#HMMMMMMM…. must think on this longer

[latinokaeya-moving]

my mum is asking if i wanna go colombia this summer after i finish my uni classes/assignments (bc i had mentioned wanting to maybe do that last year lol) but now i’m like… idk. the Cost of it all… i’ll need to think about it

[thebiscuiteternal]

for the writing jam, maybe nhs confiding in or confessing to lan qiren?

Hmmmmmmm.

I am thinking perhaps that if he were to mention any of his suspicions/issues with his brother's death, it would be in such oblique terms that only after Everything Goes Down At Guanyin Temple does Lan Qiren have a "...Hold up." thought.

Pretending to just be idly gossiping about literally anything wouldn't work, since Lan Qiren would likely shut that down quick, so perhaps he couches it as references to a new novel he's been reading. A proper political drama/horror story taking place in a foreign court, not the sort of thing he used to smuggle for his fellow juniors during classes. He even has fake dialogue and scene descriptions in his head for further authenticity, spinning a tale of murder for ambition and what retribution must be sought.

It really is a very good story, very beautifully constructed, Huaisang says. He'll be more than happy to lend the book if Lan-xiansheng wishes, and then they can discuss the merits of it more.

Though he admits it does sound intriguing, the kind of story he would have enjoyed reading before... everything, Lan Qiren, of course, reminds him that even if he is no longer having to act as interim leader, he still has enough duties that he can't fritter away afternoons reading such things, and Nie Huaisang shouldn't have that kind of time either.

Nonetheless, he does wind up occasionally fielding and answering Huaisang's questions and commentary about the characters and plot, which seem far too insightful for the drunken, dramatic mess the Nie sect leader makes whenever he appears in public, but Lan Qiren chalks that up to the same issue Huaisang has always had about never bothering to apply himself to serious things, just whatever has his interest at the moment.

After Jin Guangyao's fall and the wedding of one nephew and the emotional fracturing of the other, he finds himself re-reading those little notes and putting the pieces together.

Perhaps he should feel angry or guilty that Nie Huaisang had placed all the pieces on the board and yet he hadn't recognized the game being played until after it was over, but instead he can't help but be a little ruefully impressed that Nie Huaisang had finally applied himself to something very serious indeed.

He considers burning the notes, but doesn't, packing them away in the depths of more mundane correspondence for reasons he can't quite put a name to.

The topic of the 'novel' never comes up again.

[pyrepostings]

For my own reference, from Wikipedia:

"In Australia, all Arabian, [etc] must be branded with an owner brand on the near (left) shoulder and an individual foaling drop number (in relation to the other foals) over the foaling year number on the off shoulder."

hmmm, so there Are places that do two brands by default,,,, and with an extra layer of infantalization on top of the dehumanization,,,, and an excuse to make the process longer (with each number digit being its own brand)

So instead of the one symbol burned in two places, I'll do the symbol on his chest and two or three digits on his back shoulder. I originally wanted the 'symmetry' of it but I think this might be better.

hmmmmmmm yes

Looking at articles about branding horses/cattle for accurate dialogue reasons, and the vibe on these articles, I swear.

Today in "wouldn't it be messed up to talk about people/human pets like we do real animals":

"The cow may budge and bawl for a moment, but no long-term harm or pain is done to the animal."

idk, sounds like something WRU would say in a pamphlet trying to upsell you into shelling out for a fancy designer brand add-on to your boxie.

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person.  You never have been.  It’s just not part of your nature.  If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else.  You just… do you.  You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good.  And if it’s bad, it’s good.  Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open.  “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron.  What are we doing?  Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up. 

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl.  You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench.  “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today?  Thursday?  Friday?  Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day.  Thursday, then. …Thursday?”  You shake your head.  “Ugh, see?  Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.”  He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers.  It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now.  Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that.  Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it.  “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation.  To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small.  Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here.  “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap.  You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are.  “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.   “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron.  First and last word, that’s all it takes.  And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?”  He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel.  “ Easy credits.  Just begging for it.  Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust.  As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly.  Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him.  “You just turned my money into a sex object.  It was vile.  I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging.  You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it.  “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now.  Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?”  You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them.  Withdrawal stage, ha.   “Of course it’s all that bad.  It’s horrible.  It’s the fucking worst.  And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this?  Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to.  “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you.  “I did not.  When the fuck did I cheat?  I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[waterparchive]

Toxic Fandom, Public Heartbreak, And The Feedback Loop

Travis Riddle – October 29, 2019

Fandom by Waterparks is one of my favorite albums of the year, regardless of the fact that…I am friends with the band. There was not a single track that immediately stood out as my favorite like Take Her to the Moon and Peach on previous albums--but I think that's because everything on this one is so good, it's impossible to choose one. I Miss Sex/War Crimes/I Felt Younger would probably comprise my top 3, but every song is fantastic. And the album is on the shorter side but you truly don't feel that length, these songs all go through so many different movements--lyrically and musically--that every song is just dense as hell and it feels a lot longer than it is, while still not feeling overwhelming or messy at all. It flows great and hits some really interesting themes.

This write-up was initially sent to Awsten on the album’s release date, and I’ve edited it a little below for clarity/brevity, because I would not shut up about it.

1. Cherry Red - Starting the album off with that bark/yell is so tight. A year and a half ago in that parking lot going to get crawfish together I didn't really "get" this song, but after hearing the album several times it really clicked for me. I love how it acts as kind of a setup to the whole thing, getting the listener into your mindset and introducing one of the main themes of the album. I also like how it continues your color motifs; "blue and yellow let’s get together and be green" has now gone bad and turned to sour green, and it seems like cherry red is replacing yellow (red + yellow = orange hmmmmm). I also love how "You know I died for you" ties into the closing track, "I said I loved you to death so I must be dead."

2. WWHN - A really great choice for the first full song of the album to set the tone for the Fandom theme in contrast with Cherry Red setting up the emotional side of the lyrics. It's also a goddamn jam so it's great at hyping up right at the start hahah. I've probably told you everything about this already but I like what you're saying in this, and how it's something probably every single artist goes through in their career, but no one seems to say in a critical way (that I’m aware of). I'm sure this and other songs will make some fans upset because they're being called out but I like that, and it's some stuff that needs to be said.

3. Dream Boy - Lots of good stuff about fan expectations in this, dressed up in metaphors and really catchy pop to catch people off-guard. Love the phrase "Build-A-Boy, pick your pieces" and "Do you believe in love and is it because of me?" With people's weird way of crafting their whole lives and beliefs and desires on these celebrities that they don't know personally at all yet are so invested in.

4. Easy to Hate - I feel like this is the most straightforward and "simple" song thematically, but man it is so catchy. The sound effect that I'm sure is your voice in the opening before the verse is so damn cool. I like this first real hint of the colors turning to red. This is thematically pretty similar to other demos like ********* and Play and stuff so with how catchy and big this chorus is, it's easy to see why you chose this one to cover that topic. I'm also a sucker for someone doing the chorus in a song but stripped down like you do here. Those harmonies in the final chorus are also soooo good..........

5. High Definition - You're on some Imogen Heap-ass shit here and it's dope. I like this as a single choice since I feel like the emotional side of the album really hinges on this track--it's not a breakup album in the typical sense (aside from like Easy to Hate and Worst), but rather it's about the aftermath of the breakup and the emotional state surrounding that, the doubts and insecurities and vulnerabilities of losing trust in everybody due to one person’s actions, and this song is such a direct and succinct and sad encapsulation of that. Hate how this whole song makes me feel for my friend but it's also really pretty and good.

6. Telephone - This is some real Hellogoodbye-ass shit here with the ending of the chorus hahah. The juxtaposition between this and High Definition is interesting, basically both songs coming to the same conclusion--not committing to a relationship--but in totally opposite ways. With this one basically being "I won't tell you how I'm feeling, I'll just go write lyrics/sing voice memos/tweet." Is this about the damn pretty Target girl you tweeted about once? "Now I'm living on a target" and "all these aisles feel like miles" hmmmmMMM. This wasn't my favorite when I first heard it but it realllllly grew on me and now I love it. The chorus is so good and I love what you're doing with the music/harmonies in the background of it. Also the dumb shit after "I'll follow" always makes me laugh. Then the dichotomy between this/HD is emphasized in the closing Wedding Singer sample which I feel like represents the fandom; you’re going through this huge emotional turmoil, but we’re reaping the benefits by getting great songs out of it.

7. Group Chat - It works as a goofy little interlude but I also like what it says thematically (if I'm not just pulling this out of my ass anyway). On one hand it seems to me like a commentary on the inanity of some fan group chats, how in some of them they all act like they're best friends but really it's just a surface-level friendship. "My name's [whatever] and we're all friends! :D" and then also with the effect on your voice, seems to imply to me how mentally draining everyone in the fandom can sometimes be on you more so than Geoff and Otto.

8. Turbulent - I know some people just gotta have their metaphors and shit in their lyrics but I love how direct this song is. Just plainly stating things makes them feel so much more raw and real. I can't see how you could more powerfully convey the anger and hurt than with "I'd unfuck you if I could." Also the "sOoOoO" in the second chorus is still best part (also the barks). Also the pitched-down backup vocals are tight in this song, really gets you into the frantic, pissed off headspace.

9. NBA - I like the potential double meaning of the chorus in this one; everyone in LA looks like you cause I'm missing you and seeing you everywhere, but also it’s kind of insulting, like "everyone in LA looks like you, you're not special." But aside from that, another very pretty albeit sad song. The chorus with full instrumentation and harmonies really hits hard. I also like the 11:11 connection with tying breath in knots; you're always really great at bringing back recurring images and lines in your writing, it makes your discography feel really connected and like you're actually writing these things, it's not some producer in a studio writing lyrics for you. These songs all lead into each other; the songs on Fandom could not exist without what came before in DD and Entertainment. That evolution is always really interesting to see, how these different motifs recur and change their meaning over time. I assume the main metaphor of this might also be a callback to Crybaby with “chasing through dreams in bloom.”

10. IMHSBALIDWDA - Definitely one of my favorites, it's just so damn fun. And once again some cool vocal effect you have going on in the background, which I always love. The lyrics here are fun but also biting; I've been thinking of this as a commentary on how fans don't really care about an artist's well-being or life even if they try to act like they do, they just want new songs and good performances and new merch etc. etc. no matter what it means the artist is going through or how they feel when they sing these emotionally devastating songs. So the chorus to me is kinda like a self-care anthem in a way, setting aside all the negative stuff and admitting to yourself hey, at least I feel kind of better now; maybe not entirely better, but I'm getting there.

11. War Crimes - Another song with sad lyrics but musically it goes so damn hard, another favorite. "I'm forgetting how to hate myself" is one of my favorite lyrics on the album, as is "My death will be the fandom." I don't even totally know what to say about this song cause sooo much is going on and it's just crazy. "Let's go!" is also a favorite moment. And the "I saved my own life" calling back to Not Warriors is tight.

12. [Reboot] - Hey is "I need to sleep alone" a reference to Sleep Alone!!!!!?!???? I've already talked to you about this song a lot too so I don't have much new to say. The vocal effect on the bridge is dope. The breaths before verse 2 are maybe my favorite part, as well as what you do on "all on you" including holding out "you" into the chorus. And whatever's going on in the background at the end of that second chorus, I can't tell if it's vocals or instruments or what, but it sounds really cinematic and cool.

13. Worst - This new version is so cool, it has so much texture that the demo didn't. Vocals are also really pretty. The added bass and electronics really add a lot of rhythm and an interesting vibe to this; the bass is almost jazzy in a way? But then the electronics/percussion are almost like a dance beat but really stripped down? I dunno, it's such an odd combination, especially with the guitar just being acoustic. One of the most interesting songs on the album sonically despite being comparatively "simple" at first listen.

14. Zone Out - My least fave just because it's such a simple interlude, but what I like that it does is like...basically comments on the preceding songs I guess? It's like a question to the listener. At the beginning you've got Dream Boy setting up their expectations, then this comes at the very end and essentially asks them, "After hearing all of these angry heartbroken songs, am I still your dream boy? Do you still think love exists because of me even though I've gone through all this and don’t believe in it myself?" I like that it makes the listener confront their previous feelings and expectations before we dive into the finale.

15. IFYWWM - First off I absolutely love the effect you put on the vocals at the start of this, especially with how that effect abruptly cuts off; it's so weird and interesting and I never get tired of hearing it. The difference between the demo and this final version is amazing, I love this song. And "I said I loved you to death so I must be dead" is such a great one-two punch; it hits hard as a "fuck you!" line with being a way to say you don't love her anymore, but then you realize how sad it is that the effect has been this emotional death that pervades the entire album and eventually leads right back into Cherry Red. Which is also a depressing ending; it's so abrupt without any closure about anything talked about on the album, and the way that it circles back into the opener kind of implies to me that maybe there's a sense of circularity to everything, it's unending, the songs will always be fueled by heartbreak and the emotional trauma will never go away and dealing with it in the public eye of the fandom will always be overbearing.

http://www.travismriddle.com/blog/2019/10/29/toxic-fandom-public-heartbreak-and-the-feedback-loop

[theclosetpoet7]

sensei part 2

The scent of the various flowers laid out on the pristine floors of the Yamanaka's shop cloud his senses for a brief moment. Sasuke crinkles his nose and stops himself from appearing too irritated. He isn't used to such strong aromas, granted that Sakura rarely wore floral perfumes when they were dating, preferring the sweet fragrance of strawberries or occasionally a mix of other fruits. And they weren't that strong either. They were the perfect balance of mildly enticing and just enough for him to get a whiff of the fact that she's making the effort to smell nice.

Sometimes though, she liked to treat herself to lavender salts during one of her longer bathe sessions, especially when she would use the large tub in his apartment. He recalls how charmed he'd get when she was fresh out of a soak and how even more spellbound he'd be once she decorated his navy blue sheets with her cherry locks, leaving traces of her essence the day after. .

Sasuke shakes his head out of the daydream. The mirage disappears as fast as it came and he is bombarded yet again with the strong scents. He pinches the line of his aristocratic nose and directs his gaze at the vast array of blossoms planted before him.

"I want roses."

His nephew has this twinkle in his eye that is far too cute to ignore, a trait that the three year old definitely knows he has and is an expert in wielding. Sasuke swears that he's bought him too many toys as a result of that look of his. Itachi did say that he spoiled his child too much.

"I think Haruno-sensei likes daffodils Shisui."

The young Uchiha's small hand is still in his grasp and the pre-schooler shakes it off to run towards the collection of lovely pink roses that reminded him too much of a certain pinkette.

"Roses are prettier though."

Sasuke lets out a sigh. Of course he'd go for the most expensive ones in the store.

"Sensei would be happy with whatever you get her."

"Really?"

The look of excitement in Itachi and Izumi's child rubs off on him, and Sasuke could not help but ruffle his raven tresses.

"Aa."

"Sasuke-kun!"

Yamanaka Ino comes out the employee's room, hands preoccupied with a large pot of the biggest sunflowers he has ever seen. He's a bit hesitant in seeing her again at first but wastes no time in taking the load off her arms; ever the gentleman Uchiha Mikoto has raised.

And the next thing he knows, Sasuke is following the demands of his former classmate, settling the plants over the windowsill where she intends to put them on display, moving it a few inches to the right until she's fully satisfied. Ino thanks him happily, making him wonder if he's getting on that lucky streak once more, wherein people are just so warm and kind in Konoha.

But.

She dashes his hopes when her lips pull into a tight smile, and it is then when she changes her welcoming demeanor.

For after a split second, Ino pulls back and punches him right on the shoulder.

"Uncle Sasuke!"

Sasuke flinches and curses under his breath.

Damn she could pack a punch.

He inwardly reprimands himself, already regretting coming here because he did have second thoughts before, had even speculated that she wasn't going to be as accommodating as Sakura was. The young adult puts a hand over the injury and rotates it in an outward motion while glaring at the blonde.

The shopkeeper returns his annoyed stare and mimics a "I'm watching you stance" while fiercely saying;

"You know why."

Ah, of course he did.

Ino was Sakura's best friend. She must know about the details of their break-up four years ago, was probably privy to Sakura's tears even, the same way Naruto was there for him when the whiskered blonde had taken him out for some drinks the night before his flight.

Because Sakura wasn't planning to see him off.

And he wasn't planning to see her before that either.

For it was too painful.

"Uncle Sasuke, are you okay?"

Shisui's eyes are wide open, with tears nearly falling over out of concern for him. The little guy looked so adorable that Sasuke's glaring eyes could not help but soften up at the sight.

"Don't worry Shisui-chan, your uncle is stronger than he looks."

Ino sticks her tongue out and bends down to pick the little peanut in her arms and hugs him close.

"You remember your Auntie Ino right?"

He's rubbing his eyes now, cheeks blushing bright as he gives her a toothy grin.

"Yes! Sakura-sensei's friend!"

"Best friend."

She gives a slightly threatening scowl again and saunters off with his nephew.

Ino is good with kids. She carries Shisui around the floral shop, giving him hints and veering him towards an arrangement that would definitely please Sakura. And just because she's a little bit vengeful over Sasuke's failings in the past, she charges him full price and makes him pay extra for a vase as well. Sasuke merely sweat drops but upon seeing Shisui's happy face and watching him jump up and down, he couldn't help but splurge on the bouquet.

They are for Sakura after all.

He's about to leave the Yamanaka shop when his obsidian eyes fall on the little pot of daffodils tucked away in the corner of the store.

Sasuke pauses and makes his way toward them, one arm holding onto the flowers and vase while the other clasps his nephew's chubby hand.

Ino follows them.

"I thought they'd caught your eye."

The yellow petals take him to a memory he has always treasured. When Sakura had visited him daily at the hospital that time he'd broken his left arm. She was diligent in her care, already having that doctor-persona at the age of eighteen. And his parents were so grateful that they didn't have to worry about who was going to stay for the night.

"I never asked her why she liked daffodils. There are better ones out there."

Ino reaches over, carefully plucking out a stray leaf on the soil while she hums and finds her words.

"I don't know. These buds seem to have a special meaning to her. They stand for new beginnings."

She's standing next to him, a silent look of contemplation on her person as she rests her elbow on one forearm and tilts her head.

"Sure there are prettier ones out there, ones that can fill the room with happiness and flowers that don't die on her. But Sakura is stubborn that way, she just won't let go."

It occurs to Sasuke that Ino is not just talking about the flowers.

"I guess, once she's found that one thing she loves, she can't fall out of love that easily."

Her cerulean eyes, which were teasing a while ago, only held careful scrutiny as Sasuke puts the flowers Shisui has bought on the ground while he crouches to look closer.

The way those little blooms stood out among the sea of otherwise large petals somehow makes him feel like he's missing someone even more, and he thinks of her pretty face again and how her smile always made him want to run laps just so he can justify why his heart is beating as fast as it is whenever he's with her.

His pale hand stretches out to trace one daffodil, delicately, so as to not damage it.

"Neither could I."

.

.

.

He makes the quick purchase, intently avoiding meeting Ino's look of suspicion as he exits the store. That's one person he won't be able to win over that easily. Still though, the way Sakura's gasp of surprise and delight for the gifts she receives from the Uchihas the next day, can't help but brighten his week. And at the very end of it, he decides that he couldn't wait any longer. So Sasuke asks her out to dinner.

.

.

.

She says yes.

___________

from my fic pink skies.

Hmmmmmmm. R & R :D I felt weird while typing this. Not as inspired, but couldn't get the scene out of my head.

[janiedean]

As much as I'm trying to be positive for the sake of my own sanity. I am distressed about what happened last night. Ships and characters. They really want to salt and burn the whole thing, don't they?

idk but I mean unless the obvious arya/jaime + gendry/brienne parallel wasn’t because they’re gonna go in port later then wtf I mean guys let’s be real we have roughly like three hours of show left, right? OKAY SO:

sandor’s unfinished business is gregor

arya’s unfinished business is cersei

jaime’s most likely riding off to try and do something about cersei because if she wins the war he and tyrion are immediately fucked and he was relying on dany’s army to deal with her and it didn’t

from the trailer it’s obv. that next time dany + jon try to take king’s landing and at this point I think it’s obvious she’s going to burn it or try to

gwen filmed in spain/wherever and has to *take her own decisions* so most likely b. ends up in KL following jaime or whatever

yara has to like show up with the cavalry or smth like euron has to go guys

so: idk how long are the next two episodes but let’s say that we have one hour for 8x05 and two for 8x06 or one and a half for each but I’d think the series finale should be longer. next episode there’s the battle so jon/dany/whoever’s left take king’s landing (because that’s happening), maybe jaime gets in and tries to kill c., arya eventually does something because she’s also there to kill c., sandor has to kill gregor and so on, fine, I’m not going as far as hoping brienne gets there from the beginning but never mind that.

… and what the fuck happens in six? I mean, let’s go with what seems most obvious now ie that dany burns KL and she loses it (blergh) and they have to try and depose her in jon’s favor, fine, but then it ends like that? they have storylines to wrap up and they can’t end with oh yeah we won bye. and they have to close the whole of the northern sl because sansa’s going to do nothing next ep but she has to in the following - tyrion did tell her she was going to be the most important person in the north. there has to be some rebuilding/alliances and so on, if they burn it all with salt like carthage now what’s left to do? varys looking at a wasteland like HMMMMMMM THE REALM GOT FUCKED?

also ngl I think the arya and gendry thing must come up again because admittedly if she had accepted it when he asked then she’d be automatically forced to side with dany because obv. gendry should/would be loyal to her first and foremost since she made him lord, but if it ends with eventually jon getting command (BECAUSE AT THIS POINT it’d be really the shocking plot twist of the century if he didn’t) then she has no divisive loyalists and if her list is finished then she can worry about….. not having to worry about it even if god didn’t I hope she’d forget about the fucking list blah whatever it was asking for too much I guess. so that is not a sunk ship at all imvho. for the rest idek but I mean given how sansa and tyrion were talking I’m predicting that the last half of the s6 finale is a lot of political marriages and rebuilding because otherwise wtf do they have left to do in ep. six? I sure af hope that jon and dany’s dynasty conflict doesn’t take all of that time to be dealt with. especially if cersei (hopefully) leaves the mortal coil and frees me of her presence next week and not in the finale. but like… I SHOULD HOPE XDDD

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

10 + 1 tag game  Rules are simple: Answer 10 questions, tag ten people and add a question for the next person to answer. Only answer from #2 on!

I was tagged by the amazing @owlettica  Thank you!

1. What is Your Favorite Song? Ahahaha I don´t know, and I feel like it should be one that I know longer but for some reason I´m gonna go with  Ghost - He Is  because it just unexpectedly swiped me off my feet and it makes me feel something, an admiration, appreciation, loyalty and devotion to actually nothing at all but it´s nice to just feeeeel that while listening, and it´s one of the reasons I try not to listen to it too much cause I´m afraid it will wear off over time, and it´s just nice to be lulled into something like that every now and then .. also wow that must be like how sirens work :D 2. What is Your Most Prized Possession? I´m totally blank on that one, like a lot of things are in the same tier, and there´s just so many different things for which you can value something, nah I just can´t pinpoint anything in my mind 

3. Favorite OTP or BROTP or OT3? A eff it currently  Scorpius (the farscape one) and Me cause I´m in a mood (and there´s been a lot of in defence of CharaxReader, SelfInsert meta on my dash lately, and they are all riiight) and I don´t want to choose a “proper” ship

4. Favorite fanfic or fanart? thow a dart at @selene-yoshi-chans / @selene-at-your-service  works and you got a great chance to hit it, actually there is one specific piece which popped into my mind that really surprised me, I would have expected it to be one with two characters because I rarely get that much emotion from lines on a canvas and there is a lot of delightful ones but it´s one with only one person in it, and it´s actually one that I didn´t consider in the top tier when I first saw it (like don´t get me wrong I still loved it) .. but apparently it grew on me juuuust that I can´t find it anymore .... I guess the tumblr purge ate it (*).. it was Zsasz without clothes on a chaiselongue with muffins and a kitten and I think a red ribbon somewhere if I recall it right .......... curse you tumblr for eating that (like I get wanting to eat that but not like that)  ... surprisingly a riskier one is still up which means I´m gonna link that one .. I don´t think I´ll ever not love that one .. and phew  I might need to take a little break now 

5. Favorite Beverage Aside from Water? Tea (but to be honest, if there wasn´t a bad conscious involved with drinking soft drink stuff it might be one of that) oh but alcoholic is up to then hmm ..  Mojito (a hardrockcafe had one with  elderflower which was suuuuper tasty too) 

6. Favorite Actor? I feel like I should put someone here that is super versatile and nails it everytime but like whoooo .. and I just went through a folder and I watched a couple  Sean Pertwee movies lately in which he was really good .. sooooooo for now it´s him  

7. Favorite Color and Why? I gotta succumb to the peer pressure and pick black too ;D no if I don´t chicken out of this and go for bunt / colorful it is black, idk it just feels .. safe, cozy, elegant, and goes with everything  8. Favorite Animal besides dog/cat?  does this exclude big cats too? Hmm Octopodes, lizards, bumblebees are pretty cool too .. I think I´m in a lizard mood 9. Is it Better to Know or Not Know?  uuugh I wish I wouldn´t choose this but over all I´m at a point of better not know, (which still doesn´t cancel out a huge curiosity and like .. I still kind of want to know everything, but like .. if knowing means having to deal with it (more than just inside your head) then noooo thank you)

10. Aesthetic? all of them.. but speaking about the 80´s I´m currently getting more and more into 90s aesthetics, even more than in the actual 90s , but .. hmmmmmmm but i keep coming back to subdued soot, anthrazit lapis lazuli or prussian blue and the wall of Hannibals dinning room, OR: Indiana Jones and (tom hardy) mad max meet in Victorian times and travel to egypt and magic exits, OR: I should better stop at that point

+1: If the story of your life was optioned as a movie, what genre film would it be? (e.g.: comedy, drama, documentary, horror, rom-com, action, art haus, etc.) horror because it would be horrible to sit through it, but thinking about it actually, I´ve had a couple instances where I was kind of close to something that happened but I just got to know that it happened later because I wasn´t close enough to be in it, and I´d like that movie to have me being the unrelatred red thread that somewhow connects all the horror happenings, that way it can actually be about that which would be much better 

12. If you could make everyone understand one thing, what would that be?

EDIT: Forgot to tag .. and I´m afraid and I´ll be lazy.. if YOU see this and want to do it Please do and tag me! I´d like to hear about everyone that comes across my blog ;)

[  (*) and yeah I´m not as calm as I sound this is pretty disheartening but it´s just one part of such a huge mess of lost things, that I feel like my mind is still in shock freeze because it just doesn´t want to deal with this and what it means at all] 

[heyitsamorette]

for the fanfic asks! 11, 10, 12, 15: how long does it normally take for you to complete a fic?

Thanks, anon

10. What’s a theme that keeps coming up in your writing? 

For slash, probably power play and enemy ships. I used to have this big thing about discovering of sexual orientation and needing to come out, but I think I’ve drifted away from that lately; although most times my Harry is still characterized that way. I want to write more fics where he doesn’t have the internal angst over it, though, because I feel like I’m becoming one note. But I do love the trope of someone discovering their taboo kinks and being initially ashamed by them, I just find the inner conflict so delicious, and there’s like some sort of inherent dub-con about it; a character being so shocked by their own desire for something and yet being unable to stop wanting or doing it. So much fun. 

For het, female sexual autonomy where the female sort of “discovers” her desire to almost take ownership of the man she covets. Sort of like an autonomous awakening as expressed through her sexuality. I like writing about a woman’s inner thoughts as she mulls over her own desire, letting herself feel it fully and just letting it be, letting it turn into what it must. Allowing herself to just have this desire. There isn’t as much need to overcome shame about it as there is with the slash I write; I just don’t enjoy that theme as much for women, maybe because it’s more cathartic for me to just see the woman shamelessly get what she wants and feel fulfilled by it. There’s quite a bit of dominant female/submissive male in my het, such as The Heart Knows and When the Tie Slips Around His Neck, although to varying degrees because I don’t think submission from men has to always look the same. Oh, and, I am currently obsessed with reading and writing men performing oral sex on women :D

11. What kind of relationships are you most interested in writing?

HMMMMMMM… well right now I REALLY want to write either A or B, both quite strongly: 

A: Heart-pounding romance where Harry and Draco cannot live without each other, like they will quite literally die if they are parted—OF BROKEN HEARTS 3 Like with feels and fluff and romance and love and adoration and grand gestures and sonnets and love letters and love defying all the odds. 

B: Negan, the most villainous of sadistic villains, seducing and ravishing a barely-legal Carl Grimes. 

12. For E-rated fic, what are some things your characters keep doing? 

Giving each other hand jobs. Like, can they just have butt sex, please? And I would like to write more rimming but sadly, all I write is hand jobs. And like, desperate frotting. Idk why. 

15: How long does it normally take for you to complete a fic?

Ha! It’s really random and depends entirely on my mood, because I have written shorter things in a few days. But I will say on average, it takes me months to write something longer… not that I have completed many longer, plottier things. So for example, Terms of Endearment I wrote in 1 day and edited the next day, but that is because it was short. Fest fics force me to write fast but if I ever complete them, I usually feel like they are rushed at the end and I wish I could have written more to round them out better (ie, You Cannot Save People). So, I am still working on it, but generally it takes me a really long time (also because I don’t want fandom to take precedence in my life and I take many breaks for real life stuff, especially work tbh). Another example: I have been writing this one drarry fic about Draco finding himself in a situation where he has to wear a maid’s uniform and all kinds of lingerie… for over a year! Not consistently, like I have stopped for months. But I need to pick it up again because it has actually been a whole year. My original m/m slash novel I have “been writing” for like 2 years *CRIES*

Fandom asks!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15

[your-grand-adventure]

Buster World Chapter 1: Welcome to your new life

Floor 1

One-two-three. One-two-three. Martial Arts class was great. One-two-three. One-two-three. Especially when you get to stay a bit late and learn how boxing works. One-two-three. One-two-three!

“Sorry kid, I can’t stay out here for much longer. Do you want to go to my house?” Captain said.

“Sorry Mister, Mom and Dad say I can’t enter the apartments unless one of them has taken me there”.

“Sad, I would have taken care of you”.

“Bye, Captain!”

“Bye Maxie!”

I walked away from the gym, and into the darker than normal mall. Dad was always late. Mom couldn’t pick me up because she was sick. Sick with something I wasn’t allowed to know about. I don’t like that. I need to know. I could help. So why doesn’t anyone tell me about anything big or important? I made it to the exit my dad always grabs me from.

I sat on the cushioned bench, waiting for my father. Sunshine Mall was built over an old market place. There were a few legends about said marketplace. It’s said that during the solstices and equinoxes, the marketplace would be closed. Monsters would then use the marketplace as a playground. It’s probably just a legend. But I would like to meet some monsters. Preferably nice monsters.

Ding-

The pit had an elevator now? Nice. Was wondering when people would finally clean it out. They never said anything about this.

Maybe I could go on a real quick adventure.

The inside of the elevator was tinted a slimy green. Not sure if it was the light or from there being actual mold inside. I was much too bored to care about that, however. The seats are really cushiony. There were buttons up to 3 and down to… Holy Toledo. Last I remember, there was only 1 basement floor. Does… Does that mean that… Oh! Maybe the monsters are real!

I press B10.

That was a mistake.

The elevator creaked. I sat down on the middle seat. *Crick, Creak*. The elevator dropped like the Tower of Terror. I passed out.

Floor B11

I woke up in agony. I’m so sorry. I sobbed. Someone please make the pain stop. I pick myself up, piece-by-piece. I want to vomit. I stagger out of the elevator and into a cave, wheezing and choking. Snot is dripping out of my nose. I closed my eyes.

“Hey, Kid!”

My eyes popped open. Someone was here! Please help! I collapsed onto my knees.

“Can you heal yourself?”

“No! *cough* I can’t!” I sputtered, “Please helb me!”

I saw a pair of red glowing lights. I whimpered.

“Shush… Get up”.

I forced myself up.

“Why?”

And then the thing grabbed me.

“Please be quiet. I didn’t think I would have to take care of you”.

He picked me up, bridal style.

“You are awfully weak. That’s suspicious. I’m not taking you to the doc… We’re going home”.

He got a blanket out of nowhere and slowly wrapped it around me. He then walked away, carrying me off as if I were a child.

“Say, would a lullaby soothe you? I can feel you shaking”.

I nodded, hacking quickly.

“Hannata no zouko, atashi no zou”

“Amera no yakou, Zakashi no rio”

“Ameragi toya, toya, toya”

“Atashi mayagi”

I slowly closed my eyes. I wanted to go home. I regret trying to go on a ‘little adventure’. I wish I could have just stayed on the first floor.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. They don’t like to hear you cry”.

“Who’re ‘they’?”

“‘They’ are the ones who got powerful and lucky enough to be able to hide away from the other floors. They’ve long stopped considering humans to be worthy prey, instead terrorizing below average Demiurges”.

“What does that make you?” I was just curious.

“I am the servant of the Lesser Demigod Flicker, Being of Communication and Electromagnetism”.

“Why did you save me?”

“If you got down here, then you must be very powerful. Be it strength, intelligence, constitution, wisdom, or charisma, you must be powerful”.

He could force having any form of constitution off of that list.

“When pushed down to nothing, even the most enduring would cry”.

“Did… did you just…?”

“Yes, I did just read your mind. Don’t worry. Everyone who has lived on a mortal plane for their younger years has had trouble hiding thoughts and defending their mind. I’ll teach you. I have to teach you”.

We kinda stopped talking after that. And I kinda fell asleep.

Grimward’s Home

“Hmmmm, hmmmm hmmm. Hmm Hmmm Hmmmm Hmmmmmmm”.

The Grim Reaper was right there, humming to himself, knitting a black scarf.

“Hmmm? Oh hello Emmy. Why are you so surprised?”

“Who’s Emmy?”

“Oh, you don’t remember? Do you know who Gunshot is?”

“No”.

“How about Cat?”

“No”.

“Starstorm?”

“No? Why are you asking me about these people?”

“Just checking if you are who you think of yourself. Do you know about someone who calls themself Underworld?”

“No, but he sounds like a prick”.

“AH-HA! You are but an innocent victim of a man who exploited the reincarnation system. His name is Emmy and he left you early. Underworld is/was his lover an-”

“Underworld is-slash-was his WHAT?”

“Have you not thought that men could commune with each other? Or even that women could commune with each other”.

“I… I didn’t know people could do that. I mean how would they do that?”

“You will learn that when you grow up. Can I continue?”

“Yeah. Just kinda weirded out. I was a guy and I liked men”.

“Gunshot was his second-in-command. Cat was his second lover. Starstorm is a random chick that he liked for a reason I have a pet theory on that I’m not telling you”.

“O.K…. Sooo what does that mean to me?”

“It means this is a safe place. Nothing to worry about here. Talk to me about anything you have a problem with”.

“I want to go home”.

“Yeah… About that. Someone stole all 13 of the buttons from the elevator’s panel. Yes, some asshole wants you to stay down here. Hmmmm”.

“Why would someone want me to stay down here?”

“Because they want you to go mad. Yes. I think Emmy isn’t too happy that you haven’t died”.

“How the hell does that even work?! Did he possess my body?”

“No. When he lacks a body, Emmy watches and follows his incarnations. Sometimes he takes physical form to gaslight, lock things up, and make damn well sure they either die or succumb”.

“Well that’s terrifying”.

“Don’t worry. He prefers to watch. I don’t know what sets him off anymore. It appears we must part. Farewell Miss, see you tomorrow night”.

“Wait! Wait!”

???’s Farm

“Good Morning to you, Good Morning to you, Good Morning La-dy~ Good Morning to you”.

Fudgesicles. This was real. That guy was real.

“Welcome to the land of the wake. Can I know your name?”

“Y-yeah? I guess? My name is Maxie Theseus. I’m just a kid. I don’t have the power you want me to have”.

“Cute~. Say, would you like to take over my farm after you heal up? I’m moving on to something better in existence”.

“I-yeah. I’ll take it as long as you can help me find a way home”.

“Sure Maxie, why not. I’ll also have to find someone else to take over the farm after you leave, so that will take a while. Why don’t we go and explore the farm?”

He helped me up. I’m different. It… it hurts. He forced me to walk. 1-step, 2-step, 3-step, 4-step, 5-step, 6-step, 7-step, 8-step, 9-step, 10-step. 10 steps to get from the bed to the door. He picks me up.

“Stop crying. You’ll have to walk more later”.

Suddenly, those words were more intimidating. I could tolerate the guy. But now, he was terrifying.

“Good to know you’re not crying anymore. Now, all you have to do is stop being so scared, and you’ll be fine. Everyone in town will like you”.

“There’s a town down here?”

“Yes, we’re going there tomorrow. I’ll have to dress you up a bit, but you’ll be fine”.

He opened the door, revealing a normal grassy pasture, a normal bright blue sky, and the sun. The sun looked like a child had drawn it. Orange triangles floating only a few inches away from a yellow circle. A yellow circle with a sideways diamond shaped eye. A sideways diamond shaped eye with three simple pupils. The middle one long, the two side ones short.

“You’re scared of the sun? Maxie, the sun is one of the few things keeping this farm going”.

“Yeah, I just… I don’t want to be impolite but the sun kinda freaks me out”.

“Don’t worry, It’s fine. You seem to be new here. [Farmer], did you bring her in during the night?”

“Yes, yes, I did. Are you angry at me for being a good person? I saved her from bleeding out, unknown and unremembered. Is that not good enough?”

“I know you better than to believe that. I’ll keep a sky high eye out for you doing bad things towards her”.

“Fine, we’re here. Welcome to the barn… Goddamnit”.

The barn was a bizarre sight. As it was on fire. A group of tiny sheep were trying to put out the blaze, with buckets on their backs and intensely panicked expressions. A small red, furless, woolless ram sat inside the barn, with a face best described as blank. Not literally, but it’s face betrayed no emotion.

A gust of wind forcefully blew the fire out.

“I’m sorry about this. My Putto are less than competent, and my Imp is a troublemaker. NOW FIX THIS!”

The small sheep bounced over to another building, one lost it’s bucket.

“Can you grab that?” the [Farmer] asked me, “I’ll put you down, you walk over and pick it up. I’ll pick you up if you can’t walk anymore”.

He put me on my feet. They still felt raw, but I could do this.

1-step, 2-step, 3-step, 4-step, 5-step, 6-step.

That wasn’t bad. I turn around. The guy has disappeared.

1-step, 2-step, 3-step, 4-step, 5-step, 6-step.

I’m just going to explore the barn. A small stable and a chicken coop. With a burnt hole in it. I leave the barn. I’m going back to the house.

1-step, 2-step, 3-step, 4-step, 5-step, 6-step, 7-step, 8-step, 9-step, 10-step, 11-step.

Almost there.

1-step, 2-step, 3-step, 4-step, 5-step, 6-step, 7-st-

“Hey kid, do you know where Boss is?”

The Ram was right there. Right next to the door. And he was speaking to me. Was he what Boss/the [Farmer]/That guy meant by ‘Imp’?

“I don’t know. He just disappeared when I went to pick up this bucket”.

“Bastard. He left you to suffer and your wounds to fester. I will never allow him to return in the daytime without apologizing”.

The Sun sat low on the horizon.

My stomach growled.

“I’m going inside. I need to get some rest and eat some food”.

I pull the door open. I slowly walk in. I am safe. I’m O.K. Today was rough. I hope this all was just one long stupid dream. I go to the other side of the house. It had a kitchen. I open a cabinet. There’s a little packet that says it has noodles. I open another cabinet. A pot. There is a sink in front of the window at the back of the house. I fill the pot with warm water. I sat the pot on the oven, put on the boily thing, and walked over to the bed side of the house.

I sat on the bed. I finally decided to look myself over. Bandages covered my legs. I won’t be taking them off. Not yet. My arms are also covered in bandages. Bandages are rapping my ch-

There’s a hole in my abdomen, stretching from just below my belly button to just below my boobs. Not good. Not good at all. I can see the bones. I seal the hole with the bandages.

My head aches. I grab my head. It’s not the one I had yesterday. It’s-It’s not. My chin’s spiky(two spikes, to be exact), my teeth- my lips are gone. There are only cinderblock teeth. I reach for the bridge of my nose and almost poke myself in my eyes. My eyes are bigger. I tap the tip of my nose-tik. It’s a metal rectangle. I rub my temples. Eyelashes that feel like felt protrude from the sides of my eyes. My hair is really soft and really fluffy. Except in two little areas in the back. I had horns. Hair horns.

The water is now bubbling. I go over to the pot, break the noodles, I pop the noodles in. I check the packet. 3 minutes, stir once for slightly soft noodles, stir twice for medium softness, stir three times or more to make edible for mortals. I’m so tired. I need a wooden spoon, a bowl, a pot holder and a fork. I open the cabinet above the oven, there’s the bowls. I open one of those sliding cabinets. There’s a nice collection of silverware, a wooden spoon, and a bottle of some liquid. I grab a fork and the wooden spoon. I. do. NOT. touch. the. Bottle. I place the bowl and fork onto the counter that juts out towards the bedside. I stirred the pot. Just a bit longer. I poke the noodles with the wooden spoon. Definitely soft enough. I turned off the boily thing. I’m doing great. I poured the noodles and some water into the bowl. I got the flavor packet out. Dumped it in. frick, some of it is on me. I’m just going to eat and have the consequences follow me later. I’m so tired. The noodles are too hot but I’m eating them right now just to get them done.

The taste is good. It’s chicken, but not quite. The noodles are just the right size and softness to be slipped between my teeth. The taste is good. It’s chicken, but not quite. I eat more and more and mor and mor and mr and mr and-

The bowl is now empty. It was so nice to eat. I’m even more tired now. But it’s a happy tired. A kind of tiredness that says I’ve accomplished something. Even if this is real and I haven’t actually done anything, I feel good.

I place the bowl, the wooden spoon, and the fork into the sink. I’ll wash them tomorrow.

I walk over to the bed and get in. It creaks beneath me. Strange. It held me well in the morning. 1-sheep, 2-sheep, 3-sheep, 4-sheep, 5-sheep, 6-sheep, 7-sheep, 8-sheep, 9-sheep, 10-sheep. It takes a while for me to start dozing. I can normally force myself to go to sleep. Why isn’t it working? Why can’t I sleep? There is something watching me. Who is watching me? I’m scared. I want to go home. Let me try again: 1-sheep, 2-sheep, 3-sheep, 4-sheep, 5-sheep, 6-sheep, 7-sheep, 8-sheep… 9-sheep…… 10-sheep.

[hiphipyouregay]

Day 4- Famil Ankko Week

2sooooo uhhhhh, this is pretty long 1,621 words.... sorry, i hope you like this, i am really proud of this. also sorry its late.

------------------------------

Flashback~

“One day were going to be a family, just you wait Andrew. When we get married we will live in a house with a white picket fence and maybe have a dog. Just you wait Andrew, we soon will be together without having our families disapprove, just wait Andrew one day we can be together, just you wait.”

Flashback ended~

Andrew’s P.O.V

I hear the alarm ringing, signifying I should start getting ready for class. As I wake to turn off my alarm, I recognize the dream I had, and I smile as I remember the promise I made with that girl on that day. She goes to my school, but I don’t think she remembers me, I don’t know why I just get the feeling because she always seems to ignore me. Anyway, I should probably start getting seeing as how I always arrive to class early.

Time skip~

Despite having that dream or a flashback I gotten dressed quicker than I usually do, so I decide to arrive even earlier than I usually do. As I get out of the car I walk to the same place I go to each morning. Every morning I am always greeted by the wind blowing through my hair, and the scent of the flowers around the garden. I open my eyes to see that someone was already there and apparently sitting in my spot.  Before I realized it, myself I had started walking towards this person, as I get closer I start to see that this person was a girl and this girl seemed very familiar, but I still couldn’t quite figure out who this girl is, I get closer and see the most beautiful red eyes, she was looking at the sky, she looked so lost in her thoughts that she probably didn’t even notice he was behind her. He stops in his steps and realizes just who this girl this.

                          “Akko?”

Her name slips out of mouth before I realize. I could see her flinch at the sound of my voice. She fidgeted with something in her lap and she looked like she was trying to say something or for someone to say something? I decide to do her a favor and break the tension, because one I really want to enjoy my morning and two, I hate seeing her this way especially when my heart yearns to hold her tight and kiss away her insecurities.

 “What do you got there Akko? And do you mind scooting over a bit that’s where I always sit when I come over here” I said as plainly as I could, I didn’t want her to know how much she affected me.

She flinches and moves to the side, and when I see that I have space to sit down, I walk to my spot and sit. When I sit down I do what I always do, I close my eyes and let the breeze run through my hair. I glance towards Akko, but she wasn’t there instead she was in front of me holding something tight to her chest.

    “Akko would you mind moving over a bit your blocking the wind. Uhhh what’s this?” I look at the package she is holding out, and I could see her struggling to not blush, but she fails because her cheeks are red…what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.

I snap out of my rights when she starts to speak.

     “Here just take it, it’s your birthday gift.”

Stunned I don’t move, and sensing that I’m probably not going to move she just leaves it in my lap and runs away.

 I could’ve said something, anything but I’m to distracted with what it says on the top of the package

“I miss the days we talked when we were kids, I miss the way you smiled and how it would lighten up the room, I miss you. I remember my promise from when we were kids. Although if you don’t desire this dream anymore let me know because I love the dream but I won’t love it if you don’t, I just want to see you smile and hear you laugh. I miss you Andrew and I think I might be falling for you.

-Akko

P.S. Happy Birthday Andrew!!! Also knowing you, you probably forgot it’s your birthday so I’m probably the first one to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW!!!”

I read and reread the letter so many times that I lost track of the world for a second. Until my cheeks are starting to hurt and I realized that I was smiling and laughing and it felt so good, something that was lost, I found again.

Not even waiting another second, he runs to where Akko left. When he caught a glimpse of Akko, he did something he thought he would never do in a billion years.

“Akko!!!” I screamed with happiness in my voice and I could feel the warmth spread through my body like a wild fire. I see her turn around, her eyes filled with confusion, and before she could do anything I sweep her off her feet and spin around.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and hearing her laugh with a hint of confusion in her voice I just continued to spin her until I decided that was enough before I threw up. I put her down but I don’t let her go, and I could feel that she wants some answers. And although every single inch of me wanted to kiss her pink smooth lips, I understood I must be patient and wait for the right time so Instead I just hug her like the world was ending.

I let go, but I am still in her embrace.

“You silly little girl, I never forgot the promise you made, I never brought it you because I thought you forgot or regretted even promising that. Sorry” I finished hoping she doesn’t reject me or think I’m making this up.

“Well first I am not “little” Andrew” she says as I try not to laugh.

“And I thought the same, I thought that you forgot or just decided that I was too gross or childlike. I was afraid you were going to reject me, so I stayed away.”

I honestly felt like crying, because I had hurt her so bad that she started to look down at herself.

I got on one knee and looked at her. Her face was beat read by this point.

   “Will you Atsuko Kaguri like to go on a date with me?” she honestly looks so cute right now.

   The minute she nods I jump back up and spin her around again, and enjoy the sound of her laugh.

Time skip~

“Akko! Come out you’re going to miss the sunset!” I hear a faint response. While I wait for her to arrive I set everything up and wait for her.

 The minute she enters I could see the tears forming. I am on one knee with a ring out. I gulp and decide it’s time to do it now.

  “My dear Akko, you have always brought happiness to my day, with you being around I always feel like I can do anything. I love the way you smile at such strange things. And how when you believe in something you work hard to get it. I love every part of you Akko, so will you do the honor of marrying this poor soul?” I get up and walk over to a shocked Akko. When I reach her, I kneel back down and ask

                                                “Will you marry me Atsuko Kaguri?”

All I remember next is the sound of laughter and the single word of YES being filled in the air and I just can’t help but feel so happy knowing that my life is going to be perfect with my beautiful Akko by my side.

“I love You my dear bunny” “I love you to”

Time skip~

“Mommmmmm!!!!! Julian won’t let me have a turn!”

“Julian let Luis have a shot, or I’m taking it away”

All I can hear are my two beautiful kids arguing and my wife trying to calm them down. I try to stay in my bed longer but apparently that won’t happen because I feel someone on me.

I open my eyes and see my beautiful little girl Eliza.

 “Daddy, wake up breakfast is almost ready!” she is just so cute, she is a splitting image of her mother.

“hmmmmmmm, fine but I can’t get off until this little princess allows me to?” she giggles and heads toward the kitchen to where her mother is. I could hear the laughter that fills my house and I could feel the happiness course through my veins, sometimes I believe that I’m dreaming.

I can feel my wife…Ahhhh “wife” I still love the way it sounds.

“C’mon Andrew get up, your daughter made you something for breakfast” that made me a bit intrigued, but before I get up, I grab my wife and hold her.

We stay in the bed looking at the photos on the wall.

“Hey look, I kept my promise Andrew, although…” I hear her pause and she starts to get off the bed, confused I wait for her to continue.

“I think I left a bun in the oven” she leaves with a wink.

It takes me a few seconds before I jump up and run to her and lift her off her feet.

And in that moment, I felt nothing but pure happiness, I felt at home. I had found my family

And that’s with my Wife and three, well four kids. I wait for what’s to come next.

s�v]�3

[theatredirectors]

Chloe Treat

Hometown?

San Antonio, Texas. 

Where are you now? 

Theoretically I live in NYC but RIGHT NOW I am in Lisbon. I've been out of town since mid June and won't be back until mid October because #freelancing. 

What's your current project?

I was just in Ireland with a show called Counting Sheep which is an immersive Ukrainian guerilla-folk opera. We're doing a workshop in NYC in late Fall. And then I'm headed to Texas to do a workshop of this piece I've been writing SEEMINGLY FOREVER AND SO HELP ME GOD I SHALL FINISH IT ON THIS TRIP but it's my baby and I am so looking forward to spending some time on it. And then I'm doing two shows with Great Comet alumni! First, a workshop of a new musical called The Wave which was written by Comet's music director Or Matias (he's also my lover just so we're being CLEAR but in a very official way so it's not tacky) and then an opera called Thomas Paine in Violence at HERE ARTS which was written by Balaga himself, Paul Pinto. So that's current. The constant state of juggling many things in the present and then the bleak despair of unemployment in the future. That's directing, right?? Oh, and emails. Emails + Juggling + Bleak despair = directing.

Why and how did you get into theatre?

Ok the short answer is embarrassing. The short answer is: I was a dancer all my life, age 2 (which like, what does that even mean) through high school. I went to a performing arts high school as a dance major. And then I had some injuries that made it clear this wasn't gonna be my thing. And it was time to start auditioning for colleges and I thought, hmmmmmmm theatre. That's like dance but not as hard right?? AND THEY LET ME IN. So in short I got into theatre through fraud. 

The longer answer is my favorite part of being a dancer was always being in a theater. When I was little we did our dance recitals at this amazing old Free Mason theater in San Antonio called the Scottish Rite. And there were tunnels to the backstage and little secret doors and the older girls would tell us ghost stories and the whole building smelled like moth balls and hairspray. I was always so in love with the place: theater. That was my church. And so even though I was later very precocious in a "I'm sure I can do this" way, I had always thought that theaters were the most magical places in the whole damn world. Still do.

What is your directing dream project? 

The Dixie Chicks write a musical and I direct it. Don't you DARE steal this idea or I will HUNT YOU DOWN. 

What kind of theatre excites you? 

Stories we knew but were waiting to hear. GREAT representation. Stories where women SPEAK and are complex and the protagonist of their own lives. Old women on stage. Different bodies on stage. Music with a beat that you feel through your seat (sorry for the rhyme.) NOT serving the text. FUCKING the text. Making a RITUAL. A ritual that's 360. A ritual that's for your body, not your head. Transporting design. FEELING, not agreeing that you felt. FUN, not smiling like it's fun. Actual joy. Actual hurt. Actual faith. 

In the wake of Trump's election someone I know (and I can't recall or I'd credit so apologies in advance) said that part of the reason the Right can organize in a way that the Left can't is because they have the common space of the church in a way that we don't. And this person proposed that that's what our theaters could be. That idea excites me. 

What do you want to change about theatre today? 

We focus a lot on the diversity of a cast but not the diversity of a creative team because you can't see who's behind the table. I would love to see that change. (Still focus on casting diversity but expand WHO needs to be diverse for a project to actually have a wide breadth of representation.) 

I wish the life of a show wasn't so dependent on one review. 

More people of color. More ladies. More voices more voices more voices. We need more pathways to enter the industry even if you:

1. Didn't grow up in the industry. 

2. Didn't grow up in an upper middle class family. 

3. Didn't grow up with a family who can support you at you start out. 

4. Didn't have the luxury of getting an BFA as your first degree or an MFA as your second. 

5. Can't pay to play. 

6. Can't afford to be paid in "great exposure." 

Don't get me wrong, there are many people who are both immensely privileged and talented. And then, like with all things, there is a spectrum below that where privilege grants access that doesn't have to do with talent. And this means it is next to impossible for people with talent and less privilege to get into a room. More than that, it means many people would never even think of entering that room to begin with. And THAT'S the why we keep telling the same damn stories about straight white people. (To be clear, I fall into the privileged category) I wish there were more places for directors to practice. What is your opinion on getting a directing MFA? 

I don't have one. I know a lot of great people who do and a lot of great people who don't. I think it just depends on your path and your momentum and what you're seeking. There's no right way to do it. Oh BUT perks:If you get an MFA you can have a dignified teaching job when work is slow. If you don't you can come wait tables with me. 

Who are your theatrical heroes? 

Tennessee Williams, my Grandpa and my Mama, Pina Bausch, Martha Graham Ballet Tech/Kids Dance/Eliot Feld (if you have not seen Kids Dance you must go see Kids Dance), Lorca, Mary Zimmerman, Rachel Chavkin, Rebecca Taichman (hi did you SEE Indecent), Tennessee Williams again,Sam Pinkleton for work ethic + the Dance Cartel AESTHETIC (dance till you vomit), Michael Krass for wisdom. 

Any advice for directors just starting out? 

Don't listen to anyone who tells you how to emerge as a director. They are lying. No two people have done it the same way so what the F do they think they're telling you??!? Cultivate your aesthetic. And practice making choices. You can do that literally every day and that's what directing is. 

Plugs!

GO SEE GREAT COMET. It closes soon and it is oh so good. 

And go see Ballet Tech's Kids Dance (only in the summer but put it in your calendar NOW) because it is pure and simple GOODNESS. (I am not affiliated with Ballet Tech AT ALL it's just so so so so good.) 

[dearxstangelicaa-blog]

Helpless (Part 4)

Plot/storyline: You knew that getting a job at Hamilton: An American Musical as an ensemble member would be challenging. You didn’t mean to fall for Lin and now it’s just another part of your life you need to fight to keep in control.

Disclaimer: I’ve had experience backstage and onstage during musicals and plays so i know kind of what I’m talking about and the rest is made up. I don’t know what kind of work gets put into a broadway musical and by no means trying to make it seem easy cause show biz is super hard. Also I’m pretending that the obc is still together at this time.

UPDATE: this is like a day late but yeah school is slightly an issue. I think I will pst the next fic chapter on Monday and after that it will be like every Friday. I’ve just planned this fic series to maybe like ten chapters. The others might be longer but i t really depends how creative I feel that day but because i do both drama and film in high school I’m normally like out of creativity by week 2 of school.

Words: 1080

* Just going to say that you guys should just assume that I’m going to swear in every fic cause I’m a horrible human being

You didn’t know it was possible to laugh as much as you did that night. Everything about the slumber party was perfect. From the company, to the good food and the silly games that you were playing. It seemed like you had finally found a bunch of friends that would really stick. You guys had already put on the facemarks and you were all sitting down about to play a game of truth or dare. “Alright, here’s the event in our friendship that determines if we will be friends forever. Truth or Dare”, said Jasmine excitedly. “For some reason I don’t think that this is that serious Jas”. “Oh yes it is, it determines the weak from the brave. Are you going to cop out and take a truth instead of doing a dare. Hmmmmmmm????? “

“I guess you’re about to find out”, you said with a grin on your face. “Ok, rules. The dare can not be physically endangering to anyone here. The questions you ask must also be somewhat sensible and shouldn’t be anything too dark and embarrassing. Although, if you tell the most embarrassing story tonight I’ll make sure to give you an extra bottle of wine”. She was such a lively talk that it was almost impossible to not laugh or smile at whatever she was saying. “Alright, alright, let’s start. Well, cause we’re celebrating Y/Ns broadway debut, it would only be fare foe her to ask the first question”. Said Pippa in a calming voice. “Yes I do have a good one. Ok, Jas, Truth or Dare?” “Dare, duh.” “Alright, hm… I dare you to lick anyone in this rooms armpit”. “Huh, easy. Aren’t you even gonna try to challenge me”. “I’m not finished. I want you to send it to Anthony with out any context”. Jas turned over to look at Pippa and before she could register what was happening she had lifted her arm and had her camera out ready to take the photo. A squeal of complaint came out of Pippa’s mouth but by then Jas had already taken the photo and sent it to Ant.

What they didn’t realise was that Ant had sent back a text telling Jas that the guys were only a few minutes away from the apartment and were going to swing by. She smiled down at her phone and told them to hurry up before quickly turning it off and turning around to face Y/N. “Done. Ok, my turn. Y/N, truth or dare?” “Truth, obviously.” “Ok, What are your feelings about Lin?” “ Well I don’t know, he’s a great guy, talent and kind I’m sure you guys already know this”. “Yeah but do you LIIIIiiiiiKKKKkkkkkkeeeEEEEEE him”, said Pippa over enthusiastically. “ Well, I mean, he’s a great guy whats not to like? ” Before you could continue making a fool of yourself you guys all turned around to hear a loud thud on the front door.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, we have some guests visiting us.” Jasmine wriggled her eyes at you and before you could ask who was at the door you saw the door open and a red faced Lin stumble into the room followed by Oak, Daveed and Anthony. You didn’t even have time to get mad at Jas. You were in your mismatching pyjamas, wearing a green face mask and had some questionably oily hair. Yup, the universe was out to get you. You were so focused on mentally trying to laser eye Jas that you didn’t notice Daveed sitting next to you and putting hi arm around you.

“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest Elpheba around”, and with that you busted out laughing and you were back to your normal idiot loving self. Something about Daveed always got you laughing and you were always able to be yourself around him. You got up to wash off your face mask and headed over to the bathroom so you could wash it off privately. You had just finished getting the final residue of the lush face mask off your face when you saw Lin standing at the doorway and gave a stated shriek.

“God, you and Daveed need a fucking a bell around you so I know when you guys are about to sneak up on me”. “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to..” You cut him off before he could continue to ramble on in his usual cute way, “Lin, it’s ok. Do you need to use the bathroom?” “No, I just, I wanted to say you were really good tonight. I mean you’re like always really good at performing but yeah you were like amazing today. I just wanted to say that and not have like the others tease me for like complimenting you. Um, anyway, I just wanted to say that Phillipa is going to be taking a little break next week so you’ll be filling in for Eliza those day. Yeah, but, you were really good tonight and I know you’ll be great as Eliza”.

“Oh my god, I’M GOING TO BE FILLING FOR ELIZA NEXT WEEK!!! This is the best news I’ve heard since I’ve been cast. Holy crap”. You jump up and down and pull Lin into a hug. In that moment you feel like you’re unstoppable. All of these amazing things were happening in your life and you felt as if you were on a non stop. You pulled away to see Lin smiling as you with a slight blush on his face. His arms were wrapped around you when you heard Daveed creep up behind you guys”.

“Well, I sure hope that I didn’t interrupt anything”. Lin pulled away from you before he started to nervously babble, “No, I was just congratulating Y/N on her debut. I also told her about her playing Eliza, ok well, um yeah good job Y/N, I’m gonna go join the others”.

You watched Lin walk off before you turned to stare at Daveed, “you’re a jerk you know that right”. “Uh, come on wounding your best friend isn’t exactly the nicest thing to do on a night like this is it. Dont think you’re going to get out of explaining this. but we should join the others before they think were doing something less than appropriate”. He said wriggling his eyebrows.

“ Yup, you’re a fucking jerk”.

You walk back to the kitchen with Daveeds arm around you and a smile on your face.

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

NCIS season 16 episode 13 (spoilers!):

Wtf was that opening? Was that Bishop? Wtf

Hmmm.

Oh Bishop

See, I know a spoilery spoiler, which I have absolutely no context on, I just know it comes to light either at the end of this season or the start of the next. So I keep squinting at the smell of irony and bullshit without knowing the full scope of the bullshit

I think I saw bits and peices of this season and this episode in particular. Because I knew about Ziva's office, I know Bishop tries to bring the very dead plants back to life, and I remember now what that CIA dude is all about.

Damn that's a lot of journals

I wanna vent my confusion and frustration about something but it isnt technically relevant yet and its information I got via spoilers so...

I had no idea Jimmy and Ziva were close either. They were friendly, sure, but confidant? Must be a working backwards thing. Though, hers was the only body he ever flat out refused to autopsy. He still did it, but it distressed him greatly. There is a scene i am expecting now. And I want that scene.

Any time any of his agents are referred to as his kids, and he's like yep, I get very happy

WOW THIS EPISODS IS HEAVY

Yeah. Um. Phew. Gibbs has lost the two other agents that sat at that desk. I see both of their points, but im probably more on Gibbs' side tbh

Aw fuck. I just had a realization: in one way or another, Gibbs has lost all of his daughters except for Ellie. Before anyone says anything: I know Abby is alive and well. But she no longer works at NCIS, so he lost her in some way.

Bishop, Gibbs is going to going to tear you a new asshole. Or not

0o0 he burned the rule

Hint number one? Okay not even fucking hint, good God. Thats explicit. I just have like 50 more questions and I already knew she was alive.

So Ellie knows. Allegedly. Hmmmmmmm

[carryforthtradition]

My mini-lily pond.

I want to write about my mini-lily pond because it is a mini miracle. A few years ago I treated myself to a huge garden pot with some birthday money. I’d seen people creating little lily ponds and so I decided to put one in our garden because in our last house we’d had a real pond (which doubled up as a dip pool as it was being created ha ha!)

It seems to be that each time I create a water feature, it is one of those times where my parents have been staying. The first time dad bought me 18 little baby goldfish to go in the pond once it had been filled, planted and left to settle for a week or so. I didn’t really want fish, but he said the pond needed some. I was so glad I’d agreed because I’d sit out there for quite some time each night watching them after work to wind down - I was teaching at the time - and even could identify them individually. We did acquire a more few additions, people needing ‘homes for fish’ and took in any strays we were offered. The whole pond was happy, and we had many visitors like damsel flies and dragon flies to the yellow flag iris and other pretty pond plants.

Many goldfish (and some little rescued Koi) survived the 10 years we lived at our old house. However numbers slowly dwindled over the years due to visiting animals, a heron (yes, we ended up covering the whole pond with a submerged net) many natural deaths and on the last day - as we were leaving the house to move here, I went out to say goodbye and the last fish was floating in the top of the pond - dead, in the cold of winter. It was quite sad and very final but I was glad we’d travelled part of our journey together.

When we moved here in 2010, I decided just to have lilies - because having animals or fish is a responsibility and I didn’t think they’d really have a lot of room in a pot. My dad was staying so once I’d bought the pot, he bunged up the hole in the bottom using silicone and a brick, which to this day remains in position. We visited a huge garden centre Almondsbury Garden Centre in north Bristol and Dad bought me a water lily, which came with a beautiful pink lily and looked beautiful in it’s new home. Then each year I waited for another water lily, usually due to make an appearance in Summer, and we didn’t get one.

I remember wondering what we had done wrong? was it unhappy? was it too hot? too cold? too small? were the snails eating it? Oh yes - now I must mention the snails. We didn’t just have the responsibility of a new lily, we inherited a whole snail community.

At first we were really pleased that our pond was blessed with ‘a few’ water snails, because we guessed it may help the lilies. Then they multiplied and multiplied and grew bigger and more adventurous. I was giving them away! I was calling people up to see if they wanted some snails, planning how best to get them to the local stream or pond (I never got that far). They did work hard and keep the pot clean and the blanket weed at bay and didn’t eat the lily - only the decaying leaves - but that wasn’t the issue. The issue was me having to go out and rescue them, after heavy rain when the pond had overflowed, from in between the grooves on the wooden decking. I remember even getting cross with them and telling them to ‘stay in the pond’ and that one day they ‘may not be so lucky as to have me come and rescue you in time‘ before the sun came out.

Eventually, as nature does always finds harmony and balance, the little pond ecosystem settled down and the snail population evened out. I was blessed with another visit from dad, and his little dog Edie and that week a beautiful pink lily appeared from the depths of the pond. It opened in full glory to the sun, and we all made soothing admiring noises when it was open. It made us all feel good. It’s dreamy sweet scent filled my heart with joy.

One day, as me and dad were pottering about in the garden I noticed a leak!! Oh my goodness, the drama! What a performance!

We emptied the pot, which took a while, and to keep the lily safe, I gently lifted it out and placed it in the middle of the lawn, we made sure the snails were safely stored too.

Then I saw it! I was carrying a cup of tea down to my hero dad who was repairing the leak, and noticed the beautiful lily flower very detached from the plant lying abandoned on the grass, looking very dishevelled, out of sorts and unsalvageable.

‘Oh no!’ - silence as we all looked on in horror.

Dad said he had no idea how it had happened. It was a mystery. What had gone on? Dad looked a little downhearted, probably for me and it was a very sad moment.

But the pond was fixed and everyone (snails) returned to the water with the lily plant, minus the flower, and we all felt like we had saved the day, the lily pond would survive another year at least.

It was the next year and my friend was staying with her little girl who was 2 at the time. We were all out in the garden admiring the wonder of that year’s lily, only a few days old, remembering the sad and dramatic loss of the flower the year before, when her little girl, who was also paying attention to the new lily, walked over to the pond, grabbed it with both hands and pulled it out and off it’s plant and offered it to us looking really pleased with herself and - I must say it was done in a beautiful little innocent gesture.

I think me and my friend stopped breathing for a moment, but we weren’t moved. That’s life! And, of course, we didn’t want the little one to think she was in trouble, so we didn’t tell her off but instead her mum explained how it was really lovely of her and I think she explained something along the lines of how flowers live longer if they are left growing , but she was only 2 after all and looked really pleased ….

I decided to call dad later that day and give him an update, and as we were chuckling about it, out of the blue he made a confession. - ‘Do you remember last year when the lily was on the lawn? Well, what really happened… was Edie (his little dog) ran down the garden, grabbed it and shook it about and the flower came off, but I daren’t say anything at the time because I didn’t want to upset you.’ - Hmmmmmmm I thought, followed with roaring laughter from us both.

So, partly out of guilt I guess, and partly because I didn’t really let it go (tee hee), when dad visited us the next year, he bought me a beautiful yellow lily, from the same garden centre, which came with no stowaways this time. But to this day we haven’t had another single yellow flower, yet the pink lily seems to have become increasingly invincible, and this year we’ve had 4 flowers - a little miracle…..

[sanguinesprout]

Well, that sucked... uuuuugh it’s coooooold xwx (updates, some gloomy and bright feels and self pep talk)

Hmmmmmmm... so, long time no post-ish...kinda..! To put it simply I’ve been stressing real hard over this form to try claim benefits/financial help and expended all mental my energy on that aaaall these past weeks. I struggled and I avoided but I finally fiiiiinallly managed to do it and now the main source of stress has subsided temporarily until they contact me again for maybe a face to face meeting in which I’ll commence my super anxiety flailing. But I guess for now I have time to stress about the things I normally stress over and haven’t done yet. Pah!

So the form right, you have to fill in about your health conditions/disabilities and I reaaaally had trouble writing about things like that. I mean, writing on here definitely helped me with some parts of it, since it was stuff I had written before, but just not on paper and... writing it out irl is like... super difficult and uncomfortable and knowing someone has to read it and ugh damn... I had to write about physical things too and there were lots of things I kinda was unsure of and it went from me writing very little to me writing probably TOO much last minute xwx I mean, it’s better than writing too less, but maybe I went into more detail than needed, but maybe it’s enough info that they’ll skip me in the face to face part... plz plz plssss! ;3; No, no you’ll be fine, you can do it!

I seriously spent so much time staring at it and it was just so hard, there was this reluctance even though I wanted to get it over with so badly, it’s like there was a magnet pulling me away, my concentration level dropped to minus 10000000, my head hurt from forcing myself to try think, it was torture Dx It’s probably something so easy but I unconsciously chose to overthink it and get all ruffled by the prospect that someone’s gonna read it and judge me... mehhh. By this point I just hope they can read my handwriting lol it literally looked like some kids english homework, full of scribbling out and arrows everywhere hahaha *sob* I had my sis read over it before I sent it, I was really nervous about that, it’s like she’s seeing a big slice of this blog (which scurred me), but she said it was fine, it was good! She’s supportive of me even if we frustrate each other a lot, I’m really thankful for her help and encouragement ;u;

Anyways, whatever the outcome, at least I tried! I kinda succeeded in finishing something I would’ve just not even attempted usually and that’s great! I did good and if there is a next time, I’ll try even harder! The anxiety and irrational held me back and scared me away from trying, but maybe I’ll get over them much easier now that I proved to myself I could do it if I just really really reaaaally put my mind to it! Putting my pen to the paper, that’s another big thing that was needing to be done too lol. The race between doubt and determination was won by determination’s last minute spurt powered by encouragement from various sources (including myself and my fear of letting people down!) Yaaay~! sarcasm is no good booo!

Form aside, I had to do phone calls and make trips to the post office quite a bit lately too, I did them! Whooo! I also went out and had some nice shopping trips, even met some of my sis’ buddies and it was nice, it was pretty fun in fact! I wasn’t as anxious as I thought I’d be, though the times I were, I just... sucked it up and kinda went with the flow and it became okay after... I tried and I pushed forward and everything was alright *hugs self* c:

I have such less energy and brain cells left that this post probably sounds so half assed and pointless no, no negativity! silly, but I’m doing it, I haven’t abandoned my blog and it’s almost been a whole year... or at least 2/3 of a year, yay for me! Christmas is so soon, it feels kind of lonely this year compared to past years because of some things but it’ll be okay, as long as I have my family and finally get to spend some nice quality time with them like I’ve been looking forward to, I’m happy! ^^

I got a lot of materials to make some nice arts and crafty things lately. it’s kinda given me some more incentive to make some nice things and just have some fun. I haven’t done anything yet though, but I plan to... ack! Gotta make sure not to overthink things and put myself off, just go for it! I’m not abandoning my dreams of making some self motivational/self expressive or cute things or just learning to draw in general (lolol) just yet! I’ve just kinda gotten a bit doubtful and shy again (especially with just being online too), but Imma crawl back out this hole and do some things right naaaaooo!! *slips and tumbles* oof @w@” C’mon silly, keep going, believe in yourself! 

I have a lot of ideas, and they keep piling up, but I’m having a hard time getting them out... I keep letting the anxiety, comparing, fear of judgement slip in and foil my plans. Things don’t have to be perfect, just try your best..! It doesn’t matter what other people think, as long as you like your creations. Other people have their own style and you have yours, be proud of it and let it shine. Practice makes... progress! You can do it!

I want to try and do more than one thing a day like most other people can like I know I have the potential to, like maybe do a little bit of art, a little bit of self care, a little bit of family time rather than just sitting around wondering which thing to prioritise or which thing is a waste of time to focus on and in the end achieve absolutely nooooothing .___. Baby steps, keep climbing, keep growing, don’t let your thoughts bring you down, you can achieve everything you want to, you just have to try with all your heart, ignore the mental obstacles, they can’t stop you, go go go!

With one of the other things I was stressing about a few weeks earlier, it was submitting a claim for a lost parcel, I struggled with that even, but I tried really hard and I did it and even though I was expecting nothing to happen, something good did happen! They fully reimbursed me! I was so surprised! Even though I was missing some information and thought it was going to be pointless and many weeks passed and I even forgot about it, my efforts actually paid off. The experience alone of just trying was a good lesson for me, but now I’m beginning to believe in ‘if you don’t try, you won’t know/nothing ventured nothing gained’ even more! This happened after I submitted my benefits application, I don’t wanna be too hopeful incase nothing happens here, but whether the result is something or nothing, I’m just glad I tried! c’:

I also received some praise about my packaging skill and service (I’ve been selling unwanted things and I always put in a lot of effort) and it was so sweet and kind and just lifted my sprits so much for someone to acknowledge it, I am so grateful ;w; For someone to take their time to write such a nice message and show their appreciation, ahhh it’s such a wonderful feeling..! I reached my goal of making at least one person smile! It was also another very pleasant surprise! I want to continue to chase this feeling and keep fulfilling this goal! I hope one day I’ll be able to feel this way with my creations ahhh cryyy ;u;

With my physical health woes and medication trials, it has only been a short period but it seems to be going alright, not very far, but it’s going somewhere and in a more positive direction. Once again I am so grateful to my dr, they are so amazing and kind and helpful ;u; Health is important! I want my family to be more healthy too, I worry about them a lot, because they don’t take care of themselves and they also avoid things and... uuu I’m sad :c I don’t want for them to be ill, time is short and I wish for them to be well and happy but it’s difficult when they’re so stubborn. I need to try harder.

A family friend passed away from illness very recently, it was extremely saddening... It must be incredibly hard for their family right now, I hope they will be okay Y__Y Life is unfair, life is unpredictable, it’s all the more reason why I need to get up and make the most of it right now. Spend as much time with loved ones as I can and make sure everyone is happy and healthy so we can have an even longer happier life together, reach for my dreams and so and so. Yolo... so try your hardest... time is precious ;^;

Well, um... that made things a little gloomy but I have to learn to face reality more seriously. Okay, for ourself and our loved ones, let’s make everyone proud and try our best! This life is my own and I’m going to take control of it, I’m gonna make it worth being happy about! Time is of the essence!

It’s been so cold lately, but because of this I’ve been able to see it snow! Although it’s not much, but it’s magical all the same and I’m happy to have been able to witness it, to go outside and enjoy the little but wonderful things of life, I don’t want to miss out on them anymore either! A new year is approaching, a new year where it will still be hard but I’ll continue to persevere until I’ve reached my goals! The post I left in my drafts, which I see every time I post here, the one with a long list of my dreams and things I’ve been wanting to do, I glanced at it and I think I managed to do a few of the littler things this year! I still have a lot to go, so I’m gonna aim to do at least twice as much next year! Yeah!!

Have a great evening (and a wonderful Christmas and New Year if I don’t post again before then), let’s go go! :D