#how many times can i repeat a sentence challenge

[asheepinfrance]

i felt like trying out angst and decided on this. art was second on the poll so he was my victim oops. but also so are you! double homicide. anyways, like usual, please feel free to let me know any comments, critiques, concerns and/or silly little anecdotes. If you have any tips on how to properly express pain without sounding as goofy as this does, drop. that. shit. I'll be needing it. Thanks :)

He did this just about every time this happened, and it happened quite a bit. The routine has become well-worn the way a childhood stuffed animal does, fading what-used-to-be pinks and pastels now spattered brown with age. You’ve both got it down to the finest details: Art meets girl, he does his usual courtship strategy (following her around like a lost puppy), they go on a date that’s never followed up with a second one, and he cries into your lap about it. He claims he loves them, not that he knows exactly what that means. He certainly loves things, it’s not that that’s the issue. He loves tennis, Patrick, his grandma, you, and that’s all fine. He can never seem to pinpoint what being in love was, he just assumed he was smart enough to know. Most things came naturally to him, so why shouldn’t this?

He always apologizes when his breaths are no longer heaving, when he’s stopped wetting the cotton of your shorts with his tears and probably just a bit of snot. You always tell him not to worry, it’s not a problem, you love taking care of him and that’s all true. There is a problem, though, and it’s that this routine is about two seconds from driving you mental. You and Art have one key difference when it comes to this little dance: Art thinks he knows what love is and doesn’t, you know exactly what it is and you know he’ll never feel it back. So when he leaves, like he always does, with a mumbled ‘thank you’ and a kiss to the cheek, you have to close your eyes and pretend. Pretend to be this month’s object of affection. The latest Emily, Jessica, or whatever it may be that catches his attention.

For all your life, you can’t understand how Art doesn’t see what you do. Not necessarily in yourself, but in the two of you. After all, you two were always matching each other in some way. He found your dry humor hilarious, you found yourself giggling at just about every other word he said. He sought you out for comfort like you were a lifeline, you held him like it was a gift to have that privilege. And he knows this, because it’s what, in his head, makes you such a great friend.

When Art starts telling you about some girl named Tashi, you assume that the case will be a similar one. You prepare yourself to suit the name of Tashi, the way you’ve prepared yourself to suit all these other names. All these girls who don’t quite understand that his awkwardness is charming, and his sometimes poorly timed jokes are endearing. It almost kills you when he comes back from that stupid date and he wasn’t crying. He was beaming like he’d just seen the most gorgeous thing in the world. According to him, he had. When he sat himself on the edge of your bed, rambling on and on with moving hands and gleaming eyes, about how wonderful his stupid, saccharine life was, you pretended to listen. You gave him courtesy nods and little ‘Wow, she sounds great’s because that’s what a good, normal-feeling friend does, and he doesn’t seem to care that there’s no sign of you actually paying attention. You sit and stare at your full-length mirror, and observe. You grab your hair into a ponytail, turn side to side, observe the curve of your jaw, and decide that you’d never suit the name Tashi.

Tashi lasted months. Tashi never spoke to you outside of greetings. Tashi never laughed at him the way you did, and you could see it deflate his spirit just a little, though he’d regain it if she just looked his way. You wanted to hate her so badly, but you couldn’t. She’d done nothing wrong, technically, besides take from you what was never yours to keep. But it was yours to hold and covet during late-night movie watches, extra meal credit binge lunches, nights spent stargazing when the sky was just clear enough. He claimed to have never really noticed the stars until you made him look their way. He felt like he was yours to have in those moments of visible breaths in cold air. The worst part of it was that you understood where he was coming from, as much as you didn’t want to. She had something intangible to her, and everyone could feel it the second she walked into a room. He told you he loved her and you finally thought he was right. He told you, later that week, that they had gone stargazing when he told her so and you didn’t get a wink of sleep.

You stopped waiting on dreams that eluded you. You stopped waiting on Art to come to his senses, or maybe he had. Maybe that epiphany had been Tashi. For your own sake, you hope it was. At least she seemed worth the pain it’d cause you. Still, Tashi and Art fizzled out on their own time, not that you stayed to watch that fire burn out. Art texted you, as he always did, when they ended things, amicably and painfully bittersweet. ‘Out with friends sorry :))’ was your response, sent from the corner booth of some bar that you didn’t really want to be in. He finally started caring that night.

You and Art always matched, and he’d always noticed. He supported you in everything you did, you were front row to each and every one of his matches, screaming your head off. You bring him the pencils he always forgets to grab for notes, he brings you that spearmint gum you always snag a piece of from his room. You’d been in love with him, and he’d only just found that capacity to love you back.

You and Art always matched, even at the worst of times, because he saw the way you look at him lose that softness he’d always felt so protected by. He saw the way that mystery guy took the seat across from you at the table you both used to eat in every night, and you didn’t seem to fight him off. He saw that he got the permission to lean over and press a less-than-satisfying looking kiss to your lips, and he didn’t feel hungry anymore. You and Art always matched, because you had been left hanging in your love for him, and he was now stranded in his love for you.

[fishnapple]

Channelled message: Things they wish to tell you (lover/partner/future spouse)

This reading is about things that the person you have in mind wishes to tell you but find it hard to do so. I don't know why, but the tone of this reading sounded so angsty. I had to fought back the urge to comment on every sentence as I was typing.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. Amethyst

I feel like a kid whenever I'm near you. It's hard to hide, I feel so vulnerable. You stripped me of my armour. You made me afraid but I liked it. I want to tell you that you can strip whatever is left of me, and I will be willing to stand there and let you do it.

But before that, you have to catch me. I like the game of hide and seek, running and chasing. Every time I had to chase you, every time you had to chase me, it gave me the satisfaction that I'm not proud to tell you. Don't give me that look, you and I both know that whatever game we are playing, in the end, the loser gets to win, the winner gets to lose. You know you can catch me, because I let you.

I love whispering things into those pretty ears of yours. Feel them so close that my lips can almost touch your skin. Sometimes you will laugh, sometimes you will stay silent, your skin getting more red, sometimes you will turn around and let your lips touch mine. Your reactions are my goal and I'm an over-achiever.

Teetering between pure love and pure lust, what to choose? Sometimes we are so close to being enemies to each other, then we fall over into lovers. I don't know how we do it but I like to keep it a little ambiguous. The suspension, the uncertainty, those uncomfortable feelings make me feel alive.

Not to mention that people are so confused about us. I bet they can sense something between us, those flustered looks, those closer than necessary touches, those innocent exchanges. They can guess but they will never know the depth of our connection.

I actually love the feeling of sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come home to me. Once we've built our nest, I don't want to leave it. I don't want you to leave either. But I know your free spirit well enough not to tell you my wish. But you can't blame me if sometimes I use some "tactics" to entice you to stay with me. Hey, I can hear your snicker. You think someone like me saying this kind of thing is probably lying. Well, I do lie, but about the opposite thing, I lie to the world that I'm not a home-body, that my life is a constant motion, moving here and there, that I'm someone who always takes charge. My lies will be so convincing that they can even fool you. Yes, I know I like to change things, but look closer, you will find something that stays the same no matter what. I hope you won't give up finding it because I won't make it easy for you to find it. But I know you like a good challenge.

2. Rose quartz

I have so many things I wanted to tell you, but the moment those words arrived at the tip of my tongue, they took a U turn and went back. I don't know why I like to betray myself like that.

I would tell you how this ice cream tastes good, but all I could think about is your taste. I would tell you I like the feeling of warmth when sitting near the fire, but all I could feel is your heat. Same old stuff, same old stories, same old jokes, repeated again and again. What am I trying to hide? Why can't I just say what I want? What am I so afraid of?

I feel like a yellow rubber duck, floating forever on the surface, can't never get deep enough. Well, at least I get to be with you in the bathtub, not complaining. Here I go again, using light words to camouflage my feelings and desire for you. I don't want to be a tease, I want to be an arrow, striking its target at lightning speed.

Use your finger and sink this duck down into the water, and keep it that way. Hold me down, keep me still, until I'm drown in you.

Giving and taking, holding and embracing, I want it all, I don't want a single experience to slip through my fingers, I want to salvage everything, to savour slowly then to devour swiftly.

I want you to be the cold, harsh truth to my soft lies. The punishing force to my innocent crimes. But I also want you to be the embrace that I can fall into, the laughter I long to hear in my darkening days. Greedy, I know. And you can be greedy with me too. You ask and I will give.

Will you say no to my dreams, saying they're just pipe dreams, forever should be in the land of the unreal. Or will you say yes and applaud them? I know I can make them real, I know I can turn my thoughts into things that others can see and feel. I have faith. I just want you to have that same faith with me. Wouldn't it be nicer to have two who dream the same dreams? And nicer still when those two can create something together. I suggest a family, kids, pets, just a few examples.

I wish to take you everywhere, to meet everyone I know and everyone I haven't known. The feeling of a community, of connections always warm my heart. I hope you understand that. But it's okay if you don't, because there are probably lots of things I don't understand about you either. And let's keep it that way.

3. Tiger's eye

I have so many plans for our future. Since the first time when I met you, probably in some corners of my mind, I've been drawing up our plan together, our imaginary home, our imaginary kids, even our imaginary pets.

Talk to me, tell me your own delusions, give me more fuel, rile up my imagination. Delusions create the world. Or so they say, or so I say. Doesn't matter. Because I'm actually nurturing these delusions of mine into reality. Just so you wait and don't act surprised when they do come true. I have the divine on my side. You can't beat it, I can't beat it. And believe me, I've tried.

I've tried to go against the nudges, the little push behind my back so many times. It usually didn't end well. I still found myself in the exact place that I needed to be, whether I wanted to or not.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying this to tell you that being with you is against my will or I want to fight back our connection. I just want to explain the way I do things in general. I do bizarre things, say bizarre things sometimes, a lot of times, actually. You would think these are all jokes. They are. When you're viewed as a weirdo, it actually gives you lots of freedom to do things your way without people exclaiming disappointment or shock. What's there to be shocked and disappointed if they already viewed you as someone capable of everything, even unhinged things. This is the way I deal with the world. Quickly, so they will be out of my sight and let me focus on other important things.

For example, you, the sight of you, up close, inching ever closer, faraway, walking away but never be out of my sight. Curate an art exhibition for me. With pieces of art showing your myriad expression and sounds. Showing you in different clothes or without. I'd love to just stand there to watch and listen. Then, when I'm brave enough, I will be an art thief.

4. Carnelian

Let me tell you upfront, I'm not the kind to forgive easily. And I know with each pain I'm getting, I'm also dissing out more pain towards others and myself.

I get easily obsessed about everything, good or bad, mostly bad things. They've burnt a piece of me. I've been betrayed in the past. So many betrayals that made me angry towards the world, towards myself. I just wanted to go away. No, not to hide, but to gather my strength again and come back and confront. I used to be the one that is caught in other's claws, now I know how to catch them in my claws.

But this kind of behaviour ruined my soul. I want to sweep away all these pains and anger, to lighten my existence. It's almost a wish that I've been keeping to myself for all this time. And now you know about it too. And I'm glad that you can help me make it come true. Pull me out of this destructive cycle. Help me breathe and look for the light.

I say hurtful things sometimes, you probably will fall victim to that some day and I want to ask for your forgiveness beforehand. I let my pride get in my way a lot of times. To prove my point, to prove my worth, to prove that I'm strong, that you can't hurt me. But you can, you just choose not to. I know I'm at your mercy. This makes me uncomfortable, but it's actually not so bad. I'm getting used to it. Thanks to your humour and gentle touches. For every hurtful word of mine, you replaced it with your kiss. If I ask you to cry for my pain, will you do it, in my stead?

You sure know how to tame me, or just anyone ever met you feel the same way? Stop, I won't let myself go into that direction of thinking. Let's just focus on us. Teach me how to dismantle someone's defence like you did to me, step by step. Just so I can understand what's being done to me. I want to know everything, grab everything in my hands to understand it.

Don't worry, I won't do it to you, because you will come to me defenceless. Is that how you will win? Will I take all I can and leave you with nothing, or will I give you all and be a part of it? You decide.

Note: I usually pull one oracle card to read their energy better. With this group, three cards wanted to come out. I looked at the cards, the fish, the bear and the scorpion, then tried to put them back because that's too many. Right at the moment I put them back into the deck, I felt a sharp pain in my rib-cage for a split second, so I decided to put the three cards down and read them for this group. And guess what, a part of the stone layout does resemble the scorpion's tail.

5. Aventurine

I'm putting my best behaviour for the world to see, for you to see too. In this world of everyone fighting to get to the top, I just want to honour a softer energy. To nurture and harmonise everything, everyone. But I pursue that desire with the mentality of a soldier, a worker, diligently getting closer to my goal every day. I don't know how to do this, to be honest, I'm properly doing it wrong. Shall I just agree with everything to keep the peace, or shall I fight back?. Is it possible to honour something that I don't understand?

I have a dilemma of being a little people-pleasing. I like to hide and push my individuality to the back. Let my own compass take a back seat while letting others dictate what's good for me. I can't deny that a part of me wish for this. To let others lead me and I will do what was told. And I just want to trust you with that responsibility, putting myself into your hands.

The only thing I want to control is how I do things, those small details to get the job done. I guess I'm just overwhelmed by the large responsibility of life that I fuss about the details. When can I stop putting my mental energy into banal things and think about the bigger picture? Will I ever meet my calling, my destination?

But good news, I'm learning. Those days that I hid in my house, alone, probably did me some good. I'm learning to be with myself. So that I can be with others. You will get an early access, of course, with special service.

I'm glad that I can feel safe with you, enough to whisper in low voice about my spiritual belief. It's always there, with me, protecting me. The last thing I want is to be called strange. Especially from you, and lucky for me, you won't. You will never do that to me, that's your kindness. To other people, they can see me getting upset at our carpet being spoiled by coffee. They probably will think that I was upset because of the cost of getting it cleaned, the ruined aesthetic. But to you, you will understand the reason immediately. You will know that I believe a spirit lives in that carpet and spilling the coffee will hurt them. Keep it a secret for me, okay? Pinky promise.

6. Prehnite

The first time that we met wasn't the first time I saw you. I had seen you ways before that. I just needed time to build my strategy, to infiltrate into your life as smoothly as possible.

I was patient, time was on my side. There is no need to rush. You had your guard up and I didn't want to scare you away. Heck, I sound like a predator, circling its prey. Or maybe I was? You tell me.

But I do know that you didn't make it easy for me to approach you. I have to confess, I almost gave up. I have a habit of letting go too early. A sign of things derailing, then I will be up and going. I couldn't be bogged down by anything, or so I thought. Love was never the end goal for me. It was just a side effect. Even lust had not much meaning to me. I just sped up ahead, leaving them behind. I was pursuing total freedom. I viewed everything as an object to be studied, to extract information from, to help build my personal library. I basically lived in my head.

What's mysterious force that kept my patient in pursuing you, I don't know. Maybe you are the biggest mystery that I've yet to solve. And that thought was the beginning of my demise. At least, my old self's demise. I'm enjoying myself right now, with you.

But you also didn't make it easier when we're together. What are you? Divine punishment? It's not like I have the option to pack by bags and go back to my old way again. I've already burned the bridge leading to it. No coming back now.

You push me to the edge, and I will pull your hand with me. Let's fall together then soaring up again. When our wings are tired and broken, plunge me back to the depth, and I will show you how enticing it is to be with me down below. You're afraid, but you're also brave. I won't do something that I know you can't do or don't want to do. That's our unspoken oath.

[spotsandsocks]

Fuck it Friday!

@tizniz @diazsdimples

As they say I did not mean for this to exist and yet here we are 1.3k later. Will put on ao3 later and tag everyone later- in my lunch and running out of time. And I need to set this free so I can know peace.

I got in my Eddie feels - aren’t we all right now, had thought and now… have some pain with a hopeful ending. I’m still sold in eddie being so deep in comphet he has no idea what to do. This is the push he needs. Demi Eddie for the win. No Eddie bashing here! Chris loves his dad and wants to help.

When you walk into your living room and find you parents, your son and your best friend sitting there waiting for you, you know things are bad.

To be honest he should of expected something like this.

Eddie stands frozen, awaiting his fate as his dad speaks first.

“We need to talk son.”

At least that’s true Christopher has barely said a word to him since it happened. Not that he blames him.

“We’re worried about you.”

Buck goes next but those words aren’t new he’s already said that and again Eddie doesn’t blame his friend for his feelings. Like he said last time he’s worried about himself too. It’s hard to get his head around the recent choices he’s made harder to think about the consequences.

It almost like it wasn’t him making the decisions. It’s almost like he doesn’t know who he is anymore but then has he ever?

“I’m going to go to Texas”

The third sentence comes from Christopher and is possibly the worst thing he’s ever had to listen to and Eddie has had to hear heartbreaking words so many times.

“What?”

That’s his voice. the first thing he’s said but it’s a barely a whisper. Surely even with everything that’s happened Chris can’t mean that.

His son looks at him, calm and steady and repeats himself.

“I’m going to Texas with grandma and abuelo.”

Eddie turns to his parents all his hurt and betrayal rushing to the surface, he’d thought… he’d let them back in, trusted them

His voice is louder now, “How could you? Why? Why would you try and take him away from me again. I thought..”

Chris stops him in his tracks

“They didn’t ask me. I asked them.”

There’s no words available to respond to that.

“Dad?”

His heart hurts. His head too, everything hurts. He’s fucked up again. Again, again, again. The worst things he knows he deserved this, he caused this nightmare it’s his fault, his fault every time.

Chris’ voice sounds far away.

“It’s not ‘cos I’m mad.”

Eddie doesn’t even hear him. He’s found words and they sound desperate.

“I’ll come with you.”

If Chris wants to leave he’ll do it. No matter the cost. No matter what he leaves behind.

Then that sacrifice is taken from him too.

“No. I don’t want you to.”

He can’t breathe. He’s dizzy, he can’t think. What has he done?

He can’t hear them when they call him.

“Dad?”

“Eddie?”

“Son? Mijo?”

“Eddie?”

“Dad?!”

He turns from them all and he runs.

An unheard voice chases after him.

“I’ll go.”

*

Standing by his sink trying to breathe like he’s been taught when this happens to him he doesn’t need to know who followed him when the footsteps stop.

Buck. Always Buck.

“He’s not trying to punish you”

He can’t turn around. Can’t look, not yet.

“Feels like it”

Soft and concerned, that’s how he sounds. Buck sounds like that a lot recently.

“He’s not. He wouldn’t. He loves you.”

There’s nothing but bitterness in his own words.

“Does he? Maybe he shouldn’t.”

“Eddie!” There’s censure in that word, Buck obviously disagrees and disapproves of that sentiment.

“He loves you. He’s angry and he’s hurt but he still loves you. You can be upset with someone and still love them. I think you know that better than anyone.”

He does.

“Then why is he going.”

He wishes he didn’t sound as heartbroken as he feels. Wishes he could still manage to hide some of his heart from this man.

“Because you need him to.”

Spinning around he turns on his best friend to challenge the stupidity of those words.

“What? I need him here with me. He has to stay with me.”

“Eddie.” Buck’s face and voice hold nothing but aching sympathy. It’s like a knife cutting him open which isn’t fair he’s already got so many wounds.

Then it gets worse because a new voice enters the kitchen.

“Dad… you always tell me I need to be myself, that that’s good enough.”

Eddie stares at his son standing there, just behind Buck, so tall now, so much older than he is in Eddie’s heart.

“But I don’t think you do that. You should do that if you want me to.”

It’s all to much and even rubbing his face doesn’t stop him feeling tired and defeated.

“Chris what are you talking about?

Buck looks down at Chris who nods. There’s unspoken words flowing between them and it’s obvious they’ve been talking about him.

Chris says “Buck can tell you. He worked it out. And he’s right. I do love you.”

Then he walks away, leaving Eddie staring at his friend and waiting for answers.

“Eddie, its it’s like… well, you were a dad and a solider and a medic and a husband. All before you were 20. Man! That’s a lot!!”

Buck takes a step closer.

“Hell Eddie I was a kid at nineteen, a baby, I had no idea who I was what I wanted, and you had to be all that. And your dad told me you had to “be the man of the house” when you were even younger than that.

So who are you? How can you know?

You’ve been so many things for everyone else. You try so hard to be “normal” I see that and I I know you think you’re broken, but you’re not.

You just haven’t really met you yet. How could you, when did you have the time?

That’s why Chris is going away. Just for the summer. He wants you to have time to be you. Find out who Edmundo Diaz really is.”

Eddie listens stunned and horrified. Are they right? Is that all true. He’s terribly afraid it might be.

Buck smiles soft, eyes still worried.

“It’s ok to go look for him.”

His words get stuck for a moment but this is Buck. He can say this to him.

“What if I don’t like him when I find him? What if he’s … not normal?”

“What’s normal huh? And seems unlikely- I think I know the real Eddie Diaz a little bit at least and he’s pretty great. Always will be.”

Buck’s close enough to touch now. He really wishes he would. He’d like a hug.

“Eddie, your life gave you no room to look for what you truly want for yourself. You have to do that now or I’m scared what might happen to you. You need time and space..”

“I don't want to be alone.”

The words leave his lips scared and true and then he gets something he wants for himself for the first time in a long time as Buck folds him into a hug.

He gets to be held while Buck speaks quietly.

“You won’t be. You got me. You’ll always have me. You told me I could have you back any day, well it’s any day and here I am - I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a lot to deal with, think about but maybe he can do it with help.

“Promise?”

Buck’s body shakes with a laugh

“Pinky promise and Maddie would kill me if I broke one of those.

“He’ll come back?”

Eddie lets himself be held and given comfort by the only person who could. Which is probably something else he needs to think about.

“Of course he will, this is his home, you’re his Dad.”

He can share his fears with this man, he knows that he has before and he does again now.

“I don’t know if I know how to be anything else.”

Buck’s arms tighten around him.

“I know, but you’ll work it out cos even if you’re not sure who Eddie Diaz is, I am and I know he can do anything.”

Buck sounds so sure, maybe he’s right, maybe with help and time he can work out who he really is and what he really wants and then once he knows that, maybe he can find it.

Buck keeps holding him, keeps believing in him and that he can do anything even find happiness.

Maybe he can and maybe he won’t have to look very far.

[startanewdream]

Rational, for today's @jilymicrofics

"Together," Remus repeats slowly. "You and Lily are going to Hogsmeade... together."

Remus purses his lips but he doesn't add any comment, his voice barely betraying a hint of amusement. James could always count of him for discretion — a quality that Sirius does not possess.

"So is it a date?"

James chokes, pumpkin juice spilling from his open mouth, face tinting of a deep red. Next to him and looking imensely undisturbed, Lily pats his back calmly.

"Be serious," is all she says.

"Oh, I was. Am. Cannot not be." Sirius is smirking and, unfortunately, far enough that James cannot kick his shin. "Some things just are—like two people going out on a trip, alone, just the two of them... that's usually called a date."

"It's not," Lily replies dignifiedly, even as, under the table, her hand traces James', drawing soft circles on his open palm. "You know we are Heads."

Sirius glances at the badge on James' robes, a familiar frown on his forehead. "As if I could forget."

James breathes again; he can do this silly banter and he knows his well-rehearsed line. "We need to escort the Third Years in their first trip today."

"And you are going together because—"

"It's rational." Lily hesitates for a heartbeat before glancing at James. Her voice softens. "We work better together."

And now her expression cracks for a moment; her sentence was innocent enough that it could mean all the time they spent together as Head Boy and Head Girl, all the plans and shifts, patrolling the halls, watching detentions, or all those infinite meetings that could have been owl mail. But when their eyes meet, James knows she is thinking about later: the innocent then not-so-innocent touches and lingering looks, and, later, the kisses they never pretend were innocent at all.

There is a smile at the corner of her lips now — one that challenges very much their resolution of keeping things low between them until, at least, after this first date — but luckily, no one else seems to notice it. James is quite safe that they've fooled everyone.

That's an illusion that's broken on the narrow street behind the Hog's Head, when loud claps interrupt a kiss that could never be considered innocent.

"You forgot a detail, Padfoot" Peter is saying, smirking. "Two people going out on a trip and making out—that's definitely a date."

"I don't know... Remus, you are the prefect. Snogging other prefects is a requirement?"

"Not that I've been informed."

"Right, or else I might have been more interested in the job."

"No, you wouldn't," James says, recovering his voice.

"Yeah..." Sirius considers it for a moment before winking at them. "So, Evans, remind me of how serious should I be."

"Oh, shut it," she says, sticking her tongue at him and refusing to let go of James' hand, something he is quite content with.

"We are Heads," he says, echoing her words. "After so many hours alone, it was only rational we'd end up snogging."

[stef-rambles]

started watching the wind breaker anime some weeks ago and got so hooked on it that I immediately switched to the manga and boiii...

I'm literally done for. like, I'm such a goner for the story in general and all the characters...

there are just so many amazing characters and ships and I cAN'T DECIDE WHICH ONE'S MY FAV YET BC THEY'RE ALL JUST SO GOOD ugh

but there's one ship that already grew so much on me and it's, ofc, a throuple (yea, no shit sherlock, this is me we're talking about after all)

anyway...

lemme rant about SuoSakuNirei for a bit to get this outta my system 😩 (I hope I got the ship name right, pls forgive me if not 🥲)

I'll try to keep it spoiler free but I won't guarantee it, so pls beware, just in case

I can totally see how they complement one another with their personality traits and abilities, and while I can absolutely see Nirei being completely upfront about stuff, like how he mostly is, Suo would, ofc, be the one teasing all the time (duh!), and Sakura would just be his flustered and blushy, bratty self (he's so cute pls 😩)

yet, the moment a situation gets serious or they're in a fight, one can easily notice how much they respect, value, and depend on each other. they'd work together in synch, like clockwork, and nobody would even be able to so much as breathe into any of their direction bc they would always have each others' backs and protect one another

but I can also totally picture them enjoy spending time and being silly together, and to just relax in each other's company during their off times

Suo would probably read a book in silence with a soft and content smile on his lips, while casually drinking tea, and absentmindedly stroking Nirei's hair, whose head is laying on Suo's lap

and Nirei would excitedly update Sakura about all the new info the blonde has gathered about whoever he got the chance to observe in their last fights or during whichever meeting they had, while gesturing wildly with his notebook in hand and more than once almost knocking it against Suo's head, who simply dodges it

Sakura, on the other hand, would sit across them both, stiff and upright with arms crossed over his chest, and cheeks flushed in a most beautiful shade of scarlet as he desperately tries his best not to combust whenever he sneaks a peek at Suo and Nirei. and all the while an internal fight is raging in his mind about whether he wants to join them or tries to convince himself that that's bullshit and he's certainly gone insane now, bc how could he actually want that?! (a.k.a. affection 😒)

but they'd still challenge each other, especially Sakura with his cheeky mouth would still constantly blabber about wanting to fight Suo and Nirei, too

and Suo would tease Sakura until he'd lunge at him but Nirei would immediately scold them both to cut the crap and yes– they would actually listen to him 🤭

or they would settle on arm-wrestling, which would end in Sakura literally combusting and sputtering incoherent words and sentences bc Nirei won against him –by unfair means– bc Suo told Nirei beforehand to surprise Sakura by suddenly giving him a kiss before he could win 🤭

and it would all end up in Nirei and Suo laughing wholeheartedly as Sakura only watches them, stunned to silence, while his mind's reeling, the same word repeating itself over and over in there

*cute*

before he startles, blushes furiously, and hastily stumbles out of the room bc he's totally overwhelmed by his emotions...

🥹🥹🥹

[marvelouslizzie]

sooo, i read your fic "like someone i know" and it was absolutely hot AND amazing. i am obsessed with miscommunication of how they thought they hated/were against each other but not. 😭

if you do take requests, could you write a drabble or something of them finally dating and bucky still teasing the reader but obviously in love now? JBJDJSHS maybe make the entire class confused bc they're aware of their rivalry. i just LOVEEE the fluff after enemies/rivals to lovers plots. 🥹

if you don't take requests, it's okay!!! your fic was amazing and now i shall read more of your work to my heart's content!!!

Thank you so much for the kind words ❤️

Oh, I absolutely love this! I tried to write a cute drabble and I hope this works for you.

summary: Set after Like Someone I Know. You and your former academic rival, Bucky, begin a secret romantic relationship. What happens when you two have another exam?

pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: None actually. Pure bickering and a bit of fluff + no mention of y/n.

word count: 842

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Another day, another test. You feel stressed by the number of lessons you had to study for this one. There were so many things, even though you went through all of them, you feel like you remember nothing. Nothing at all.

You open your bag and reach for your notes while your back rests against the cold wall. Maybe you will feel confident enough if you go through them one more time. Refreshing your memory does not hurt, right?

You start to read and repeat the most important info in your mind, trying to remember where and how you wrote them so you can use them during the exam, but it’s hard to concentrate. Especially, when Bucky’s voice is booming through the hallway. His laugh is so loud, and it annoys you because he isn’t laughing like that because of you. He’s just messing around with Steve, Sam, and Natasha, as usual. You are pretty sure Natasha is the one that made him laugh this loudly, and jealousy takes over you. 

“For the love of god, just stop talking for a sec! Some of us are trying to study here.” 

No one bats an eye. They are so used to you two bickering before and after exams, but Bucky immediately turns to you. You see the mischievous spark in his eyes. He’s so amused by the comment.

“Do you mean yourself, princess? Because I don’t see anyone else besides you studying right now.”

You make a sour face when you hear him calling you princess. That’s new. He usually calls you doll.

“Does it matter?”

“Matters to me.”

“Fine. I’m trying to study. Shut your mouth, kay? Bye.”

You try to turn back to your notes, but no, Bucky is not done bickering with you. Of course, he isn’t.

“Don’t worry, you will get a good grade. You always do.” It could’ve been such a sweet encouragement if his tone had been different. It just feels like he’s patronizing you.

“So what? I should stop studying?” 

“Yeah. Give yourself a break, doll.” He stops for a second, then dramatically adds. “Live a little.”

“Studying first, living later.” That kinda sounds like a promise, but no one but Bucky gets that.

You think you can finally read again, but Sam doesn’t let go of the conversation for some reason. He always likes to interject.

“Are you worried Bucky will get the best grade?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Steve sounds tired already.

“I would like to see him try.” After years of being rivals, your answer comes automatically. You forget there’s no need for this anymore.

“I got the best score last time, remember?” Luckily he doesn’t sound offended. Maybe he just missed your usual bickering.

“And I will make sure that doesn’t happen again.” You give him a fake smile. You really want to get the best score, even if that means beating your boyfriend.

“You always say that, but…” Suddenly he stops talking, and you wanna know how that sentence ends.

“But what?” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on!” You challenge him. He shouldn’t stop himself from voicing his thoughts just because you started to date a while ago. Your rivalry is still there. He should be free to say whatever he wants. “Say it.”

“Maybe later.” He resists.

"Come on, Barnes! Since when are you afraid to speak your mind?" Your taunting works like a charm.

“You always say that, but I never saw you upset because I beat you.”

You can’t help but smile. If someone is gonna get the better grade, it has to be Bucky. Any other option is simply not acceptable.

You feel the stares of Steve, Sam, and Natasha on you. They didn’t expect this turn of events. They have been holding their breaths to see your reaction. Are you gonna get mad? Snap back at him? Shove his flirtatious comment up his ass?

“If it's not me, then it has to be you, right?” You watch Bucky’s smile grow while others mumble with confusion.

“If not my girl, then who else?”

Oh, he really went there. He didn’t miss the opportunity to claim you, and even though you wanted to do that very differently, you can’t help but feel giddy about it.

You don’t say anything at first, slowly walking towards him. You stop right in front of him, staring into his pretty blue eyes. He doesn’t know what to expect, so you can see how puzzled he is. You stand on your tiptoes and gently place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Good luck, baby,” you whisper into his ear, then you just turn on your heels, like nothing happened. “See you after the exam.” You don’t look back, but you hear others talk.

“What the fuck just happened?” 

“Did she just-” 

“I told you they would eventually fuck, Rogers! Pay up!” 

“Language, Sam! We don’t even know…”

“Oh, they definitely did.” Natasha sounds rather amused.

“Fine!”

“Oh, come on! You betted on us?” Bucky’s charming voice is the last thing you hear before entering the classroom.

[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader - The Best Way To Spend A Rainy Day

For my dear friend @malfoys-demigod who requested this drabble for my 3.6k follower challenge! 💛

Prompt - Everyone should dance in the rain at least once in their lives (Prompt in bold)

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Y/n was completely entranced by the droplets of rain that were falling from the darkened sky.

The pitter patter sound they were making on the window pane was so soothing that Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she let all of her muscles relax and just enjoy the calming moment.

Life at the firm had been so hectic lately, Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she actually enjoyed a quiet moment like this. 

Memories of her youth flashed through her mind; from a time where she was carefree and didn’t care what people thought about her. 

She didn’t know if it was down to the nostalgic memories floating in her mind or if it was just because she wanted some relief from the stress she’d been feeling, but all she wanted to do right now was go outside and dance in the rain. 

“Sweetheart,” Harvey began, walking over to her with a mug of tea. 

He knew how much stress she’d been under and all he wanted to do was pamper her, but before Harvey could finish his sentence Y/n was walking to the door. 

“Y/n where are you going?” He asked, setting down the tea on the kitchen counter. 

“Outside,” she replied simply, like it was the obvious thing in the world. 

Harvey’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he stated to her, trying to work out if she was serious or not, “It’s raining outside.”

And it certainly wasn’t a light rain either, there had been weather warnings on the news for most of the day.

“I know!” She beamed excitedly, only adding to Harvey’s confusion. 

“Oh don’t tell me the great Harvey Specter has never danced in the rain,” she continued, stepping away from the door and towards Harvey. 

“I can honestly say I haven’t,” Harvey answered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth  as his heart fluttered in his chest

Y/n's smile could make any bad day good.  

“C’mon,” she whispered, interlocking her fingers with his and tugging him towards the door.

“Y-n?-” Harvey repeated again, but once again he was interrupted by Y/n. 

“Everyone should dance in the rain at least once in their lives,” she explained to him; as she bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“How many times have you danced in the rain?” Based on how excited she was, he knew that this certainly wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but it was the first time he’d ever heard of her doing it, which was odd given how long they’d known each other. 

“Whenever I could,” she laughed, pulling  Harvey  out the elevator as soon as the doors opened and into the rain outside. 

If this had been any other person, Harvey would never have thought of doing this, but he’d dance with Y/n in a thousand rainstorms, if it meant he got to see that beautiful smile on her face. 

[orangepanic]

okay based off that bad sex meme Irohsami sex interrupted by a phone call and Asami just casually takes the call and discusses future industry stocks while Iroh is sitting there still hot to go and shocked like:

anyway i hope this made you laugh

Welp.

He's just slipped her panties off when the telephone by the bed jangles to life. Iroh can't for the life of him understand why anyone needs a telephone in their bedroom, where its seemingly only purpose is to disturb either sleep or other private activities, so he's even more shocked when Asami scoots up the bed, rolls over, and actually answers it.

"Hello?" Iroh has noticed how she never gives out her name at first. "Oh, yes, thank you. Yes, now is fine." She covers the receiver and throws him an apologetic look before mouthing the word sorry.

Iroh gazes from her smudged lipstick down past the waves of long black hair cascading over her open shirt to the appealing dark patch between her legs. His own shorts strain against him. Iroh wears nothing else. Because they'd been rather in the middle of something, hadn't they?

"Five-fifty," Asami says, as if repeating what her caller has told her. "What about on the Ba Sing Se exchange? They're ahead." Iroh runs a thumb experimentally over her ankle and the corner of her mouth twitches into a smile. "Alright, that's what I expected," she says into the receiver. "Can you give me the averages?"

With that small victory Iroh moves his hand further up Asami's leg. Her pale calf is cool beneath his palm. She's told him she loves how hot his skin feels to the touch but he's never admitted the inverse is also true. When he gets to her knee he makes another little circle with his thumb, this time adding some heat. Asami cocks an eyebrow at him. What are you doing? she mouths.

Iroh tugs a little at her knee. Just a little. She has every right to say no, to send him packing with shattered hopes and aching balls, but she doesn't. Instead she shifts her hips and lets him gently part her legs.

"We need to get it back up to seven at least by the end of the month," Asami says as Iroh presses his lips to the soft skin beside her knee, "ideally more. I'm not concerned, not yet. We" -- her breathing hitches when he nibbles the inside of her thigh -- "we have the second quarter earnings out on Monday."

Iroh takes his time, and is rewarded with the feel of Asami's free hand in his hair. She's not pulling him to her but almost. Nothing turns him on so much as being wanted yet this, this is something else. It almost feels like a challenge. The taste of her isn't nearly as sweet as the change in her voice on the telephone. Maybe her caller can tell, maybe they can't, but Iroh can. Her tone is high, breathy, with too many pauses. Asami usually speaks with such confidence.

"Then the Board will just ah um have to wait," she gasps into the telephone. "Along with... with... with everyone else." A pause. Iroh can feel her trembling. Her hips twitch with need. "Really. Will be. Fine."

She comes perhaps four seconds after she hangs up and Iroh thinks she might tear holes in the sheets. It's all he can do to stay with her, keeping it up as she rides out the wave shouting his name. Only when he's sure that she's finished does he relent.

The scene before him is beautiful. Asami lays on the bed red-faced and wrecked, her gorgeous green eyes blown wide. "You..." she pants, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

Iroh grins. "I'd never abandon a mission."

Asami pulls her legs together and scoots to the side. Her mouth has a mischievous look that he doesn't like. "You," she repeats, nodding her chin to the bedside table, "go call your mother."

[fleurrreads]

pairings: benny x cop!reader

warnings: none

author's note: based on this request ♡ im not 100% sure how i feel about it. only proofread once so yeah :)

Five beers deep at a small bar you meet Benny. Blonde, handsome, totally off limits. He approached you instantly, softly asking your name. He smirks at the mention of your name, repeating it a few times to get familiar with it. The blush on your cheeks not going unnoticed by him, he takes a seat next to you.

"So where are you from, darlin'?" he taps his fingers on the counter of the bar, a habit he's developed in the past few months. You give him a small smile, "Oklahoma. Born and raised." He raises a brow. "Oh you're a country girl? Would've never guessed that." he chuckles, taking a chug from his beer. You take this time to study his features. Really study them. He truly was a beautiful sight, and he probably knew it too.

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

The evening was going really smoothly, no ulterior motives in sight. Just good company and some laughs. You glance at your watch and much to your dismay it is extremely late, already in the early hours of a new day. "Well darn, it's time for me to head home." you say, grabbing your purse to take out your wallet, as a rough hand envelops yours, stopping you. "Don't worry about it, doll. I'll take care of it." Benny says, giving you a lopsided smile. Your heart jumps in your chest. "No I can't let you pay for it, I drank a lot!" you shake your head, a little giggle following your last sentence. You can't remember the last time you drank this much, especially since you've moved to a new city.

Benny insists, "Genuinely, doll. I got it. You can pay f'the next one." Your mind reels. He wants to see you again, he's made it perfectly clear. You nod, world a bit blurry, as you scribble your number on a napkin on the bar counter. "You can call me, I'm mostly at work during the day tho'." you say, handing him the napkin. He takes it and puts it in his pocket. "Yes ma'am. I never asked you what you do for work." he says, tilting his head to the side. Right, you nearly forget what your job is when he stares at you like that, and you gulp. "I'm a cop." you blurt out, and he chuckles. "Usually I ain't on too good terms with cops." he states, gulping down the last bit of his beer before throwing some money down on the counter and standing up, you follow behind him.

"Why not? You a troublemaker, Benny?" you joke. He laughs, "Somethin' like that."

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

Benny speeds down the main street of town, surely breaking many road rules as he hears the police sirens wail behind him. He stops, his bike is too low on fuel to outrun them anyway. He sighs, defeated as a familiar silhouette approaches him. You take off your glasses, an amused look on your face. "Well well well... what do we have here? You do know that you were speeding multiple miles over the speed limit, yes?" the amusement never leaving your features as Benny laughs. "Well well. I didn't think that this would be how we meet again, doll." he says, running a hand through his hair.

"What can I do to lessen my fine, officer? I promise this'll be the last time you see me speedin'." he frowns, amusement shining in his eyes.

You sigh, "Tsk tsk tsk, I don't know. What can you give me that I don't already have, sir?" you smirk, enjoying the little game. His eyes widen momentarily, a smug look on his face. He takes your hand, placing a soft kiss, rubbing circles on your hand. "Oh I have a lot I can give you, ma'am. Why don't I take you for a ride?" he says, challenging you. You raise a brow, always one for a challenge.

You get on the back of his motorcycle, arms holding to his sides. Benny grasps your hands, pulling you even closer to him. You feel all giddy inside, your heart beating wildly.

"If I get fired it's gonna be all your fault. 'Just sayin'."

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ☆

[runnning-outof-time]

3 . 5 K Follower Celebration

~ The Garrison is open and the drinks are flowing! ~

Come and help me celebrate reaching 3.5k followers!

Thank you for all of the love and support you’ve shown me! I know I say it every time, but I truly cannot believe that my silly little blog has grown this big. Im so, so thankful for every single one of you! 🧡

So in honor of hitting 3.5k, I figured I’d think up some 3 word sentences and some 5 word sentences and then challenge myself to write some blurbs based around them. … That’s where y’all come in — I need you to send me some requests using the prompts I have listed below the cut!!

If you’re interested please make sure you include:

The character you’d like me to write it with — I only write for Tommy, John and Arthur

The sentence you’d like me to incorporate

If you’d like for it to take a certain tone (i.e fluff, angst, etc) — this is optional; I’ll happily surprise you!

Please only use 1 prompt per ask/request!! You can send in as many as you’d like though (the more, the merrier)!!

Anyone can join in and help me celebrate — anons are most certainly welcome!! Spread the word!!

Requests for these blurbs are CLOSED — you can find the masterlist for the celebration HERE!

My lovely fellow writers - if you’re looking for a challenge, you’re more than welcome to choose a prompt of your own and work you’re magic on it…I’d love to see what you create! 🧡

I can’t wait to write and share some blurbs with y’all!!

**please make sure to include the sentence you choose in your ask!! — I’ve numbered them in case you can’t pick and want to use a number generator to decide (or if you feel like doing that anyway 👀👀)

Three Word Sentence Prompts:

“Come to bed.”

“Let it go.”

“Stay right there.”

“Talk to me.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Close the door.”

“I love you.”

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Look at me.”

“Look at you.”

“Why right now?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I missed you.”

“I need you.”

“Happy or sad?” (I couldn’t resist it)

“Figure it out.”

“Kiss me, please.”

“How about no?”

“Yes or no?”

“Let me in.”

“I’m so happy.”

“You’re bleeding, (name).”

“Forget about it.”

“Honey, please stop.”

“Listen to me.”

“Listen to yourself.”

“How dare you.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Then prove it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Say it again.”

“Are you jealous?”

“You look funny.”

Five Word Sentence Prompts:

“I don’t know how to.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Can you repeat that again?”

“Do you actually love me?”

“Say what you want to.”

“How did you do that?”

“Are you happy right now?”

“Forget I ever said that.”

“I just needed some quiet.”

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?”

“You look beautiful like that.”

“Why’re you looking at me?”

“Did you even miss me?”

“This time I mean it.”

“Please stay with me tonight.”

“You’re more fun to miss.”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“I like how that sounds.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Who did this to you?”

“Do you know you’re bleeding?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Will you just kiss me?”

“I guess I should go.”

“I’ll break before I bend.”

“I would wait for you.”

“I believe this is yours.”

“I know you want to.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Where do we go now?”

“Look at me right now.”

“Why are we here anyway?”

“I didn’t get your name.”

divider credit

[tavyliasin]

2024 Writing Retrospect

Tagged by @jellymellydraws so I'll give it a go!

What's been your biggest learning point this past year? There are very few things I can't/won't write if I put my mind to it, I just need to find the right angle - I've found a lot of joy in writing crackships, one shots, and rare pairings. I do adore my longer stories, but digging in to new dynamics never fails to be exciting and I'd like to lean on that some more~

How has your writing developed this past year? I think I'm a lot more confident in writing, particularly kink, and I'm easing my way out of some bad habits like sentences that are far too long or being too vague when my mind wants to skip through the most exciting parts~

Bad writing habits? Hmmm I'm going to have to throw in getting distracted, not finishing WIPs, and definitely the impatience to post. I know works are better with a beta read, but that means waiting and editing and re-reading instead of just slamming it down, throwing the links into every corner of the internet, and running away in fear and horror that nobody wants what I just put out. Ah, there's another bad habit - the lack of confidence in finished works. I don't like looking at my stats, but I cherish every single individual comment and kudos like my entire creative career depends on it.

Favorite thing you wrote? Gods that's a tough one. I adore all of my works, and I wrote so much this year. It might be between the Raphael/Haarlep prequel pieces, and possibly Emperor x Volo "A Legend, Alive" which was a real experiment when I started it and it just developed so much depth and feeling as I took it entirely seriously~

Biggest win? Getting over 500k words published on AO3, over 100 works, and also finishing the 24 chapter speedwritten epic that was the Volo Kinkmas Challenge. Most of which barely a dozen people have even opened judging by the hit counts, but I shouldn't expect people to actively want to read 24 chapters of Volo smut without me begging them and yelling "hear me out, it's actually really good" about a thousand times a minute. (Seriously though I am proud of finishing it and I think I did a damn good job too, allowing myself that pride)

Goals for the new year? Write. The. Original. Novel. I did barely anything on it last year... I would also like to finish all 3 of my longfics, they've been going on too long without concluding, then I'll feel more free in starting new things or indulging in silly premise one shots~

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times? "As". You can pry "as" from my cold dead hands, I need it, it works, I will use it plenty~ Otherwise I really just keep checking word repetition constantly. If I'm going over a piece and worry I've said a word too many times I will do a quick ctrl+F to highlight uses and see if I'm good or not. I prefer several paragraphs before a word repeats and open my thesaurus tab often~

What are you excited for in the new year? Creative events, finishing the other Zine pieces I've signed up for, and the release of Fan Zines I've been a part of - really excited to share those pieces with you all when they are released~

Tagging in - with no pressure, only if you'd like to - @morb-untamed @laserlope @khapikat222 @ineadhyn @redroomroaving

[starqueensthings]

Summary: chapter starts after a three-week time jump. June and Challa have just completed another lesson on the combat base and continue to struggle with the students. After forming a plan of attack, June reenters the base and quickly gets disoriented attempting to find her way out. Anxiety begins to boil as she finds herself somewhat cornered in a dead end hallway… until someone arrives to save the day

Rating/WC: all chapters are 16+ for subject matter unless otherwise noted | 6835 words (she’s a long one, folks!)

WARNINGS: mild graphic language, mild anxiety.

A/N: not particularly proud of this chapter, but I’ve worked and reworked it too many times now… my brain is turning into scrambled egg. As always, if you see typos, run on sentences, and/or passive verbs… no you don’t.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

“Maybe I'll just drag the whole desk to the back corner…” June groused, the acerbic nature of her current mood completely laid bare by both the bite neath her words, and the emphatic yank she offered that connection cord as she tugged it from the port in Challa’s tablet. “I know it’s not going to solve anything, but… I have to do something. I'm losing my mind, and I know you are too.”

Though he granted her an indulgent snort whilst hoisting his bag on to the podium and peeling the zipper apart to rehome his trusted device, his succeeding response failed to match the antipathy surging through his colleague’s boiling blood. “Yes,” he began with a sigh. “Securing their attention today did prove particularly challenging.”

While the true vitriol of which she yearned to voice vied desperately to escape the corral behind pursed lips, she permitted only a small huff to escape her nose, as the notion of inciting yet another potentially caustic discussion about how that century of troopers continuously failed to offer them the respect their title should merit, promised to only intensify the disgust she felt toward those students, and the dejection that had long-since robbed Challa’s eyes of that neon ambition.

Instead, only a frustrated sigh was granted its leave, obscenely rattling her lips as it fled the tense container of her chest, and though that laden breath did momentarily succeed in dissipating a portion of the ire she’d trapped in her jaw during that near-tortuous three-hour lecture, it was a mere second before her upper lip began to flatten in earnest atop the vivid recollection of a soldier in the first row assaulting her taciturn perch behind the desk by winking and licking his lips at near-regular intervals.

Correctly recognizing the disgruntlement neath that poignant exhale (having heard it depart her scowling lips on countless occasions), Challa cast her something near an apologetic glance, lips compressed into a thin line of sympathy whilst a ruminative silence saturated the air between them.

And though she avidly sought any sense of resolution to the behaviour that saw her deliberately hidden behind her datapad twice a week for a trio of hours, Challa’s countering silence was not fuelled by the dismissive finality it would have appeared to be, but by the considerate notion of repeating words already spoken only threatened to exacerbate her merciless chagrin; he’d been audience to her exasperated invective a handful of times now, including the off-site meeting last weekend where the pair discussed June’s frustration ad nauseum amidst hopes it may appease some portion of her distress.

“There isn’t a single cell in my body that doesn’t sympathize with you, June,” he’d assuaged upon the reemergence of her grievances, pausing only to hand her a fresh mug of homemade caf and take a seat atop the only sofa cushion they hadn’t blanketed in several weeks worth of upcoming lesson plans. “And while it won’t offer the consolation you seek, watching it unfold from behind the podium is quite disheartening; I can certainly understand why you must feel something of ‘a fish in a bowl’. You see, from what Eagle divulged during our tour, you are one of very few women granted access to the combat base; the remaining majority are Jedi, whose allotted military rank commands an inherent degree of respect from the clones, and a handful of nosey senators who turn their noses up and see themselves out within minutes of arriving. To compound the issue further, our audience presents as quite undersocialized due to the geographical seclusion of the planet they’ve only recently departed. But this true challenge is this—” He paused to shift his weight against the arm of the sofa, balancing his own hot mug on his knee with one hand, while the other draped atop the backrest of the seat beside him. “—If you remember, our contract explicates that we, under no circumstances, are to act as disciplinarians. The nature of their training requires that soldiers be reprimanded with consistent, particular practices to ensure any resulting resentment does not impact the resolve of their loyalty to their superiors or the objective. For us to enforce a punishment of any variation would act as both a disservice to their training and a breach of our contract. Eagle has advised me that we can report any… misbehaviour… to him, but— I’m sorry, June, it must remain at that.”

Today had seen their sixth lesson brought to completion amid an unchanged dynamic, though thanks to some tacit premise, the troopers had apparently earmarked lessons on Zhellday mornings as an opportunity for an uninhibited nap away from the castigation of their superior officers. Quickly identifying that unexpected, yet, welcome placidity as the perfect means to enact a tidbit of revenge for their abysmal behaviour, June proceeded to let her datapad fall with a thunderous bang atop that desk at first sign of those lids beginning to droop, stifling a series of dubious giggles with pursed lips as their eyes sprang open and their shoulders jerked in alarm.

But those micro moments of vengeance, while instantly effective at boosting her morale, were fleeting at most. Sadly, each of the four lessons they’d notched into their belt was accompanied by a dispirited, post-class conversation about how little those soldiers seemed to be engaging with that so-imperative content. Challa, who had spent sleepless days… weeks… meticulously crafting that course curriculum to ensure every lecture was laden with the knowledge that promised to extend the lives of his students, had taken their arrant disinterest very personally. That once-springing step had returned to something-near a flat footed slap as he moped around the hospital, those already narrow shoulders sagging even further beneath a rejection of which he could not understand, and did not know how to rectify.

Though June had seized every possible opportunity to grouse in Jacoba’s ear about the recurrent salacious etiquette of those students (including a detailed depiction of every licentious hand gesture made across the room in her direction), the magnitude of Challa’s perceived failure, and how wholly it had robbed him of that once-aflamed determination, managed to supercede her own discomfort. Following in his wake as he slumped down those dark, industrial halls toward the amphitheater of their apparent ineptitude saw her less wary about the repugnance that would, undoubtedly, surge beneath her skin in only minutes, and more concerned about how long Challa could willingly stand behind that podium and wordlessly beg that century of soldiers for the attention he knew would prognosticate their safety if they would only listen.

He thanked June in a little more than a mumble as she slid his datapad into his bag, thoughtlessly reconnecting its buckles and tossing it over his shoulder amidst a poignant sigh. After collecting her own, much smaller bag from the floor behind teacher’s desk, the duo crossed the room in silence. Desperate to create separation from the potent frustration still fuelling her heart's aggressive cadence, and because she’d long-since lost the invaluable map stashed away on their first day, June fell into a brooding gait behind her boss and pulled her holopad from her purse, all-too willing to let his presence half-a-step ahead guide her back through the maze of that still unknown compound.

“They’re just not connecting to the material like I thought they would,” Challa mused as they neared the heavy durasteel door that would permit their reentry to the civilian world. “I truly believed that the promise of a complete, theoretical knowledge of combat medicine would see them intrigued at least. Though, I’m now realizing that may have been a gross overestimation.”

“They’re intrigued all right,” June griped from behind him, blue eyes narrowed slightly as they scanned the surgical schedule she’d accessed via the device still cradled in her hands, “By my chest...”

He sighed again, palm thoughtlessly reaching to massage the tension that heavy brow seemed unable to release as the door to the speeder lot slid open, bathing them in effulgent midday sunlight. “Perhaps I need to revisit the lecture content,” he suggested, politely gesturing for her to cross the threshold ahead of him whilst shifting his hand to shield his eyes from the unexpected, yet, welcome onslaught of spring sun. “Perhaps I’ll need to further trim some objectively tedious areas, and propagate othe–”

“You know we can’t tweak any more of the content,” June rebutted quickly upon hearing the despondency behind those words, and it required only a fleeting glance upward to recognize the strain amid his lissome features as he gnawed the insides of his cheeks. “We entertained that option last week, and it’s not feasible. You were extremely intentional with the material you assigned to each lecture; it’s all information they need to learn before they get deployed or they’re not going to last any longer than the first generation medics. And, if that’s the case, we’re wasting our tim—”

“Then what do you suggest?” Challa hissed back, long fingers falling to his side in something near despair as he halted upon that threshold.

June froze half a breath later, that biting exasperation rendering her unsurprised as she turned to find those violet eyes narrowed amidst the same undeniable appeal for help that had soaked his plea… and she near-cowered under its intensity. Averting her own gaze to the loose gravel beneath her shoes, she upheld an apologetic silence, entirely unable to provide him the solution that he so desperately sought.

“I eagerly await any suggestion you may have, June,” he pressed, offering a one-shouldered shrug that instantly exposed his distress. “Anything. I need your infamous, out-of-the-box insight. I need you to attune that inherent clone-connection and help me establish a means of liaising with them, because most of them want nothing to do with me or this class, and it's going to undoubtedly cost them their lives.”

“I know, but— How am I— What do I—”

Hurrying to bridle that slew of indignant stammers, she pursed her lips, though despite each emotion-fuelled protest battling that restriction atop at her tongue, June was largely cognizant that voicing any or all of those weak arguments would only serve a disservice in their feat of finding a solution. And worse still, beneath that awareness was an uncomfortably effervescent layer of near-guilt; though she’d always rebuffed the continuously implied notion of ‘clone fluency’ to which she’d been, apparently, divinely imbued, there was no denying that the visceral distaste of the soldiers’ mild derogation had almost entirely eclipsed the commitment she’d once promised to this project and her friend.

“Anything,” he repeated, closing the space between them and putting a discerning hand on her shoulder.

“What if—” she started slowly, clamping her eyes closed atop a need to abscond from those anguished, violet eyes. “I don’t know… What if we just change our approach to the lecture content?”

His call for answers now saw Challa silent… frozen… seemingly unwilling to proffer even a breath lest it rob her of the incipient proposal he so ardently coveted.

It took a series of forceful blinks to fully eradicate the blur from June’s vision upon meeting his gaze again, as reopening her eyes had seen them instantly rebuke the power of that gleaming sun, and though that brief moment of pseudo-solitude via visual darkness helped appease the remaining dregs of her ire, the duress of his expectant gaze seemed only reinvigorated by that uncharacteristic patience.

“Well if they’re going to just sit there and be distracted,” June began, nodding over her shoulder toward where their respective speeders sat side by side before continuing on the journey across that crunchy, gravel lot. “Why can’t we use that to our advantage? Why can’t we find a way to distract them with the information? Why can’t we get their dicks out of their hands, and put MedScanners in them instead?”

She cast him a sidelong glance as she neared her speeder bike, wholly expecting that near-vulgar comment to have elicited some degree of silent condemnation from his prudish and scornful lips, but, to her surprise, there was nothing of the sort. Even the intensity of the plea behind those eyes had been replaced by a pensive cogitation.

“Hmm.” She watched his focus dart to and fro between proliferating ideas known only to his exceptional mind, that heavy brow furrowing with each passing breath, whilst little more than quiet murmurs escaped those thin lips. “Well, that’s… that could prove… hmm… attentive? Well, certainly. Yes… but perhaps both?… Both…”

June took the opportunity presented by that regenerated rumination to swap her holopad for her bike keys at the bottom of her bag, deftly unlocking the hidden compartment below her seat and tossing her purse carelessly into its depths.

“This holds potential,” Challa posed as she latched it closed again. “Holds promise even, if handled correctly. And dare I say— it may be your best idea yet.”

“I like the sounds of that,” she answered atop the ghost of a chuckle as she prepared to toss a leg over the seat of her bike. “But probably smart to chat about it later tonight. You’ve got a neuroendoscopy on the books in like ten minut—”

“And— well… I think our best chances of success lay in your very capable hands.”

His tone brightened almost as rapidly as that dejection seeped from his features, something resembling a prickling confidence erupting behind his eyes and stealing her attention so abruptly that her hands simply froze midway between their previous perch on her hip, and the handlebars to which she had begun to reach.

Eyes quickly narrowing under a burgeoning suspicion, she peered back at her boss, the harrowing implications of his vague proposal forcing her toe back toward that compacted dust below.

“What do you mean?” she asked him slowly, her own tone darkening amidst a question that hardly needed asking, the inference of that near-dubious smirk tugging upward on his lips instantly providing her the truth she needn’t have probed for. “Challa, you better not be on the brink of asking me t—”

”I’d like you to lead the next lecture. I think having, as you would say, ‘their dicks in their hands’ may actually prove beneficial if their MedTools are in the other.”

“Are you kidding me?” June near-gasped, followed by an incredulous laugh as she glared slack-jawed and completely perplexed toward her audacious boss. “Are you insane? Have we not been sitting in the same classroom for the last two weeks? Half of them aren’t listening to you because they’re staring at me. How is putting me behind the p—”

“Precisely,” he interrupted with an infuriating simplicity. “If my hypothesis bears any merit, and they typically do, these troopers may just be more willing to listen to the person they’re staring at. After all, June, you can not deny that you have their attention, whether it's the way you’d like or not.”

“It’s not—”

“And who knows,” he pressed on as if she hadn’t attempted to interject. “If the plan proves effective, you may be able to teach them a little respect while you’re at it.”

‘Not a chance,’ she thought instantly with an indignant shake of the head.

Every passing second saw Challa’s brows lift ever higher toward the top of his head whilst that duo remained near-locked in a battle of opposing insistence, the maddening smirk atop his lips rivaled by the equally potent scowl atop her own; each of them adamantly refusing to procure the white flag of concession and let it flutter in that beautiful spring zephyr.

“What’d’ya say we just try?” he urged upon watching her arms knot across her chest in a gesture of unrestrained obstinance. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but it’s a viable option in the interim while we brainstorm other facets. Please?”

June sighed heavily. Filled with a mounting regret for even having uttered the wanton remark that triggered this unwelcome scheme, she peered sternly through the veil of her lashes whilst her lips compressed to withhold another incredulous scoff. There was precisely nothing appealing about this idea… nothing except it had returned that paralyzingly hopeful smile to Challa’s face.

“Fine,” she spat at him. “But there better be a bottle of Alderanian purple wine on my desk tomorrow morning. Black label with the wax top.”

She watched his nimble fingers ball inward into fists and shoot toward the sky amidst a motion of unadulterated glee, a cry of delight leaving his lips as he reached to readjust the bag now slipping earnestly off his shoulder amidst his mirthful motions.

“And if there’s even one comment about my anatomy…” she warned, pointing a menacing finger toward his chest. “I will break someone’s nose.”

“Understood,” Challa agreed, arms swinging awkwardly as if he’d briefly entertained the urge to throw them around her shoulders in an embrace of gratitude, but thought better of it lest he return to work in need of an urgent nasal realignment. ”Let’s meet in my office later to discuss details. I know we weren’t planning on opening the MedKits until much later in the course but I think it may be prudent to—”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “We’ll talk later. Now get going! You have brain surgery in three minutes.”

Challa dashed across that speeder lot and clambered into his air speeder with the same urgency that had seen him trotting down the hall for their first ever lecture with June breathlessly attempting to keep up from half a pace behind him, and the sudden return to that beaming optimism was the only thing presently keeping her from groaning her potent displeasure aloud.

“And I want a Cleanser Tube for my apartment!” she shouted to his retreating figure, watching his speeder hover soundlessly atop the ground toward the exit, and he offered her only a small wave before departing that deserted lot and disappearing into the skyway.

Having heard her outcry through that permeable, barbed gate, the troopers flanking either side turned toward her, smiles hidden behind their buckets; the one on the left quietly muttering a disgruntled ‘civvies…’ before quickly returning to his straight-backed post.

It wasn’t until June had swung her leg over her seat and kicked that bike into life did her bespoiled mood reach a sinister and unprecedented apex, the momentary peace gained by the promise of a premium bottle of her favourite wine was instantly usurped by a sudden realization… the hoarse chuckle leaving the lips of the trooper loitering just outside that barbed barrier had sounded immediately familiar, and hardly a moment passed amidst a burgeoning puzzlement before she’d placed that sound. The unshaven trooper in the administration office had once granted her that same gruff chortle, hurrying to erect himself from an almost complete recline atop that worn desk chair; overgrown brows reaching toward his unkempt hairline and that gravelly snicker escaping his lips as she attempted to prevaricate his request for a formal introduction by offering her name in little more than a mumble before hastily dropping a folder into the intake tray on his desk… the attendance folder that they’d forgotten to return today amid their haste to leave.

”Noooooo,” she cried aloud, head tipping toward that glorious blue sky while her hands released their grip on the handlebars and slumped heavily into her lap.

Having failed to read her contract in its entirety (a truth she’d sooner pitch herself over the mouth of the underworld than admit to), June wasn’t entirely sure what repercussions would ensue if they failed to provide that completed document at the end of each lesson; she typically just simply followed in Challa’s wake as he tucked the folder neath his arm and marched them safely through those bustling corridors. And worse than having to endure the potential consequences of their negligence, she wasn’t even entirely sure she’d have the wherewithal to find her way to their classroom and back without him.

“Ugh,” she growled, killing the engine of her bike with an aggressive crank of the key and clambering off, feet thudding atop that gravel with renewed wrath. “Why? Why does the Maker hate me so? What could I have done in my past life…”

The hallway sitting opposite of that heavy durasteel barrier presented as utterly foreign in the complete void of her boss’s presence. Surely there hadn’t always been that many corridors adjacent to this one, branching out of sight through what seemed to be several dozen more doors than she remembered that wide hallway ever housing? And only increasing that rapidly emerging dread, it seemed whichever fool tasked with designing this contained community had opted to ensure that every threshold looked damn-near identical to the one next to it.

Swallowing what she could of that injustice still asimmer in her gut, she fit her thumbnail between her teeth, eyes darting fervently from one threshold to the next amid a desperate effort to orient herself while she stepped cautiously back into the dim of that esoteric corridor.

‘Damnit, what was it that he said?’ she asked herself, brow furrowing atop the effort to correctly recall Challa’s breathless rambling as he first led them to their classroom several weeks ago. ‘Eleventh door on the right, not including the elevator?’

Her feet took her apprehensively toward the first corridor on the left, eyes darting around for any sign or semblance of familiarity.

‘One… two… three,’ she counted as she trod down the hall, the lingering disdain for her boss entirely diminished by how desperately she wished his embossed lekku were swaying in tune with his step, half a pace in front of her and unknowingly shepherding her through that network of foreign pathways.

The eleventh door looked like nothing she’d ever attempted to enter before. An archaic chrome door handle sat off center in that steel barricade, and try as she might, she simply could not remember ever having needed to turn a handle on her regular journey through these halls, as modern overhead sensors typically activated touch-free upon approach. The tenth door however, immediately adjacent on her right, was an open threshold leading into a much narrower corridor.

“Okay… now last door on the left before the stairwell,” she recalled through the tight clamp of her teeth, immediately turning to pass through that promising entryway. “At least… I think?”

The sound of her sneakers atop that gleaming black floor reverberated near-thunderously around the otherwise deserted hallway, that rhythmic pat pat mixed with the assaulting pound of her heart in her ears worked in stereo to intensify the foreboding in her gut as she neared the last door on the left.

“Please be the right kriffing door,” she pleaded to that empty space, collecting the ID card from her pocket and scanning it across the control panel.

But that acknowledging beep was too familiar, and with a warm wash of relief that door slid aside to expose the now welcome comfort of her classroom. Immediately apparent, and seemingly deriding her negligence with its innocent perch atop that barren desk, was that vapid flimsi folder, and June withheld none of the curses spilling from her lips as she crossed the stage to collect it.

‘Okay, now where is that kriffing Admin office,’ she demanded silently, tucking her prize under her arm and closing the door behind her again. ‘I know it’s next to those big glass doors that lead outside…’

She walked cautiously back in the direction of that central hall, careful to count doorways as they passed through her periphery. She offered nothing but a small snort as a goateed trooper in armour of white and cobalt blue passed her in the hall, charismatically asking if she needed help finding her way back to heaven, though thankfully met no other presence as she rounded a series of subsequent corners.

A cresting wave of pride and serendipitous fortune had her near-leaping on the spot as she turned to find that familiar, broad corridor— the transparent walls of her destination immediately recognizable thanks to their uncanny ability of reflecting the dazzling light pouring in through those neighbouring glass doors, that gargantuan threshold leading to what looked like an oversized, albeit barren, courtyard beyond.

“Hi. Sorry this is late. I hope that’s okay …Bye.”

Her address to the protocol droid behind the counter was near pathetic, offering nothing more but a pitiful apology whilst extracting the folder from under her arm and tossing it haphazardly into the “incoming documents” tray as the sound of her voice near-instantly arose that very scruffy, very tired looking soldier from his perch behind that cluttered desk.

June darted from the room before he could open his mouth to instigate conversation, instead letting the door thud heavily behind her and taking a hurried right turn down the nearest hall… then an immediate left… another left… until…

“Oh no.”

A dead end. She groaned under her breath as her eyes darted toward the unexpected limitations of that tenebrous corridor, its unwelcome appearance quickly forcing a theatrical slump to her shoulders. “Where am I now? And where is that damn map I had?”

Right hand thoughtlessly tapping the cargo pocket in her pants, as if that flimsi key to a successful exodus would suddenly appear to aid in her exploits, she fit the thumbnail of her left between her teeth again and sighed. But she was granted barely a second to dwell in the regret of her own stupidity before her stomach sank ever further…

A collection of resounding, nonmetrical footsteps met her ears, escorted by the blare of a conversation so raucous it was entirely indiscernible from the echo that succeeded every booming word. A choir of hoarse, throaty laughter rang around the corners of her perch, and though that conversation remained mummed by the anxiety of their incipient arrival, ungluing her shoes from the durasteel floor to evade that unseen crowd, proved a task near impossible as each passing second drew them nearer. Any second now they’d pass across the mouth of her semi secluded position. Would they see her? And how many were they? The near-identical nature of their voices meant it was impossible to discern one from the other, but their footsteps? Four? Maybe five?

She swallowed and turned her back, bringing her fingers uselessly to her face so she could mindlessly stare at the abhorrent destruction of her thumbnail, and feign some degree of nonchalance lest one of the intruders notice her attempt to eschew their company.

“Jigs is kriffing di’kut.”

“Nah, he’s a beauty.”

“You know you give them way too long of a leash… all your men.”

“Why shouldn’t I? None of us signed up for this. Who's to say we can’t find a little fun here and there while we’re waiting to dance in the sky?”

“Uhhhh, maybe your CO?”

“Meh, Ponds loves me. I get things done. He doesn’t care how I do it as long as he can check my missions off his list and my casualty numbers stay low.”

“So he says to your face. Maker, I hope I’m around to see the day your ass is assigned a Jedi.”

“I don’t know, Keels. My General is pretty reckless too. Skywalker doesn’t seem to have any interest in playing by the rules…”

It wasn’t until her lungs began to protest the duress of that held breath did the chorus begin to taper, words obscuring as distance robbed them of their once undeniable clarity, further muffling that banter with every step past her unseen perch. She’d barely permitted a sigh of relief to escape her lips, turning back around to continue her now plightful crusade back to the speeder lot, when something caught her eye.

A meticulously cropped head of dark hair suddenly poked back around the corner at the mouth of that hallway, followed moments later by a set of twinkling amber eyes… an impossibly angular jaw… a teal pauldron…

“June?”

The recollection of her name was proven instantly redundant by the expression atop his features, as it near-perfectly enacted the same adorably pleasant confusion once adorned several weeks ago upon their first meeting in 18-S, and though the lambency neath that olive skin could only mean he’d found himself a few good meals and several nights of rest, there was no mistaking the lopsided smile peeling across those now-supple lips as he back peddled into her line of sight.

“Howzer,” she near-choked as the breath inhaled to replace its stale counterpart froze midway to her lungs at the familiar sight of that gallant, white-and-teal kit.

The intoxicating blend of surprise and relief sent her skin atingle as he stepped toward her, the metallic thud of impenetrable boots atop thick steel that, seconds prior, had seen her heart hammering heavily against the walls of her chest, seemed now entirely muffled by the stupefaction coursing through her veins, and though her feigned composure was betrayed by how earnestly her cheeks enflamed as he drew nearer, she could not bridle the smile peeling across her own face.

Howzer came to a halt half a step in front of her, beaming lips parting to seemingly offer some sort of salutation to accompany the reddening of his own ears, but—

“Ey! Howz! Where the kriff are you going? We’re going to be late!”

The captain failed to answer that stern and reproachful summon from round the corner, refusing to deviate his gaze from her as his head shifted a mere millimeter toward that reverberating nag; honeyed eyes narrowing slightly beneath a burgeoning confusion, as if concerned they may be playing tricks on him, as if her seemingly inexplicable appearance may be little more than a cruel mirage.

June stood rooted to the spot, chest heaving amidst the surging adrenaline of first being stranded in this foreign maze of corridors, suddenly cornered, then thrust unceremoniously in front of the very person that wielded an inexplicable power to freeze the air in her lungs.

“What— what are you doing here?” Howzer asked neath a suppressed chuckle, shifting his helmet in its confine below his arm.

“I— Well, I’m kinda lost to be honest.” Her admission came atop an embarrassed snicker of her own, and when attempting to flex the relentless tingle from her fingers proved fruitless, she wrenched her gaze from the teal stripe extending down his chestplate and scanned her surroundings instead.

“Lost?” he repeated, dark brows furrowing slightly. “You’re a long way from the hospital, Mesh—”

“Howz! Come on!”

Again he ignored the demanding call of his hidden comrade, and the continued refusal to wrench his gaze from her despite an apparently urgent appointment had her bottom lip disappearing behind her teeth to intercept the threat of another bashful smirk.

“You don’t say…” she chirruped, offering a goofy smile whilst absently reaching to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “No, I know. I’m… I’m actually helping my boss out. We have a teaching contract with the medic cadets here for the next few months.”

The superficial lines around his eyes, aiding in that adorable furrow and reinforcing the notion that those globes of amber brown had likely seen a lot more than most of his younger bretheren, disappeared entirely as they widened in surprise, lips shifting to compress into a grimace of something near reverence.

“Oh wow,” he answered, gaze dancing warmly across her features as if she’d divulged something truly impressive or prodigious. “That makes sense, actually. I should have known when they said ‘blue eyes’.”

“Who said what…?”

“The shinies. They’ve been whispering non-stop about this ‘hot new civvie’ for weeks.”

As if arriving on cue to reintensify her simmering resentment for that continued execrable behaviour, the memory of that salacious, lip-licking soldier erupted in her mind anew, bringing with it a surge of anger strong enough to rid her cheeks of that flush and send her gaze rolling toward the ceiling.

“Ugh… I hope you’re joking,” she guffawed, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and knotting her arms over her chest.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Howzer answered, the smile still hitched to those lips falling only slightly as his gaze narrowed to perceive her overt disdain. “You do have unbelievable blue eyes tho—”

“Howzer!”

“I’ll catch up!” He cocked that sharp jaw over his shoulder only far enough to shout the sentiment down the dark corridor, the rest of his features still surveying her with a curious intrigue until the echo of his vociferation dissipated. “Is class just starting? Or are you heading out?”

“Heading out,” she answered, unfolding her arms from their drape across her chest. “Primeday’s and Zhellday’s we teach until 11, and I just go to work from here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, that alluring smile peeling back across those lips before tipping his wrist to check the time. “11, huh? Maybe I can take you on a little tour before you go? Show you around? Might save you from getting lost next tim—”

”Does that di’kut not know the Commanders are sitting in? Howzer! LET’S GO!”

”Just leave him, Keels. He said it himself, he’s Ponds’s favourite anyway. He’ll be fine.”

June pursed her lips to prevent the chortle erupting in her chest from spilling from her mouth, as Howzer’s heavy sigh of frustration laid bare that he didn’t find the merciless pestering from his companions nearly as amusing as she did. They locked eyes for a second as she choked back her laughter, a derisive snort leaving his nose as he shook his head.

“Kinda seems like you might have somewhere you need to be,” June snickered, gesturing with a nod in the direction of that unseen search party, their dulcet tones still ringing around the vacant corners of that corridor.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he sighed sadly. “At least let me walk you out?”

”I would actually appreciate that,” June answered in earnest. “I feel like I could wander around here for a decade and still never make it out because all the damn doors look the same.”

Heat resurged to her cheeks as he tipped his head back and laughed, sightlessly shifting his helmet to nestle under his other arm as he met her gaze again. “You’re not wrong,” he snorted. “Where abouts are you parked?”

“Um…” she started, an apologetic grimace distorting her features upon the realization that her indolent habit of simply following Challa both through the skyway and down those halls had rendered her more naive and unprepared than she ever thought she would be. “I’m not sure what lot. The one beside the big purple tarps?”

“North,” he answered immediately. “Not actually that far from here so you didn’t wander for long.”

His posture shifted away from her only long enough to gesture that she proceed back the way she came before falling into stride on her right only a moment later, and it wasn’t until he’d peered down at her with a bashful smile that she remembered just how imposing he was in that dominating suit.

‘He was half naked last time you saw him,’ she quickly reminded herself in an effort to justify why she’d hadn’t previously made note of the significant difference in their stature, though the recollection of his bare form had her instantly wishing the subtle, earthy aroma of his aftershave wasn’t wafting down at her and intensifying that incessant tingle neath her skin.

“How’d the cut heal up?” she asked as they rounded another corner, vying that her tone remain casual.

“Oh, good as new,” Howzer replied, casting her an appreciative smile. “You did a great job. I don’t mind the scar either… It’s a good story.”

June bit back the grin attempting to make an appearance in light of his passive praise, instead turning to offer him a cocked-brow of skepticism. While the laceration itself had been a doozy, she couldn’t recall the tale behind it being overly thrilling or harrowing enough to boast about.

“Must be a different story than the one you told me,” she teased. “Unless you’re telling your friends it was that ‘knife wielding maniac’?”

“I might be,” Howzer replied with a guilty grin of his own. “Nah… there isn’t a better story than getting patched up by the prettiest doctor in the galaxy… and it’s not even a lie.”

“Maker have mercy,” she scoffed, attempting to prevent the butterflies in her stomach from escaping through her mouth with a pursed lip smile. “That was cripplingly cheesy.”

Those twinkling eyes vanished beneath crinkled lids as his head tipped backward again, and that same loud chortle escaped his lips and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“It was, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “And it’s not really my style, but my brother said it was bound to work if I could ever get lucky enough to see you again. How’d I do?”

She offered him a one-shouldered, jesting shrug, feigning indifference with a passive grimace and watching the bashful smile peeling across his lips. “What is your style?”

“My style?” he repeated, motioning for her to turn and pass through an open threshold on the right. “I don’t really have one. Right now, it’d be doing everything I can to learn more about you…”

“Well, to start, I’d much prefer real cheese,” she told him, rounding yet another corner. “Nothing woo’s me quite like a snack and a hot caf.”

“Caf and a snack,” he repeated, seemingly committing that notion to memory. “I’ll remember that.”

A welcome sense of familiarity ensued as they veered slightly left and came upon that heavy sliding durasteel barrier that June knew to lead outside.

Howzer stepped half a stride in front of her and opened it as they approached, before gesturing for her to pass over the threshold and into the radiant sunlight ahead of him. The pair of security troopers still loitering just beyond that chain gate turned at the unexpected, jovial intrusion before simultaneously releasing the back ends of their rifles from their gloved grips, and snapping into identical salutes.

Howzer repeated the motion somewhat lazily, though it had apparently offered enough of an acknowledgement for that security duo to return to their post.

As she’d opted to leave her bag locked in its concealed compartment before trudging back into the base, June wasted no time swinging her leg over her dust-covered seat and reigniting the engine.

“Maybe—” Howzer started as she picked her feet off the ground and placed them in the stirrups in prep for her departure. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again on Primeday?”

She watched his masseters momentarily expand neath a jaw clenched tightly in trepidation, deep golden eyes now gleaming in that effulgent sun as they danced somewhat nervously across her features while he reached to absently trail a gloved finger to and fro across his lip. That reminiscent motion near-instantly took her back to watching him self soothe atop the hoverbed in 18-S, blood stained finger repeating that useless swing across a parched lip in an effort to rid himself of a portion of the discomfort he’d been sitting with for hours… and she smiled.

“I’ll be here,” she answered with a shrug.

“Okay cool,” he answered amidst a small snicker of relief. “Hopefully I am too, if the war doesn’t have other plans…”

June froze, brow furrowing and eyes widening at the implications of his inappropriately morbid statement, and she turned to face him with nothing short of a horrified look atop her previously smiling features.

“Deployed,” he clarified upon seeing her expression, smile slipping instantly from his lips. “Just shipped off-world. Sorry, I did not phrase that properly. Deployed… not dead.”

“Well… hopefully neither,” she replied with a snort, stooping forward to place her hands on the handle bars.

“Hopefully neither,” he repeated, lips tensing amid an embarrassed smirk, and offering her a respectful nod as she began to glide slowly toward the gate.

“Thanks for the tour,” she called over her shoulder as he stepped back to watch her depart, the glance she risked toward his still chagrined expression lingering only long enough to see those eyes begin to crinkle amid a genuine smile and she offered nothing more than a quick smirk of her own before waving her ID card in front of the control panel and sneaking her bike through that slowly rolling gate.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @smw-on-kamino @sverdgeir

[yandere-sins]

Heyo! Can you please answer Q6, Q4, Q2, & Q16. Also have a peaceful and lovely day/night<3

[Writer asks here]

Thanks so much for asking ♥ I am surprised so many of you were curious!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

#2 Do you listen to music when you write? What does your current writing playlist look like?

I actually do! And very specific ones, I have a few selected youtube videos which are either lo-fi hip hop or writing/studying music and just run on repeat. I'll link some of my favorites to give you an idea!

1 | 2 | 3

Most important is no lyric (especially not if I can understand it, but I usually also don't like the songs that are have people humming or singing to the songs and will skip these), upbeat but I keep the volume low so it really is just a background music (but that means like classical music doesn't really hit the itch), and preferable with ambiance sounds like rain or waves or so.

Sometimes music can be almost too much, so I use mynoise.net for either the Irish Waves or the white noise, depending on what suits me that day. It's my personal recommendation for anyone wanting background noises.

Lastly, yes, I am very jealous of artists who can do their art while watching movies or the like. But I can't even have someone talk to me while I write so that is just the biggest no-go lol

#6 When (and not if) you ultimately finish your WIP and publish, do you picture yourself giving readings and signings and interviews, or would you prefer to stay out of the public eye? 

Hm, complicated. I am not a super private person and I love talking with people (I am an introvert but my family and my job raised my tolerance lol) so I'd probably do well if I wanted to do events. But, if I ever get to finish my book, I'd go for self-publishing so the chances that I'd ever have a signing or reading is just super low because pulling it off on my own just seems... harder. Not impossible but harder. I don't think the genres I want to go into could be picked up by traditional publishing, so it would be a lot of work, and I don't know if I have enough dedication to see it through. Passion, yes, time and resources, no.

However, I think if I did have a book, I might start tableing at my conventions! I see a lot of authors there and that might lean towards my target audience more!

I think I'd still like to sign books though, maybe have a special sale and then sign them and send them to people or something. That would be cool. It was nice to write a special note to everyone who got my Yantober book, so I know I'd really like to do that!

#16 CHALLENGE: Tell us about your current project in three sentences or less. 

Oooh, hmmmm, let's see. It's something all of you guys chose in a poll a while ago, so how do I tease it without revealing too much hmmmm...

It's an isekai story and inspired by an existing manga (manhwa?). The concept is similar but I haven't read the original, I am just turning the core idea around and making it properly yandere (although the idea has been done in different versions a lot). The main character/reader misjudges the effects it'll have to just level up one certain stat and it comes back to bite them in the form of a typical noble getting overly obsessed.

Hope that keeps everyone guessing lol! :D

[deadgirlwalking91]

what would have happened if Lucifer met Adam and Lute down in hell??

a lil fic of how i imagine it, hope u like it! it’s my first so ya…

"for fuck's sake" Adam muttered quite pissed off.

no matter how much they were scolded, punished or how many extra exercises Lute gave them, it wasn't the first time it happened and it wouldn't be the last,

most exorcists always left their damn weapons down in hell. And then it was the commander and lieutenant's job to deal with them the next day, as if they hadn't participated in the extermination and weren't already exhausted from their own.

Adam positioned the set of weapons he had managed to recover and then threw them inside a portal that led to the warehouse, turning to observe the situation, he sees Lute doing the same and goes back continuing his own.

despite this, he felt that something was wrong, it was like a gut feeling, and he didn't have time to react that he heard a light poof behind him, his eyes widened the moment he realized who it was

he turned facing the figure before him, frowning and squinting

"I see you're busy" said lucifer, looking at adam with an impassive gaze, but seeing the agitation of the angel before him he looked at him with genuine confusion

"What the fuck are you doing here?. I'm pretty sure we said the meeting will be in a week, fuckhead"

he looked him straight in the eyes, as if daring him to look away, and this made Lucifer even more suspicious

“oh yea, about that i-“

"is everything alright, sir ?"

Lucifer was surprised when he turned around to find a female figure in front of him, an impassive hatred could be perceived looking into those golden eyes of hers. she was a tall girl, well taller than him for sure, with beautiful short white/silver hair.

The fallen angel found himself even more confused when he figured out that she was one of the exorcists angels

"and you are..?" Lucifer offered, curious of the angel before his eyes

"Lute, lieutenant of the angelic army and Adam's right hand, we finally meet your highness."

those last syllables were said with pure hatred and disapproval

Lucifer disappeared in another cloud of smoke, then appeared before Lute, jst some inches away from the angel, studying her, Lute stood in place, staring at him with daring eyes

glancing back ad Adam, he could see his mask glitching.

"yea- no” Adam flew to land in front of Lute, separating her from the devil. He spread his wings behind his back in an intimidating manner, blocking Lute from view.

“Lute leave it to me , go back to heaven"

"But sir!-“ Lute challenged Adam with determination, Adam didn’t let Lute finish her sentence.

“did i stutter, Lieutenant? i don’t like repeating myself. Leave it to me. it’s an order”

Lute stared at him, but obeyed. she had to obey. Disagreeing with her boss happened plenty times, yea, but not in front of him.

As much as she wanted to, she had to obey "yes sir, sorry, sir”

she took one last look at lucifer before entering a portal.

___

“Lute huh? I see we're still sentimental with memories of eden aren’t we?”

he teased

“yea not your fuckin business. bitch.”

“yk. I didn't expect someone like her could be your type of woman..so demanding”

“oh for fuck’s sake. get the fuck out of here-“

“how come i’ve never met her? afraid of little me, Adam?”

He saw his mask glitch again in fury , that was going to be a long talk

Hey Anon!

You did great! <3

I love! Lucifer is such a little shit haha.

I can definitely see Adam wanting to keep Lute from him at all costs...

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 3, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 04, 2024

The fallout from the New York jury’s conviction of Donald Trump on 34 felony counts last Thursday, May 30, continues. Trump’s team continues to insist that the guilty verdict will help him, but that’s nonsensical on its face: if guilty verdicts are so helpful, why has he moved heaven and earth to keep the many other cases against him from going to trial? And why are he and House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) calling for the Supreme Court to overturn the convictions? 

As political consultant Stuart Stevens put it: “I worked in five presidential races and helped elect Republican governors or Senators in over half the country. I have never heard anything more transparently desperate than a party trying to spin that there is some non-MAGA pool of voters who can't wait to vote for a convicted felon.”

On Friday, Morning Consult conducted a poll to gauge how voters were reacting to the guilty verdict. It showed that 54% of registered voters approved of it, while only 34% disapproved. Perhaps worse for Trump was that 49% of Independents and 15% of Republicans thought he should end his campaign. A Reuters/Ipsos poll found that 10% of registered Republican voters and 25% of Independents said that his conviction made it less likely that they would vote for him for president. 

Then, on Saturday, there was what Danny Westneat of the Seattle Times called a plot twist. It turns out the state of Washington has a law on the books that prevents felons from running for office. But because a candidate has to be certified to be on a ballot before they can be challenged, the issue can’t be resolved until Trump officially becomes the Republican Party’s presidential nominee at the July convention. Westneat asked, “Republicans: You sure you want to go down this road?”

On Sunday, Trump appeared on Fox and Friends for his first interview since his conviction. The interview was heavily edited, suggesting his comments were problematic in some way, but what was there was still bad enough. He repeated his plans to fire generals who refuse to do his bidding and to deport immigrants by using local police to round them up. Notably, considering his own looming sentencing, he claimed he never said “lock her up” about Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, a claim that reporters on social media promptly shredded with video clips of him doing exactly that. 

Media figures are puncturing Trump’s image. The verdict buried a story by The Apprentice producer Bill Pruitt, who is now free of a nondisclosure agreement, explaining how he and others created an illusion that Trump was a successful businessman and alleging that Trump used the n-word on set. On Saturday, an image circulated on social media of Trump leaving Trump Tower and waving as if to a crowd, but there was no one there.

Also on Saturday, top sports talk host Colin Cowherd pushed back on the idea that the trial was rigged, telling his listeners: “If everybody in your circle is a felon, maybe it’s not rigged. Maybe the world isn’t against you.” “Donald Trump is now a felon,” Cowherd said. “His campaign chairman was a felon. So is his deputy campaign manager, his personal lawyer, his chief strategist, his National Security Adviser, his Trade Advisor, his Foreign Policy Adviser, his campaign fixer, and his company CFO. They’re all felons. Judged by the company you keep. It’s a cabal of convicts.”

Cowherd went on: “[Trump’s] trying to sell me an America that doesn’t exist.” “Stop trying to sell me on ‘everything’s rigged, the country’s falling into the sea, the economy’s terrible,’” he continued. “The America that I live in is imperfect. But compared to the rest of the world, I think we’re doing okay.”

This morning, Robert Faturechi, Justin Elliott, and Alex Mierjeski of ProPublica reported that Trump’s businesses and campaign committees have funneled significant financial benefits to at least nine witnesses in the criminal campaigns against Trump, often at crucial moments in the legal proceedings. The pay of one campaign aide doubled; another got a $2 million severance package that barred him from cooperating with law enforcement. The daughter of one of the campaign’s top officials was hired onto the staff and is now the fourth-highest-paid employee, with a salary of $222,000. Payments to the companies of certain witnesses dramatically increased.

Faturechi, Elliott, and Mierjeski note that it is not uncommon for bosses to find themselves defendants, complicating their relationship with employees who might have witnessed alleged crimes. In such cases, lawyers advise the defendant not to provide any unusual benefits or penalties, to avoid the appearance of witness tampering.

Trump’s attorney, David Warrington, sent ProPublica a cease-and-desist letter saying that if the outlet and its reporters “continue their reckless campaign of defamation, President Trump will evaluate all legal remedies.” He demanded that ProPublica kill the article, keeping it from publication.

And then, this afternoon, U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York Damian Williams, along with the U.S. Department of Labor and the State Department, unsealed an indictment charging Weidong Guan, also known as Bill Guan, the chief financial officer of the global news outlet The Epoch Times, with using the outlet to launder at least $67 million. The Epoch Times is affiliated with the ultraconservative Chinese anticommunist religious group Falun Gong and supports Donald Trump and other right-wing U.S. politicians with both press and cash. It was a major promoter of Dinesh D’Souza’s film 2000 Mules that claimed the 2020 presidential election was stolen. A voter depicted in that film sued for defamation, and just last week the distributor settled with the plaintiff, issued an apology, and stopped distributing the film.

The allegation that The Epoch Times is a money-laundering operation comes on top of yesterday’s story by Joseph Menn in the Washington Post, reporting that the editor of another media site that pushes disinformation from both the far right and the far left, The Grayzone, has worked for Russia’s Sputnik as well as taken money from Iranian government-owned media. One of the people who retweets Grayzone stories is Senator Mike Lee (R-UT).

In the middle of all this bad news for MAGA Republicans, it felt like desperation today when the House Oversight Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Pandemic tried to resurrect Covid conspiracy theories against Dr. Anthony Fauci. Fauci was director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) from 1984 to 2022, serving under seven presidents. President George W. Bush awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian award in the U.S., for his work on combating the global AIDS epidemic. 

Fauci’s position as NIAID director put him at the center of U.S. attempts to grapple with Covid-19, and for his work on developing a vaccine, Trump awarded him a presidential commendation. But first QAnon and then MAGA Republicans centered him as a villain who either started or covered up the pandemic, or forced people to mask or to get vaccines they told their supporters were unnecessary or even dangerous. QAnon conspiracy theorist Ivan Raiklin and convicted January 6 rioter Brandon Fellows were seated behind Fauci today; Fellows made pouty faces when Fauci was describing the death threats he, his wife, and his daughters have endured. 

Video creator and political commentator Michael McWhorter noted that Raiklin has made dramatic threats of violence against those he considers members of “the Deep State” and that he should have been nowhere near Fauci. McWhorter also noted that the two men were likely invited to the hearing and that it would be useful to know who invited them.  

Committee member Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA), who has skipped seven of the last ten hearings and who has expressed sympathy for QAnon in the past, attacked Fauci by saying he should be prosecuted: “You know what this committee should be doing? We should be writing a criminal referral because you should be prosecuted for crimes against humanity,” she said. “You belong in prison, Dr. Fauci.” For all the nastiness, the hearing turned up nothing.

Later, Greene told Manu Raju of CNN that Speaker Johnson should shut down the government over the Trump verdict and prosecutions. “We're literally a banana republic. So what does it matter funding the government? The American people don't give a sh*t.” 

While MAGA Republicans are insisting that a Manhattan jury’s conviction of Trump means that President Joe Biden has weaponized the Department of Justice and that they must take revenge, the trial of Biden’s son Hunter on federal gun charges, brought by a Trump-appointed U.S. attorney whom Biden kept on, started today. Former top Justice Department prosecutor Andrew Weissmann noted that Biden is “living the rule of law…in the most personal way. He is not telling DOJ to stand down…. He is not pardoning his son…. He is living what it means to have a rule of law in this country…. If you want to know if he believes it, you can actually see what is happening with his own son.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[bookloure]

This is perhaps my most anticipated read of the year, and I’m happy to report that it did not disappoint. This novel has a lyrical, almost feverish prose that is brutal in (a lot of!) places. If you do not like flowery writing, I don’t think you’ll appreciate this.

On a sentence level, “But for the Lovers” demands a lot from the reader. The prose is dizzying, challenging, and is rife with code-switching. It is not a book that will coddle purely English speakers, which I laud. In the novel's foreword, Gina Apostol wrote that every time the Filipino employs the English language, the purpose is always subversion. BftL perfectly demonstrates this point. The way Nolledo used English in this book is very Filipino and very weaponized. And as I read, I got the sense that he was having a lot of fun writing this masterpiece. This book is not an easy read, but one that is worth the trudge.

So what is it about? “But for the Lovers” follows a cast of characters living in a rundown tenement building in a Japanese-occupied Manila at the tail end of World War II. This is a war novel with much waiting; the characters await their American “liberators.” And the reader waits too—knowing full well that when Americans do finally arrive, Manila will be razed to the ground.

The way Nolledo employs language in this book is really unique. It reads a lot like magical realism with its lyrical and flowery prose, but this book is very much grounded. And brutal. The seemingly magical things are actually happening in the physical world. For example, the opening sentence reads: “He was beginning to eat flowers, and the crescent moon was in his eyes when he awoke again.” It sounds a lot like a work of magical realism. But later in the chapter, we find that the man was literally eating flowers because he passed out under a flowering tree. And when he awoke, he saw the crescent moon. This push and pull of seemingly fantastical language against the physicality of the scenes continues throughout the novel. In magical realism, the fantastical elements are also usually employed to shield against the brutality of the physical world. In Nolledo’s novel, the brutality of the physical world disrupts the reader's enjoyment of its fantastical language. When brutality happens to the characters, it punches you in the gut.

So much trust is put in the ability of the reader. Whenever a chapter opens, the reader is plunged into the middle of the narrative and is expected to make sense of what’s happening—who’s the speaker in this chapter? Where am I? What is happening? And it’s only in the latter part of the chapter where things will start to make sense. Then, you’re on to a new chapter, and the disorientation starts again. I enjoyed trudging through the book, but can understand why people may be turned off by that.

Another marvel of this novel is that from start to finish, everything moves parallel along two realms: this is a physical novel, but it’s also very much an allegorical one. This beautifully reflects the poetic quality of our history and experiences. Of how we always seem to repeat the mistakes of the past. Of how, many years later, we seem to find ourselves in the same situations. And if we extend this to the rise of the Marcoses and the historical revisionism happening in the present… hay nako.

Which leads me to the way Nolledo wrote the novel's climactic moment: this war novel culminates in an overlap of memories. The parallel sentences hone in on the point that things that have happened before will happen again. America fooled us twice—first when they colonized us in 1899 and now in 1945 as they shelled Manila to the ground—both done in the pretense of being our liberators.

I found the allegories too in the nose at first. But thinking about it now, I’m glad the subtexts are simple and obvious, because the text itself is already challenging enough. Kung mahirap pa pati subtext san na lang ako pupulutin?

Some things I did not enjoy: I did not like the dream sequences in this novel. I did not like the woman (or, in the case of BftL, girl) as a nation trope employed. Especially since the waif who is the stand-in for the nation is worse than Maria Clara in Rizal’s novels. I don’t appreciate the sexist language (i.e., penetration), especially around the awakening of the nation’s soul. That said, I forgive Nolledo for his sexism. He’s a genius but still very much a product of his time.

The novel ends on a hopeful note, a promise of becoming, of blossoming for this nation. (Reading it today under another Marcos administration is bleak and depressing.) But one has to hold on to hope.

This novel is breathtaking, audacious, and blatantly anti-imperialist. It also tells us that the poor, the masa, carry the nation’s soul—not the educated middle class, not the wealthy landowners, not the ruthless authoritarians in power. But for the Lovers is a challenging read, but one that is well worth your time.

More photos from the book on my Instagram!