#reeda

[heya-raccoon]

Reeda, *trying* to look her best

(Commission for Inretrospect99 on Twitter)

[wlwfilmscenes]

Awol (Deb Shoval, 2016)

[parliamentoftoh]

y’all talk shit about the ship name “huntlow” like “raeda” is any better

[gigabats]

Yo have y'all ever worked at a pandora store by chance bcs I've been here so long and I just want to rant w someone from a different store to see if yalls customers and corporate is as shitty as mine in South Carolina 😭😭

[iotaphora]

I have to use my drowingtablet to type HELP ME

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Ooh, myyy! This looks FUN!

❤️OC x Canon Ship HCs🤍

Ship a canon character with one of my OCs, and I’ll give you 5 HCs about their relationship.

[evewasheretoday]

Accidents Happen: Chapter 1 - Midnight Encounters

As usual, a new maid arrives to the castle and replaces the former maid who'd died.

This time, however, the maid is younger. Not even seventeen or eighteen years old yet. She seems lost, scared and afraid.

Which is understandable considering the place she's currently residing does not take kindly to anyone. Especially the staff.

But she seems to be doing alright despite the predicament she's currently in.

Green eyes wander around the dining hall as she eats her meal. It isn't long before she spots you staring at her that she looks over and raises an eyebrow at you.

“That's Eugenia” Maria, one of the few maids you've made friends with during your stay, whispers to you. “I've heard she hasn't even turned seventeen and yet she's here, working under Lady Dimitrescu” Maria shook her head with a frown. “I pity the poor girl” She says.

“So do I” You tell her. “But what can we do about it?” You ask her. “The moment we entered this castle and signed a contract with house Dimitrescu, we are trapped here” You sighed.

“We make due of what we have during our times of desperation, Reeda” Maria told you.

“Desperation” You scoffed. “Do you think all of us came here out of that?”

“No,” She shook her head. “But we all came here for a reason, no?”

There wasn't anything you could say to that because Maria was right. All of you, whom work here in Castle Dimitrescu, came here for a reason.

You shook her head before sighing again. “I suppose” You mutter.

Maria gives you a soft smile before patting your shoulder. “Don't be so downhearted” She tells you softly. “It is better to focus on the positive things than on the negative ones”

“You are starting to be very much like my older sister, Camelia” You muttered under your breath. “Thank you for reminding me of her existence”

“Do not speak of it” Maria grinned. “Because I may as well be her twin then” She teased.

You waved a hand dismissively at her. “I need not for another one of her,” You replied.

Maria just chuckled at the comment.

Surely things would be better sooner or later.

~~~~~~~~~~

You never had troubles sleeping but the sound of pure silence except for the whistling of leaves outside the window was unnerving.

And the lack of lamps in your room did not help either.

You sighed before climbing out of your bed and going out of your room.

Maybe a walk in the halls would help you sleep, you thought to yourself.

“My my,” A voice behind you says. “Aren't you a bad girl, sneaking out at night?”

Turning around quickly, you stare wide eyed at the woman dressed in black silk standing before you.

“L-Lady Cassandra..!” You yelped, immediately bowing your head low.

“What were you planning to do?” She asked you, raising an eyebrow as she crosses her arms to her chest.

“I...was going out to for a small walk in the halls” You answered quietly.

“In the middle of the night?” She asks.

“Y… Yes, my lady” You nodded your head. “I was having troubles sleeping and I thought a walk in the halls might help me to sleep” You explained.

“Hmm” Cassandra hummed. “Is it helping you?” She asked after a while.

“Not quite,” You told her. “I am still wide awake as an owl in the night”

“I see,” She hums once more. “Would you like me to accompany you then?”

“That is very kind of you, my lady” You smiled gratefully at her. “But I'm afraid I must dec—”

“If you do not accept my offer, I may as well send you on your way with nothing but broken legs,” Cassandra threatened you.

You gulped as you slowly met her gaze with yours. “I d-don't see why I should refuse,” You stuttered out.

“Good,” She nodded. “Come then” She spoke, turning around on her heel.

All your head was screaming to you at that moment was to run away and hide.

But to where? You didn't know where you could possibly go. Any place you'll be in, they will find you. They knew this castle better than anyone else.

“Are you coming or not?” Cassandra questioned, turning around to look at you.

“O-Of course, my lady” You stammered out, momentarily biting your lip before you followed behind her.

Prey following its predator.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @jennycalendar from this ask meme: Prompts for Ordinary Things That Feel Intimate [ puddle ] A hurries to stop B from stepping into a puddle Listen - this got away from me, okay. Almost none of it is about the puddle. But you and I both know the puddle isn't the part you were concerned about. XD Here is some early Harper fluff for you. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Vartan squints out the front window of the safehouse. “Storm’s letting up,” he says gruffly. “Time to get moving.”

Jaheira, standing at his side, tilts her head to peer at the clock on the wall. “We might have simply ridden in the rain,” she says ruefully. “At this rate we will not reach the rendezvous before nightfall.”

Vartan looks amused. “Not all of us are so in tune with nature as you,” he says with a good-humored smirk. “If I have to choose between riding at night and riding in a tempest, I’ll take the moonlight.” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and releases a high-pitched whistle. “On your feet, everyone! Ready to go! Reeda, see to our supplies. Khalid, saddle the horses.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Yes, s-s-sir!”

Jaheira watches as Khalid darts out the front door of the safehouse at a trot. The newest recruit to join their little squad is still something of an enigma to her - deeply earnest and invariably kind, crisp and precise with a sword in drills but slow to actual violence if any other solution can be found. His voice trembles, and Kambas calls him “Twitch”, but his hands are very steady and so are his eyes.

Idly, for lack of anything better to do, she walks out onto the safehouse’s porch, leaning against the railing so she can see into the attached stable. Khalid is moving with brisk, practiced motions, drawing one of the horses from its stall and beginning the process of saddling it for overland riding. She can hear his voice murmuring something to it in Alzhedo, although she doesn’t understand the words.

She doesn’t know exactly why she speaks up and interrupts him. “It is good to see one who treats a horse with proper respect,” she says abruptly. “Far too often, the folk of this city see them as machines, not thinking creatures.”

She stops, and then winces. What am I saying? But Khalid looks up, and she finds herself struck to baffled stillness as he smiles brightly at her.

“C-Calimport is known for its horses,” he tells her earnestly. “In m-my father’s house, I was often left to t-tend them. He saw they were gentler with me than with my b-brothers.” That smile flickers just slightly for a moment. “Many times I would have liked t-to have a spell such as you have, t-to speak with them properly.”

She considers this, then without warning vaults the porch railing and walks into the stable. “May I?” she asks, extending a hand towards his shoulder.

His eyes go very wide, to such a degree that for a moment she wonders if he thinks she was about to hit him. But he doesn’t seem afraid so much as… surprised. Astonished, even. “Y-yes,” he squeaks.

She lays her hand against his upper arm. Even through his tunic, she can feel his warmth in contrast to the cool damp air around them, and the tight-drawn solidity of well-trained muscle. For a moment she nearly forgets what she was about to do in a sort of bemused fascination - then recovers herself sharply. Ye gods, girl, what is the matter with you? 

“Amicus animalis,” she murmurs. Green light flares around them for a moment, then settles. Khalid’s eyes still look like dinner plates, but he cocks his head curiously as he feels the magical energy settle through him. 

“There,” she says - suddenly more brusque than necessary. “It will not last forever, but long enough for a proper conversation at least.”

Khalid blinks, and then understanding dawns through his face. He looks at the horse, which has been waiting patiently half-saddled, and murmurs another phrase in Alzhedo. The horse gives a soft whicker in answer and the understanding shifts to delight in Khalid’s eyes. “Th-th-th-thank you,” he says shakily to Jaheira, his stammer thickening abruptly.

She feels suddenly too warm in spite of the chill of the rain-tinged air. “Yes, well,” she says gruffly. “Do not let it slow you too much in your work, or Vartan will have words for you.”

“I w-w-won’t,” he says to her back as she turns away. “D-do not worry.”

Kambas is waiting on the porch when she returns, leaning against the railing where she was standing before. “Oi,” he says cheerfully. “Vartan says you should stop distracting the pup since you were the one worried about us getting a late start.”

“I was not distracting him,” Jaheira says, too defensively.

“Mmhm. You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know.” Kambas’s toothy grin widens. “That boy gives you one look and you go all pie-eyed. Can’t say I see the appeal myself, but it does take all kinds--”

“Kambas.” Jaheira begins to stalk around the front edge of the porch, automatically masking her discomfort behind irritation. “Say more, and I shall find new places for my quarterstaff that you will not enjoy.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, J.”

“How many times must I tell you not to call me--”

“J-Jaheira, careful!” Khalid seems to have appeared out of thin air, so fast has he abruptly darted out of the stable. His hand closes on her elbow, arresting her forward motion and bringing her to a halt. 

She blinks at him owlishly, and for a moment he blinks back, seemingly baffled by his own initiative. “The p-puddle,” he says sheepishly after a moment, and gestures at the ground. She looks down to see what he means - the area directly in front of the porch steps accumulated a great pool of water during the storm, which she was just on the point of stepping through with her attention drawn by Kambas’s taunts.

“Oh,” she says. Brilliant. Oration for the ages, girl. She feels acutely aware of the point where every one of his fingertips is touching her and it is making it challenging to think.

“It is deeper than it looks,” he explains hastily. “I s-s-stepped in it earlier.” He gestures at his boot, which is indeed mud-caked to partway up his calf. “I thought I would s-s-spare you…” He trails off. His eyes are doing that thing again where they widen until the whites show. “I’ll f-f-f-finish with the horses,” he mumbles, and vanishes again, fleeing back into the shadow of the stable.

Jaheira watches him until he’s out of sight behind one of the horses, and then releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She can feel Kambas’s gaze on her and a flush creeping inexorably up her neck. “Do not say a word,” she growls.

“Oh, c’mon,” Kambas says, never to be dissuaded. He hoists his pack higher on his shoulder and grins at her as she (carefully avoiding the puddle) moves up the stairs towards him. “I think we’ve moved beyond pie-eyed; that was a whole dessert buffet.”

She sighs. The infuriating thing, of course, is that Kambas is right, and it’s getting harder and harder to deny it; something warm and confusing is starting to nest itself at the back of her mind when she looks at Khalid, something she is not equipped to handle. She can still feel the place where he touched her, tingling like tiny strikes of lighting.

But what good to think about it? He is warm and kind and gentle and so terribly earnest, so visibly excited about everything the Harpers are and stand for. And she… she is not - already scarred and gruff, always butting heads with Vartan about the best way to proceed, always struggling with questions that have no answers.

He deserves better.

“Shut up,” she says, because the last thing she wants to do is explain any of this to Kambas of all people. “One of these days I really am going to kill you, you know.”

He snorts casually. “Whatever you say, Jaheira.”

[tenebrosee]

“Are you ready for that, little sister?”

OCs: Andris and Reeda

[smokeys-house]

Music teacher used to have a reed graveyard for all the reeds that end up on the floor but now we have Reeda

[dystopicjumpsuit]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @deejadabbles! I've got a Neyo x the Bad-miral snippet today, and for once, it's SFW, though she does allude to their previous sexual encounter. This story is coming very soon to the @tcwmatchmakingau account, so for my readers who enjoyed "Everybody Hates Neyo," keep your eyes peeled!

Note: I converted the Admiral!Reader into an OC because she's 🎵The Worst,🎵 and I didn't want to project that onto my readers. Her name is Reeda Wai'yen as a nod to her origins, because I never met a pun I didn't love 😏

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, jaw clenched. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

[redacted for length]

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

---

NPTs: @wolffegirlsunite @enigmaticexplorer @523rdrebel @nika6q @freesia-writes @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar and anyone else who wants to join in! I probably double-tagged people; I apologize.

[dorkusmalorkus666]

someone in gaza shared their go fund me with them

it has very few donations

[manda-kat]

I made a cute girls anime fantasy questing party.

Basically, Little Red Rida (the Woodsman's daughter) is a budding adventurer who is WAY to trigger-happy. Or giant battle axe happy. She turns monsters into sliced bread without the bread. She has zero self-preservation skills and somehow still manages to avoid injury. Also it's pronounced REEDA not RYE-DA.

She meets four adult adventures who have been at this for a bit. They all band together in adopting Rida as their collective baby sister, making all of them a sisterhood of sorts. This is super wholesome. Or it would be if Little Red Rida wasn't a child psycopath.

Yuka is a healer who became a ghost after meddling in necromancy to save the life of her dead lover. But he left her, complaining that he can't smooch a ghost. She doesn't harbor ill will toward him, convinced she did the right thing. She's just that precious. She is the most innocent party member and doesn't seem aware of the darkness in the world, despite experiencing it before.

Flaire is a hot-headed warrior who uses flaming knives to fight. She is super cheerful and extroverted. She sees herself as the boss lady of the party, but she's mostly just a bad influence for Rida, encouraging her reckless behavior.

Bellamy is an orc warrior, known to be stoic and intimidating. In reality, she's a socially anxious mess, afraid of talking to strangers. (Especially boys!) Her nervousness comes of as a cold personality, which combines with her size and strength to frighten strangers. All Bellamy wants is to overcome her social hangups and make some real friends... and maybe find something more?

Lotus is an elven archer who uses a magical bow to shoot arrows made of light. She's smart and serious and does most of the actual strategy and leadership of the group. Lotus can be short tempered with her flighty team, seeing their potential, but not getting them to quite live up to it.

[brookston]

Holidays 7.13

Holidays

Ann Hutchinson Memorial Day

Atomic Bomb Test Day

Barbershop Music Appreciation Day

Be A Geek For A Day

Blame Someone Else Day

Bottled Beer Day

Childhood Memories Day

Embrace Your Geekness Day

Festival of Inner Worlds

Festival of the Three Cows (Border of France & Basque Spain)

Fool's Paradise Day

Go Wakeboarding Day

Go West Day

Gruntled Workers Day

Guinea Fowl Day (French Republic)

International Day of ADHD Awareness

International Day of Sarcoma

International Growth Hacking Day

International Puzzle Day

International Rock Day

International Rock ’N’ Roll Day

Kashmir Martyrs’ Day (Pakistan)

La Retraite Aux Flambeaux (Night Watch; France)

Naadam, Day 3 (Mongolia)

Nathan Bedford Forrest Day (Tennessee)

National Delaware Day

National Paul Day

National Sam Day

Puzzle Day

Sandra Bland Day (Texas)

713 Day

Swiftie Day

Uniwaine Day (Elderly Men Day; Kiribati)

World Cup Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Beans 'n' Franks Day

Krispy Kreme Doughnut Day

National Beef Tallow Day

National French Fries Day (a.k.a. National French Fry Day)

National Nitrogen Ice Cream Day

2nd Thursday in July

Dinosaur Roundup Rodeo begins (Vernal, Utah) [2nd Thursday thru Saturday]

National Tree Day [2nd Thursday]

Oregon Trail Days begin (Geris, Nebraska) [2nd Thursday thru Sunday]

Oxegen Festival begins (Ireland) [2nd Thursday there Sunday]

Turkey Rama begins (McMinnville, Oregon) [2nd Thursday]

Independence Days

Statehood Day (Montenegro)

Usi (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Wilkland (Declared; 2009) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Abd-al-Masih (Christian; Saint & Martyr)

Abel of Tacla Haimonot (Coptic Church)

Anacletus (Christian; Martyr)

Asarnha Bucha Day (Theravada Buddhism)

Bhanu Jayanti (Sikkim, India)

Blanche of Castile (Positivist; Saint)

Boun Khao Phansa begins (Buddhist Lent)

Clelia Barbieri (Christian; Saint)

Conrad Weiser (Episcopal Church (USA))

Eugenius of Carthage (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Kalimát (Words; Baha’i)

Geek Appreciation Day (Pastafarian)

Henry II, Holy Roman Emperor (a.k.a. Henry the Emperor; Christian; Saint)

Joel the Prophet (Christian; Saint)

Macarena Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Mordecai Ardon (Artology)

Mildrith of Thanet (Christian; Saint)

Mr. Screech (Muppetism)

Obon (a.k.a. Ulanbana, Festival of the Lanterns; Buddhist, Shinto)

Rosa Mystica (Christian; Saint)

Silas (Catholic Church; Saint)

Solstitium IX (Pagan)

Spot the Loony Day (Pastafarian)

Teresa of the Andes (Christian; Saint)

Turiaf (a.k.a. Turiave or Thivisiau; Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 13 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [13 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [14 of 24]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Breaking Away (Film; 1979)

Californy’er Bust (Disney Cartoon; 1945)

Country Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1935)

Dedicated To the One I Love, by The Shirelles (Song; 1959)

Don’t Be Cruel/Hound Dog, by Elvis Presley (Song; 1956)

Eighth Grade (Film; 2018)

Generation Kill (TV Series; 2008)

Ghost (Film; 1990)

A Hard Day’s Night, by The Beatles (US Album; 1964)

Hollywoodland sign (Dedicated; 1923)

Ice Age: Continental Drift (Animated Film; 2012)

Inception (Film; 2010)

The Last Starfighter (Film; 1984)

Legally Blonde (Film; 2001)

Microbe Hunters, by Paul de Kruif (Science Book; 1926)

The Muppets Take Manhattan (Film; 1984)

An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, by Ambrose Bierce (Short Story; 1890)

Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, by Bob Dylan (Soundtrack Album; 1973)

Queen, by Queen (Album; 1973)

Skyscraper (Film; 2018)

The Spy Who Loved Me (James Bond Film; 1977) [#10]

Today’s Name Days

Anno, Heinrich, Kunigunde (Austria)

Emanuel, Ferdinand, Henrik (Croatia)

Markéta (Czech Republic)

Margrethe (Denmark)

Greta, Grete, Kreet, Kreeta, Mare, Maret, Mareta, Margareeta, Marge, Margit, Marit, Marita, Meeta, Reeda, Reet (Estonia)

Ilari, Joel, Lari (Finland)

Enzo, Eugène, Henri, Joël (France)

Heinrich, Kunigunde (Germany)

Iliofotos, Sarah (Greece)

Jenő (Hungary)

Enrico (Italy)

Alda, Margarita, Margrieta, Mariska, Pērle (Latvia)

Anakletas, Arvilas, Arvilė, Henrikas (Lithuania)

Melissa, Mia, Mildrid (Norway)

Ernest, Ernestyn, Eugeniusz, Irwin, Jakub, Justyna, Małgorzata, Radomiła (Poland)

Margita (Slovakia)

Enrique, Joel (Spain)

Joel, Judit (Sweden)

Ezra, Joel, Joelle, Mildred, Natalia, Natalie, Natasha, Nathalie, Nathan, Nathanael, Nathania, Nathaniel, Tasha (USA)

Henri, Nathalie, Nathaly (Universal)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 194 of 2024; 171 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 28 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 4 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Wu-Wu), Day 26 (Ren-Shen)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 24 Tammuz 5783

Islamic: 24 Dhu al-Hijjah 1444

J Cal: 14 Lux; Sevenday [14 of 30]

Julian: 30 June 2023

Moon: 16%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 26 Charlemagne (7th Month) [Blanche of Castile]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 23 of 94)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 23 of 31)

[magazynkulinarny]

Polpo e Patate, czyli sałata z ośmiornicą i ziemniakami

Wielki powrót małej ośmiornicy, czyli głowonóg ponownie w moim menu.

Najprostsza z możliwych sałatka z ziemniakami, włoska Polpo e Patate. Przygotowanie jej trwa tyle, co ugotowanie warzyw, czyli kwadrans z kawałkiem.

Zacznę jednak od filmu. O ośmiornicy właśnie. I to wcale nie ogromnej i krwiożerczej, rodem z obrazów grozy, ale niewiele większej niż dłoń dorosłego mężczyzny, spokojnej i płochliwej.

"Czego nauczyła mnie ośmiornica" (oryg. "My Octopus Teacher") w reż. Pippy Ehrlich i Jamesa Reeda, to piękna wizualnie opowieść o tym, jak człowiek - najwyższa w hierarchii istota żyjąca na ziemi - porządkuje swoje życie dzięki ukrytemu w oceanicznych głębinach mięczakowi. Z ogromnym wzruszeniem obserwowałam jak główny bohater, dokumentalista filmowy i płetwonurek, przełamuje swoje powierzchowne fantazje na temat głowonoga powoli poznając jego codzienne życie. Tworzy się między nimi coś na kształt więzi, zwierzę zaczyna akceptować obcego, a obcy fascynuje się zwierzęciem.

Mam tylko nadzieję, że po wyłączeniu kamer James Reed potrafił przenieść efemeryczną relację zbudowaną z ośmiornicą na konkretne związki - z rodziną, przyjaciółmi i obcymi ludźmi. Bo doprawdy nie sztuką jest zachwycić się pięknym, nieudomowionym stworzonkiem w wyizolowanych warunkach, nawet nakręcić o tym film i otrzymać Oscara. Sztuką jest nie skrzywdzić go swoimi odwiedzinami - wszak jesteśmy w jego świecie tylko (i aż) gościem - a uzyskaną wiedzę wcielić w swoje, a nie cudze, życie.

Kulinarna pointa jest bardziej przyziemna. Dla jednych okrutna i karygodna, dla innych powszednia i oczywista: jadam zarówno wodne, jak i lądowe stworzenia. Weganką ani wegetarianką raczej nie zostanę, a do Frontu Wyzwolenia Zwierząt lub podobnej organizacji na pewno nie przystąpię. Zniechęcili mnie do tego sami ich członkowie.

Składniki:

ok. 250 g macek ośmiornicy (gotowanych) 5 małych ziemniaków (sałatkowych) 2 ząbki czosnku 2 łyżki soku z cytryny kilka łyżek oliwy z oliwek e.v. sól i czarny pieprz do smaku kilka gałązek naci pietruszki

Wykonanie:

Zazwyczaj przygotowuje się tą sałatkę ze świeżej ośmiornicy, ewentualnie rozmrożonej. Wiadomo, że im świeższa, tym lepsza. Ja jednak skorzystałam z gotowego produktu dostępnego w Biedronce (podobno nie robi się sieciom reklamy, trzeba tak zrobić żeby na tym zarobić, ale ja to mam dokładnie tam, właśnie tam).

Ziemniaki obrać i ugotować w osolonej wodzie. Odcedzić i pozostawić do wystygnięcia (gorące, oprócz tego że parzą palce łatwo się rozsypują podczas krojenia). Gdy się wychłodzą pokroić na kawałki wielkości kęsa.

Macki lekko ocieplić (zgrzewkę wrzucić do garnka z wodą i podgrzać lub chwilę podgrzewać w mikrofalówce), by galareta - którą są otoczone - zmieniła się w płyn. Odlać go i pokroić odnóża w kawałki podobnej wielkości, co ziemniaki.

Czosnek obrać, rozgnieść płaską stroną noża i maksymalnie rozdrobnić. Połączyć z sokiem z cytryny, oliwą z oliwek, pieprzem i solą. Porządnie wymieszać.

W misce umieścić ziemniaki, ośmiornicę i winegret, delikatnie wymieszać i wstawić do lodówki na minimum pół godziny do kilku godzin. Pozwoli to smakom rozwinąć się i połączyć, co da bardziej aromatyczną i spójną całość.

Przed podaniem spróbować sałatki i w razie potrzeby doprawić. Ośmiornica ma delikatny smak, więc trzeba uważać, by nie przytłoczyć jej zbyt dużą ilością soli, soku z cytryny lub innych przypraw.