” shouted one of the men who ran after him outside of the warehouse. But they weren’t prepared on what’s going happen next. Loid side kicked one of them in the face while shot one on the leg with his gun.

Yor quickly got the ropes of the women’s wrists, cutting them free from the restraints and guided them outside until one man grabbed onto him until she twisted his arm and then kicked him in the stomach, sending him into the air with one coming at her with her punching him and swung her golden metal pick and plunged it onto the palm of his hand, making him scream in agony.

“Go!” Yor cried out to the women who were rushing outside while she fought against them. She kicked them hard as she can, sending them back into the boxes unconscious.

Outside of the warehouse, Loid was handling very well fighting against them and saw one man was thrown from the window, he saw Yor was walking towards him while she twirled her weapons in her hands. He looked behind her saw one man was about to attack her from behind. He got out his gun and grazed his arm a bit, screaming in pain. Saving her just in time.

Then they heard the police was coming at their position while they ran into hiding away from the police and watched the men being arrested. Loid was watching how the grooms where reunited with their wives and saw the look on Yor’s face. She was relieved to see them being reunited.

He was glad that the mission was a success. Both of them walked along the beach while Loid watched her playing in the water and laughed when she felt it was so cold. He never knew he would have this type of feeling towards her and…. He was glad that it was her that got him this far to becoming the world’s best spy of all time.

All thanks to her encouragement as well as Anya. He loves both his wife and daughter with all of his heart. “Loid! Look a seashell! And there is a smaller one. I am sure Anya would love this!” Yor beamed with excitement.

“Yes, I am sure she will love it.” Loid smiled lovingly as he caressed her cheek softly with the stars sparkling in the reflection of her eyes. He gently touched a strand of her hair and then kissed it while she blushed deeply red. She was glad that it was night time, so he won’t be able to see it.

Loid’s eyes stared into her red eyes, he was looking at the most beautiful assassin he has ever seen. He leaned in and kissed her passionately as they fought for dominance with Yor reciprocating the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his torso and felt his heartbeat.

They kissed each other underneath the stars as they played with each other’s tongue and Loid felt every bit of her soft curves with her chest pressed against his. He held the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

“L-Loid?”

“Mmm?” Loid moaned into the kiss as they broke away to get some air. He saw her hair was now getting messy.

“W-We should do this at our beach house.” Yor said shyly, looking down at their feet.

“Of course. W-We should.” Loid nodded in agreement, holding her hand. leading her back to their house on the beach. Once they reached towards their beach house, he looked back at Yor who was taking off her boots and took off her shawl and put it on a hangar.

She placed her weapons on the table and looked at Loid who was taking off his jacket and his suit. She bit her lips, thinking back of their kiss on the beach. Slowly, she walked towards him as he noticed she was getting closer to him.

He reached out to her cheek and then they both clashed their lips together and he stumbled against the table with the fake vase falling down. He caressed her cheeks with her undoing the buttons of his suit and shirt, with him throwing it away on the floor while staring into her eyes.

They both breathed in and out heavily and continued making out as they both made their way to their bed room. He gently laid her back on the bed and took her appearance as an assassin and gently took off her headwear. Dropping it on the floor while he rubbed his knee in between her legs, getting the most cute and adorable reaction from her, moaning softly.

Hearing such angelic noise coming out from her mouth has really blessed his ears. He trailed his kisses on her neck while she moaned. She felt every bit of his muscles and kissed his ear softly while placing more kisses on his neck and felt his hands were exploring her curves and her breasts. He massaged them gently.

She arched her body and opened her eyes seeing his blue eyes staring down at her. She covered her face and whimpered. “Yor…are you afraid of me? If you are, then we could stop.” Loid said gently.

“No…I mean…. I am not afraid. Because it’s you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Yor admitted with a single tear rolled down her cheek. She smiled and caressed his cheek, kissing him on the lips, then whispered. “You can keep going.”

Loid nodded slowly while he helped her get out of her attire while kissing her shoulder softly. He laid her back on the pillow as he took her dress off, seeing her naked body while she hugged her chest, blocking the most beautiful view away from him.

“Sorry, this is my first time….” Yor said softly while closing her legs.

Loid didn’t say anything but was staring at her like she was the only woman in the whole wide world. “You…look beautiful, Yor. Do not hide yourself from me. Please, may I continue?”

Yor nodded and put her arms away from her chest, letting him kiss her bare chest and messaged one breast and sucked one nipple, making her moan louder and louder.

“God, Loid, your…your tongue…feels great! Ah!” Yor exclaimed and gasped softly in pleasure, tilting her head back on her pillow and gripped onto the sheets. Loid switched breasts as he bit softly, making her moan even more louder. He massaged them at the same time while watching her reacting to his warm touch.

He felt her hands were squeezing his arms softly and reached up to his strong biceps. His hands caressed her body while she caressed his cheek and she got up on her elbows to kiss him softly on the lips while his hand trailed all the way to her thighs.

He kissed her neck while she played with his blonde locks and then laid her back down again while trailing kisses on her chest, to her belly then went to explore her clitoris. But she covered it with her hands and whimpered.

“Yor…you don’t have to hide away from me. As I said, you are stunningly beautiful. A-and I cannot wait any longer, you are driving the world’s greatest spy crazy.” Loid smirked, licking his lips while she rubbed her thighs together before she lets him take off her underwear and started licking it gently and slowly.

“Ahh! Loid….t-that’s feels so good! More!” Yor moaned as she held onto the sheets in her hands tightly. He licked her more roughly while he squeezed her thighs as she moaned. She watched him getting up and wiped his mouth until he put one finger in her. She screamed and moaned, humping into his hand while he was exploring her folds.

“How does that feel, Yor?” Loid asked softly while he held her hand.

“It feels so…ah!” Yor whimpered, feeling two fingers in her now. She thrusted herself in his hand. She cannot take it anymore as she wanted more of him…him inside of her. “L-Loid?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Loid asked, thinking she doesn’t want to go bit more further.

“No. I do not want you to stop. It’s just did you bring a c-condom? Protection?” Yor asked, looking away from him, covering her mouth.

Loid looked at her in confusion then remembered something. He went to the basket Handler gave him earlier and grabbed the bag filled with little squares, had something in there. Now he gets it now. These are the condoms Yor had mentioned. “These are it…right?” Loid shown her the condom in his hand.

He saw her looking at him lustfully with her eyes shining brightly. She nodded and stood on all fours, watching him taking off his pants and saw his dick with her eyes widening in shock, seeing how big he is. He put the condom aside and he caressed her cheek as she looked at his dick, she gently touched it. She has never done this before but never wanted to disappoint him.

So she took the risk and licked the tip softly hearing him groan softly. She put her hair behind her ear as she sucked all of his dick while he tilted his head back, feeling such a great pleasure. He never felt anything like this. “Ahh, Yor!”

A muffled scream escaped as she pulled away from his dick, seeing more of his juice spilling out while she gulped, taking it all in. She breathe out while looking up at Loid in his eyes. He took a cloth in his hands and wiped it all away.

Loid decided it was time to put on the condom. He put it on and turned to see Yor was opening her legs open for him. Once he was ready, he was rubbing his dick against her, making her whimper and twirl her hair.

Then he thrusted his cock into her as she moaned while he grunted, burying his face onto neck. She held him tightly, both panted heavily. “It…. doesn’t hurt?” Loid asked her quietly.

“No, please do keep going.” Yor replied seductively against his ear as he started to thrust into her, in a perfect rhythm. She loved the sensation she was feeling. She made eye contact with Loid, locking into each other’s eyes before they both kissed each other passionately.

Loid thrusted in her more roughly and held her hands with her legs wrapped around his waist. In no time, he would cum. He stopped while putting one leg up on his shoulder and thrusted slowly into her before doing it roughly.

She moaned louder and louder, holding his arms. How she loved it! She arched her body, feeling something was happening and screamed out loud with Loid holding her body down onto the bed, coming into the condom. He set her leg down and collapsed on her chest, panted heavily while she held him tightly in her arms with a smile.

(~)

Loid and Yor both laid down on their bed with content smiles on their faces, she was leaning on his chest with their legs tangled with each other underneath the sheets. He had his arm around her while staring up at the ceiling with a smile on his face.

He really did it. He made love to the love of his life! But he wondered if she thought he was bad at it and that she would regret it. “Loid?”

“Y-Yes?” Loid saw her getting up and laid on top of his chest.

“Thank you. I mean for this honeymoon, mission, going out for dinner and well… this.” Yor smiled lovingly, creating circles on his chest. “I really enjoyed it. Including the sex part.”

“You’re welcome. I am glad that was successful.” Loid chuckled, brushing her hair out of the way to see her face clearly. “I hope I wasn’t all that bad.”

“Loid, no, no. Y-you were amazing, I must say.” Yor blushed softly while getting up a bit and kissed him softly on the lips. “If we ever do get another chance doing this, we could ask Franky and Yuri to look after Anya again.”

“Of course, I called Franky, she’s asleep now.” Loid smiled at her while she laid her head back down on his chest. “If we are going to do this again…we might need more condoms. I believe we already used them all that Handler gave us.”

Yor giggled, remembering how many times they had done it and it was an amazing night of her life. She got to experience it with the man she truly loves. “I believe so.”

Few Days Later

Loid and Yor came back home to their house with happy and content smiles on their faces and opened their door. “Anya, we are home!” Loid announced until he heard snoring from the living room.

“Aww, how cute, Loid, look!” Yor squealed softly with Loid going in the living room and then gasped softly seeing the big mess right in front of them. But then smiled seeing their daughter sleeping in Yuri’s arms with Franky hugging a pillow in his arms, sucking his thumb.

Loid snickered as he decided to take a photo of them and try to at least tease his brother-in-law and his friend. Maybe show it to the entire agency. “This will be in the history photo albums. I shall show this to everyone in the agency.”

Yor giggled at his antics. It was rather cute to see him all loosened up after doing their missions. She has been blessed to share such a blissful honeymoon with him. It was the best night of her life. She hugged him around his waist with him looking behind to see her smiling.

“Let’s fix up some breakfast and wake them up. We need to report this to Handler.” Loid smiled at her.

“Of course.” Yor smiled brightly while walking towards her daughter and younger brother. Loid could still see she was still a bit sore and wobbly in the legs. But nonetheless, he enjoyed it.

He put the suitcases near the table and watched Anya hugging Yor tightly with Yuri while Franky came hugging Loid tightly. “I am so glad you are back from your honeymoon!”

“Yes, yes, I am glad I am back and what have you done to our house?!” Loid hissed at him grabbing the collar of his shirt. He gulped fearfully and then looked back at the mess in the living room, seeing every packet of candy and chips everywhere, including some crumbs.

“Um… well, that was a very long story.” Franky chuckled nervously at his friend.

“This will be the last time you’ll be babysitting Anya in here. Instead, we are getting her to stay at your place.” Loid whispered.

“Yuri, thank you so much for looking Anya.” Yor smiled at her brother.

“It was no problem. I love my little darling niece with all of my heart.” Yuri smiled warmly at his niece. If anyone has the desire to hurt my niece, I shall shove my gun at their heads and shoot them myself.

Anya was shocked to hear that in her mind and immediately hugged her mother’s leg. “Aw, she missed her parents a lot. I do hope you enjoy your trip.” Yuri hoped as he grabbed his bags. Yor awkwardly looked at Loid who was drinking some water with droplets of sweat falling down from his forehead.

“It was…we have the greatest time of our lives.” Yor chuckled while hugging Yor in her arms.

“Oh, that’s great!” Franky exclaimed, happy for the two. “Now can we go now?”

At the agency, Loid and Yor had left Anya in the care of Franky again while they had talked to Handler. Loid and Yor were standing in front of her desk while she smiled at the two with a grin. This irritated the spy so much he knew how much she was going to tease him.

“Well, well, Twilight, I hope you enjoyed your honeymoon with Yor. I heard the mission was a success. And thank you, Yor for helping us out.” Handler smiled at her.

“Oh, no. thank you. I really do love helping you with your missions. Especially with Loid’s. I am more than happy to work with you again.” Yor blushed bright pink.

“Happy to hear that.” Handler smiled at her. “Loid, you are one lucky guy to have her. Never let her go. You understand?”

Loid smiled at his wife lovingly and held her hand, intertwining their hands together. “I am not planning on letting her go.”

The couple said their goodbyes to Handler and walked back into the hallway to get to Anya with smiles on their faces. Yor saw Anya was running up to them and held out her hands to her with Loid watching with a smile. He got the family has he never thought he would have, and he loves both of his girls and had promised he’ll never leave them.

#spy x family fanfiction #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond #yuri #franky #secret santa 2020 #operation strix #my fanfiction #my works #manga #spy x family

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

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First impressions after the live show? Beaujester impressions or otherwise

‘Ah. Would you mind looking after Luc for a little while?’ Yeza asks with a somewhat nervous - but excited - smile.

Beau salutes him from the bathroom. ‘No worries, dude. Go get her.’

Yeza laughs, fumbles to return the gesture. ‘Thank you. Thank you, everyone. Ah - if you’ll just...excuse me,’ he says and in amongst the Nein’s gentle teasing, the halfling bobs an awkward bow and leaves, hurries back to his wife.

As Jester disappears into Marion’s chambers, her quiet apology for the bathtub reaching the bathroom, Beau does her best to sweep up the clay and the soot left by the burned incense, the pieces of the bathtub. These she separates, drops into a box Beau suspects once held a gift of some kind or is, like, some unnecessarily fancy bin. The largest of the pieces she just sets beside it. Maybe... if she figured out where all the pieces were supposed to go, Jester could mend it? Beau grimaces down at the hundreds of ceramic shards. Maybe not.

‘Beau?’

‘Huh? Oh, hey! I was just -’ She waves a hand toward the mess. Her other hand is cupped, middling sized shards held in it that she’d found under the shelves. ‘D’you reckon you could mend this thing? Or...?’

Jester grimaces too, looking at the extent of the problem before her. She steps into the bathroom beside Beau, shoulders jumping in surprise as something crunches underfoot. She smiles guiltily.

‘It would take a really long time.’

‘Right, right, right,’

‘But I promised my mama I would buy her a new one. Or find someone for her who will buy her a new one.’

‘Maybe you could ask the Gentleman.’

‘Beau.’

‘What? Is that - that’s stupid, got it,’

‘No!’ Jester grabs her arm, shakes it, not caring a bit that the shards Beau collected drop to the ground and break even more. ‘Beau!’ she squeals. ‘That’s a great idea!’

‘Oh no.’

‘Yeah!’

‘No, no, see I was just kidding - ‘

Jester squeals louder. ‘Oh my gosh it will be so romantic, I can send him a message and he can pick out the most beautiful bathtub and I can write -’ She goes a little breathless for a second, tail flicking right at the tip with excitement, eyes darting over Beau’s face. It’s clear that Jester isn’t looking at her, but rather past her to all the many plans she can concoct. ‘I can write a letter,’ she says quietly. ‘I have his handwriting now, I can say, Oh Marion, in your time of greatest need I am - um - fulfilling that need,’

‘We can workshop it. Or not. Because that’s - it’s an idea,’ she says, dropping the adjective she would ordinarily tack onto that. ‘But it’s maybe, you know, a tiny bit, uh,’

‘Too soon?’

‘I was gonna say hurtful,’ Beau tells her bluntly.

Jester’s face falls. ‘What do you mean? You mean - getting them together?’

‘N-no, not exactly. But, y’know, if the guy you liked walked out on you and then you had a kid and you raised her alone for years and he never came back and eventually you figured, y’know, he was either a piece of shit or something bad happened to him or maybe both or maybe he didn’t care or maybe he did and maybe he wasn’t ever in love with you or maybe he was and you flat out don’t know, and then you find out that he’s this crime lord up in Zadash and your bathtub breaks and that is what he writes to you about?’

Jester blinks, her surprise bleeding into faintly troubled, and thoughtful, and a soft distant kind of expression Beau doesn’t fully recognise. ‘Probably not the best.’

‘Prob’ly not.’

‘Hmm. I’ll think on it.’

‘Sure, yeah, you do that. I’ll - edit your letter, if you want. Help you workshop it.’

‘Even though you think it’s a terrible idea?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Beau is quick to point out, mind racing backwards in their conversation to make sure that yeah, she definitely hadn’t said it. She had thought it, but that’s not the same thing. Jester is smiling at her when she comes back to the here and now, the mischievous smile that tucks into her cheeks, makes her dimples pop and her eyes glint. Beau rolls her eyes, shakes her head. Grumbles, without any real annoyance to the word, ‘Tricky.’

‘Well, I am a trickery gods protégé.’

Beau cleans for a little longer, waves Jester away to help Caleb with getting the magic he wants and starting on their clothes. With Caleb and Fjord gone to Yussa’s tower, and Caduceus following closely after when he sees Fjord step out, and with Yasha looking for a dog for their dinner (a joke? Uncertain), Beau realises that she is the only one left, and that they had all completely glossed over one very important fact.

‘Shit! Luc!’

She sprints down the steps from the third floor and when she hears the familiar sound of a shriek of dismay, follows it to Carlos and Luc and a smashed bottle on the floor.

‘Luc!’

‘That,’ the boy says, backing up, brown eyes wide, ‘was an accident.’

‘You need to be more careful, lad!’ Carlos cries, and scrubs his hands over his head, disturbing the slicked combover. ‘Enough with the sword! And the crossbow! Please!’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Luc insists, and Beau closes the distance quickly. Luc is in zero danger from Carlos, who seems more interested in making sure that the wine doesn’t soak into the nearby carpet - and that Luc doesn’t step onto any glass - but seeing the tall man towering over the young boy, and the raised voices, has her moving faster and her heart pounding in her chest.

‘Everything alright here?’ she demands, staring at Carlos. Without her meaning to, without looking, she sets a gentle hand down on the top of Luc’s curly hair, guides him backwards and behind her.

‘What? Oh - Jester’s friend. Yes, yes, it’s fine,’ Carlos sighs, and he lets out his breath in a gusting sigh. Runs his hands over the combover again. His brown eyes take in Beau before him, interposed between him and Luc, and his stance softens. ‘The lad is fine,’ he assures Beau. ‘Just rambunctious.’

‘That’s a good thing,’ Luc whispers up to Beau. He holds the back of her pants with one hand, peers out around her thigh to grin up at Carlos. ‘My dad says it means I’ve got lots of beans, but I haven’t had beans and toast since we left Felderwin.’

‘Do you like beans and toast?’ Beau asks.

Luc shrugs. ‘It’s fine? The fish here is weird but it’s fine too.’

‘Not a picky eater, huh?’

‘No, there’s heaps of stuff I won’t eat. I hate sprouts - ‘

‘Same.’

‘ - and there’s this red root that stains everything but my dad uses it for inks and dyes and stuff so we used to have it all the time,’

Beau lets him ramble on about food and shifts her attention to Carlos. The man has settled like a spooked chicken and he nods to Beau, hands lifted slightly. She relaxes a smidge. Fishes a few gold pieces from her pocket and sets them on the bar top. Then, as Luc continues to ramble, she leads the boy to the stairs.

‘ - and there’s this gross, like, pea thing and pea is already a funny word,’ he tells Beau, who snorts obligingly, nods, ‘but it tastes like sand. That’s probably my least favourite, it’s gross.’

‘Yeah, that sounds like shit.’

Luc giggles, eyes wide. ‘You said a bad word.’

‘What? Oh fu- uh - right. You’re a kid. Shi - ah crap. Balls. Oh no.’ Beau stops, rubs a hand over her face. Luc is fully laughing now, little hand clutching at the railing post he had dented earlier with his sword, and when Beau peeks through her fingers she finds that his smile is wide and honest and delighted.

‘You’re really funny. And rude.’

‘I’m - the rude part is right,’ she agrees. ‘Uh. Look, your mum and dad are gonna be - uh - talking for a bit so we told them we’d keep an eye on you. Is there anything you’re, like, wanting to do or do I...have to entertain you?’

Luc rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t need to be baby sat. I’m five.’

‘Oh, cool, basically an adult. You should probably be getting a job soon.’

‘What? No!’

‘No?’

‘No! I’m not old enough to get a job.’

‘But you’re five.’

‘That’s too young!’

‘Is it?’ Beau asks, feigning ignorance. ‘Shit, okay, what do you wanna do then?’

‘I dunno!’

‘Figure it out, or I’m gonna - uh - feed you sprouts.’

Luc gasps. ‘You wouldn’t.’

Beau grins, a little feral, mostly amused. She crouches on the landing in front of him so they’re almost of a height, her still a little taller than the young halfling. ‘Your mum hasn’t told you about me,’ she guesses. Luc shakes his head. ‘My name is Beau, and I’m a monk. I trained for years,’ she tells him, ‘to become a spy.’

‘Whoa.’

‘Yeah. Pretty cool, right?’

‘Yeah!’

‘One of my lessons was on how to torture people.’ It is only as she says it that she wonders if maybe a joke like that is a bit dark for a five year old, but Luc’s eyes only seem to widen further, sparkle a little more. It’s super weird - but weirdly nice - to be on the receiving end of what Beau can only categorise as extreme fascination. ‘I won’t stop with sprouts. I brought with me food from Xhorhas. They have vegetables,’ she tells him, voice dropping low and ominous, ‘that are soft and squelchy. Like boogers.’

‘No.’

‘Yep. Super gross. But good for you. And I’ll tell your dad that and he’ll make you eat them for every. Single. Meal.’

Luc shrieks and sprints away from her up the stairs, laughing as Beau pushes to her feet and follows. She lets him get fairly far ahead before her own competitive nature comes out and she picks up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time. It isn’t long before she catches up with him and it’s easy to hoist him off his feet and up into the air, hold him by the ankles as she marches him back down and out into the courtyard behind the Chateau. She had seen it when they arrived, the manicured yard, and the small training dummy raised there with a painted target and many, many dents from wooden crossbow bolts. Luc wriggles free when she lowers him down and races ahead, yelling back to her all the while about training, and look how high I can climb, and what is the coolest monster you’ve seen, and what’s it like being a monk?

It’s weirdly easy. Hanging out with the little dude, and answering all his questions - leaving the fallout for answering all of them honestly to Yeza and Veth to deal with in the future at some point - and catching the bolts when they whizz too close to her face, which sends him into another spiral of questions, and begging her to show off some of the cool monk shit that she can do. They’re in the middle of practicing wall-jumps - or, she is and he is jumping as high as he can in place with his stumpy little legs - when the others return and he slumps, exhaustedly, into her shoulder when she picks him up this time. Loops his arms around her neck in a loose hug.

Beau feels something twist in her chest as she hugs him back, carries him to his room, and she wonders if TJ will be anything like Luc. Outgoing, carefree, happy. Or if he’ll be more like her.

#prompt fill #cr tag #tagging my stories #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #sort of

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copper-coin-writing · 4 years ago

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An Encyclopaedia of Species

Willow’s world is full of magic, not least in the creatures. A while back Willow had a go at categorising the different magical creatures. Here’s her attempt, with her normal amount of scathing cynicism.

I guess I order this from the most repugnant to the least. Starting with the Gods then.

By Gods, I don’t mean those things the humans worship, though a few have taken to worshipping them. Not something I advise. Flesh and blood is far less forgiving than the ethereal beings of their religions. Of course, some of the Gods are friendly, but I’ve never met a nice one. I’ve only lived a few thousand years, what would I know?

Gods are older than even me, and are more grouchy as a result. They, unlike the rest of us, aren’t linked to a source. I’ve never worked out what gives them their power, and not through want of looking. I’ve some special reasons to want to know. The power they wield is almost unparalleled, so if you see one run the hell away. Not that that’ll help much.

Next should be Old Ones, but I’m nothing if not biased, so let’s talk Beasts. Contrary to the name, they’re not often savage. It’s pretty hard to define what a Beast is, so I’ve settled on a creature created by a God or Old One. Their source is their creator, and good forest is that annoying. I’ve created a few in my time and it’s not worth it. Imagine having a dog on an infinite lead attached to a random body part. Add another for each Beast. Yeah. You see the issue.

All the same, they have their uses. Travel, messengers, eyes in the sky… They can be dangerous, intelligent, and dumb. Oh so dumb. Creating them takes skill, skill that many don’t have. Hmm. Probably time to move on before I start talking about my early attempts.

Guardians, then. Their source is a location, or occasionally a person. By person I of course mean any animal with half a brain. Yes, the cats are plotting to kill you. The squirrels to, if we’re counting. Can’t speak for the bugs, but there are some I wouldn’t put it past. Guardians are the only magical creature that might be able to rival a God, and only on their home turf. Away from what they’re bound to protect, they’re as helpless as a human.

And now we come to Old Ones, the subject on which I have the most first-hand knowledge. It comes of being one, I guess. Like the rest, we’re bound to a source, normally some relic from old times, something with a long history. Don’t ask me what makes us appear from them, I haven’t a clue. We have magic. We can use it. Depending on the Old One, the magic takes different forms. Mine is the power of decay. A bit dreary perhaps, maybe a little creepy, but strong. Anything bound to life is.

All that’s left are the almost-creatures. Humans, of course, can wield magic to a degree, though never to our strength, and artifacts are sources unlinked to a being. Damage an artifact too much and its power breaks. Same with anything, I guess.

I think that’s everything. It damn well better be. This list took me ten years to write. Admittedly I was in hibernation for seven of those, but I really do need to remember what I’ve been doing. It’s just the nature of eternity, I guess. Takes the urgency away from everything.

#wip: willow #lore #worldbuilding #fantasy

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christinefoley · 4 years ago

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How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

I’ve been a teacher for nearly thirty years now, and so I should be red hot at knowing how to manage time. After all, the average classroom teacher regularly has so many plates spinning on a daily basis that every limb is a whirling blur in perpetual motion. Experience has taught me that allowing even one plate to go gyrating off its axis can bring chaos and catastrophe for the whole delicately balanced collection.

Blogging

But this blogging malarkey- well, that’s different. And I’m finding the whole issue of time management more challenging than I’d anticipated, to be completely honest. I mean, thinking about the whole idea of becoming a blogger was…well- just fantastic, really. I love writing, and blogging means that I can write about stuff that really interests me, and never again have to write about things that just don’t.

Primary School Teacher

To clarify what I’m talking about, you may not know this, but the average primary school classroom teacher is obliged to take an interest in such mind-numbing subjects as: rocks and soils, units of measure ( both metric and imperial), adverbial phrases and subordinating and coordinating conjunctions. Admit it- you’re bored already! Imagine having to feign interest in that lot- and a whole host of even more boring topics besides- for nearly thirty years! I don’t know how I’ve done it!

Working From Home

So, what I thought was: become a blogger: write about interesting things, things that get my fingers positively sparking over the laptop key board: it’ll be great! Hey- and you get to do it from home, and manage your own time! Goodbye M6! Goodbye difficult parents! Ta-ta to staff meetings and professional development and tedious meetings about assessment. No more report writing- hurray!!

This will be the new pattern of my Week

Monday morning: awakened at 7am by the alarm- no more 6:30 for me anymore! Up, dressed, breakfast and ready at my laptop to report for writing duty by 8:30 am at the latest.

Straight into writing/ preparing next blog post.

Timetable

9:30 am: take first break: wee, coffee, throw the ball for the dog in the garden for around 20 minutes, then back to the keyboard to work steadily through until lunch at around 12:00.

12:00 healthy lunch put together: salad, hummus, green stuff- that sort of thing- and eaten before 1pm before returning to the laptop for another hour’s work. That hour will be spent emailing, and suchlike.

FREE TIME!

2pm-5:00 FREE TIME! Wow! The whole afternoon off!!

Obviously ,this precious time will not be frittered away on any kind of pointless activities: no, it will be utilised for exercise, dog-walking and attending classes that I’ve really wanted to attend but have always been otherwise occupied teaching PE, the Egyptians or subordinate clauses or suchlike. No, now I will spend my afternoons attending French conversation sessions, singing, creative writing workshops and book clubs. I may even join a hiking club and enjoy hiking in the nearby Lake District.

5pm: teatime. Evenings will be spent working on my blog business- no more than an hour or so- and then I’ll actually go out: live music, pubs, the theatre, meals out- whatever I want, because there are no lessons to plan for the next day- and certainly no marking. Fantastic!!

Manage Time?

It’ll be a joy! No more telling myself I’ll do an hour’s marking, then I’ll fill in those assessment tables and then I’ll spend another hour and half preparing tomorrow’s lessons, before……..NO MORE, No more for me!

So, you’re asking, has it worked out like that?

Well, the fact is that I’m still teaching at the moment, so haven’t had the chance to try out this new lifestyle which I have planned out for myself just yet; but I’m having this creeping suspicion that I’m not going to be able to live that life exactly to plan.

Deadlines

Why not? Well, I guess I kind of like deadlines- I am programmed to respond to them anyway. I was always that one who started working on my essays well before the deadline at university, so that I had plenty of time. I was never the last minute panic type-no, I kind of used the whole two weeks preparation time to get pages of notes together and then panic over the last few days about how I was going to create anything of any value out of all that stuff.

Being My Own Boss

What worries me now, is that, as a blogger, working on my own blog, I am going to have to impose my own deadlines, and I’m not convinced that I’ll be all that good at it. It’s that thing about being my own boss- in one way, it’s what we dream of, but in another way it’s kind of scary. I mean, when you’re at work and things go tits up, the boss is ultimately the one who has to take it on the chin- not you. But if you are your own boss, and things don’t go right- well……it’s all your fault.

How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

So, before I cut the umbilical cord of a regular job and life pattern, I’ve been researching some hints and tips from the experts about time management- I’m in my note-taking preparation stage.

Find Your Most Productive Hours

Now, there’s a great idea! Work out when you are generally at your most productive and schedule most of your heavy lifting tasks for those times. A first rate tip for time management- after all, how many people have you heard declare themselves a ‘night owl’ or ‘an early bird’? Loads, right?

Night Owl, or Early Bird?

So obviously that got me to thinking about myself: am I a night owl, or an early bird? A night owl, probably, because I’m used to working in the evenings after school. OK, so save all the deep-thinking stuff for the evenings. Yes…..possible, I guess.

Write a to-do List the Night Before

Undeniably a top idea! Apparently, only takes about five minutes and it means that the next day you can hit the ground running without any fiddling about. Hmmm, so- five minutes before bedtime…just a quick list…

You know what that would mean for me? Five minutes writing, followed by 45 minutes lying awake thinking it all through. Sleep well and up at 7:00 am to hit the ground running? Not on your nelly.

Back to the drawing board…next tip for how to manage time, please?

Start on the Most Critical Task First

Yes….now, that’s good….I get that. Get the thing that’s bothering you most out of the way first thing and you’re bound to feel better about yourself and what you can achieve.

Now that makes perfect sense! Thing is….that’s just not me. No, better for me to get a few little things ticked off my list first to get me stoked up with enough confidence to bring out the big guns and get cracking on those tasks that are going to CHANGE MY LIFE.

Sit down at my laptop and hit myself straight between the eyes with something that scares the pants off me and has probably kept me awake ever since I wrote it down on that to-do list the night before? That just ain’t happening.

Next hint, please….

The Eisenhower Matrix

What d’you mean- you’ve never heard of it? Well, I’m not a fan of tables, because they bring out all my twitches, but this one makes perfect sense- you may want to look it up. In essence, the idea is that you write down all the tasks you need to do- in one, long, terrifying list- then you categorise all the tasks. If it’s urgent, mark it ‘U’, if it’s important, mark it ‘I’, and if it’s neither of those, then cross it out.

Still following me?

Next, you evaluate how much time each of the remaining tasks on your list is likely to take and arrange a plan for yourself. Now, I must admit, I’m liking this idea of time management…especially the stuff that you can cross off the list altogether. The aim is to identify your genuine priorities: which tasks on your list are going to get you to achieve your objective the most quickly, and which, simply, are not.

Like it. Yes, this is one for me! Next tip, please…..

Use Time Constraints- Set a Timer

This tip to help you to manage your time advises using a timer to set time to achieve certain tasks, as the task will inevitably expand if there is an unrestrained time in which to do it. The idea is to beat the timer- complete the task in even less time than that which you allocated!

Hmm. Have I not escaped the 5-9 to escape exactly that- time constraints? The school timetable is gone, so I devise one of my own? Not sure I want to do that to myself, although I do understand the benefits of this time management idea, and every task does undoubtedly expand if there are no constraints in terms of time.

Hmm… I need to think this one through…….and while I’m thinking about it I might just make another cup of coffee and put a load of washing on…maybe iron those few shirts? Watch a bit of TV?

No, Christine, you’re talking about being productive, remember? Now, sit down and just get on with it.

Next hint to ace time management, please.

No Distractions

No browsing your ‘phone, checking through emails, doing odd bits of housework. Now I have struggled with this trick of how to manage time, but have actually had a breakthrough in recent weeks.

What has worked for me, is to go out of the house- no dog wanting to play, no endless possibilities for making coffee and no housework-style responsibilities. The other benefit of being out of the house-for me- is no silence.

Silence

I’m not very happy with silence- it makes me a bit edgy. Never been very productive working in libraries and such places. However, it’s no good putting on music either, because then I start listening to that instead of concentrating on the job in hand.

Coffee Shops

I’ve found that coffee shops are my perfect place for productivity. Not only is there the gorgeous aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans wafting up my nose, but there’s just the right kind of background noise- neither too loud nor too silent to distract me. Obviously, a great cup of cappuccino also enhances the whole experience.

If you would like to learn more about how to manage time, and tips that you could use to improve your own productivity, then take a look at this excellent article by Dan Silvestre: ’23 Time Management Techniques of Insanely Busy People.’

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schtroumpf-a-lunettes · 6 years ago

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Smurf Village Upturned, Chapter 10

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | This post

It was no mystery to Baby Smurf who was “it”. His dreams as of late had been lined with mirrors, and large, oversized glasses of the exact same size that might as well have been mirrors. As he walked by them in the dream, he could see his own reflection in the lens. They were looking for him. But he didn’t want to be found. So he adapted. He started navigating Smurf Village carefully. He’d already been making himself scarce. Whoever he was with, whether it be Lazy or the smurflings, was stuck haplessly following him around in his efforts at avoidance lest they lose track of him – the little smurfling would not be contained.

Grandpa seemed to catch on, catch him in his little hide and seek act with smurfs that didn’t seem to be aware they were playing. “Well… I’ll be smurfed if I’ll ignore or disregard the clear signals of a young smurfling,” was all that Baby heard Grandpa say on the matter, more to himself than anything. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the much older smurf seemed to be supportive. From the looks of it, Grandpa was noticing something different about them too, and other smurfs were beginning to follow suit… Baby heard talk that Vanity was starting to neglect his chores. Baby was glad that he didn’t need to do any chores around the village yet, and wouldn’t for a long time. It was more fun to just play. Slouchy and Nat, however, they were being given more and more responsibilities these days, now that they were getting older. Although, it really didn’t have to be so difficult. Why didn’t Slouchy and Nat just use their magic when tasked with things like cleaning up? That’s what Baby would do. Just wave your hand about, and everything would fall back into place. He even tried to suggest as much, but they wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t one of our games Baby, we really do have to clean up!” was all they would say. It would be so easy for him to just wave his hand and get the job done for them, but there was probably a reason why the other smurfs always seemed to refuse to make use of their magic in their day-to-day lives. Maybe there was a rule against using magic for that kind of stuff. In which case, Baby didn’t want to break it in front of the others and get in trouble. Besides, he was too young to do chores! If a task was allocated to Slouchy and Nat, then they had to do it. So, restricted in this manner, Baby would simply stand by and watch. *** Brainy found that if he did it just right, it was even easier when he wasn’t trying to concentrate, but to instead let a more subconscious force take over. Although it did tend to leave him a little… talkative. Blurting out observations, at times. All he knew was that it was easier, so he’d slipped into it, but he hadn’t been expecting this. And it was much harder to slip out of… He did his best not to be inspecting every aspect of the other smurfs’ minds. Sometimes he stared at the ground, at a table in front of him, anything but them. He just needed to keep it up until he was finally allowed to see his own self. At other times, he couldn’t look away. Grandpa came over to him, warily. Brainy was always doing his best not to let his eyes come into contact with the older smurfs especially, now. Sometimes it was unavoidable. This seemed to be one of those times. Was he going to be forced to engage in conversation…? He felt that their privacy had an added layer of sacredness to it that he shouldn’t be trespassing into. “Hello, Brainy,” Grandpa said carefully. Insights into how Grandpa’s extensive travels had shaped him danced about in Brainy’s mind. He could see his connection to Nanny Smurf, lasting far back into their pasts, back when she looked just like every other smurf. “…You seem distracted,” Grandpa continued. He couldn’t look at Grandpa for too long, even if he wanted to. He was just too bright, almost painful to look at. His glow had to be the strongest out of all the smurfs. Brainy was left with no choice but to shield his eyes from the unbearable brightness of his being. Grandpa’s voice came to him once again. “Brainy…?” “Nngh… Sorry.” There was one way to help alleviate this mess… he took off his glasses, just as he’d been doing whenever speaking to Clumsy recently. It was easy to readily slip them off around his best friend and just talk to him normally. It was a little familiar, in a comforting kind of way, as it harkened back to when he hadn’t been able to wear his glasses at all, and Clumsy was there to look out for him. That meant he already had plenty of practice with talking to a Clumsy that he couldn’t even see. A carefully practiced motion of letting his guard down a little, as it were. Although Grandpa was unused to such a motion. “I just need to give my eyes a rest,” Brainy explained, seeing nothing now, no more eye-straining incandescence. “Hmm… Perhaps you’re in need of a stronger pair of glasses,” Grandpa suggested, “Papa and I could take a look at them…” “Oh, no, it’ll be fine. I’ve just been staying up far too late recently, aha.” “Well… Okay. But Papa did want to speak to you, in any case,” Grandpa prodded, “just to make sure everything’s right and smurfy.” Brainy shook his head. “No, I mean I – I’m fine.” “Brainy…” “Please. I appreciate the concern, Grandpa, but there’s nothing wrong.” He could handle this himself! He snapped his glasses back on. He did not wish to deal with the disadvantages of being unable to see right now. He wouldn’t smurf that vulnerability for anysmurf. Why should he? “You’ve been acting mighty strange as of late, you know. We’re a little… worried. You weren’t, heh, advising everysmurf in the village as you normally do for a few days, but then uh, when ya did…” “When I did, I smurfed more truth than was expected? Well excuse me for being perceptive of my fellow smurfs. Why not worry about yourself, Grandpa? That memory of yours, you’ve been fretting over it more and more, of how there’s so much memory that seems to be lost to you now. On some level, does it not constitute the breakdown of the self? If our memories are an integral part of our makeup, and you’re losing them, you wonder if it heralds a loss of identity.” Brainy had trailed off into his more monotonous tone towards the end of that, as that autopilot he’d experienced lately had taken control. He was back now. “It must be terrible to not have access to those important aspects of your own self…” he turned away from the older smurf then, not wanting to face him any longer, and just kept walking, past Smoogle sporting that inexplicable radiant sheen. It was strange, wasn’t it? The way that Smoogle glowed, but Nanny didn’t. He came across Vanity, and stopped. He had dark circles under his eyes, which was highly unusual for the smurf normally so preoccupied with beauty. Wasn’t Vanity always the one going on about "beauty sleep"? The moment any blemish appeared on Vanity’s face, he’d always been quick to react, to take counteractive measures. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen him dishevelled like this before. He was exhausted. Just as exhausted as Brainy was. “Vanity, you’ve been hopelessly lost in yourself for far too long! Don’t you think it’s time to give it a little rest?” Brainy asked. Vanity was muttering into his mirror feverishly. “You could look into another smurf. Like me. And tell me all about it.” He sat down in front of Vanity. Still no reply? How rude. So then he relaxed, slipping far too readily into that more robotic state of mind. He didn’t have to feel tired, did he? He could just flip that switch. So, what was going on, inside of this smurf he knew too well, and who knew himself even better? Vanity Smurf, there is such a thing as too much introspection, you know… ”You’re losing the bigger picture. When you look at something for too long, a single thing, it stops making sense. When you focus on something too much… it loses all meaning. In the very act of trying to know all about you, you’ve left yourself with nothing, rendering senseless the very concept of a self, your self, which as is anyone’s, is ever-changing, seems to dissipate the closer you get. How can you categorise it? You’re unable to consolidate anything now. But still, you try. But haven’t you started to notice the ongoing feedback loop that begins to start up, when you is all you focus on? The self observes the self, ad infinitum, but what does that make the true self, when it all interacts, intersects? Who is the unobserved observer? There is none. So what it becomes, is self-destruction. The self observes itself and then crumbles until there’s nothing left to see.” “At least I stick to myself, stick to minding my own business.” Vanity was talking. Finally, he was talking. “You know, I don’t actually appreciate you seeing into all that is and should be secret to me.” “But right now, you can barely see yourself. You can’t see like I do. You don’t have an outsider’s perspective. And I can see that you need to focus on something else.” …But he wouldn’t, would he? He caught glimpses of the others, could even see how looking away from his spellbinding mirror would, if anything, be far more rewarding at this point. But his infatuation with the smurf he saw in the mirror was just too strong. It consumed him. And he was too proud to admit he was getting sick of it, he was actually getting sick of it. It had been amazing to really see himself for the first time after receiving the insight, and now it was habit, stubborn persistence, and the desire to have that level of clarity again that drove him to keep on gazing into the mirror's glass, fruitlessly. Brainy spoke again. “You should go back to Roesia. Have the insight taken away.” “Oh, I will. Right after you do.” Vanity cast him a glance. A glance that said, got you there, haven’t I? “It’s having a terrible effect on you, you know. You really should.” Vanity turned his eyes on him now, didn’t look away. Oh… Now he was seeing into him. “Unlike a certain someone, I can actually see myself perfectly well. Haven’t you paid any attention to yourself? You’re not exactly doing very well either. You risk losing yourself in a sea of others. The self that you cherish so much is slipping. You see, two can smurf at that game, Brainy Smurf. But here’s the difference: I can see into myself.” They were locked now in the strangest impasse, where both could see just about everything about the other. They could see the concern they had for each other’s current predicaments, wished to impel the other to do something about it, while stubbornly doing nothing about their own. Vanity continued to study him intently. “Can you tell me what you see, Vanity?” Brainy asked hopefully. “What do you see…?” Vanity only smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And at that snide remark, all of Brainy’s patience flew out the window. “Yes!” he hissed in frustration, restraining himself from allowing the exclamation to turn into a shout. Vanity was simply tired and choosing to be petty. But he was tired too. “Fine. If I can’t know… if I can’t see me, then why should you see you?” Brainy went to snatch Vanity’s mirror away, but he leaned back out of the way. Brainy was undeterred, grabbing at the mirror persistently. “You shouldn’t smurf with this mirror anymore, Vanity!” “It’s mine! Get away!” They struggled over it, two sets of hands trying to wrench it away. “Great smurfs! What is smurfing on here!” They looked up. Papa Smurf. A little behind him, they also saw Architect, who had happened to catch sight of them. Ah… Vanity spoke first. “He’s trying to take my mirror, Papa Smurf! Well, I say he should get his own mirror!” “Papa Smurf, from just one look at Vanity you’ll clearly be able to see that-“ the two smurfs started talking over each other rapidly. “Okay, okay, enough!” Papa looked the two now-quiet smurfs over before continuing, taking in the bags under Vanity’s eyes with disapproval and suspicion. “Vanity, I thought I told you to finish your chores!” “O-oh, sorry Papa Smurf…” Vanity replied. “I think your attachment to your mirror this past week has been too unhealthy. I have no choice but to confiscate it.” “But Papa, please!” Vanity protested, aghast. Brainy was snickering. Papa Smurf shook his head. “When I can see that your tasks have been completed, then we can talk.” “Oh, it just isn’t fair! What about Brainy, trying to smurf my mirror away like that?” “It was for your own good! Papa Smurf agrees with me, and Papa Smurf is right, because-“ “-And as for you, Brainy,” Papa said sternly. “W-what? Me?” “You haven’t been yourself lately… I want to see you in my lab.” *** It was such a useful method that managed to double as a fun little experiment to match. Roesia had never really shared her insight with anyone before, but she knew that such a thing was possible. And now, she could observe the results firsthand. But that was only secondary – whether or not they had accepted the insight, it would make little difference in the end. This would simply make things go just a little bit more smoothly – a way to doublecheck everything for absolute certain to confirm that she was ready. An extra pair of eyes or two wouldn’t hurt – it could only serve to benefit her in the end.

#the smurfs #Brainy Smurf #Vanity Smurf #Baby Smurf #smurfs

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solvetheworldtranscripts · 7 years ago

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Solve the World Ep. 1: Meet Jennifer Dash

What you're about to begin is an epic. It's an epic because it features the conquest of the impossible. Full of myths and legends, from microbiology to Minotaurs, from the depths of evil to the heights of possibility. Starting now, and for the next 100 episodes, we'll follow a young woman, as she follows her own intuition into the deepest mysteries of life. Why are we here? What are we supposed to do? How's it all gonna end? Have patience, dear listener. What begins with a whimper, won't end that way. This is not a story about a quiet life of desperation. No, no, this is Homer's Odyssey, Dante's Divine Comedy, Jennifer Dash's quest. Welcome, and brace yourself. It's a bumpy ride.

[Winding, a child sings in a foreign language, a bell tolls]

Solve the World, Episode 1: Meet Jennifer Dash

[Deep, echoing bell toll, the child sings again]

Let me present to you Jennifer Dash. Seventeen years of age, 5'9", dirty blonde hair that falls just to the small of the back, undeniably pretty. But the type of pretty that doesn't stand out in a crowd. Her charm is as such that in one moment she could easily pass for a tall fourteen-year-old, and then the next pull off that college grad look. You would like her immediately if you met her. And you should, Jennifer Dash is a wonderful human being, full of youthful exuberance, naïve charisma, childish glee, and a curiosity that could rival Nikola Tesla.

Today she is wearing an orange shirt, cut-offs, and seventeen dollars wadded up in her pocket, and, as is her style, she sports knee-high socks with matching coloured sketchers. But we get ahead of ourselves. We really do hope you like her. You're stuck with her now, you're stuck with her for quite a while. This is how it goes.

[Thunder cracks]

Awoken by a sound, perhaps a distant thunder, Jennifer became aware that she didn't understand life. She got up, grabbed her favourite old, mouldy black backpack, and pushed open the front screen door, letting it slam on her rear on the way out.

Okay, let's pause right there. We want everything to go well here. The beginning of an adventure, it's gotta hook you, it's gotta get you involved. How is that best communicated? What could possibly draw you into this massive journey, led by a young girl none of us know. It's a daunting task. Focus. Focus on Jenn. She's the valuable one here. She's worth the risk, worth the hours and hours and years spent with her. She's the girl for you.

And she knew, even then, walking out that door, that this understanding of life, it's not the same as figuring out one's own purpose in life or the cliché phrase "I'm going to find myself", none of that business, no. Jenn somehow understood the fallacy of searching for her own special purpose or destiny or whatever you want to call it. To do so would to center all of human history around herself. And that, friends, seemed quite far-fetched to our young protagonist. That's part of what makes Jenn interesting, what makes her unique, and precious in our eyes. For a teenager to see beyond herself like that, in this modern age of distraction? Who does that?

So again, Jenn pushed upon that screen door, uncaring as it slammed her on the rear on the way out. Off. Off to solve the world, somehow. As Jenn walked those first few steps past her door, she began to reason that she needed some sort of system of organisation. She would acquire data, lots and lots of data. Surely one needed facts and figures in order to categorise and therefore digest the world as a whole. But how on earth was she to organise all that stuff the world had to offer? While submerged in these throws of contemplation, Jenn reached the neighbours mail box. She stopped, stared at it, and with little hesitation, opened the box, taking the mail along with her. And so she walked, away from her past, away from her home turf, away from that screen door with someone else's mail in hand.

"But what am I walking toward?" Jenn pondered. There was no sidewalk on this street so she instinctively followed the dotted line in the middle of the road. Perhaps, if she had seen the movie, Jenn would have blurted out, "Follow the yellow brick road!" But alas, she was blithely unaware of that story. So she continued along the dotted line free of any analogous musical melody. What Jenn did think in that moment, as she perused her recently-acquired stolen mail, was this:

"Ok, so, a system. How to devise a system. Perhaps the mail has some insight for me. Mail... mail... mail... how did I come to know this as mail? Somewhere in time, someone taught me about the postal service. And therefore, I assume these papery items found in certain flagged boxes were deliver by men from various far-off lands. And I called this mail. Hmm, I see it now, oh it's so clear! Up until this moment, up until this dotted line, I've built my life upon stolen information. I trusted that this mail service was real, based on the word of others. Why should I accept that information? There! That's a starting point: no belief without direct experience! Ok, ok ok ok. But I shouldn't become a doubter of others. I don't wanna be a skeptic. So... I'll believe the experiences of others, but not their second-hand knowledge. Again, that's a starting point something to build from, a base. Only accept experience as data, or the first-hand experience of others I choose to trust. If I'm to believe that this paper in my hands is mail, then I must meet, someone who delivers the mail and can vouch for the mail system. Or as a second option of intake, I must myself become a mailperson in order to fully embrace the idea of mail. But as far as I know, I haven't met a mailman that I trust. So logically then, I can't accept this mail as mail! Wonderful, Jenn! You're getting it, old girl! I shall call these papers in my hand that I picked out of the box with a metal flag on it: Humphaliandra!"

[Bell tolls]

At that thought, Jenn suddenly held out the mail with both her hands and announced to anyone in earshot, "Hello, humphaliandra! Pleasure to meet you! Pleasure to hold you in my hands like so!" Jenn thought "But wait, I can call this humphiliandra all I want but that doesn't negate my memory. I still know this as mail. I've just given it a new name, but it's still mail. I can't simply erase what I've learned." It came to her then in a flash, in one word: MYTH. Jenn reaslised then that of course she couldn't undo 17 years of life education. She couldn't un-mail the mail. But what she could do, is recatagorise it. Mail became, in an instant, along with all the other lessons Jenn had been taught, a myth. There was data and there was myth. Data was humphiliandra, myth was mail. That's just how it was. Jenn thought, "Ok old girl, everything you've been taught is myth. Everything you've learned from experience is data useful to solve the world. I don't need to write it down, these are commandments to be memorised. This is important. This is vital. What I wanna talk about the process of sending and receiving papers of information using the postal service, I refer to these things as the myth of mail. It remains myth because I have no way, at this time, to be sure that this system of delivery works as I have been told. Therefore: myth. When I simply want to refer to the papers that have appeared inside metal boxes with flags, I refer to humphiliandra, which of course, being observed from my own experience, is not myth but solid-as-a-rock data."

As Jenn now strolled down the center of the street, she sighed. Pleased with herself that after merely traveling a few paces down the road, she'd already grown so wise, and made such dramatic inroads into solving the world. Not knowing where to take her mind next, she drew her attention away from her new-found commandments to the humphiliandra in her hands. A bill from a credit card company, due payment of $174.71, addressed to Red Jeb Heller. "Red Jeb", what a funny name. Address: 300 Room St, Jennings, Louisiana, 70546. Also included in the loot was a Macy's catalogue. Flipping through, the Halloween section caught her eye. Page 67 had a little boy in an astronaut costume. On his left chest, his blue jumpsuit showed off a big ol' NASA insignia stitched in.

Jenn thought, "NASA... When was I first taught that men had walked on the moon? Can't remember. Seems like a fact of life. Every American child is taught their ABC's, their 123's, and that Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and that other guy went to the moon in 1969, officially showing the Russians that capitalism is awesomer than communism. It sure showed them! Look at how Humpty Dumpty's walls fell down, ha! But why should I believe that story? How can I count this as data, as something I know to be true? Maybe the Russians tell their people that they got there first. Maybe they call it Soviet Moon. Or Moon Union. For that matter, how do I know that Russia exists? Never been there. Have I met anyone who's been there? Eh, kibbles and bits, it's too hard to remember the past. New commandment I declare: only people I meet from this moment on count in this hunt to solve the world. Let the past lie down and sleep a while. Who cares for it anyway. Can't help me now. So there's a myth of man going to the moon and a myth of Russians, and Russia. Just like, as I see now on pages 70 and 71, there is a myth of vampires and a myth of zombies. I should treat all these ideas as equal, all things are myth and I need to prove them, one way or the other in order to treat them as data.

A third envelope contained a hand-written letter. It read:

"Hi Red, how are you? I'm okay. You haven't come over lately, have you? Why is that? Is it me? Are you ignoring me, or just the world in general? Yesterday they voted off Tony. I know, crazy. These are treacherous times we live in, old man. You just can't trust people to make the right decisions anymore. Isn't that right? See, you're rubbing off on me, even when you're not around. This pessimism thing, it's kinda cute actually. I miss you. Is it the communists? Has your paranoia grown? You can be honest with me about that stuff. You know that, right? I'm trustworthy. And reliable. Well, perhaps not so reliable, but yknow, I'm trustworthy with secrets and stuff. Even if the Reds-"

Note the plural rather than the honourable singular form of the word.

"Even if the Reds were to bang down my door and torture me for 47 hours straight with voodoo and Chinese water torture, I'd still never give those scumbags your inner deep thoughts. Besides, even if I wanted to tell someone something, who would I tell? I'm not well connec-"

Jennifer Dash turned her gaze mid-sentence from the paper in hand to a bird whistling in a nearby pine tree. Her mind was on the Russians. She thought, "Commies are on everybody's minds, I guess. Even the Macy's catalog! Why else would they have those big, bad, NASA emblems on the outer space outfits? I'll tell you why, old girl. They wanted the whole world to know they're selling good old-fashioned capitalist American astronautic gear, rather than cosmonaut corduroys. Cosmonauts and astronauts, funny words. Two more myths to ponder. I'm hungry."

Jenn stopped walking. Two simultaneous thoughts vied for control of her will. She was dreadfully hungry, and she was well aware that not eating led to bad, bad paths of dark doom. Jenn certainly didn't want dark and doom, she wanted light, bright, and free. Therefore, her body required sustenance. Nevertheless, she had a mission at hand; to solve the world, and the world wasn't about to just solve itself. And at this particular moment, she found herself entering into the first deep debate her adventure would lead her on.

As she continues down the road, to nearly endless physical wonders, this mental quandary will continue to rear it's ugly head. We shall ask this question now, knowing that Jenn won't come to a peaceful conclusion today. Many of Jenn's upcoming perils will be from physical attacks and strange occurrences. This mental moment, however, provides a subtle uncertainty that will continue to lie as a herrang??? for Hennifer and perhaps, for you. The question is this: Can the written word, now read, be included as data, or is it relegated to myth? The Halloween costume of the young astronaut brought this question to stunning reality for Jenn. Does the picture of the boy validate the existence of that costume? Can she trust that picture? What tools does she have to reach a consensus within herself? This small question instantly multiplied and divided itself into thousands of individual quagmires. Jenn pictured vast walls full of books, books full of stories of days gone by, experiments tried, battles fought, knowledge won. But can they be trusted? Any of them? Jennifer was overwhelmed. She took a big breath, and recited aloud what she knew.

"I know I'm holding humphaliandra, also known to me as the myth of mail. I've learned about many myths in my past life. I accept none of them as truth as of yet. They're neither true nor false, they are merely ideas, yet to be realised to me. I see a picture of a boy in a space suit, I do not know whether to believe that he exists or not. I have seventeen dollars in my back pocket, and I am hungry. I will try to feed myself now, using the seventeen dollars as a bartering tool, as the myth of money teaches me. I am hungry, and I will be fed." Jennifer took another big breath, smiled, and started walking again. She saw a fast food shop in the distance. She would test the myth of money next.

Content with her new system, she named the question of books 'flagatorindor'. Jennifer Dash liked to name things. She would dispel the question of flagatorindor one way or the other, by venturing to Macy's in search of the costume. Then, she would hunt down a supposed mailman, and solve the myth of mail. But first, she would quiet her stomach. Food ahead.

Solve the World is produced by me, Dante Stack. I'd like to thank the many generous artists at (freesound.org) and (freemusicarchive.org) where I found all the music and sound effects for the show. Full attribution for those sound effects are located on my website at (dantestack.com/solvetheworld), under 'Show Notes'. If you like the show, then please, express your support and write a review on iTunes, that's the biggest way anyone can help out the show at this point in the game. Besides that, you can also join our Facebook group at (Facebook.com/solvetheworldpodcast). Also, if you're interested, check out my other podcast, 365 Honest Questions, which is on iTunes, Stitchr, or at my website (dantestack.com) Thanks!

Please, continue with us. Continue with Jenn Dash, as she builds off her humble beginnings and uses all her capacities to make sense out of this planet. Next time, Jenn gets more than she bargained for when she exchanges her back-pocket money for fast food, and what she hears just may, just might, lead her forward in her self-proclaimed destiny... to Solve the World.

#stw #solve the World #Dante stack #Jenn Dash #solve the World podcast #stw podcast #transcript

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

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party chapter ten - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - how the fuck did we make it to ten chapters y'all… I’m shook.

Hope you enjoy this, anyhow! <33

Alaska could almost categorise the room full of people according to how they looked – the sallow skin and hooded lids of the alcoholics, the drawn faces and manic eyes of the drug abusers, the nervous glances and shuffling of the first-time rehab attendees, and the disappointed glances and blushing skin of the accompanying family members. It was a relief that Sharon didn’t appear to fit in with any of these people. They looked sick and sad and beyond help. She just looked tired and thin. A little bored, too. It had been almost two hours and her patience seemed to be running out.

“Two more minutes,” She leaned over and whispered in Sharon’s ear. “Then we can get the fuck out.”

Sharon hadn’t spoken to Alaska much since they’d been at Sharon’s home. It wasn’t like Alaska had any expectations on what it would be like to stay with her, but she didn’t expect the strange sensation of being stuck in a limbo. Sharon slept a lot. Alaska would do laundry and organise her drag just to pass some time. Sharon would grumble about the detoxification process. Alaska would crack a joke about Detox, and they’d laugh. Sharon would have peculiar dreams and wake up sweating, but refuse point-blank to talk about them. Alaska would watch TV, her eyes flitting from the screen to the closed bedroom door in case Sharon woke up.

She’d been told already that Sharon wouldn’t display any physical symptoms of withdrawal, but there would be fun little quirks like irritability, agitation, nightmares and possibly depression. A few times Alaska wondered why she’d agreed to do this, to stay with Sharon, but in the rare moments when she talked and cracked jokes with her, those thoughts left her mind. The older queens seemed to be doing her best to control her foul moods and hide her weak moments, even if she was unsuccessful. It was the thought that counted.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Sharon murmured back, her voice low. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind. The amount of self-control I’m using right now is terrifying.”

Alaska snorted appreciatively. “Oh yeah?”

“As in, this place is making me want to do drugs more than I did before I walked in the door.” She joked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Sharon had hated every single activity they’d had to do. First was group sharing; Alaska had an inkling that Sharon wouldn’t bother to censor herself for the sake of the rehab therapists or the patients, and she was entirely correct. When asked to introduce herself, she said, “I may not look like a Sharon but that’s how most people know me. I’m here because I fucked up and did more coke then I intended to.” Alaska had smacked her face into her palm, not missing the raised eyebrows that had been sent the blonde’s way. Sharon didn’t seem to care.

Next was one on one therapy. Whilst Sharon was doing her best not to be rude, to her credit, her old bluntness and unfiltered speech ran amok throughout, which appeared to make the therapist very uncomfortable.

“Is there a reason you decided to take drugs?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty fun.”

“Was it a suicide attempt?”

“No.”

“Was the overdose on purpose?”

“Nope.”

“Were you perhaps crying for help?”

“I just wanted to have a good time.”

“Are you incapable of having a good time without drugs?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a drug history?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“I’ve used drugs before.”

“For how long?”

“Since I was a teenager. I worked in bars.”

“Was your life difficult?”

“A little.”

“Were drugs a coping method?”

“No, they were just for fun.”

Alaska had to fight back giggles during their exchange, which probably didn’t help. The second they left the room, Sharon burst into laughter and had to clutch the wall, gasping for breath as Alaska cackled along with her. They both started to complain through their laughter about how it seemed like a virtually useless method of healing, even though they knew it helped some. Sharon clearly had enjoyed antagonising the therapist.

The final one was team-building and group work, having to coordinate with the other patients to solve puzzles and problems that they were given. Sharon had spent the whole time sending withering looks in Alaska’s direction every time someone annoyed her, communicating through a series of forced smiles, cocked eyebrows and long sighs. To their relief, the rehab session was coming to a close, and they were arranged in a circle – like fucking preschoolers, Sharon had said – whilst their group efforts were being evaluated.

“You’re dismissed, we will see you all again at the next meeting.”

Sharon practically sprang from her seat, the most active Alaska had seen her in days, and shot out of the door at a speed significantly greater than that of the rest of the attendees. Some slunk away to their rooms in the facility, others filed through the exit on their way home, and Sharon was out of the door like a bullet fired from a gun.

“Fucking hell.” She swore, releasing a deep breath out through her lips as if she were smoking a cigarette. “Alaska, how much do you care about my wellbeing?”

Alaska frowned. “Way too fucking much, why?”

She pulled a face. “Please don’t make me go to this shit again on Thursday. Michelle doesn’t have to know.” Alaska started to laugh. “I was gonna lecture you about taking care of yourself, but I completely understand your thinking.”

“See!” Sharon cackled, pointing. “Of course I wanna recover! Just not by visiting that Westborough Baptist Addicts bullshit twice a week. We can do better than that at home.”

Alaska’s breath hitched at that – hearing the words we and home in the same sentence. It felt familiar. It felt right. She stopped herself before she could reminisce about the days where they did live in a home together. Even if she had promised that someday, somehow, she would make things work between them, they did need some time. Sharon wasn’t as stable as she seemed. It wasn’t like she was going to go out and find as much blow as she could, or drink herself into a state, but the fact remained that she was weakened from the ordeal and needed time to strengthen again. The last thing she needed was the extra stress of love in the mix; even if she was aware of it and had admitted to feeling the same way herself. They just needed time.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, her face creased in concern as they walked. Alaska snapped out of her funk and nodded.

“Sorry, yeah. It should be me asking you that.”

Sharon snorted. “Please. You just look deep in thought, that’s all. I know you and I know you don’t think because your brain was rotted away by makeup and hairspray inhalation through years of being a drag queen. Something up?”

Alaska smiled at that. “Not particularly. It’s just weird, you know? This whole fucked-up situation. But I have to admit you do seem kinda better, after that shit. Maybe you should carry on going to that place after all.”

Sharon shook her head violently, a grin on her face. “No way! Never. I guess I am talking more, you’re right about that. If I’m honest, it’s probably because I wanted to die so much whilst I was in there that my only distraction was to talk to you. I forgot how much fun properly talking to you is. I need to do it more often.”

Her heart fluttered. “I know you do. I might only respond with one word texts but you never answer your goddamn phone!”

Sharon lightly slapped her arm. “Incompatible. You’re a phone talker and I’m a text person. This is why we broke up.”

Any other time, Alaska might have looked away, but the words reminded her of something Sharon had said earlier, and she cracked up upon hearing them.

“When they asked about who had accompanied you, and you said ‘My ex boyfriend!’…Girl. Did you see their faces?”

Sharon grinned a second time. “Wasn’t it hilarious? I’ve never seen anyone look so awkward!”

“Anyway,” Alaska continued, resting her face on her fist as she pretended to think. “Should I let you off from Thursday’s session… should I talk to Michelle… hmm…”

“I’ll cook tonight if you don’t make me go. Fuck, I feel like a kid asking for permission to do something. Considering I never asked for permission as a kid, this is a weird feeling.” Sharon begged, laughing at the end of her ramble.

“For the next two weeks.”

“Five days?”

“One week. Final offer.”

“Deal. I’ll pay for takeout too.”

Alaska nodded. “Damn right you will. Hey, we’re here.”

Sharon pushed the key into the door, fumbling a little from the cold. As she began to busy herself with tidying round, muttering apologies for letting Alaska do it when she volunteered, Alaska took the time to read through the messages she’d been sent, flopping down on the couch.

Willam: we didn’t send this to sharon just in case, have you guys been online? There’s some shit

Alaska: of course there is. I haven’t looked yet, dreading it

Courtney: some of it’s nice

Willam: mixed responses really

Willam: some hate, some love, lots of “IS SHARON DEAD” and “ARE SHALASKA TOGETHER AGAIN”

Alaska: fucking shalaska

Alaska: the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard

Courtney: the couple or the name

Alaska: duh, the couple

Alaska: kidding. The name

Willam: i think we’re too old to get why the kids do this kinda shit. I think court and i take the cake with witney tho.

Courtney: AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE- Bianca del rio.

Willam: don’t even start. I heard they call you two bitney.

Alaska: how original

“There’s some shit online?” Sharon said suddenly. Alaska started, her heart pounding as Sharon somehow managed to creep behind her without her notice. Placing a hand on her heaving chest, she shoved Sharon as she dropped down onto the couch next to Alaska.

“Hmm…” Sharon hummed, as Alaska let her scroll through Courtney and Willam’s texts. “Hate, love, asking if I’m dead and asking if we’re together. Ooh, I wanna go on twitter. My phone’s in my pocket, let’s use yours.”

Alaska giggled uncertainly, half-amused, half-worried. “I don’t trust you with twitter. Were you planning on tweeting?”

“Maybe.” The mischievous glint in Sharon’s eyes gave her away. “Just something dumb like ‘to all the responses: fuck you, thank you, no, maybe.’”

“For fuck’s sake.” Alaska chuckled. “No, I’m not letting you on mine. You’re a terrible person and I do not trust you in the slightest.”

Before Alaska could say anything more, Sharon had opened up twitter on her phone and was scrolling through it. Her eyebrows shot upwards and she let out something like a shocked cough mixed with a laugh.

“Wo-o-ow…” She murmured. “This is… something.”

Alaska cringed. “How bad is it?”

“If the Hiroshima bomb and 9/11 hit twitter at the same time, it looks a little like that.” She admitted.

“Sharon!” Alaska chastised her. “You can’t say that!”

Sharon coughed. “Just did. Seriously, take a look.”

She began to read a few of them, switching between tweets sent to Michelle, Alaska, Sharon herself and even the official Drag Race account.

“Sharon Needles finally took it too far, such a shame… aw, that’s a nice one. She deserved what she got… lovely. Alaska please tell us sharon is doing ok. I’m convinced sharon is dead, no one is talking about her. You can so tell lasky still loves sharon in her tweets. Agreed! I don’t know why they don’t get back together. Unless sharon’s dead.”

Sharon coughed again. “Amongst others. Most of them are along those lines.”

Alaska quivered; whether it was with rage or nervousness or relief she didn’t know. She was thankful that a large number of them were concerned, sending well wishes and hoping that Sharon was okay and would quickly recover. But too many of them were hateful – even one was too many. She didn’t know if it was better or worse, but the amount of tweets speculating about the two of them made her feel some type of way too. Of course she still loved Sharon. Sharon still loved her. It just wasn’t that easy.

“Oh shit, I just forgot that we haven’t told them if you’re alive or not. No wonder they all think you’re dead.” Alaska commented, feeling wan and exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to deal with social media bullshit.

“I’ll tell them.” Sharon said, resting her head on Alaska’s shoulder as she saw the look of turmoil on her face.

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES - Jan. 6th

If you’re already dead you can’t die again .. dead girls never do blow ..

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

Please don’t harass my friends and family about me . They don’t need any more hassle on my behalf than they’ve already had ..

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

And no I’m not alone . There is someone here with me and I am safe . Thanks for the love .. cunt wait to be on stage again

Sharon paused suddenly. “Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say that.”

“Huh?” Alaska asked.

“I know I haven’t been the best person to be sharing a house with – I never really was – but especially these days. I’ve been living in my own head, just letting you get on with doing the shit that I should be doing, and it’s kinda unfair. You should be out there doing gigs, you have hundreds of thousands of fans who want to see you doing what you do best, and rightly so… but you’re here. With me. Stuck in this house, watching TV and cleaning up all my shit whilst I lounge about feeling like shit.”

Alaska swallowed, her cheeks heating up. “Think nothing of it. It feels like old days.”

Sharon shook her head. “I was a terrible boyfriend.”

“You were great.” Alaska corrected her. “The only cleaning I had to do was picking up beer cans. You did the rest.”

Sharon smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right. But you should be out there screaming about anus and pussy and nails and instead you’re with me. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“You didn’t drag me into it.” Alaska said. “I dived headfirst when I saw you like that. It was scary, Noodles. You were shivering, boiling hot, and completely erratic. I never want to see you like that again.”

Sharon looked down, ashamed, as Alaska’s eyes stung with tears. She had done her best not to think of what Sharon had been like before she passed out, only focusing on the fact that she was alive. Moments later, she felt Sharon’s hand grab at her own, and she clung on tight as she spoke.

“You said some horrible things, too… so horrible. It wasn’t you. You were like a different person.”

Sharon’s eyes glistened. “W-What was I saying…?” She asked uncertainly. “I’m almost afraid that I don’t want to know… I have no recollection whatsoever.”

Alaska tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was mirthless. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember. It was awful, it really was.”

She coughed. “You said that… you said that I didn’t give two fucks about you. That people who care about you should try and help you instead of making jokes about you. That people who say they love you don’t really care what you do to yourself until it hurts us.”

Sharon’s grip on Alaska’s hand went slack, just for a second. The tears she had been fighting so hard to keep back broke forth, flooding silently down her cheeks. A pregnant pause went by, neither of the queens sure of what to say, before Sharon took hold of Alaska’s hand once again and buried her face into the younger queen’s shoulder.

“Why do you…” She started, tongue-tied. “How did…”

Alaska rested her head on top of Sharon’s, her own cheeks growing damp from tears. With her thumb, she gently rubbed circles into Sharon’s hand, not forcing the blonde to speak nor interrupting her.

“Why are you here? I was so awful to you. You should be slandering my name out there, condemning me for taking drugs and saying horrible things to you. Why are you here?”

Her voice cracked, wobbling and pitching as she tried to speak through her tears. Not even needing to think about it, Alaska wrapped her arms around Sharon and pulled her close, holding onto her as though it were the very last time she would. Something told her, however, that it definitely wouldn’t be.

“Because I’m stupid and I love you. I told you so in the hospital.” Alaska murmured.

“It’s been all I’ve thought about.” Sharon admitted. “You said that we could make it work, we could try. I wish it was that easy.”

Alaska nodded. “Aren’t we just the dumbest pair ever? You admitted to me that you love me, I got mad about it, then realized I love you and now we’re just… Here. Doing nothing about it.”

“I think a few… less than helpful obstacles got in the way of us. Mainly the fact that I’m a fucking mess.” Sharon pulled herself upright and laughed. Alaska noticed with a pang in her chest that their hands were still entwined.

“At this point I don’t even know what we’re doing. Feels like we’re gonna be stuck like this forever. So fucking close and yet nothing. I love you and you love me and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“Fuck it.” Sharon whispered.

In an instant, Sharon closed the gap between them and a pair of warm, soft lips were pressing against Alaska’s. She relaxed against them, kissing back without bothering to even think about what was happening. Her hands threaded through Sharon’s blonde hair as she pulled her even closer, reclining backwards on the couch with the older queen on top of her.

Finally, she thought numbly. The familiar scent of Sharon; the clichéd cigarettes and beer and boyish musk that hung around her, it all felt like home. It felt like travelling back in time to a boxy apartment in downtown Pittsburgh and kissing because it was the only thing they knew how to do. It felt like coming home and going on vacation and merging their very souls with the stars that were shining up above, unseen in the evening sky. It felt like fire and ice and passion and power. Most importantly, it felt safe. Like home. Like love. Like the first signs of a frosty winter thawing for a warmer, softer spring.

They broke apart for air, their chests heaving as they just stared at one another, pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and red. Alaska watched Sharon, the way that her tongue darted out and wetted her lips, the way that her blonde hair was dishevelled from Alaska’s touch, the way that her skin had flushed red. They had spent time apart, years of wondering and thinking and regretting, but Sharon still kissed like she had the very first time. Sharon still kissed like that drag queen who did weird drag in a shitty downtown bar and had Alaska enthralled. Sharon still kissed like a queen who was entirely jealous of Alaska’s fame and completely enamoured with her look.

Alaska was the one to connect their lips this time, lifting her shoulders up from the couch to reach Sharon before feeling herself getting pushed down again, the weight of Sharon on top of her pinning her down. It was less gentle this time; instead of communicating all of the forgotten words, the tentative whispers that they couldn’t find the words to articulate, it made up for lost time. It was needy and insistent – Sharon’s teeth dragged against her bottom lip as she kissed with bruising force. It compensated for so many years apart, four years of not being able to touch her and kiss her the way she wanted to. Years of pent-up emotions and feelings and love and hate poured out through that kiss, a thousand unsaid I love yous and I miss yous finally breaking free.

“Fuck the articles online,” Sharon breathed. “Fuck the people saying we were better apart.”

“Maybe we were,” Alaska panted back. “But why should we care?”

“They don’t have to know yet,” The older queen decided. “No one does. Michelle, Willam, Courtney, Jinkx, the fans.”

“Agreed,” Alaska said breathlessly. “Keeping it a secret is our fucking prerogative. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“You’re telling me?”

Things had changed. They were older; wiser. Both had bigger lips than they had before, two albums, different lives. Alaska didn’t see the point in waiting. They were only getting older.

“We can take this slow.” Sharon said finally, shifting her position so she was next to Alaska rather than on top of her. Almost instinctively, Alaska leant against her, smiling when Sharon’s arm snaked around her. “We don’t have to jump into this and call it a relationship and tell the whole world. But I love you and I want to kiss you and I don’t want to hold back.”

Alaska’s heart skipped a beat, and then another. She wanted to cry and scream and hug Sharon and kiss her all over again. Her mind was entirely addled and she didn’t mind in the slightest.

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

Sharon grinned. “So articulate. So eloquently worded.”

“I will end this.” Alaska threatened, giggling. “Don’t try me, Noodles.”

Sharon laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You would never. I know you love me. Even with all these needles in my face.”

She prodded at her face, pretending to model as though she were posing for a photograph. Alaska snorted.

“Of course, Miss Lepore.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Sharon joked, her hand hovering over her chest.

“You know it.” Alaska whispered, and leaned forward a third time to kiss her.

#purecamp #shalaska #party #Sharon Needles #alaska thunderfuck #willam belli #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction #submission #party by purecamp

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stvlti · 7 years ago

Text

my mother’s friend just sent me a transphobic psa video on WhatsApp

i grew some figurative spine and for the first time told an elder to back off. (it’s been trained in me by my culture to show deference to an elder member of society, so that really did take guts.) still, i wanted to see what the other side’s arguments are for opposing legal recognition of the gender identities of transgender individuals, so i gave the video a watch.

i have liveblogged my thoughts:

(tw for transphobic language in Chinese)

“一向以來，我哋既社會都係按照人出世時既性徵將人分成男同埋女既兩種性別。社會上設施既使用、團體既會員制度、甚至係婚姻制度，都會參照生理性別既分類來運作。”

omg the more i hear rhetoric like this the more i find Heteros(tm) to be this weird, bizarre cult with the need to categorise everyone by their genitals and organise their social activities around that. why the fuck?? and do people not see how absurdly rigid that is???

“近年有人提出社會要顧及嗰哋唔接受原生性別[既人]"

okay so it’s already very clear that the other side never even bothered to listen in the first place. “ 唔接受原生性別 ”?? nah mate, that’s not their “original” gender/sex, it’s what’s been assigned to them at birth. plus it’s not like they chose to reject their assigned gender on a whim, there’s this thing called psychology? and gender dysphoria?? do some research and we’ll talk.

hmm, well, in the same breath the narrator then brings up gender dysphoria, but clearly they see it as nothing but a medical condition. how else can you put that forward matter-of-factly and still oppose the tried and successful measures now suggested to be put in place in order to alleviate the gender dysphoria of trans folks here? (simply because those measures infringe upon your rigid social views about what’s useful in organising the population by binary sex categories?) yeah sure of course you can’t put yourself in the shoes of those that do suffer from gender dysphoria, you think it’s as simple as ‘getting rid’ of it like a common cold, don’t you, Karen?

so now they’re listing some negative-outcome scenarios should the government legalise gender recognition for transgender individuals. okay, let’s hear them:

hah, of-fucking-course the first case they present is set in an ~Extreme Religious Environment. i’m kinda kidding, kinda not.

(i’m gonna stop quoting directly because typing full sentences of Cantonese on PC is a pain, so i’m just going to paraphrase the narrator:)

in this scenario, the narrator introduces a boy(*) struggling with gender dysphoria, who has lived many years wearing feminine clothing and hairstyles to help mask the dysphoria. finally, he(*) decides to transition, all while attending a religious (probably Catholic/Christian lbr here) school.

not likely considering our sociopolitical climate, but i’ll bite.

(*) what the narrator really meant is an amab transgirl that had been suffering from gender dysphoria pre-transition, right?? but then i wouldn’t expect them to understand what constitutes as transphobic language and what doesn’t - not like they cared to begin with, smdh

Ah Mei has her reassigned gender affirmed on her ID. now, due to the school’s stringent religious and moral views that have always taught their students the differences between men and women--

ugh, there it is again, being so damn fixated on binary sex differences. and i see they’re pulling the moral card too, how typical

--the school cannot not obey their own teachings. therefore, under the government’s ruling, they relent and recognise Ah Mei as a girl, letting her wear her hair long, and the girl’s uniform, in accordance to their dress codes.

well, so far so good, even though there’s a ridiculous presumption there that girls must wear long hair... (whatever would someone like me do in a school like that??)

this affects the school’s 辦學自由and宗教自由.

ope, there it is!! agreeing to respect and recognise an individual’s identity is somehow an infringement on your rights - but you never think about how everyday you misgender someone like Ah Mei, or suppress her right to identify the way she needs to, is also a form of freedom infringement? i’m drained,, we’re only 1:39 into the video guys

學校課程亦因性別承認發而修改 ...... 除了教生理性別，亦要教心理性別，話人有選擇性別的自由。咁樣，所有學生都要接受這種跨性別概念的教育。

um?? again it’s not a choice, the choice to transition is a choice yeah, but being transgender and having gender dysphoria is not a fucking choice

also, it’s high time we teach the kids here the differences between sex and gender. why would you want to stay ass-backwards when it’s something that’s been clearly defined in psych circles for years now? just because our education system is lacking and doesn’t match up with international standards doesn’t mean the international standards is,, “morally corrupt”?? (i’m afraid you’ve shown your hand there, my conservative opponent.)

嚴重衝擊嗰哋不認同的家長的教育自由

again, respecting rights/freedom is a two way street, so how about you shut the fuck up and listen to our narrative for once? you are welcome to voice your dissent and debate us, but shutting us down before we even start... that’s a low blow, my guy.

they’re still going on about Ah Mei, but now they’ve opened a whole new can of worms on the locker room issue. and why, of course they’ve honed in on the detail of her pre-op genitalia.

first of all, rude. why are you discussing an underaged girl’s body? do you even understand how creepy and invasive that is?

secondly, what are the chances that another 泳客 will actually get a glimpse of Ah Mei’s genitals? you think transwomen really be out there flinging their junk around? they’re probably more afraid of bigots like you and have already been bolting themselves into cubicles to change.

thirdly, why do cis people always assume that all transwomen aren’t getting themselves GRS? in all their proposed scenarios they always imagine a transwoman, regardless of age, flashing ciswomen in locker rooms and exposing pre-op genitals. oh my god. setting aside the problematic as hell assumption that transwomen are somehow inherently sexually deviant (christ), what you gonna do about those that do transition surgically? your argument’s gotta account for all of them or none of them, Harold.

still going on about Ah Mei’s life in sports, and now they’re talking about hormonal differences between an amab person like Ah Mei and cis women, and how it’s unfair for women in sports. i understand this is a hot button issue right now, so i really don’t have a straight and simple answer for it either, but hey maybe we should really stop basing social activities like sports registers around sex differences? not like i’ve been dropping hints for this all throughout this post lol.

(but for real, we already have cis women weightlifters and fighters taking T to enhance their performances anyway, so why not just start categorising sports players by their hormonal levels instead of their assigned gender at birth? sigh)

i started this thread out wanting to rebut the video point by point, but honestly, i don’t think i have the strength to today (or ever). i’m only at the 2:37 mark, but if i have to sit through another 4 minutes of this bullcrap i think i’m gonna smash something. maybe another time, satan.

(TBC?)

#hong kong politics #性別承認 #性別承認法 #跨性別人士 #musings #rant

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