#Previous teaching and coordinating

[pretty-little-mind33]

Count Alexei Vronsky x gn!reader

Summary: When your previous courtship fails, Vronsky is quick to save you and provide his service.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: honestly none

~ @loonfull-sonnetzz hi love! thank you for requesting <3 i hope you like this! i'm sorry it's so late but it was on my mind for a while and i was trying to do it justice lol ~

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

You're anxious.

You despise that your mother insists you attend these dances, and almost worse, you resent that you always end up going, regardless of your own opinions on the matter.

Just like a dutiful child should, as your mother often reminds you.

But you're no longer a child, and you feel utterly out of place, standing to the side as people swirl around in their fancy suits and dresses. Their movements are graceful and fluid while you stand in silence, watching as the man you've been courting dances with another.

To his defense, he had granted you the first dance, his calloused hands entwined with yours as you attempted to follow his lead. However, you've never been very coordinated, and you ended up stepping on his shoes more than once.

Understandably, the gentleman became visibly annoyed with you, and as soon as your dance concluded, he scurried away to find another partner without so much as a second glance in your direction.

Your heart constricts in your chest at the memory, hot tears stinging your eyes. You recall the disdainful look he had given you, and you can't entirely blame him.

You catch your Mother's disappointed expression as she turns to you, and you can't bear the humiliation.

So, instead of another confrontation, you pivot and walk to the nearest balcony you can find. The cool air hits your skin, and you grip the railing with such force and pain that you feel your muscles tense.

"Good evening," a smooth voice suddenly interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes snap upwards toward the sound.

Of course, the most handsome man you've ever seen is standing next to you, his hip casually leaning against the balcony as he pulls a cigarette away from his pink lips and smirks.

You turn, fully recognizing him now, and your breath catches. "Count Vronsky," you whisper.

Count Alexei Vronsky's eyes sparkle with amusement, their light blue hue contrasting against the night sky as he revels in your surprise.

He isn't entirely surprised by your reaction, considering that everyone who is anyone around here knows him. His smirk takes on a devilish quality.

"Ah, it seems you've found an escape from the chaos of the ballroom."

You offer him a small smile, grateful for the distraction from your embarrassment, as he seems completely harmless. "It can be overwhelming in there," you say, gazing out at the dark sky and the brightly sparkling stars.

Vronsky nods in understanding and then looks out as well. He exhales smoke from his mouth and tilts his head. "Yet, despite all this chaos, there has always been a certain allure to it, wouldn't you agree? The spectacle of it all," he pauses, "it's almost like a dance of its own."

You turn to him, your expression contorted. "I suppose so. But alas, I seem to lack the skill to truly join in," you admit, forcing a small smile. "I seem to have been born with two left feet," you chuckle, though genuine embarrassment lingers beneath the sound.

Count Vronsky extinguishes the cigarette on the tray in front of him and crosses his arms, turning to you. "Ah, but skill can be learned. I wouldn't mind teaching you, if you'd like?"

You blink in surprise. "You would want to do that?"

Vronsky's blue eyes shine, and he offers one of his charming smiles. "Of course. I know better than anyone how dull these events can be if you don't find the right dance partner."

You're aware of his reputation. How could you not be? It feels like a mistake to accept, as if you'd be damning yourself and throwing yourself to the wolves. Yet, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness simmering inside you as you accept his offer.

Vronsky takes your hand with uncharacteristic gentleness and undeniable confidence. He places his hand on your waist, guiding yours to his shoulder. You inhale, staring at him as his closeness feels overwhelming.

While you're acutely aware of your initial clumsiness, you find yourself slowly improving under his guidance, his encouraging words spurring you on as he looks down at your shoes and explains the steps.

"There, just like that," he whispers, his cheek close to yours as he observes your feet and movements. You stumble, but Vronsky's grip on your waist remains firm, and when you look up, expecting to see disdain on his handsome face, you find him grinning and chuckling.

"Careful," he murmurs, guiding you again and humming the music, creating a comfortable rhythm as the cold night air dances around your bodies and the stars twinkle overhead in silent applause.

"I'm sorry," you mutter as you accidentally step on his shoes.

Vronsky's lips brush against your cheek. "Sorry admits defeat, darling," he says, twirling you around and executing a fancy motion with his hand, which you dutifully copy, earning another whispered praise. "You're a natural," Vronsky adds, his grip tightening on your waist.

He pulls you close. You're chest to chest now, both breathing heavily as you gaze into each other's eyes. Warmth floods through you, and you wonder if the feeling is mutual as Vronsky's cheeks take on a faint pink hue.

"Thank you, Count Vronsky," you say formally.

"Please," Vronsky's hand tightens even more as he smiles, "call me Alexei."

[just-honey-dewd]

LINK CLICK S1 EPISODE 5.5 - The Silly Goose allegations

This is a post dedicated to collecting instances showcasing Lu Guang's uncharacteristic behaviour throughout the episode. Compared to other episodes that take place in S1, I find that he never actually takes things as seriously as he would elsewhere. Which genuinely raised alarm bells for me, so here's my attempt at providing evidence of my accusations!

1) THE COCKINESS OF THIS MAN

"I don't hit girls" is one of the earliest instances of Lu Guang betraying his mature and sensible image -- specifically displaying immaturity in admitting his incompetence at video games. BONUS IMAGE: Still blushing in the background even after the moment's passed.

2) NOT GIVING HIS FULL ATTENTION TO A MISSION'S DETAILS

Granted, there is precedence to Lu Guang doing tasks in the background while Qiao Ling relays information about the case and client (in s1 e2), but Lu Guang usually spares a glance into the photos before determining whether he'll need Cheng Xiaoshi's involvement.

3) THE SNACKING AND AFTERNOON NAP

This is the only time Lu Guang is seen literally sleeping on the job -- not including the Emma case, because sleeping while the client is inactive is valid practice. In this case, it communicates a carefree disposition that Lu Guang knows he can afford. Which reads differently to how he usually acts during dives that don't require his constant supervision for a long period of time. For example, his behaviour during the first third of the Chen Xiao case -- a mission which partially involved Cheng Xiaoshi remaining on the bench for 20 minutes. The actual goal was getting Chen Xiao's message to Lu Hongbin, the outcome of the game wasn't important -- but Lu Guang remained on high alert and in constant communication with Cheng Xiaoshi (until he went ominously quiet for unconvincing reasons, but that's sth else). Point is, Lu Guang usually remains awake to watch over Cheng Xiaoshi, and doesn't usually snack on the job -- the way he leaves a mess on the table also feels more callous than typical Lu Guang fashion.

4) TIMING RIGHT DOWN TO THE SECOND

"Don't move a muscle!" You don't need glasses to see how extra Lu Guang's being with his insistence on accuracy right down to the second. Does the moment Liu Siwen's foot touches the last step matter in the long run? I doubt it. But apparently it matters to Lu Guang -- who's literally looking at his watch to confirm the seconds -- which seems incompatible for the same guy who teaches Cheng Xiaoshi that the major nodes are what must remain unchanged. It feels like misplaced priorities. Since the mission is "learn Ouyang Bubai's secret move", and the automatic outcome will be losing to him -- the major node won't change if Liu Siwen was slightly tardy or too early. And another thing I find strange are that in similar instances where Lu Guang is timing events down to the second, he's not looking at his watch to do it -- rather he seems to have a sixth sense for counting in sync with time's rhythm: in s1e1 he only opts to close his book audibly in order to alert Cheng Xiaoshi to initiate the event (no need eyeing his watch), and in yingdu e3 he drums his fingers to the last seconds before a canon event occurs.

5) Backseat gaming

This manner of instruction is superfluous and doesn't align with other instances which display Lu Guang's rather hands-off approach to instructing Cheng Xiaoshi. The approach he adopts immediately afterwards is much more successful in aiding him (also note that it's Cheng Xiaoshi who instructs Lu Guang to adopt this approach): CXS: Just predict the attack's direction. I will handle everything else.

Knowing to only give Cheng Xiaoshi limited prompts necessary for him to intuit his next course of action is crucial Lu Guang 101 behaviour. From what previous episodes have established of Lu Guang's character -- he usually knows what to say, and what little needs to be said, in order to coordinate Cheng Xiaoshi to do what is required to meet the objective. This backwards behaviour suggests Lu Guang's inexperience in understanding how Cheng Xiaoshi's mind operates. Inconsistent since the Ouyang case takes place after the EMMA case, which shows Lu Guang utilising the hands-off approach.

6) The genuine shock

Between these scenes, there's a very visible shock marring Lu Guang's expressions that simply isn't present in other episodes, and isn't seemingly appropriate for the context of the revelation, nor with his time traveller status in mind. When Cheng Xiaoshi looks as though he's about to land a critical hit on Ouyang Bubai, Lu Guang sighs pre-emptively -- as though he expects that Cheng Xiaoshi has the upper hand against Ouyang Bubai (though that would also suggest it slipped his mind that the mission was to observe how Ouyang Bubai's secret technique works). Then after Ouyang Bubai's move is executed on Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang's jaw drops. Something we only get the luxury of seeing in s2, when he's possessed by Cheng Xiaoshi. In the next scene, when Qiao Ling reveals the full context of Liu Siwen's determination -- Lu Guang full body flinches, which contrasts Cheng Xiaoshi's relatively conservative head tilt. This is not the body language of someone who's gone through this before.

7) The open hypocrisy

Cheng Xiaoshi points out Lu Guang's blatant disregard for his rules. Specifically "Past and future. Don't ask questions" -- directly involving themselves in Liu Siwen's life is interfering with his future which is technically a violation of that rule. But Lu Guang snubs him with a half-hearted "I came to watch over you."

What we see immediately after seems to be the key to understanding the driving force for Lu Guang joining to support Liu Siwen against his strict rules. If we were to believe this was Lu Guang's first experience with the Ouyang case, he came without the knowledge that Ouyang Bubai would finally surrender and allow Liu Siwen and Ouyang to be married. So he came to witness Liu Siwen's determination first-hand. If this wasn't the first experience, Lu Guang expects Ouyang Bubai to surrender, so he approaches the old man to understand the reasoning behind his stubbornness.

Let's say I'm of the opinion that it's the former... then the question becomes this:

Why does Lu Guang take a particular fascination in Liu Siwen?

To that, I think this scene in particular provides some suggestions.

The dramatic lighting and music accompanying this exchange emphasizes the weight of Lu Guang's conviction in Liu Siwen's resilience. And Cheng Xiaoshi voices the sentiment aloud. "What is it that gives him the strength to keep fighting?"

Following this train of thought, Lu Guang wasn't looking to ask Ouyang Bubai to understand why he finally lets go, but came to watch how Liu Siwen persists against all odds.

Thematically, that's why Liu Siwen has the last words in this episode. He embodies the theme of this episode: to cherish and fight for that which you hold dearly.

[dollypopup]

high femme Cressida holding hands with her butch girlfriend Eloise

Eloise coming over to Cressida's first apartment to hang up a picture because what do you mean you don't even know how to use a hammer? and Cressida just thirsting on main over Eloise in her overalls

Cressida having her nails done in super cute acrylics and Eloise finding them hella pretty, especially when she digs them into her back

Eloise getting excited to go to a hardware store and Cressida walking around dazed and confused

Cressida at Sephora leading Eloise around like a balloon on a string as she goes 'this one is my *favorite*. wait, no, this one is my favorite!'

Cressida going to Eloise's feminist rallies and meetings

Eloise letting Cressida do her makeup even though she doesn't wear makeup because pretty girl is standing so close to her she smells so nice

Cressida leaving lipstick kisses all over Eloise's face

Eloise thinking that owning a different colored carabiner to coordinate with her outfits is proper accessorizing and Cressida thinking that's hot

Cressida's enormous purse collection that Eloise finds vaguely hyperconsumerist and Cressida getting excited to show her the newest in her collection but now stresses that it was thrifted

Eloise and Cressida slowly blurring the lines of their previous aesthetics as they mesh together

Cressida painting Eloise's nails her favorite color so she can have it inside her, too. Eloise teaching Cressida how to garden, the two of them laughing in the dirt. Cressida putting star stickers on Eloise's face and kissing each one. Eloise using flavored chapstick because Cressida said she liked cherries. Cressida wearing Eloise's T-shirts and cutting them all into crop tops. Eloise loving Cressida's sundresses.

high femme Cressida holding hands with her butch girlfriend Eloise

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Six - Six

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings - death, misogyny, slightly androgynous themes, anxiety, blood, etc.

You participate in the next game, the six legged pentathlon.

Six Legged Pentathlon. You will be chained together by the ankle, and each member will complete a game in order to move on. You must finish the race within five minutes, or else all players will be eliminated. The mini games are as follows:

Game 1 - Ddakji

Game 2 - Flying stone

Game 3 - Gonggi

Game 4 - Spinning top

Game 5 - Jegi

One of the men in your group let out a small sigh of relief. “Ah, so it’s good that we got a girl on our team, after all. You know how to play Gonggi, right?”

“Not really, no.” You admitted.

You never cared for girly stuff when you were younger. Never played any games like gonggi or anything like that. All you wanted to do was what your father did. Your mom would always be busy, working long shifts at the hospital as a nurse, so you spent most of your time with your Dad, and you liked it that way. Hanging out at the ring, getting to watch him train, and being able to train once you were old enough. You thought it was the coolest.

At school, you didn’t fit in anywhere. The girls thought you were too boyish, and the boys thought you were too girlish. The girls would whisper mean things about you behind your back, and the boys? They just said it to your face. It never ended well, always turning into a fight with someone getting hurt and crying. You only had a few friends throughout those years, and they never stayed. No best friends, no forever, only strangers that came and went.

“Seriously? What are they teaching you kids these days?” He scoffed. “Just when we thought you could be useful.”

You clenched your fist, gritting your teeth together, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Deep breaths. No matter how badly you wanted to hurt this prick, you knew it would only make everything worse. The guards would probably kill you this time if you did. Stay calm and focus. Work with these assholes so you can win and get out of here alive.

“It’s alright, I can play gonggi. My daughter and I play it all the time.” 246 interjected. You smiled at him thankfully. He smiled back.

After some brief discussion, your teammates selected their roles. You picked Jegi. You’ve always been good at Jegi. Your Dad would have you play it to improve your footwork, coordination and balance. It’ll be easy. Everything will be okay.

And then, the first two teams went.

It was a complete mess, each players’ movements sloppy and uncoordinated from the adrenaline and fear running through them. One of the men even pissed himself from how afraid he was, failing the flying stone game multiple times before finally getting it. The timer ran down, and neither team made it.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut, unable to watch as the two teams were killed. The sound of their screams and flying bullets echoed around in your brain. You grabbed your pant legs, feeling your hands begin to shake, and your heart begin to race. Your chest got tight, and you tried to focus, tried to breathe. You couldn’t panic. Not again. Not in front of these men. But how could you not when it all seemed so hopeless?

Then, the next teams went. 120, 095, an elderly woman and her son: 149 and 007, and that creepy shaman lady, 044. It didn’t look good at first, the teams panicked in a similar way to the previous ones, but this team did something different. Instead of yelling and putting pressure on one another, they encouraged each other, motivated each other, telling each other exactly what they needed to hear. As they completed game after game, the players watching started to cheer, growing more and more eager.

They made it. All the players watching celebrated, reinvigorated and optimistic. They showed that these games were achievable. You could win and make it out. All you needed was to work together.

–

45 seconds remaining.

Your team had done well, managing to pass the games with little to no trouble, overcoming the obstacles when you did fail. Even though they were all bastards, the men on your team worked well together, but now, it was up to you, and you were running low on time.

You picked up the Jegi from the box with shaky hands, taking a deep breath and centering yourself. Blood stained the rainbow patterned floor beneath you, a daunting reminder of what would happen if you failed. 246 nudged your arm slightly, offering you a reassuring smile. “You got this.”

You nodded, dropping it onto your foot, kicking it up into the air. You counted under your breath.

“One, two, three, four-”

“-Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty!” You jumped up and down, beaming with excitement. You threw open the door, running inside to your father, who was standing in the kitchen, making dinner. “Papa, papa, look! I got a new record! I got twenty!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” He ruffled your hair. “See if you can get it to forty next time. Who knows, maybe you can break my record.”

On the counter beside him was a press release, a picture of him and another fighter on the front, facing off against each other. You picked it up, gazing down at it. “Is this your next fight?”

“Yeah, he’s a big guy. They call him Goliath.” The man did appear much bigger than your father, almost dwarfing him in size, even with your father on his bulk, his body rather large itself. You skimmed the article, reading the predictions projecting him to lose.

“Are you scared?”

“Nah, don’t you know how the story goes? David beats Goliath. He might be bigger and stronger, but my trainers helped me find his weakness. So, even though nobody believes it, I think I have a pretty good chance. You remember that, okay? No matter what anyone says, don’t give up. Don’t quit. Keep fighting, always.”

You nodded. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Go wash up, it’s time for dinner.”

–

As you kicked the Jegi for the fifth and final time, everyone cheered. Your team crossed the finish line with five seconds to spare. You did it. You won. It was a nice feeling, to have all those people rooting for you, to have all those people care. Amongst the crowd, you saw Dae-Ho, shouting at the top of his lungs and holding onto 222, both of them cheering for you. After everything you said to him, everything you did, he still rooted for you, so happy to see that you made it out, safe and sound.

You can’t help but hope that he makes it out of this game okay too.

[ultrone]

all eyes on you !

jealous!perv!nat spies on u through the gym’s surveillance cameras and gets jealous of lottie ҂ smut with plot; stalking, masturbation, jealousy, clothed fingering, cum-filled strap-on use, angry fucking, dirty talking, creampie. . .﹙2.9k wc﹚

last month, natalie found herself in another serious predicament—her chronic tardiness had struck once again, with a tally of nine late arrivals in just a single month. the patience of her program's coordinator was wearing thin; nat's disregard for detentions had begun to frustrate her professors. her coordinator was on the verge of giving her an ultimatum: complete a minimum of 60 hours of community service before the semester came to a close.

however, the situation took an unexpected turn when the person responsible for monitoring the gym's security cameras during the third block suddenly quit without any explanation. coincidentally, natalie had a free block during that exact time slot. the coordinator saw this as a chance to teach her a lesson, as this particular block was when nat often hurriedly left campus before her lunchtime and returned late for her next class. it presented itself as the perfect chance for intervention. so, they offered her a deal: instead of getting in trouble, she could take over the job of the person who left, at least until they found a replacement.

at first, nat didn't like the idea. she thought it was dumb and a waste of time. plus, the fact that she wouldn't be getting paid for it bothered her. but she realized that if she got suspended, she was fucked, as it could ruin her scholarship. the only reason she got accepted into university was because she had a scholarship for playing soccer. so, she decided to agree to the deal and take on the job, even though she didn't want to.

however, her resentment and lack of interest in the job vanished the moment she took charge of the camera system during her first shift. a realization struck her: you were there. you happened to have gym class during that same block. the instant she caught sight of you through the camera feed, clad in that tank top and those notably short shorts, she promptly stowed away the sleeping bag and sleeping mask she had managed to sneak into her backpack. her focus shifted entirely to observing you.

the two of you were close. maybe not best-friend level, but definitely close enough to exchange texts almost every day and hang out pretty much every weekend. you’d probably be best friends if it wasn’t because of lottie, you’d be hers if it wasn’t because of fucking lottie. she seemed to always be around you, attending the same classes and sticking by your side during soccer practice. it felt as though natalie was receiving the leftover moments lottie didn't claim when she wasn't with you. yet, what irked her the most was  lottie’s obvious crush on you. the lingering gazes, the tender way she said your name, the subtle touches—they all fueled nat's frustration. the only thing keeping nat from beating the shit out of lottie was you; she dreaded the idea of you hating her.

today was like any other day. after finishing her second block class, nat proceeded to the security office located on the gym's second floor. positioned at the far end of the hallway, she quietly shut the door upon entering before settling into her chair. with a few clicks, she activated the surveillance cameras, and there you were—as beautiful as ever. by the moment you started stretching, nat was already unbuttoning her pants, slipping her hand inside almost instinctively. she was wearing a strap today, but didn’t feel like taking it off. instead, she maneuvered her hand beneath it and started touching herself. she observed the way you massaged your sore thighs from the previous day, the way you would bend down and display your ass to her, only her. her fingers started circling her clit faster and faster, and she started moaning out your name.

right when nat was about to reach climax, lottie unexpectedly entered the frame of the screen, giving you a warm hug. in no time, your hands yielded to lottie's as she took over the task of massaging your back. as her fingers skillfully worked to alleviate the tension in your shoulders, you tilted your head back, closing your eyes at the feeling. meanwhile, nat observed the scene with a puzzled expression on her face.

“fucking bitch,” she quietly muttered, withdrawing her hand from her pants and zipping them up, frustration and disbelief evident in her expression.

this event turned her off completely, so she directed her attention toward her phone, as she wasn’t even able to look at you right now or she would combust in anger. she got so immersed on her phone that she didn’t notice the coach pulling you aside and telling you something. it wasn’t until she looked back at the surveillance that she realized that you were gone. she checked every angle of the gym, every hallway, you were nowhere to be found—and neither was lottie. right when she was about to slam her phone against the floor, she heard a knock on the door, and then someone twisting the doorknob open.

“hey, nat!” you said enthusiastically. “how are you?” you asked her.

“i’m good,” she replied colder than usual. she was kind of aloof by nature, but she was always nice to you, so you found it a bit weird.

“uh, okay. i’m glad,” you responded, “coach lost his stopwatch, he said you have more in here?” you asked her.

"first cabinet," she remarked nonchalantly, her gaze returning to her phone.

opting not to address her peculiar behaviour, you simply went on to search for the stopwatch. you opened the initial cabinet of the desk where nat had propped up her feet and sifted through its contents until finally locating what you needed. "found it!" you exclaimed as you retrieved the stopwatch and shut the cabinet.

"i'll see you later. enjoy your security endeavors," you added, a playful smile on your face.

"sure thing," she replied, her tone casual. "and you... have fun with lottie," she added, her words laced with a subtle sarcasm that was hard to miss.

curiously, you asked, "what do you mean by that?" her tone leaving you slightly puzzled.

“nothing, i mean, you two looked pretty close in there,” she began, her gaze finally meeting yours. “rubbing your back like that and all.”

a bit taken aback, you explained, "well, you know that lottie and i are really close friends, so i'm not sure where you're going with this. and why were you keeping tabs on us anyway?"

nat rolled her eyes and scoffed, "please, spare me the innocent act. you know exactly what i'm talking about. and besides, lottie's not exactly the most trustworthy person, is she?"

you felt a surge of irritation rise within you. "what are you talking about? lottie's been nothing but a good friend to me."

"look, i'm just saying," nat defended herself, "lottie has a reputation for being flirty with everyone. you don't want to be just another name on her list."

disbelief coursed through you. "that's ridiculous," you shot back. "lottie’s just a friend, and i trust her. you're just jealous."

"jealous?" nat scoffed. "why would i be jealous? i have no interest in you like that."

"then what's the problem?" you demanded, a hint of frustration in your voice.

"problem? there's no problem," nat retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "i just care about you, okay? maybe a bit too much, considering it's none of my business who you're cozying up to."

you felt a mix of frustration and confusion. "nat, you're acting really strange right now. what’s wrong?"

"oh, so now you're the expert on how i'm supposed to act?" she spat out, her voice tinged with a sharp edge. she suddenly stood up, her chair scraping back, and before you knew it, she had you cornered between her body and the desk. her eyes, which were usually warm and inviting, now held a fiery intensity.

“well, watch this,” she said, closing the distance and pulling you into a violent kiss. the suddenness of her actions left you stunned for a moment, but as her lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss with the same urgency. her lips were fierce, full of both frustration and a deep, hidden longing that you hadn’t acknowledged before.

your mind raced to catch up with the sudden shift. her lips were demanding, pressing against yours with an almost bruising fervor. her hands found their way to your waist as she pulled you closer, and her tongue caressed yours, sending tingles of pleasure up your spine.

finally nat pulled away, both of your breaths coming in ragged gasps. she searched your face for a reaction, as if unsure of what she had done or what to expect from you—but you could see the desire and confidence in her eyes.

“i bet you didn’t see that coming,” she remarked with a smug tone, her expression maintaining a serious demeanour as her gaze lingered on your lips once more.

“or this,” she whispered, her face descending as she placed a kiss along your jawline. her hands glided from your sides to the edge of your shorts in a tantalizing manner. “or this,” she continued in a hushed voice, her lips planting fervent kisses on your neck. all the while, her fingers delicately explored the border of your shorts, gently caressing and tugging; your response came in the form of a soft, involuntary groan escaping your lips.

but then, as abruptly as it began, she paused, lifting her lips from your neck. raising her head, she fixed her gaze intensely into your eyes.

"or..." her voice trailed off as her hand ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, fingers sliding in ever so slowly.

she held your gaze for a lingering moment. with your consent apparent in your eyes, she wasted no time, delicately resting two of her fingers atop your clothed clit. in deliberate, almost torturous movements, her fingers traced delicate circles, her touch sending a shiver down your spine. her face drew nearer, nuzzling against your cheek, warm breaths mingling with the sensitive skin of your neck.

involuntarily, your hips responded, aching for more friction. yet, the closer you drew to her, the gentler the pressure of her touch became, evading your attempts to intensify the sensation, leaving you yearning for more.

"harder," you groaned, your voice finding her ear.

"no," she murmured, her fingers tracing an exquisitely gentle path along your already damp cloth-covered folds.

“please,” you begged, your hips twitching as your arms reflexively grabbed around her torso, attempting to get her closer to you.

“y'want me to fuck you?” she questioned, a sharper edge to her tone compared to before.

“y–” you started, only to be interrupted.

“you want me to fuck you, just so that you can close your eyes and pretend it’s lottie, don’t you?” she asked, the pressure on your clothed center increasing, her eyes aflame with a fervent blend of anger and desire, a side of her you had never seen before.

"no, that's not—" you began, confusion etched across your face.

“yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice husky. “but i’ll prove to you i’m better,” she declared, determination evident in her gaze.

in a swift motion, she withdrew her hand from your shorts, abruptly turning you around. her nimble fingers hastened to unfasten her jeans and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. with equal speed, your shorts and underwear followed suit.

she slowly placed her hands around your torso and drew you closer, her strap resting right against your slit. she slipped a hand beneath your shirt, one encircling your waist as the other ascended to your throat, exerting a slight pressure as she drew your body tightly against hers.

she began to give hot, wet kisses to the exposed back of your neck before slowly moving on to your ear and nibbling on it. you could only groan in response, your fingers clutching at her forearms on top of your shirt.

amid her nibbling, she shifted her gaze to the surveillance cameras, and noticed lottie giggling in the background. her hand that had been tightening around your throat now withdrew, granting her more freedom of movement. she directed your face toward hers, claiming your lips in a demanding, almost bruising kiss. her teeth sank into your lower lip with fervor as her hips ground against your slick, moist center. it wasn’t until she tasted the blood flowing out of your bottom lip that she pulled away.

“i want you to look at her while i fuck you,” she commanded, turning your face toward the monitors by gripping your jaw.

“what? no way,” you retorted, swift in your refusal.

“i’m not asking you,” she snapped, her hands propelling your body against the desk, the monitors now in clear view. "is that clear?" she asked, her fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head to face the monitor displaying lottie. you remained silent.

her free hand descended to her own strap-on, teasingly pressing it against your throbbing entrance. lowering her body onto yours, her heated breath whispered against your ear. "i asked, are we clear?" she repeated, her voice measured and stern.

“y-yes,” you gasped, the slight contact of her length against your slickness causing your senses to spin.

“good,” she murmured, nipping your jaw gently before rising, her hand sliding to your waist and gripping it firmly, while her other hand continued to hold your head in place. without further due, she slammed her entire length inside you, bottoming out and deliciously stretching your tight walls, which were too tight for the the size of her girth.

“shit, y/n, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” she groaned as her rhythm started to build. sliding in and out of you, her thrusts made your walls clench around her with each movement. you moaned as you felt the tip of her cock repeatedly stimulating your g-spot, prompting you to arch your hips backward in an attempt to take her even deeper.

“g-go rougher,” you pleaded, your attempts to go deeper falling short of your expectations.

“rougher?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. “i’ll give you rough, then.” she released her hold on your hair, her hand finding its place on your lower back. with the other hand, she lifted one of your legs onto the desk, anchoring it there as she began thrusting with renewed vigor, burying her cock deeper and faster into you, the change in angle allowing her to.

“oh— ffuck, s’ fucking good” you moaned, your words pouring out in a rush as the sensation of her girthy cock gliding against your inner walls consumed your senses.

“lottie could never fuck you this good,” she declared as she increased her pace, the sound of wet slaps reverberating against the walls of the room. “could she?” she asked, the grip on your leg tightening enough to leave a mark.

“n-no, no, she could never,” you babbled out, slurring your words as you tried to answer coherently, barely processing her words. your moans grew louder as you felt her hand travel from your thigh to your clit, skillfully stimulating it while maintaining her deep thrusts.

“fuck, nat, m’ gonna cum,” you cried out in pleasure, pushing your body closer to her as the climax built within you. twisting your swollen clit between her fingers, she maintained her fervent rhythm, pressing you further towards the edge. her hand traced your waist, reaching your jaw, ensuring your teary gaze remained locked onto lottie.

she began to suck fervently on your neck, her thrusts growing more urgent. “i want you to cum while you look at her,” she commanded, prompting a whine of response from you.

“tell me i’m better than her,” she commanded, her hot breath teasing your neck as she marked it. “say it,” she insisted, pressing her fingers harder against your jaw while intensifying the pressure on your clit.

“you’re… you’re better,” you stammered, nearly incapable of coherent speech, a tear of pleasure tracing your cheek.

“better than who?” she teased, intensifying her suction on your neck.

“than lottie— better than lottie,” you finally admitted. that was all she needed to hear before sliding her tongue into your mouth and kissing you roughly, her tongue exploring your mouth deeply. her thrusts grew more aggressive, and as she reached her peak, warm streams of cum filled your tight walls, making you cry out in pleasure. your walls clamped down so tightly around her girth, that it was nearly impossible for her to continue thursting.

she remained there, her cock resting inside you as you both regained your breath. several minutes passed before she rose, removing her cock gently from within you and smoothly pulling up her pants, fastening them securely. at the same time, you managed to straighten up from the desk, struggling to steady your shaky legs as you pulled up your shorts.

"enjoy your time in p.e.," she playfully taunted, her gaze fixed on your wobbly legs and flushed cheeks as she settled back into her seat, an air of satisfaction surrounding her.

"will do! i'm sure i'll enjoy my time with lottie," you teased, well aware that your words would stir jealousy. with a mischievous grin, you snatched up the abandoned stopwatch and dashed out of the room.

"you'll regret saying that!" she shouted after you as you made your escape.

"i doubt it, joe goldberg!" your distant voice retorted, your footsteps fading into the distance.

[ahsokathegray]

Faded Lines, Fractured Youth

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: @rexsoka-monthly Jan. ‘25 - Jealous

Summary: Bail pairs Rex with an unlikely parter for a small mission.

Tags: clone cure, post-order 66, post-bad batch s3, language, lux bonteri, fix-it fic

Word Count: 5,921

A/N: this idea has been spinning like a hot rotisserie chicken in my brain soo here it is released from the heat lamp

read on ao3! / masterlist

He must’ve reread the mission brief fifteen times, eyes raking over the same details again and again. 

Mission: Imperial defect extraction

Intel Source: Gerrera 

Planet: Hosnian Prime

Coordinates: M12-94.93, M12-853.25

Aide: Lux Bonteri

It wasn’t the lack of detail that stood out to the Captain, but rather the person in which he was being paired with for this mission. 

“Something wrong, Rex?” Bail asked genuinely, the concern in his eyes ever warm and true. The Senator wouldn’t have known he and Bonteri were acquainted, had no reason to. This was sole unfortunate luck.

Rex looked up from the datapad and stored it. “I just wasn’t expecting to see a familiar name is all. It was my understanding that Gerrera’s remaining bridges with our Rebellion were burned,” he answered honestly, leaving out any distaste that might’ve arisen had he mentioned Lux. 

“It’s true, he isn’t labelled a radical without reason; we have publically distanced ourselves from him. Senator Mothma’s opinions are… sound, however, there is value in working together where we can. Our common enemy is what maintains our allyship with Saw. He’s extended this intel to us in order to assist Mon Mothma’s private interests. It’s best she not know who is involved.” 

“And Lux Bonteri?” Rex asked. 

Bail nodded, “Is a close second to Saw as I understand it. He was the son of a dear friend, the previous Senator of—”

“Onderon,” Rex finished for him. “I was there when they took their planet back during its civil war. My men and I helped turn Gerrera’s people into fighters. Bonteri was among them. We didn’t know it then, but I reckon’ we were training the first batch of rebels.”

The graying Senator offered him a solemn smile, knowing well who all had accompanied Rex on such a mission. His heart swelled bittersweetly for his daughter. “Indeed you did. It should be quite the reunion then. We have too little of those these days,” he ended with. 

Rex thanked him and exited into the bright halls of the Tantive III. Bail wasn’t wrong. It would undoubtedly be quite the reunion all this time later. There were too few of them… and not enough with the person he wished to share them with the most. 

In the two days leading up to his assignment, Rex continued about his duties. Now that Kix was free from cryo, he’d been teaching the former Captain his way around a medbay and how to properly tend to patients. It wasn’t the action he spent his life vying for, but it was action nonetheless when he wasn’t on the field. He actually enjoyed the work and had become an invaluable asset for when medical droids weren’t readily available — which was often. It was one of those things Rex never would’ve known had they won the war. 

Realizations such as those were always jarring.

Medic work was something to keep both his hands and mind occupied. Nothing felt right if he didn’t have something to worry over. In some way, it was soothing, allowing him to worry over what he could control versus what he couldn’t. 

Not hearing from Ahsoka, not being able to reach out, ate at him like a Gundark starved. Kix being unthawed had helped, but even his brother’s company didn’t lessen the tug as much as he wished it would. The only thing that had distracted him well enough was the strong scent of bacta. 

Rex kept at it until the very moment his pickup had docked to the Tantive, washing his hands up to the elbows and disposing of tools into the hazardous waste chute before climbing into the cockpit. Bonteri was piloting, appearing just as shocked as Rex knew himself to look upon seeing someone from the last war — upon seeing someone who’d changed so drastically since they were last face to face. 

Bonteri’s hair was longer, shaggier, looking the very definition of the rebel extremist Saw had made of him. He had a five o’clock shadow, had filled out more, the war turning a once lanky kid into a man Rex hardly recognized. It was a begrudging thing for him to admit, but perhaps after a shower or two, Bonteri could be considered to have grown into a conventionally handsome guy. 

Rex couldn’t pinpoint why Lux’s complicated past with Ahsoka still bothered him all these years later. This was clearly a different person entirely. They all were. 

Maybe that bothered him more.

Lux’s eyebrows were shot up. “You’re… younger?” he observed, voice deeper than anticipated, taking in a version of Rex without the characteristic lines in his face. “I’d heard rumors they’d found a cure, I just, well you don’t see many clones these days. Especially the ones fighting on our side.”

He didn’t know how he was meant to respond to that comment. Yes, in the three years since the Empire took control, his brothers have been rapidly replaced by conscripted soldiers. The ones that remained… many had chosen a life like the one Echo and the boys chose on Pabu. With time, Rex found it increasingly more difficult to convince clones to stay in the fight. Forced retirement prompted them to actually consider what else they wanted in life besides battle. And not all of them wanted the cure. Even the ones who did, half used it to catch up on lost time — men such as Cut included. They were simply tired of dying.

“And you got older,” Rex settled with, taking a seat and offering a weak smirk. 

Bonteri laughed, undocked the ship, and set out on what Rex expected to be a very quiet, very awkward mission. 

In and out. He’d be back at the Tantive’s doors just after dinner with any luck. But as luck would have it, Lux felt the need to fill the quiet air. For hours they did this back and forth game of catch up.

“How old are you now?”

“Sixteen if you count how long it’s been since the tube. Twenty-three in appearance.”

“Worked that well, huh? Been fighting since the Empire started?”

“Haven’t had a day off.”

“More people gone than recovered I assume.”

“That’s the way it is. The Senate?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

To the rest of the galaxy, Lux was for all intents and purposes, still Onderon’s acting representative in the Senate. He was the youngest rep at age twenty-one. He ran a hand through his hair, leagues less greasy than it had been in his younger years. “You know the Empire well enough by now. I just say what they tell me to, but I’m sure that comes as no surprise. They just need a pretty face to keep my people content with their permanent occupation on our planet,” he explained. “Just have to shave every few months when they need me and say a couple nice things for the Net. They’re none the wiser.”

“I figured as much. Senator Organa sees less and less colleagues all the time, just more Imperials taking their places he says,” Rex added. “That’s how you and Bail are involved, I take it?”

“Passed on Saw’s intel either this week after a new bill discussion,” the younger man confirmed. “Senator circles and what have you.” He laughed, shaking his head at how ridiculous it all sounded. He knew he was just another cog in a wickedly woven machine. 

War hardened everyone. It was strange to see the shape it had given Bonteri. Rex found himself searching for reasons to continue his dislike of this individual, but if anything, the years and the hardship had made him more bearable. The arrogance of his youth couldn’t be held against him, not when he was sticking his neck out like this. He was no different than Bail or Mon, or any one person involved in their fight. 

It was ultimately up to Ahsoka to forgive Lux, and perhaps she already had, but Rex recognized it was time to reconcile his issues with Bonteri. The kid was probably never aware of his disdain to begin with. 

After all, who was Rex to hold the sins of one’s youth against him?

Hosnian Prime illuminated the cockpit of Lux’s GX1 soon enough, finding Rex in significantly less pain than he had predicted himself to be in by now. Clouds boomed around them, dark and heavy, raining with a vengeance on the city planet below. They made their descent unceremoniously, landing a few klicks out from the provided coordinates in a residential sector.

Each man shrugged on a cloak that had seen better days. “Do you know anything about the defect?” Rex asked, donning his bucket and pulling down the rangefinder. 

“All I know is that we’re looking for a woman,” Lux provided, powering down the ship and grabbing a banged up stormtrooper helmet. “You ready?”

“Waiting on you,” Rex nodded, lifting his hood and leading the way out into the downpour.

Bonteri was resourceful. Rex could give him that. Perhaps he was paying attention during the Onderon mission afterall. He chuckled to himself, thinking that the kid probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for that first course from the boys of the 501st. He bit into his cheek, the term “kid” no longer feeling natural. Their difference in age wasn’t as stark anymore. 

They walked through sheets of rain in a back alley, parallel to an overhead hovertrain system. Distant shop signage cast them in colorful glows with each block covered, the rain only stopping when a train zipped by. They’d approach the city within the hour. 

His companion jogged up beside him, holding his modified blaster rifle close to the chest and spoke over comms, “Say, you haven’t heard from Ahsoka Tano lately, have you?”

The first thing Rex noticed after he swallowed the dreaded question was that both Bonteri’s voice and posture had shifted. Waters were being tested. He couldn’t help but think how Ahsoka would have some remark to say about banthas in the room and finally addressing them. What he could reveal was limited. She was supposed to be dead. They both were. Rex shrugged off his initial reaction and corrected his body language.

When no response came, the young Senator continued, “Imperial records have you both listed as killed in action, aboard the same downed vessel and, well, here you are.”

It wasn’t rare to see the dead, but it was rare to see a ghost. Today, that ghost was Rex. Not only was he younger, but he was alive, and Lux was bargaining on more ghosts yet. 

Wiser men have died chasing them. 

Thankful for the helmets, Rex attempted to lie — something he’d gotten much practice in being Captain of the 501st. “I haven’t seen her since the crash,” he said coolly, keeping it short. Too short. 

The younger man pushed against Rex’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t bullshit me, Rex,” Lux pressed, sounding once again like himself. 

Maybe Rex shouldn’t have answered truthfully, but he decided to. He considered himself a decent judge of character and this wasn’t a version of Lux Bonteri that acted in his own self interest, not when something as sinister as the Empire weighed heavily on the galaxy. At this point in his life, he’d seen enough regret in a man’s eyes to recognize it upon first appearance. He sighed, “She’s around less and less each time. I don’t know where she gets sent. My clearance doesn’t extend that high anymore. She’s alive… but it’s been months.”

The stormtrooper helmet bobbed, indicating that Lux understood, accepting the truth was less than he’d wanted. “Thank you. It’s good to hear, you know, that she’s alive. I know you played a role in her survival of whatever it was the two of you went through, so thank you.” He was quiet again for a long while. “I see the cure didn’t absolve you of that loyalty curse you clones are all known so well for,” he continued. “I’m sorry.”

The genuine apology sat with Rex in a way he hadn’t expected it to. Maybe because he didn’t expect the words in the first place. Maybe because it was painfully clear that he’d die Ahsoka’s loyal Captain, taking her secrets with him to the grave. But whatever the root cause, Rex knew it was ultimately because his companion was wrong. He was assuming that as a clone, Rex was bound to her beyond his will. 

“No, the cure didn’t solve it. Removing my chip did. Those are real too, in case you’d not heard it from a reliable source. My loyalty to Ahsoka is my choice.”

Nothing was said for several minutes more as each man chewed on the interaction. Rex marveled at how much power a woman like her could have on two hopeless men. She was worlds away and leaving them both at a loss for words. 

“Security detail ahead,” Rex informed, tipping down his rangefinder and leading them to the alley edges. “I’ve got four on my scanners. See anything in that ridiculous helmet of yours?”

“Not shit,” Lux joked, confirming what Rex had heard regarding the poor design. “Scratch that. Counting three more to our left.” 

Each rebel’s grip tightened on his weapon, readying to shoot their way through an increasingly sticky scenario. The mission coordinates were a few blocks north and the area was already dense with stormtroopers. Bonteri beckoned his head to the right and they dipped further out of view, navigating the city grid more stealthily.

“I thought Hosnian Prime was one of the core worlds giving the Empire a run for their credits,” Rex thought aloud, dismayed.

His companion laughed dryly, “Why do you think there’s so much security, Captain?” The younger man pointed above them. A squad of troopers was boarding the hovertrain on a nearby station. 

“You weren’t informed enough to know how much of an Imperial presence would be here?” Rex asked, doing little to disguise his annoyance. The mission brief was infuriatingly short. What was more, was that Hosnian Prime was this mental image of resistance. Seeing that even they couldn’t escape Imperial occupation made his chest ache in a way that had become too frequent. 

Lux shrugged under his drenched coat. “Gerrera wrote up the brief. He can be…”

“Oh I know.” Rex grumbled.

Bonteri was mid laugh when they turned the corner, a lively tavern of sorts bustling with crowds of customers and stormtroopers alike. It was protected from the rain, housing all kinds of individuals seeking a good time despite the dreary weather. “Shit,” the young Senator muttered, he and Rex tugging their hoods further and keeping heads down. “Shit. Shit.”

“Six at the bar,” Rex stated, weaving them calmly through the crowds. “Don’t look to your right. There’s a group at the high top that might see you.” Lux obeyed, falling in Rex’s expert footsteps. A male Gotal passed between them, separating them but only by a step, then a few steps.

Grunting in frustration, Lux attempted to jog up to the heels of the Captain. “Rex—” he started, leaving his thought unfinished as he kicked into the ankle of none other than a unit leader.

The orange pauldron pivoted, bringing the two men helmet to helmet. Lux’s was an older model, dated out by a year or so now. Moreover, he had no other armor on his person. 

“What do we have here?” the unit leader drawled. It was not a question Lux was meant to answer. Six, seven, eight, nine of the same blank buckets turned their attention towards him. The tavern quieted just enough, bystanders getting out of the way but most still determined to enjoy their evenings. What a show this was indeed. 

The blaster of the one behind him was halfway raised when his arm snapped. The impact was so forceful that Bonteri would’ve guessed it was a crack of lightning before he turned. Rex was quicker with the cure coursing through his veins, much more than he had been on Onderon. His elbow met the center of the trooper’s chest plate before his pistol even cleared the holster. Lux couldn’t help but notice Rex was down to one weapon despite his normal two, looking on in awe before remembering himself.

Chaos erupted throughout the tavern. Gone was the festive evening as screams rang out and drinks were spilled. The music came scratching to a sharp halt as Lux kicked the legs out from under the unit leader, sending him falling backwards into a table and leaving glasses shattering to the floor. He ducked as blaster fire screeched over his head, looking up to watch as Rex dropped another one with a devastating kick behind the knee. 

“Move!” he barked, firing twice more as another squad of the damning troops filed into the area. The exit point was a clear shot ahead. 

“What? Don’t want to stop for a drink?” Lux jested, firing his modded rifle and smirking as the fire ricocheted between the buckets of two more soldiers. 

“You and I aren’t quite there yet,” Rex grunted, turning on his heel. 

Blaster fire followed them into the alleys, drowned out by the torrential downpour that had started. The duracrete was slick with rain. A stray bolt screamed through the air, hitting the wall beside Lux’s shoulder and eliciting something of a yelp from the Senator. He stumbled, cursing and spraying fire behind him. 

One trooper went down. Then two. But not by his hand. Another shot found its way into the alley and this one hit. 

Rex watched as Bonteri nearly fumbled his rifle. A line of red scored across his palm, smoke rising from the burning flesh and the fabric of his glove. “You hit?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Lux responded through gritted teeth, firing his weapon through the sting of an open wound.

“Good. Walk it off,” Rex instructed. “How many behind us?”

“Three last I saw,” he grunted. They ducked into a side street. 

The Captain loosened a bit, checking his datapad. “There’s a service access north past the next block. We’ll lose them there in the industrial district.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll win a short war.”

Cheating death — even when it became routine — had a way of forcing reflection. It just so happened that narrowly escaping said demise had both men thinking of the most electric, unparalleled woman that had ever graced their existence. This woman, coincidentally, was the same woman for each of them.

Again, and unsurprisingly, Lux brought her up in conversation.

“You know, I was half expecting, or half hoping rather, that Bail would assign this mission to Ahsoka,” he revealed, catching his breath as they hunkered down in the service entrance. He clutched his wrist, causing his affected hand to lose its color. Rex fished for a stimpack in the pouch on his belt.

Dots began to connect. So that’s why Bonteri was on a mission such as this one — seizing the rare opportunity to work with Bail’s team in hopes of a reunion. Perhaps it wasn’t the full reason, but he didn’t have to say so outright. Earlier when he questioned Rex’s loyalty, he’d already had suspicions that Ahsoka was alive and working for Bail.

“Disappointed?” Rex asked. 

“Delighted,” Lux corrected, sucking air past his teeth as the liquid made contact with the raw gash across his palm. “It means she’s off taking care of the bigger fish. She’ll do great things in the name of the Rebellion, just as she did during the last war.”

The Captain nodded, still not used to the lack of a dull ache in his knees. “She already has.” he revealed. “She never says much about what it is she’s doing, but I don’t ask.”

“Because she’d tell you if it were for your ears to hear?”

“Exactly.”

Lux faced him, helmet discarded on the ground. “I’m not sure if you picked up on it before, or if she’s said anything to you in passing, but… there was a moment where we had something, Ahsoka and I. For a brief point time I thought maybe it could have turned into… more.”

The Captain said nothing, digesting the younger man’s confiding words. It’s not that he didn’t know about it — Ahsoka had spoken about her grievances and confusion over him a few times. He’d known for a while how she’d felt about Lux during the last war, how it was unrequited at different times, how she harbored her guilt with it. It’s hearing the words from Lux himself that made it real in a way he wasn’t prepared for. 

“I knew,” he revealed, wrapping Lux’s palm with a gauzy bandage.

“You ever think she regrets not leaving the war behind when she had the chance?” Lux asked, forcing a laugh to make it sound as if it were a thought he’d only just had for the first time.

After a beat, Rex finally answered him. “She doesn’t regret the things that matter.”

“Am I interrupting something here? Why are you out of regulation?” a female voice sliced sternly through the air. 

Lux was the only one in view, helmet halfway back on. “Just bandaging my hand, Lieutenant,” he improvised.

“I’m going to need your operating number, trooper. This is highly irregular.”

The young Senator was quick to regain control of the situation, removing his tattered excuse for a helmet and shaking the stray strands of long hair from his face. The lieutenant’s attitude shift was instant. She was more inclined to listen to a handsome man’s excuse rather than an anonymous one. Bonteri had evidently used this method before and knew it to be effective. 

He gave a hand signal behind his back for Rex’s eyes only — a signal he’d taught that first group of rebels on Onderon.

Signal seventeen.

He sat straight against the wall and fished the binders from his belt. The Senator secured them to Rex’s wrists and hauled him up off the ground and thrust him into view.

Rex ground his teeth and snapped his shoulders, playing the part of captive convincingly and allowing Lux to sell the ruse. His pretend captor flashed the woman his white teeth, using a mix of suave and charm Rex had used before himself.

“I’ve been hired as a bounty hunter, ma’am. Been chasing this particular clone for weeks now. His capture will undoubtedly ensure Hosnian Prime’s submission to the Empire,” Lux improvised, dialing in on the cockiness. “An older one by the looks of him. Their so-called cure must do a number on their already stunted brains.” Rex grunted and twisted in Lux’s hold, only halfway acting.

This qualified as humor for the woman. She giggled, impressed, hopelessly fooled into Lux’s lie by way of his good looks. “I’m certain the Commander will be most pleased,” she said, a twinkle in her eye and a flirt in her now relaxed stance. A phantom lock of her slicked back hair was pushed behind her ear. “Very well, proceed to detention block C. Put him with the others. If you’re in need of an assignment afterwards, you can find me on level three.”

“Promise?” Bonteri asked, tongue slipping past his lips just so as he held eye contact with her.

The only response she offered in return was the maintained lock of eyes before she nodded curtly and continued on. 

Rex gagged when she was out of earshot.

His captor released him and shot him a defeated, albeit dirty, look, “Believe me, that was more uncomfortable for me than it was for you.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Well, not everything has to be solved with a blaster,” Lux added.

“Unfortunately. Let’s grab the target and get out.”

“Seconded.”

He hated to admit it, but it was that very interaction between his counterpart and the Imperial that Rex’s mind began to taunt him. It started with the sensation of pin pricks beneath the skin, a tightness in his jaw, then evolving into hypotheticals. He was often skilled at blocking those out, but the way Lux flirted with the woman was so… effortless. She was of no real romantic interest, if his facial expression afterward was any indication, yet his charm had her expecting a rendezvous. What could Bonteri achieve with someone he did have an interest in? Rex swallowed. Ahsoka did fall for the man once, long ago when he was more arrogant and less handsome. 

For only one year had the cure been embedded in his cells and Rex was once again facing insecurities he thought he’d conquered. The only reason he swallowed the vial was to continue the fight, to give the growing Rebellion a standing chance. His resume, his strategy, his experience were all vital assets to the cause. Taking it was an unselfish act, so he told himself. 

Sure, he also regained that rugged Fett physique the Kaminoans had shown such favor towards. He was not disinclined to once again have that allure the clones were so reputable for. 

She’d only been around him twice since the cure had been administered and not once had she treated him any differently — didn’t care that it had taken nine years off his physical age. 

They made it to the detention block without a hitch, taking out the few troopers stationed there. Only one name in the short catalog of prisoners belonged to a woman. Rex’s mouth grew dry. It was so much more than just a name. He knew the target personally.

Emerie Karr.

“About time you showed up,” the female clone said once the ray shield fizzled. 

“I’d tell you to give Echo my apologies, but I’m more curious as to how you ended up here,” Rex wondered aloud, handing her the blaster off an unconscious trooper. “And why our intel has you listed as an Imperial defect.”

She frowned, following the two men back out the way they came. “The less known the better. Rex, this goes deeper than we could’ve ever imagined. I’ve been in the sector undercover for the last few weeks and, well, I supposed I assumed Tantiss was the only place the Empire had been experimenting on children…”

Lux’s brows were knit, looking between the pair of clones and drawing his own conclusions. This ran as deep as it did dark. 

“Of course we were wrong,” she finished softly. 

“Emerie, why are you here?” Rex probed. 

She swallowed, fearful, unlike how he knew her usual demeanor to be. “They’re experimenting on Force sensitive children. I was able to shuttle many of them off-world, got them here first and then sent each to a safe location with a trusted ally, but the Imperial presence on Hosnian Prime has only doubled since I was here last. The smallest child in particular, he—”

The emergency alarm began to wail. The cold light was replaced with that of a red hue, signaling that it was time to go. Stepping over the limp bodies of stormtroopers, the three made their way through the building. 

Blast doors were closing on all sides of them, the rhythmic sound reaching them before they could see it. 

“Going back the way we came isn’t an option anymore,” Lux warned, tightening his injured hand into a fist. 

“Where did your girlfriend ask you to meet her?” Rex asked, no hint of a joke on his face. 

“Level three,” Bonteri sighed.

Emerie pointed to their left. “This way. Follow me.”

They kept tight on the female clone’s heels, turning sharp corners and hiding out of breath from nearby squads. Their footsteps charged Rex’s heart, once again throwing him into the kind of battle he was born and bred for — the kind that gave him a purpose that medic work couldn’t replicate. Snatching a datapad from the wall, Emerie opened a door that had closed on them, opening the way once more. It was in those short periods of waiting that Rex’s mind pieced the rest of the picture together.

She was working with Saw. 

Echo was working with Saw.

There was no time to digest such revelations. Emerie input the security code for the sealed room and the blast doors parted. Inside, the lieutenant Lux had promised to rendezvous with earlier had two hands on a blaster, trained on them.

“I should have suspected,” the Imperial woman spat.

“Sorry lady, you’re just not really my type,” Lux retorted, gesturing to the control panel behind her. “Now, you’re going to drop the blaster and unlock the bay for the transports.”

Her eyes hardened and her finger trembled ever closer to the trigger. 

Bonteri laughed dryly. “When’s the last time the Empire did anything for you, huh? Gave you anything of real value besides a disappointing promotion? Look at you. Blindly, fearfully loyal. Even in its own system, the Empire rules by fear. The more responsibilities, the more titles, the more pins on your uniform — the more they govern you with terror. You’re not that high ranking which is one of the many reasons you’re trembling,” he observed. “You spend your life at this post serving them and what do they do to serve you? They don’t care that you’re under the gun. They don’t care whether you live or you die.”

“You’re rebels!”

“Your occupation on Hosnian Prime won’t last,” Rex added, the curve of a smile etched into the corner of his lips. “The Rebellion only gets stronger everyday. You know this planet. You know its people. You can drop your weapon now and be promised safety amongst our ranks, or you can wait it out, dropping it once the people of this planet overrun this place. You will fail. And you know how the Empire will feel about it.”

Perhaps she might’ve done it. She might have taken the words as they intended and trusted what was said. Rex swore he saw that telling glint in her eye, the one that screams “I want to, help me save myself from this” but they’d never know. An explosion went off down the street, visible through the large window behind her. She turned to analyze the situation, and as fast as her eyes were taken off her enemies, Emerie had knocked her out with the datapad.

The light for the transport bay turned from red to green. “If you two are quite finished, we have a mission to complete,” Emerie said.

The rain felt like needles on the exposed back of a speeder bike. Rex cursed the damn lieutenant for the loss of their gear. He’d been losing pieces of his armor for years, starting with his pauldron, but knowing he left his helmet behind felt like leaving behind a part of himself. Even the tattered cloak he’d miss, especially now as they peeled away and towards Lux’s ship.

He patted his belt and holsters, finding everything else was still intact. He’d been down to one blaster for a while now, but he knew the other one was being kept safe.

Their ragtag group made it to their coordinates without fanfare. The explosion caused by the planet’s inhabitants had drawn the occupation’s attention and no one would suspect for a while that any outside agitators had been present. The larger Rebellion had once again succeeded in winning small wars, as Ahsoka liked to call them.

Lux signalled ahead, catching sight of the wing of his GX1 and leading them down the alley.

As soon as they stepped off, an overhead ship switched on its lights, ripping them forcibly out of the darkness and spotlighting Lux’s ship. Their damp clothes billowed, disrupted by the incoming landing. They each looked up, shielding their eyes from the intense brightness but unable to discern their above enemy. 

The lack of fire raining down on them did not equate to safety. 

Bonteri’s ship ramp wasn’t even all the way down before he was on it, ushering Emerie and Rex inside. He had one foot lifted, watching the new ship make ripples in the puddles below. 

The spotlight flickered off and the Captain’s eyes readjusted to the night sky. A rickety x-wing had joined them and, like clockwork, just as he was every few months, Rex once again found himself at a loss for words. 

“You,” he exhaled, standing in the light of the ship as a pair of familiar boots hit the ground. His body was weightless, mission nearly forgotten as he remembered the use of his feet. They carried him towards her in a motion that felt like floating.

“Me,” came the response.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he heard himself say.

Ahsoka crossed her arms, eyes rolling playfully and meeting him in the rain. “You always say that.” His skin soaked in the water falling from the sky, but his eyes soaked her in, searching for new scars, dipping briefly to her lips before meeting her warm gaze. A gentle hand slid across his face and hooked behind his ear, thumb running over his jaw. “Your helmet and cloak are in the storage compartment,” she continued. “Try not to leave them behind next time.”

He fought the urge to lean into her touch. “No promises,” he murmured, knowing he’d do it again.

“Lux,” Ahsoka stated, pulling Rex out of the moment. She glanced between the two men, amused, and playfully elbowed her Captain. “Didn’t peg you for a politician’s right hand.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Rex laughed, walking them out of the weather and clapping a hand on Bonteri’s shoulder. 

She folded her arms and cocked a brow marking. “I imagine it was… enlightening.”

Rex smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “Only on how to get your hand seared open by enemy fire.”

Lux rolled his eyes and laughed at the jest of his new friend. “Yeah, yeah. It’s healing just fine,” he corrected, waving his bandaged palm. “I’m ready for that drink now by the way. You and I there yet?”

Ahsoka looked at Rex expectantly, “Kix’s training came in handy I take it. Thank you for taking my advice.” 

Across from them, Lux pretended to laugh at her emphasis on the word “handy”.

She bit her bottom lip and wiped a stray rain droplet from his chin, looking from his eyes to his lips and back again before adjusting his collar. 

“Yeah, I reckon’ we’re there. First round’s on me,” Rex replied, not breaking his gaze once from Ahsoka’s.

“Done,” Lux laughed. “We’ll follow you.” The young Senator disappeared into his ship with Emerie in tow, the ramp raising.

Karr’s discoveries could be dissected in the morning of the following rotation. There was nothing big or small with enough urgency to take precedence over this moment — for however long he and Ahsoka had each other. Rain dripped over his eyelids, prompting an orange thumb to swipe widely over his brow bone. 

“I don’t remember where we left off,” he spoke over the downpour.

“No?” she asked. “Because I recall you had something to tell me.” The twitch in her mouth was telling. He’d been made. His tongue darted out to wet his lips in a nervous tick and her starlit eyes lingered intently on the action.

Ahsoka leaned closer and peered up at him through wet lashes. “Do you want to say it or do you want me to show you how I feel about it?”

Before either could react to the words spoken, her fingers hooked into the loops on his belt and she pulled him into her, softening his stumble by catching his lips with her own.

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> chapter 9

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next->

author note1: angst and mean girls are back hahahah 😈😈

As the bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, Yn Leclerc gathered her belongings and made her way towards the school's exit. Her heart raced with anticipation, for today was a day like no other. The Princesse Grace Dance Academy awaited her, and the joy of dancing was the perfect escape from the troubles that awaited her outside the classroom. 

Yn's golden curls bounced as she walked, and her ballet bag swung gracefully at her side. She couldn't wait to join her friends at the academy, especially her best friend, Marta. They had been through thick and thin together, supporting each other's dreams, and now they were on a journey to becoming professional ballerinas

However, the path to pursuing her passion was not without its challenges. A group of girls, once her ballet companions in her school’s ballet extracurricular activity, resented Yn for achieving what they hadn't – acceptance into the prestigious academy. The trio had never quite recovered from being left behind at the school's ballet classes, while Yn and Marta moved on to the illustrious academy.

The trio of tormentors approached, their disdain painted across their faces like poorly masked jealousy. Yn's heart raced, but she straightened her posture, determined not to let their negativity affect her.

"Regardez qui voilà, la petite danseuse étoile," Emelie sneered as they approached, their perfectly coordinated steps emphasizing the mockery in their voices. (Look who's here, the little prima ballerina)

Yn tightened her grip on her pointe shoes, her eyes narrowing at the trio. She knew what was coming, but she wasn't going to let their words break her.

"Hey, Yn, maybe you should teach us some of those fancy moves you've been learning at your 'prestigious' academy," Camille added, her tone dripping with sarcasm. (Maybe you could show us some of those fancy moves you've been learning at your 'prestigious' academy.)

The leader of the trio, Isabelle, sneered, "You might be at the academy, but you'll never truly belong."

Yn took a deep breath, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. "Merci pour votre opinion, Isabelle. (Thank you for your opinion, Isabelle)," she replied, maintaining a calm exterior despite the storm within.

Yn took a deep breath, steeling herself against the words that stung like arrows. "I don't have time for this. Leave me alone."

"Oh, la petite princesse est trop fière maintenant." (Oh, the little princess is too proud now.)

Isabelle smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, don't worry, Yn. We just wanted to check in on our little prodigy. It must be tough being the only one from our old group to make it into the academy."

Yn's jaw clenched, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Yn, there you are!" Joris approached with a bright smile, followed by Marta, Riccardo, Nico, Hugo, and of cours her brother Charles.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?" (What's going on here?) Joris asked, shooting a stern look at the other girls.

"Nothing, we were just catching up with our old friend Yn," Isabelle said, feigning innocence.

Emelie, Camille, and Isabelle exchanged glances, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected support Yn had gathered.

Isabelle sneered, "Your sister thinks she's too good for us now that she's in this fancy academy. She's not as special as she thinks."

Marta, ever the fiery defender, retorted, "Elle est incroyable, Isabelle. And you're just jealous because you couldn't make the cut."

"She doesn't deserve it! It's not fair!" ("Elle ne le mérite pas ! Ce n'est pas juste !") Camille says looking agitated

"Tough luck, maybe you should've worked harder." Marta responds while crouching down to hug Yn. "Vous n'avez rien de mieux à faire?" (Don't you have anything better to do?) Marta, standing tall beside Yn, shot a defiant look at the bullies. "What's the matter, Isabelle? Afraid Yn will outshine you?"

Charles stepped forward, his protective older brother instincts kicking in. "C'est marrant, parce que ça ressemble plutôt à du harcèlement. (Funny, because it looks more like harassment)"

Yn felt a surge of gratitude as her friends gathered around her. "These girls are just bitter because they didn't make it into the academy. Don't let them get to you" Joris placed a reassuring hand on Yn's waist 

"Allons-y, YN. Ils ne valent pas notre temps" (Let's go, YN They're not worth our time) Hugo said while all the group surrounded yn to do a grupal hug and accompany her home.

The group walked away, leaving the mean girls fuming in their wake. Yn couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. With friends like these, she knew she could overcome anything that came her way.

Yn felt a wave of gratitude for her friends and her brother. Once the mean girls were out of sight, Charles put a reassuring arm around Yn. "Are you okay, petite sœur?" (little sister)

Yn nodded, touched by the unwavering support around her. "Thanks to all of you. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Come on, Yn. Let's go home," Charles said, wrapping an arm around her.

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

Later, the Leclerc twins arrived home. Pascale, sensing something amiss, looked at them with concern. "Comment était votre journée, mes amours?" (How was your day, my loves?)

Yn smiled, "Ma journée était doux-amer, maman. Mais mes amis et Charles m'ont protégée." (My day was bittersweet, Mom. But my friends and Charles protected me.)

Charles, protective as always, chimed in, "Those girls were just jealous, Yn. Don't let them get to you."

Pascale, placing plates on the table, listened attentively. "Tell me, mon cherie, what happened?"

Yn, grateful for the unwavering support of her family and friends, began to recount the events of the day, while Charles interjected with comforting words.

"Elles étaient jalouses de toi, ma petite sœur," Charles reassured her. ("They were jealous of you, my little sister.")

Charles added, "Nous sommes toujours là pour elle, maman." (We're always here for her, Mom.)

Their maman beamed with pride, "Je suis si fière de vous deux. Vous êtes une équipe formidable." (I am so proud of both of you. You are a fantastic team.) Just after praising them she hurried Yn to start eating faster, "Dépêche-toi, ma ballerine, tu dois aller à l'académie de danse. L'académie t'attend (Hurry, my ballerina, you need to go to the dance academy. The academy is waiting for you)" 

And in that moment, Yn knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she had her family and friends by her side, ready to face them together.

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

The afternoon passed quickly for Yn at the academy. The teachers were impressed with her progress, and they made sure to relay the good news to Pascale when she picked Yn up. Pascale couldn't help but beam with pride, knowing that her daughter was destined for greatness in the world of dance and Yn returned from the academy, tired but content

Meanwhile, Charles also arrived home after a rigorous training session at the karting track, guided by his father. Fatigue and satisfaction blended on his face.

As evening descended, the tired but satisfied twins returned home, with also their little brother Arthur, who was practicing with Charles. Pascale had prepared a feast for dinner – a family favorite, barbagiuan. The aroma filled the kitchen, welcoming the hungry trio.

The family gathered around the table, sharing stories of their day. Charles recounted the highlights of his karting training, and Yn shared the encouraging words from her dance teachers. Pascale and their papa, Hervé, listened with admiration.

"Les professeurs disent que tu as un avenir prometteur dans la danse, Yn. The teachers say you have a promising future in dance" Pascale proudly announced, raising her glass in a toast.

Arthur, always the enthusiastic one, jumped up and hugged Yn. "C'est incroyable, Yn! You're amazing!"

Charles grinned. "On est tous fiers de toi, Yn" (We're all proud of you, Yn)

Yn returned her brother's smile "Vous êtes les meilleurs frères du monde" (You're the best brothers in the world)

The night ended with laughter, shared accomplishments, and the comforting presence of family. As Yn drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of her loved ones. No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she could face them with the unwavering love and encouragement of her family by her side.

i hope you liked it and if you want to know more about yn and the leclercs and the adventures they are going to follow stay tuned (more drama coming soon and pierre is doing an apereance soon)

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16 @janeholt3 @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @minkyungseokie

[nationmckinleyscorset]

In a way each season features a character in more depth than they have been in others

Spoilers for nearly every episode of wwdits so far under the cut

Let me explain

Season 1 introduced everyone but the plotline mostly followed Nadja's affair with the human Gregor, she was coordinating the orgy, she hates werewolves, she hates Laszlo's hat, and she turned Jenna then had an episode half dedicated to her teaching Jenna how to be a good vampire

Season 2 followed Laszlo as the main character, he got their familiars killed off, he discovered the family had a ghost problem, he gave Sean bran scramblies (it wasn't Nandor, Laszlo said "forget everything" and that's what fucked it up), Laszlo became Jackie Daytona for a full episode, Laszlo wrote songs with his wife because his original melodies were being plagiarised, and Laszlo fucked a witch and she returned to steal his semen (he was the first to be abducted)

Season 3 is less obvious in some episodes like The Siren, but I believe the focus is Nandor since he was trying to seduce someone by using the cloak of duplication (even though other characters are in this episode they are all played by him), he attempted to marry a werewolf and was rejected heavily, he and Nadja take over the vampiric council, he forgets to feed the sire then has to track it down to appease vampire kind, he rebukes his vampirism and joins the wellness centre, he is locked up in a cell until he decides to go into a super slumber then when he is woken up too early he basically confirms Colin's death, and he decides to go on an around the world adventure for a year and plans to make Guillermo a vampire on said trip

Season 4 is distinctively about The Guide and Nadja, for the purpose of this we're gonna overlook Nadja (sorry my girl). The Guide has been waiting for the vampires to return for a year because her life revolves around them, The Guide hates change so she receives counselling from Laszlo and we are given her very sexual backstory, we learn she has OCD and an overwhelming crush on Guillermo because of his lineage, we see her working alongside Nadja trying to get new acts for the nightclub and coordinating the wraiths, we see her longing to be included in the night market when she is gifted a box which turns out to be a bribe for the wraiths, we find out she falls in and out of love very quickly in The Wedding and also get the whole makeover sequence which is just <3, we see her at Girls Night in the pine barrens (this episode is less Guide-centric but you can't deny she's in this season a lot more than previous), I can't remember when but she has the "no close female friends" episode with Nadja and we can all empathise or at least sympathise with her character, she helps Nadja in her search for an act for the nightclub and is dedicated to her work right until the end

Season 5 is very much about Guillermo and his new found vampirism, in the mall we see him getting abilities such as better eyesight and the vampires invite him to dinner to try and cheer him up, the whole of dinner he is the main focus of conversation specifically how bad of a vampire he would be, in pride parade he helps plan the pride event and the viewer feels his horror towards the stereotyping throughout the episode, he also is the reason why Nandor goes to space in this episode, he goes to tell his family he is a vampire in local news but keeps being distracted by the vampires, although he doesn't directly interfere with their news problem he commentates on it then basically has to say goodbye to his van helsing familia, he is experimented on by Laszlo which leads to Nadja taking him to urgent care where she discovers he is a vampire and he gives his opinions on the group while doped up, in hybrid creatures he becomes responsible for animals that look like him and Laszlo's experiments continue, in the roast the baron finds out Guillermo burned his in the first place and the episode follows him being chased and almost killed numerous times, at Morrigan Manor he is the only one who The Guide doesn't want to torture and she accidentally reveals his vampire identity, in exit interview he is living with Derek and keeps being visited by the vampires, he eventually has to make up with Nandor and a whole ceremony takes place to turn him back into a human

Season 6 is focused on Colin (I was going to say season 4 but that wouldn't be fair to the guide, technically he has 2 seasons though). This is the least apparent because of the writing but his main themes are raising The Monster and trying to give him a less controlling childhood than he had, he picks out the monsters head using Uber and dances to Latin music with it, he joins Nandor's army while also working from the inside to overthrow Nandor and make him see sense, he sees Laszlo's father as a parental role completely bypassing that Laszlo is his father, he visits an old friend who turns out to want to fuck him and we learn he is less perverted than the other vampires, he gets the first vampire kiss in the whole program, he has many awkward moments in come out and play with various drinks and delaying the groups progress (he is the funniest character in this episode at moments and it really shows), in The Promotion he is named as one of The Monster's dads and The Monster basically takes his last name because he is just wonderful wonderful, I'd like to pretend the finale doesn't exist but in an alternate ending he had 2 babies with Nadja and in the other he had a really dramatic sequence with The Guide where I'm guessing the idea is he was behind everything and the only reason people can't see it is because he was a "boring" character

If I've missed any moments from these specific seasons please fill me in, I had to be careful with season 4 because I've read so much fanfiction I can't remember what's canon for the guide and what isn't (i think I managed to keep fanon away from this but if not... Oops. Live with it)

I'm aware characters cross over in each season (season 1 - Nadja, Laszlo, Jenna and Gregor but they all belong to Nadja in a way) (season 2 - Laszlo, Nadja and Colin in a way) (season 3 - Nandor, Guillermo and towards the end Colin) (season 4 - Nadja, The Guide, baby Colin, Laszlo but they all tie into the nightclub and also I HC Nadja The Guide and Laszlo as a polycule so it's whatever) (season 5 - Guillermo, Nadja - particularly her Antipaxon heritage - and The Guide - her tricky little schemes to make friends such as Morrigan Manor and the hex) (Season 6 - Colin, The Monster, Laszlo as a mad scientist but again this 3 come as a package deal)

This is simply something I noticed earlier today while rewatching season 3 and thinking "hey, Nandors in this a lot more than usual. What is happening?"

I'm also aware gizmo is the main character in every season but fuck it we ball

[soon-palestine]

JVL Introduction

The Presidents of three leading US universities were falsely accused of condoning anti-Semitism on their campuses in a highly partisan ambush in front of US congressional hearing in December. Now the Columbia President, Minouche Shafik, is being summoned and 23 of her Jewish faculty are urging her not to give in to attempts to equate anti-Zionism with antisemitism and to defend academic freedom at her campus.

They strongly contest assertions that antisemitism is rife at Columbia. They accept that many students are unsettled by the intensity of debate around the Gaza catastrophe but being uncomfortable is far from being discriminated against or threatened.

They deplore the recent actions of the University’s management to use disciplinary processes to clamp down on protest and see this as an abandonment of Columbia’s record of confronting smears and slanders levelled against staff and students and committing to free inquiry and robust disagreement.

MC

This article was originally published by Columbia Spectator on Wed 10 Apr 2024. Read the original here. Jewish faculty reject the weaponization of antisemitism

by 23 Columbia and Barnard faculty, Columbia Spectator

Dear President Shafik,

We write as Jewish faculty of Columbia and Barnard in anticipation of your appearance before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce on April 17, where you are expected to answer questions about antisemitism on campus. Based on the committee’s previous hearings, we are gravely concerned about the false narratives that frame these proceedings to entrap witnesses. We urge you, as the University president, to defend our shared commitment to universities as sites of learning, critical thinking, and knowledge production against this new McCarthyism.

Rather than being concerned with the safety and well-being of Jewish students on campuses, the committee is leveraging antisemitism in a wider effort to caricature and demonize universities as hotbeds of “woke indoctrination.” Its opportunistic use of antisemitism in a moment of crisis is expanding and strengthening longstanding efforts to undermine educational institutions. After launching attacks on public universities from Florida to South Dakota, this campaign has opened a new front against private institutions.

The prospect of Rep. Elise Stefanik, a member of congress with a history of espousing white nationalist politics, calling university presidents to account for alleged antisemitism on their campuses reveals these proceedings as disingenuous political theater.

In the face of these coordinated attacks on higher education, universities must insist on their freedom to research and teach inconvenient truths. This includes historical injustices and the contemporary structures that perpetuate them, regardless of whether these facts are politically inexpedient for certain interest groups.

To be sure, antisemitism is a grave concern that should be scrutinized alongside racism, sexism, Islamophobia, homophobia, and all other forms of hate. These hateful ideologies exist everywhere and we would be ignorant to believe that they don’t exist at Columbia. When antisemitism rears its head, it should be swiftly denounced, and its perpetrators held to account. However, it is absurd to claim that antisemitism—“discrimination, prejudice, hostility or violence against Jews as Jews,” according to the Jerusalem Declaration’s definition—is rampant on Columbia’s campus. To argue that taking a stand against Israel’s war on Gaza is antisemitic is to pervert the meaning of the term.

Labeling pro-Palestinian expression as anti-Jewish hate speech requires a dangerous and false conflation of Zionism with Jewishness, of political ideology with identity. This conflation betrays a woefully inaccurate understanding—and disingenuous misrepresentation—of Jewish history, identity, and politics. It erases more than a century of debates among Jews themselves about the nature of a Jewish homeland in the biblical Land of Israel, including Israel’s status as a Jewish nation-state. It dismisses the experiences of the post-Zionist, non-Zionist, and anti-Zionist Jews who work, study, and live on our campus.

The political passions that arise from conflict in the Middle East may deeply unsettle students, faculty, and staff with opposing views. But feeling uncomfortable is not the same thing as being threatened or discriminated against. Free expression, which is fundamental to both academic inquiry and democracy, necessarily entails exposure to views that may be deeply disconcerting. We can support students who feel real and valid discomfort toward protests advocating for Palestinian liberation while also stating clearly and firmly that this discomfort is not an issue of safety.

As faculty, we dedicate ourselves and our classrooms to keeping every student safe from real harm, harassment, and discrimination. We commit to helping them learn to experience discomfort and even confrontation as part of the process of skill and knowledge acquisition—and to help them realize that ideas we oppose can be contested without being suppressed.

By exacting discipline, inviting police presence, and broadly surveilling its students for minor offenses, the University is betraying its educational mission. It has pursued drastic measures against students, including disciplinary proceedings and probation, for infractions like allegedly attending an unauthorized protest, or moving barricades to drape a flag on a statue. Real harassment and physical intimidation and violence on campus must be confronted seriously and its perpetrators held accountable. At the same time, the University should refrain whenever possible from using discipline and surveillance as means of addressing less serious harms, and should never use punitive measures to address conflicts over ideas and the feelings of discomfort that result. Where the University once embraced and defended students’ political expression, it now suppresses and disciplines it.

The University’s recent policies represent a dramatic change from historical practice, and the consequences are ruinous to our community and its principles. In the past, Columbia has periodically confronted attacks against pro-Palestinian speech, ranging from the vile slanders against Professor Edward Said to the reckless accusations from the David Project. But where for decades the University stood firm against smear campaigns targeting its professors, it has now voluntarily accepted the job of censoring its faculty in and outside the classroom.

Columbia’s commitment to free inquiry and robust disagreement is what makes it a world-class institution. Limiting academic freedom when it comes to questions of Israel and Palestine paves the way for limitations on other contested topics, from climate science to the history of slavery. What’s more, students must have the freedom to dissent, to make mistakes, to offend without intent, and to learn to repair harm done if necessary. Free expression is not only crucial to student development and education outside the classroom; the tradition of student protest has also played a vital role in American democracy. Columbia should be proud of having participated in nationwide student organizing that helped secure civil rights and reproductive rights and helped bring an end to the Vietnam War and apartheid in South Africa.

We express our support for the University and for higher education against the attacks likely to be leveled against them at the upcoming congressional hearing. We object to the weaponization of antisemitism. And we advocate for a campus where all students, Jewish, Palestinian, and all others, can learn and thrive in a climate of open, honest inquiry and rigorous debate.

Many members of our University community share our perspective, but they have not yet been heard. Columbia students, staff, alumni, and faculty can sign here to show your support for this letter’s message.

Sincerely,Debbie Becher, Barnard College Helen Benedict, Columbia Journalism School Susan Bernofsky, School of the Arts Elizabeth Bernstein, Barnard College Nina Berman, Columbia Journalism School Amy Chazkel, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Yinon Cohen, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Nora Gross, Barnard College Keith Gessen, Columbia Journalism School Jack Halberstam, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Sarah Haley, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Michael Harris, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Jennifer S. Hirsch, Mailman School of Public Health Marianne Hirsch, Faculty of Arts & Sciences (Emerita) Joseph A. Howley, Faculty of Arts & Sciences David Lurie, Faculty of Arts & Sciences Nara Milanich, Barnard College D. Max Moerman, Barnard College Manijeh Moradian, Barnard College Sheldon Pollock, Faculty of Arts & Sciences (Emeritus) Bruce Robbins, Faculty of Arts & Sciences James Schamus, School of the Arts Alisa Solomon, Columbia Journalism School

The 23 authors of this letter are Jewish faculty members of Barnard College and Columbia University. This letter derives from a much longer one by these same 23 faculty sent to President Shafik on April 5.

[sth-askverse]

Wait, Sonic, Did Tails teach you how to fix the Tornado or Did you learn how to do that before by yourself?

Learned from my Unk Chuck! (Like he was my Uncle, right? I'm pretty sure? Fuck I don't know-)

Tails was still a tiny thing when we met, only about four, so anything he learned kinda had to start with me, heh, poor kid. But! He took what I taught him and went way way farther, so, ya know. He's the real gear-head, I'm just the in-a-pinch maintenance guy. I'll work on my Tornado and Tails' Tornado 2 a bit, but I won't touch the Cyclone, that thing's a little too complicated for me to mess with.

Sonic, while you're working on the engine I'm going to check the coordinates Miles sen- ... Sonic.

Yeah, Sunshine?

Oh dear Chaos your fucking gloves- Never... nevermind. I'm going to check the coordinates, we should be able to use our communicators if we're both on the island so, let me know if you need me.

Loud and clear- you sure you're rested up enough?

...yes, thank you...

First | < Previous - Next >

[agentc0rn]

Pokemon XY Parade Scene Analysis - Desire to learn, Request for Guidance and Acts of Penance

ok havent done a scene or character analysis in a while but here's one for the XY ending and the king himself-- 11 years late but hey, time shouldn't really prevent you from re-evaluating media, right?

**long thread ahead

Ok so. When you/protagonist become champion at the end of the game, which professor sycamore coordinates a parade for you, in a simple way it's both a celebration as well as a coronation. In a technical meta narrative sense, being champion means you’ve finished the game, having defeated the big bad evil and pokemon league and all that. But from the narrative point of view, you've become more than just a champion by title. You've become a hero by saving the world, and the champion elevates your status further. You represent the epitome of a trainer by the virtue of your skills and friendship with your team.

And that's why in that specific scene, AZ comes to the protagonist to request for a battle. I mean technically you could just ask anyone else regardless of status what battling and trainer means. But since in the game we're the only one who he interacted much with, we're also the closest and viable option as not just a source of knowledge and experience, but also a trustworthy acquaintance for him to learn more of the world. Given the context that pokemon were used as tools and weapons back then, AZ wants to know how things have changed and how Pokémon is viewed differently through the concept of a trainer from someone who has great experience and strength of overcoming challenges.

He also probably knows that monarchy is not present in modern society anymore, but may see us, a trainer, who ascended to the status of a champion, as a close equivalent of a monarch. In general, we can kinda see how champions are leading figures of the league but also representatives of the region (more emphasized in the anime and manga). Plus, the way he just casually walks through the red carpet, which is kinda funny and makes you think where is security (it's like you walking through the red carpet to talk to a celebrity lol)? that particular moment, it suggests that part of him still bears the mantle of a king in this display of behavior and attitude. In that regard, it is a metaphorical presentation of passing the crown - the state of Kalos and present is entrusted to you for paving the way to a better future. And what I like about this scene is that you have a former king asking you to teach him and do a demonstration through a battle. It is in a many ways beyond a simple request - it is an indirect way of reliving his long-standing struggle with grief, apathy, hatred and obliviousness to it the world, a desire for much-needed guidance, advice and help to better understand and integrate with the current way of life.

What is also unique is that it’s a reverse of this dynamic of the elderly teaching or exerting authority onto the younger generation. This symbolic battling, served as ritual-test for both AZ and you - the former to challenge his view on the world and the latter to be that example, showing what it means to express your understanding and relationship with your pokemon using the techniques and physical exertion of battling. You show how battling evolved past the violent acts of killing and now as an alternate mode of communication, recreational outlet and development of mutual understanding. Now that is not to ignore that battling still has its part in creating conflicts and interference either of course.

Moreover, once you beat him, his growth is shown - he openly acknowledges his deed and comes to terms with the past by confessing directly to you that he was the one who built the ultimate weapon rather than the third-person narrative he used in his previous encounters. Adding further, it demonstrates shows how this battle meant a lot for him because now everything is clarified and he is at last relieved of his long-carried burden of self-loathing. The battling provided an answer and emotional relief, as well as an expression of penance.

And i guess you could also insinuate that being defeated in a battle was a way of humbling him, and that engaging in a battle makes him feel like a normal human again, rather than the god that he was identified as for the longest time.

And because of that change, it made him return to his former self, which as a result Floette comes back. Although we don't get to really see how she was there in the sky in the first place, it is explained by Sycamore that she was watching him and waiting for him to be the man he was this whole time.

So the parade becomes a site of miracle, happy ending and hope for the future. You helped grandpa return to his self and in turn Floette comes back :)

[tu-es-gegg]

untuk hari bahasa ini, saya cubalah mengajarkan semua tentang sikit budaya melayu dan berkongsi kosa kata juga (ENG TRANSLATION)

(for this language day, I will try to teach a little about Malay culture and share vocabulary as well)

i made the original post detailing some fun stuff abt my culture of being malay (specifically from perspective living as a Malay from Singapore), i want to do an english translation so its more accessible to those who don't speak malay. This isnt an exact translation (plus im adding mroe additonal info) so keep that inmind

FIRST, what is the Malay language? This is an Austronesian language, also the national language in Brunei, Malaysia and Singapore. Malay is usually written in Latin script, also known as Rumi. There is also Jawi script based on Arabic writing. If you want to know (most) letters in Jawi, this is a video stuck in my head from Andalus (I'm bad at writing in Jawi and Arabic too, even though I study, I don't know much;;;)

Malay culture is deeply connected with Muslim culture, that's why a lot of malay festivities and celebrations revolve around the islamic calender. one such celebration is Hari Raya. there are two ceremonies; Aidilfitri and Haji, I will talk about Hari Raya Aidilfitri only because it is close this year and most well known (for context, its litterally in april this year).

The previous month is Ramadan where we fast/puasa. We do not eat from Subuh (around sunrise) to Maghrib (around sunset) (these are two of the names of the prayer times, in Islam we are supposed to pray around 5 times a day during different intervals. it goes Subuh, Zohor, Asar, Maghrib, Isyak). Before dawn, want to eat Sahur and then pray. At Maghrib, want to eat to break the fast/ berbuka puasa (usually say "buka" for short). Also in this month before Aidifilti, the family will prepare by cleaning the house for visitors, buy new baju kurung, get kuih, etc etc.

aaaa there are a lot of kuih, here's anything I can name (many are from Singapore); kuih lapis, kuih salat? ondeh ondeh, kuih bahulu, kuih dadar, BISKUT CORNFLAKES OMG does that count?. there are many more lol.

ALSO! In Singapore, during Ramadan, there is a huge Night Market in Geylang. Not only in Geylang there is a night market but this is very popular. There are MANY stalls selling food. Everyone who buys from geylang night market knows Ramly Burger, deep-fried Oreos, vadai, KEBAB, DENGDENG. (I like to buy rolled ice cream and chicken kebab mmmm)

In Geylang too, they will buy traditional clothes to visit family. Baju kurung (ehh for traditional clothes, women wear baju kurung, men wear baju melayu but the names are the same anyway) is the normal clothing. Often, one household will choose to coordinate colors together (but it's not mandatory, lmao my family doesn't care)

For men, they wear songkok (that flat black hat) and samping (the long scarf wrapping around the waist)

For women, wear a sarong (skirt) with a long top. If desired, will also wear a tudung (type of hijab) (i should also clarify for muslim women its their choice whether they want to habitually wear hijab. its not just specific to just baju kurung. for example i have lots of aunties that dont wear hijab at all meanwhile i have a lot of aunts who do)

Baju kurung is also worn at other festivities, such as weddings

(my whole childhood I attended so many weddings, this is another topic lmaooooo)

On Hari Raya Aidifilti but before going to raya (this is what we generally call going out to see family), close family in will ask for forgiveness. (it's important the forgiveness is not one-sided, the adults will also ask forgiveness from the younger family members too). Usually this is when people start crying. After that, we go RAYA!!! When in someone else's house, if you are not working now, you can get duit raya! (because I grew up in singapore surrounded by chinese influence, I also call this "angpao" too)

OHHHH THERE IS A LOT OF FOOD;;;; My grandmother would cook a lot during Ramadan and Hari Raya. Rendang, lontong, KETUPAT OHHH KETUPAT, CHICKEN CURRY (my mother every aidifitri cooks green chicken curry, FOR HARI RAYA AIDIFITRI ONLY, ohhhhh that's my favorite part, ASBFKASB I'M HUNGRY.)

(theres also like way more cuisine than this, iu havent even mentioned nasi goreng and nasi lemak and briyani and FUCKIGN BEGEDIL;;;;)

ketupat is kind of icon to represent Aidifilti holiday, for example:

other icons of hari raya include: bunga api, neon string lights, bamboo torches, etc.

I love Hari Raya even thoug my feet hurt ALOT after visiting LOTS OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS OH MY GOD:;; it's okay if you take your shoes off in the house somehow your FEET WILL HURT at the end of the day;;;;;;

uhhhh others about malay culture? we have art! A martial art is silat melayu! I don't know much about this but it's great

there is performance art: one example is dikir barat

juga ada permainan, ada yang terkenal ialah wau (kite)

and congkak (like that one club penguin game, mancala, im not kidding)

there are many malay cultures that are also from indonesian culture because of its influence. (Mainly malay culture was influenced by its neighboring cultures such as from Thailand, Sumatra, Java. Malay culture were from Hinduism before then converting to Islam) That's why we have wayang kulit (natively from Java) (a lot of indonesian culture and malay cultures share similar things because of kinda their similar roots and their spread of their own culture, hence why we also have similar dishes, traditonal clothes, even our language is kinda 70% the same)

Do you know; Singapore was discovered by Sang Nila Utama and was originally Malay kingdom (at that time the island was called Temasek before it was owned by the British) (the original indigenous of Singapore are called Orang Laut, litterally translated to "people of the sea"). That is why in Singapore, the language and the national anthem (Majulah Singapura) is in Malay. Singapore is not only for Chinese people, we Malays and Indians are also here;;;

(and im not at all from malaysia god please none of my relatives are. Malaysian is referring to the country, Malay is the language and the ethnic group)

There's a whole lot more I haven't even touched on, like lmao there's a whole thing about weddings and a whole baby shower thing.

theres also a lot of singaporean stuff i want to share i haven't even mentioned singlish but thats a post for another time

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Put Your Gloves Up" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic (part 6/?)

Took a rather long brain break from this but this chapter is finally done! I'm back in the groove of this fic, already working on the next part. Spoiler: the drama is only gonna get worse from here. Enjoy!

Previous chapter

---------

“You’re still worrying about your hands.” 

Rembrandt scoffed and turned to give Ajax a light shove. Swan had more business with Cleon and Cochise was sparring with Cowgirl, so she was left to her own devices running drills. “I am not.”

“You so are!” Putting herself between Rembrandt and the punching bag she’d been working with, Ajax crossed her arms and flashed a grin. “Once you build up some muscle around your wrists and hands, it’ll stop feeling like you’re going to break something.”

“Do you have any tips on how to fix it now?”

“Are you wearing wraps under your gloves?”

“No. Cochise only gave me the gloves.”

“Yeah, she probably didn’t think you’d end up hitting hard enough to need double protection. I’ve got some extra wraps I keep behind the front desk for anyone that needs it. Want me to show you how to use them?”

Rembrandt smirked and crossed her arms, mimicking Ajax’s pose. “Do you teach all the girls proper boxing technique?” she joked.

Ajax shrugged one shoulder. “Only the cute graffiti artists. Wait here.” She swept past Rembrandt, getting far closer than was necessary, and jogged over to the front desk. She came back with two sets of what looked like brightly colored rolls of elastic bandages. “Blue or yellow?”

“Uh, yellow. Favorite color.”

“Good to know. C’mere, sit with me.” Ajax brought her to a bench. “Give me your hand. Palm up. Fingers spread.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing security stuff?” Rembrandt asked as Ajax hooked an elastic band over her thumb. 

“Technically, I’m a safety coordinator, or some dumbass name like that. Most of it is breaking up fights but it’s also making sure people aren’t throwing weights around, proper use of the machines, stopping sparring matches that go too far. Anything that might get the place sued.”

“Don’t you need, like, training for stuff like that?”

“Pssh. Training. My paychecks aren’t even on the books. Alright, ready? Watch me so you can do this later.” Ajax turned Rembrandt’s hand over, wrapping the elastic around it and narrating as she went. “So, you bring it over the back of your hand and then wrap it around your wrist a few times. Take it back up, around your palm, and wrap your knuckles and then it’s gonna make this X pattern from your knuckles to your wrist. Rembrandt, stop staring at my face and pay attention.” Rembrandt blushed and returned her focus to her hand. “After that, you wrap your thumb like this so that doesn’t get fucked up. Continue around your wrist. Then come through and wrap in between each of your fingers. Go around the back of your hand, over your knuckles, secure the rest of it around your wrist, and you’re done!”

Rembrandt pulled her hand back, flexing her fingers, testing the tightness of the wrap. “Wow, you did that quick,” she said, impressed.

“Practice. That feel good? Not too loose, not too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“Great. Give me your other hand.”

As Ajax went about wrapping her hand, walking her through the process again, Rembrandt thought back to that first night Ajax saved her. She remembered how Ajax stood protectively at the end of the alley, ready to fight again if Rembrandt’s attackers returned, how gentle she was as she wiped the blood off Rembrandt’s face, how strong her arms felt around her as she helped her walk home. 

She glanced up to look at Ajax. Her eyes were focused on the wrap, hands moving deftly over Rembrandt’s, like she’d done this a thousand times before. She probably had. As she finished securing the elastic around Rembrandt’s wrist, her eyes flicked up, and she winked. Rembrandt turned and decided the wall would be a very interesting thing to look at for the rest of her life. 

Ajax said, “Put your gloves on over this and it’ll feel a lot better.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

Flexing her wrapped hands, Rembrandt cleared her throat. “Hey, um, I wanted to ask-”

Shouting erupted on the other side of the gym. Rembrandt jumped as Ajax shot to her feet with an irritated groan. “Sorry, gotta handle this,” she said before marching off. “Jaron! Ricky! What the fuck!”

Rembrandt watched as Ajax separated the fight with a single shove and a quick barrage of insults. There was just something about the confidence in her movements and her voice as if no matter who she stepped to, she’d come out on top. Rembrandt tried, but she couldn’t stop watching her. She didn’t even notice when someone slid on the bench beside her. 

“I saw that,” said Cowgirl. 

Rembrandt startled and nearly fell out of her seat. “Cowgirl, what the hell!”

“I didn’t realize there was so much hand holding in boxing,” she went on, poking Rembrandt’s shoulder. “Is it the muscles or the attitude?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Rembrandt denied, trying to keep a scowl on her face. 

“I like more sensitive people, personally, but I understand the appeal. You’re not the only one who goes for the loudmouth tough guy type. There are a whole lot of women in Coney who like exactly that about Ajax.”

“Man, shut up!”

“Y’know, if you asked her out right now, I’m sure she’d say yes. Hey, Ajax!”

Rembrandt jumped on her and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Cowgirl, I’m gonna hit you if you don’t quit that shit. I don’t have a crush on Ajax.”

Cowgirl bit her hand to make her let go. “I never said you did,” she said smugly.

“Quit implying it!” 

“Fight me ’bout it!”

Cowgirl won the sparring match, having learned most of Rembrandt’s dodging tricks by now, which prompted Cochise to launch into a lecture about switching up her moves and not relying on the same combo “like some kind of Tekken character! You gotta be versatile!” Still, Cowgirl didn’t say anything to Ajax like Rembrandt feared she might. It didn’t stop her from smirking and whispering crass comments to Rembrandt whenever the brawler walked by.

That night, Rembrandt couldn’t sleep. She laid on her side, facing the room, with Swan curled up against her back and an arm looped around her waist. She tried to sleep, honestly, she did, and being in Swan’s embrace had always made that easier, but she just ended up laying there with her eyes closed for hours without actually being able to rest. 

She extended one arm out and flexed her hand. She remembered the texture of the hand wraps, the brush of Ajax’s fingertips across her skin, the steady grip as she moved Rembrandt’s hand. She remembered that wink. Just a simple little wink. It was nothing that she hadn’t gotten from dozens of women before, even from Swan, but seeing it from Ajax made her heart pound and her stomach flutter and she found it near impossible to catch her breath. 

On the floor next to the bed, Rembrandt’s phone lit up on its charger. She leaned over to check the notification. 

It was a text from Ajax.

Call me if you’re up.

Rembrandt tried to gently move Swan’s arm off her, a move that only made Swan snuggle closer and hold her tighter. Rembrandt smirked as she turned over. “Where you goin’?” Swan mumbled, still mostly asleep.

“I gotta use the bathroom, dummy. Let me up.”

Swan grumbled something unintelligible and rolled over to clutch at her pillow instead. Rembrandt rolled her eyes, reaching to move Swan’s hair off her face before grabbing her phone and sneaking off to the bathroom. She hit the call button on Ajax’s contact. It rang. And rang. And rang. And Rembrandt was afraid she might not pick up for a split second before her voice came over the line.

“You’re up late.” 

Rembrandt laughed. “You’re the one who texted me.”

“Honestly didn’t expect you to answer. I was just hoping you would.” Ajax paused, and Rembrandt heard a car engine and muffled coughing in the background. “Sorry, I’m smoking on my stoop right now.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Usually can’t. Listen, I’m sorry for running off in the middle of our conversation today. I didn’t mean to cut you off like that so… sorry if I seemed a little, y’know, rude.” 

“It’s okay. I get you have to do your enforcer stuff.”

“Eh, wasn’t even really gonna be a fight. Those two are idiots, it’s usually just a dick swinging contest with them but they get loud and it annoys people. Anyway, you were gonna ask me somethin’?”

“Oh, y-yeah, uh…” It took all of Rembrandt’s confidence to continue. “When you, um, when you gave me your number, you wrote a note that said to text you if I went out so I didn’t get my ass kicked again?”

“Uh huh?”

“I have a spot for a new mural I’ve been keeping my eye on. I was wondering if you would come with me when I go tag it?”

Ajax hesitated. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have Swanie go with you?”

“She’s usually out doing business with Cleon now.”

“She’s not gonna kill me when she finds out, is she?”

Rembrandt could not believe she was saying this. “Who says she’s gonna find out?”

Ajax burst out laughing. “You’re fucking sneaky, aren’t you?”

“It’s a gift. I know Swan doesn’t really trust you-”

“Understatement.”

“-but I do. And I think even more importantly Cleon trusts you and if she thought you were actually dangerous, she wouldn’t keep you around, right? That’s the vibe I’ve always gotten from her, at least.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” There was a brief silence on Ajax’s end. “When were you thinking about going out?”

“In a couple days? Swan and Cleon have some business to handle in the Bronx so they’re probably not going to be back until morning.” 

“Bet. Text me and I’ll meet you.”

Rembrandt broke out in a wide grin. “Great. Sounds good.”

“Get some sleep, Rembrandt.”

“You too, Ajax.”

Rembrandt couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she returned to Swan’s room. As she plugged in her phone and slipped back under the covers, Swan mumbled something in her sleep and turned over to pull Rembrandt close, pressing her forehead against the top of her spine. Rembrandt wrapped her arm over Swan’s and held her hand close to her chest like she always used to. Swan’s breath was warm on the back of her neck.

“Mercy…”

Ouch. 

It had been a long time since Rembrandt reasonably had a right to feel any type of way about that, but it still stung. She shook her head and tried to ignore it. 

She thought of Ajax instead. 

-----

Rembrandt shoved her books into her backpack as the bell rang. She ignored the chatter of her classmates rushing off to lunch and just tried to slip through the crowd so she could go meet up with Fox. The younger girl still hadn’t quite given up on her self-designated bodyguard position, as much as Rembrandt wished she would. She understood Swan being ready to fight anyone who gave her a weird look but Fox trying to do the same was a little embarrassing. 

The teacher, Ms. Hill, called to her from her desk just before she reached the door. “Olivia, could you hang back for a minute, please?”

Rembrandt groaned internally. Hooking her thumbs through her backpack straps, she stood in front of the desk. “It’s Rembrandt,” she said. 

“Hm?”

“I go by Rembrandt now.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting.” Ms. Hill folded her hands on the desk and leaned forward, offering a comforting smile. “You’ve been a lot more present in class lately.”

“I’ve got less shit on my mind. Sorry, stuff, I mean.”

Ms. Hill waved her hand. “You’re an adult and we’re not in class. I don’t mind. How are things at home?” 

“Better.” Rembrandt hesitated. “I’m living with… an aunt, now.” Because she couldn’t exactly describe Cleon as “community leader who may or may not be the head of a gang but I’m not really sure,” so lying and calling her “an aunt” would have to do.

“I’m glad to hear that. I know there’s been a record about your situation for a while now.”

If one more person called it a “situation,” Rembrandt was going to start a fight. 

“I thought those records got closed after the last time ACS didn’t find enough reason to remove me.”

“I’m not sure about that. I just wanted to check in on you, anyway. I’m happy you’re in a better spot now.”

Rembrandt found it within herself to smile. “Thanks, Ms. Hill.”

“I heard there’s another art show coming up soon. Are you going to have any pieces in it?”

“When do I not?”

“Fair point,” the teacher chuckled. “Well, I’m excited to see them.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Have a good weekend, Rembrandt.”

Fox waited for her outside in the hall, milling around and scuffing her shoes so they left black streaks on the linoleum. She was quick to grab Rembrandt’s hand when she stepped out of the classroom. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ms. Hill just wanted to talk to me for a second.” She slipped an arm around Fox’s waist, and Fox returned with an arm around her shoulders. “Are you coming to Swan’s after school?”

“I can’t. I’ve got a meeting with my social worker today.” 

Rembrandt froze, her heart sinking. “Please tell me-”

“No! No! They’re not moving me! I promise. It’s just the monthly visit they do to check up on me.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rembrandt gave Fox a lighthearted shove. “Man, you scared the hell out of me! Lead with that next time!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Bad phrasing.” 

“No shit, bad phrasing!” Rembrandt paused. An idea formed in her mind. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Uh, okay? What is it?”

“If anyone asks, I was with you tonight.”

Fox frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going out.”

“Without Swan?”

“Why would I be asking you to alibi me if I was gonna be with Swan?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me to alibi you period!”

Rembrandt sighed. “Swan and Cleon have shit to handle in the Bronx so I’m going out to work on a new mural.” 

“By yourself? You got jumped last time you did that!”

“No, not by myself.” Rembrandt hesitated, fidgeting with a loose string on the hem of her sleeve. “Ajax is coming with me.”

Fox stared at her blankly. She cocked her head to the side as her brow furrowed. “Ajax… the fighter from the gym? The one that helped you break into your dad’s room?”

“How many Ajaxes do you think I know?”

“I thought Swan hated her.”

Rembrandt made an uncertain noise. “A little.”

“So… you want me to alibi you because you’re going out with a woman Swan hates.”

“Okay, don’t say it like that-”

“Are you going out with her because Swan hates her?” 

“No! After she saved me when I got jumped, she offered to watch my back the next time I went out to paint.”

“When?”

“She wrote me a note…” Rembrandt rubbed the back of her neck. “When she gave me her number.”

“She gave you her number?! Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Fox stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger. “Is this a date? Are you two dating?!”

“Oh my god, Fox, no! It isn’t a date! She’s just watching my back. That’s it.” 

“Then why won’t you tell Swan!”

“Look, are you gonna cover for me or not?” 

Fox grumbled and crossed her arms. “This feels weird. I don’t like that you’re keeping secrets from her.”

“Like her keeping that Bronx chick a secret from us until you saw it on her phone and we had to beg Cleon to tell us what happened?”

“Okay, that’s fair.” The taller girl thought for a moment. “Fine. I’ll cover for you. But if Swan asks me specifically if you were with Ajax, I’m telling her.”

“Deal,” Rembrandt said, throwing her arms around Fox’s neck. “You’re the best.”

“You’re buying me new comic books.”

That night, Rembrandt laid on her stomach in bed, working on a basic sketch for the mural she had in mind. Cleon had finally cleared out the third bedroom and gotten Rembrandt a mattress and a busted up dresser. She had apologized that she wasn’t able to get a bed frame yet, but Rembrandt was content being on the floor for the time being. The room was safe and warm and roach-free and the door had a lock if she really wanted so a mattress with no bed frame was the absolute least of her worries. 

She missed sharing a bed with Swan just a little bit, although she wouldn’t admit it if anyone called her out. Still, it was a lot easier to sleep, even on her own, safe in the knowledge that no one was going to burst through the door at any moment to wake her up with a beating. 

There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Rembrandt called.

Swan stepped inside. “Hey, Cleon and I are heading out,” she said as Rembrandt got up to meet her. “Her meeting is all the way up near Woodland Cemetery so I don’t think we’re going to be back until the morning. Are you and Fox gonna be okay if I’m not there to walk you guys to school?”

“Yeah, Swan, we’ll be fine.” Rembrandt hugged her, leaning her head on her chest as Swan combed her fingers through her hair. “It’s just a meeting, right? It’s not… you’re not doing anything dangerous?” 

“No, it’s not dangerous. Worst part about this whole trip is being on the 4 train.” 

“Could be worse. Could be the G.”

“Do not even mention the G train to me,” Swan groaned. Rembrandt laughed as Swan pulled back. Swan smiled at her, looked away, and then, before Rembrandt even really realized, swiftly kissed her on the cheek. “Get some sleep. I’ll text you when I get home. Night.”

“Night.” Rembrandt stood just outside her bedroom and watched Swan leave. “Be safe.”

She waited a solid hour and a half before texting Ajax, long enough for Cleon and Swan to be well into Upper Manhattan already. Ajax responded immediately, telling Rembrandt she’d be on the corner waiting within ten minutes. Rembrandt took her school supplies in her backpack and replaced them with her sketchbook, a painter’s respirator mask, and her good spray paints.

Shouldering the bag, she made sure all three deadbolts on the door were locked and secure before setting off out to the street. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the stoop and looked around. On the corner, leaning on a lightpost, was Ajax, in her leather jacket and studded fingerless gloves with a cigarette between her lips. Rembrandt fought off a grin as she walked over to her.

Ajax smiled when she saw Rembrandt. “Hey. You ready?”

“Ready.”

“Let’s go.”

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

I found my old hand wraps and recorded myself wrapping them so I could figure out how to word the hand scene in here. The things I do for fanfic

[love-is-a-pearl]

Previous anon here! I was looking through one of your latest posts and you asked where Johanna was throughout that whole adventure and why Dawn decided to call Ash instead of her own mother like isn't she literally 5-10 minutes away? Unless she's like idk teaching a coordinator class or something somewhere else (reading the synopsis on bulbapedia lmao)

Then I remember the episode where Dawn ends up losing her first contest and immediately afterwards calls Johanna who then scolds her for crying and to instead rely on on her friends and pokemon, and it really got my brain overthinking right now

Johanna's "tough love" approach just doesn't mesh well with Dawn who has shown to be almost the complete opposite and practically gives away her affection and camaraderie whenever possible.

She be spoiling that penguin of hers and her other pokemon ROTTEN and in the english dub even gives piplup silly little names like "sweetie", that's also not mentioning the amount of affection she gives to other pokemon that aren't hers, and the rabbit hole that is her and Satoshi's relationship and how close they are to one another with the crumbs they give us behind the scenes

What if she internalized what her mom said to her during their call about not relying her as much and thus making her reliance on Ash (who she probably has on speed dial and talks to almost everyday let's be real) and her progress on becoming a top coordinator seemingly come to a halt post DP all the more depressing like GOD ;O; Cause it's not like she's talking about her internal struggles with Ash, her closest friend as to not worry him when he has his own path to focus on (might also explain the whole awkwardness she had in one of the episodes that you pointed out) what makes you think she'll call her MOM about any of this even when it's something as serious as her beloved pokemon going missing? sorry for yet another yap session buT AUGH SHE MAKES ME SICK (lovingly) </3

EXACTLY! Dawn and Goh even go to her home in Twinleaf (seemingly in the same day considering how allergic JNs is to the passage of time). The funniest thing to me is that not even AU Johanna seems to be home and all i can think is how much that woman hates her daughter no matter the universe (im joking, im joking)

While I get Johanna's style (an overprotective mom can be as bad if not worse than a distant one), I agree she is too harsh on Dawn at times (she is 10! let her cry about losses and shit like that!) and I wouldn't be at all surprised that her way of raising Dawn into a "not bothersome" kid is one of the reasons she often hides personal struggles from Ash (and others).

Like, not even just this talk about her being ashamed of talking to Ash about her lack of progress in JN, but back in DP, we have the time she cries in the maid episode and hides from him; the (second?) time she loses at an appeal round and despite shaking to the point of Ash noticing, holds the tears in (and pachirisu catch-release-catch and when she was struggling with Ice chandelier and probs more instances; she still kept mulling over it alone).

Not to mention how that affects her pokemon. On one moment she will spoil the hell out of them (because that's what she wants from her own mother) and others she will overwork them into perfection (cause that's what she should 'give' her mother) and is interesting that talking about her pokemon, she often reaches a good balance because of Ash (and sometimes Brock)'s interferences in DP.

Like, Pachirisu's catch is interesting to me cause she releases it because quote "it was too much for her to handle" and is after a lot of push from Ash and Brock that she goes after it again. It's literally them who save her from this perfectionist and "i cant bother anyone" mentality of hers and ughhhhhhhhhhhh she is such a messed up baby but like, proves why she needs them!

There's other instances with like, Gliscor and even Mamoswine now that I think about it. How her raising of Mamo made him stop respecting her (cause she was too lenient) and after some influence from Ash/Brock he learned to respect her more. And Gliscor and how Ash would often be too harsh on him and Dawn would be too soft and how they both learned to balance it after he evolved.

All that said, I still think she would call her mom to tell about her missing pokemon tho (that's like... Johanna's grandson in a way). But sure adds another layer to all of this that she didn't. She really felt that the only person she could "bother" about this was Ash QAQ

[purplepeptobismol]

hiya I'm the the anon from the writing thingie c: I will also get an emoji it's gonna be this one 🌺 tysm for the tips!!! If you don't mind me asking more could you go more in depth about sentence structure? I GENUINELY suck with them ,_, my brain can just think in one way and as a result it ends so stiff it makes me cry

Love your fics sm, I will read finish my missing chapters of IWMOY you'll hear about me again trust 🫵

[previous]

Good to see you again anon! And no, I don’t mind at all :3 (sorry this response took a while)

Now, I’m no expert when it comes to sentence structure or literature in general (in fact, I am considered the dumbass in my friend group), so if you want actual solid information, maybe an English teacher or a video from someone who studies/teaches these things would be better at this.. 😭 take my advice as things I use/do myself in my OWN writing. I’ll try to keep it simple and brief tho!!

In order to understand sentence structure, you have to consider everything you’re going to be putting in your writing. That means: the story, dynamic, scenes, character, scenario, emotions, and what you are trying to convey.

Certain scenes require a specific way of structured details to convey emotions/story. Words can be very complicated, so I do recommend expanding on your vocabulary by looking up synonyms of over repetitive words; or, you can do my favorite which is genuinely just reading old poetry to look at their usage of old vocabulary.

When you have a scene in mind, you have an option to keep a Simple Sentence or use one of the many sentence structures.

Let’s go use the sentence example I used earlier! This is a scene of chapter 10 from my fic! The contexts of the scene can help paint a picture to my explanation!

Now, let’s make the original sentence into a simple sentence:

“Cooper smiled.”

Note: not all simple sentences are bad. Simple sentences are good for clarity, but they can also be impactful in heavily complex situations (ex. fear, shock, realization, etc.)

The most common and known sentence structures are Compound, Complex, and Compound-Complex

• Compound is when there are two or more independent clauses. They’re usually joined by coordinated conjunction (words like: and, but, nor, or, yet, so), a semicolon, or a conjunctive adverb. It balances ideas in a single sentence.

Example: “Cooper tilted his head, and he smiled.”

Complex sentences is when independent clause has a dependent. (They usually have words like: because, although, since, if, while)

Example: “Cooper smiled because of Emilio’s reaction.”

Complex-Compound is when there are basically two or more of the ones above. You can use it to express relationships between ideas or actions.

Example: “Cooper tilted his head, a smile curled his lips because of Emilio.”

These are the most common type of sentence structures, and probably the ones you will learn in elementary writing class. But there’s actually different type of sentence structures I like to use: Periodic, Loose, Balanced, and Run-on

Periodic sentences are my favorite style overall. It’s when the main cause/idea is put in the end for dramatic effect. It’s really good for when you want to add suspense or emphasize a conclusion.

Example: “With the tilt of his head and a slight curl of his lips, Cooper smiled.”

Loose sentences (I believe they’re called cumulative lmaooo, I just like calling them loose) is when the center cause is at the beginning and it’s followed by phrases that elaborate on it.

Example: “Cooper smiled, tilting his head slightly, lips curling into a smirk.”

Balanced is exactly what it sounds like. It’s when phrases or clauses are similarly structured to create a rhythm. It makes it more elegant in a way.

Example: Cooper tilted his head, and his lips curled into a smile.

Run-on sentences are usually when more than two independent clauses are joined together improperly. Majority of teachers will tell you run-on sentences are bad. But I like to use them once in a while. Intentional run-on sentence can really help with creating a rushed or even overwhelming flow. If created properly in specific scenes, you can really do a lot with them. I tend to use other techniques to stretch my sentences a lot. Which brings in to my next topic!!

Figures of Speech and Wordplay!!!

There are ALOT of them. So I’m just gonna name the ones I myself commonly use.

Simile- a comparison to something (ex. like, as)

Personification- giving human qualities to non-human things

Metaphors- a direct comparison to enhance depth/symbolism

Hyperbole- exaggerates things for dramatic effect or emphasis

Onomatopoeia- words that mimics sounds to add sensory details. You can even use this as symbolism!! I’ve done it with ticking sounds!

Irony- yeah. I use this a lot… it adds a bit of wit and humor in my opinion

Euphemism- polite/mild phrasing. Makes things less tense.

Idioms- kinda works like a fun metaphor. It’s when a phrase has a figurative or non-literal meaning that is different from the actual meaning. Most famous one is: “it’s raining cats and dogs.”

Epistrophe- repeating words/phrases at the end of the clauses. It can add emphasis and focus, I usually add these in dramatic (mainly lovey-dovey) moments

Remember how we were talking about run-on sentences and such? Well, another thing that can really enhance a sentence is, of course— PUNCTUATION!!!

The most common ones I like to use besides the obvious commas are the Hyphen, Em Dash, Colon, Semicolon, Parentheses, Ellipses, and Apostrophes! I know there is a proper way to use them, but I like to be a little gangster and use it in my own way (I’m deadass doing my own thing)

I tend to use Em Dashes (—) and Semicolons (;) almost the same, it’s usually when I’m trying to stretch a sentence for dramatic flair or when I’m genuinely trying to put two thoughts together.

I mainly use Hyphens (-) like en dashes lmaoo. It’s usually when I’m doing an interruption/stutter in dialogue or thought process.

Colons (:) are really good when you want to introduce quotes, indicate ratios, or emphasize key points.

As for Parentheses (()) (<—lol), yeah. I use it to add clarity, internal thoughts, or simple witty comments that usually wouldn’t sit well in the sentence. Depending on the character, this can really help paint their personality!

Ellipses (…) cause an omission in a sentence. It usually helps build in suspense or trial thoughts. Very good for those angsty scenes! Especially in dialogue!

I don’t use Apostrophe the way it should be used most of the time. I actually love using them to create internal thoughts. Maybe it’s just a me thing, but I don’t like using italics for first person internal thoughts… I feel like it confuses me a lot!! Like, imagine you’re reading a third person story, and then they use a first person internal thought in italics?? Eugh. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just a little peeve of mine. AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE WHO USES ITALICS ALL THE TIME. There are certain times you should use italics for internal dialogue and others with apostrophe. A quick guide I use is:

Italics- unconscious thoughts/emotions in the back of your mind.

Apostrophe- thoughts/emotions so clearly heard, even a mind reader could listen to it.

Human emotions are so complex, and not all the time are they clear and precises, so I express that through using these methods.

All of this talk mainly involves with dialogue, and that’s not the conversation of this topic, so maybe we can talk about this some other day if you’re interested :)

Anyways. I’m explaining all of this and all— and I’m pretty sure your main question is now: “Great! This was very informative! So, how do I use them?”

Well… that’s why I said that in order for your sentence structure to work is to consider your scene, characters, scenario, etc. If you do not understand what you’re trying to explain or emphasize, then you won’t know what will work. You can’t have a witty character using metaphors and euphemism when they’re more likely to express themselves with idioms and think in Run-Ons. Simple sentences are good for shock value, but you can’t keep all of them short and simple when you’re not even emphasizing on why the scene is shocking. If you use too much of one structure, it becomes so over repetitive and brain numbing (and at some tragic points: cringe). You have to have a balance between all of them. Maybe you can start a paragraph with a Loose sentence and end it with a periodic; vice versa can work too.

I can’t really tell you what’s the proper way of using them cuz if I’m being honest… I’m also learning too. Overall, all of these differ per person, because just like every artist, it’s a writing style. I have certain quirks and preferences in my own writing that maybe others don’t like, or may be seen as improper. As you grow as a writer, you start to develop your own style! There is sooooo much more I could say of the topic, but that would be yet ANOTHER essay (I said I was gonna keep this brief too!! SHEESH!!). But if you still have any other questions regarding my writing style/advice, do not be afraid to keep on asking!! ٩( 'ω' )و

[armani-customs]

Ifá - Wikipedia

MYR. ALEV΂I

Quasi-religions are non-religious movements which have unintended similarities to religions, such as political movements. According to Ifá teaching, the divinatory system is overseen by an orisha spirit, Orunmila, who is believed to have given it to humanity. Ifá is organised as an initiatory tradition, with an initiate called a babaláwo or bokɔnɔ. Quasi Protomartyr Anglican Theology for Mirror for/of Princes Chieftain Church; each book is a humanoid book turned Deity with Pendant, Mars as a Air Sign and Jupiter-sol Mars-Saturn as Beginner Planets; Quasi Invocation: Chief of Ethnic Group, Stars Exaltation Realignment through Mars, Military Expedition, Sabaoth Summing through Sun Monotheism in exchange for Ancestry; Kgosi Quasi Goetia: Kgosi Solaí Planet Monotheism, Mars Jupiter Sol all Humanoid Shadows, Mirror for Princes Spirits, Psychiatric Disorder Crowns, Anthropology and Philosopher Crista, Political Behavior of Status, Galaxy with Jupiter Sol-Saturn Equivalent Planet. Jehovah Sabaoth is one of God’s names in the Bible. It occurs more than 270 times in the Old Testament. It combines God’s personal name, Jehovah (Yahweh), with the Hebrew word, sabaoth, meaning “host” or “multitude.” So Jehovah Sabaoth means “The Lord of Hosts.” The important thing about this name for God is that whether it is armies, angels, or stars, Jehovah Sabaoth, the Lord of Hosts, rules over all things both on earth and in heaven.

CONGO TESTAMENT

First book Myr. Senghor and Ethnic Group Fon Tswana Congo

Birth of Obasian Virgos: Mars-Saturn Jupiter-Solaí

Croix du Zavié (Most High’s Cross) 4 Fleur-de-lis with Double Bar

a covenant, agreement, pact

The term "testament," as applied to the two parts of the Bible, means: a covenant, agreement, pact. In the language of the Bible it denotes the agreement or pact between God and man: Man agreed to do certain things and God, in return, promised certain blessings.

This "ravenous bird" is a symbol of those nations whom God employs and sends forth to do a work of destruction, sweeping away whatever is decaying and putrescent ( Matthew 24:28 ; Isaiah 46:11 ; Ezekiel 39:4 ; Deuteronomy 28:49 ; Jeremiah 4:13 ; 48:40 ). It is said that the eagle sheds his feathers in the beginning of spring, and with fresh plumage assumes the appearance of youth. To this, allusion is made in Psalms 103:5 and Isaiah 40:31 . God's care over his people is likened to that of the eagle in training its young to fly ( Exodus 19:4 ; Deuteronomy 32:11 Deuteronomy 32:12 ). Throughout the Bible, the eagle is a sign of vengeance in the scriptures. In Revelations, however, the eagle represents the forerunner of the judgment that is coming and that they still have time to repent their sins.

Fon was a highly militaristic language constantly organised for warfare; it captured captives during wars and raids against neighboring societies. Tactics such as covering fire, frontal attacks and flanking movements were used in the warfare of Fon. The military of Fon was divided into two units: the right and the left. The right was controlled by the migan and the left was controlled by the mehu.

There is an effort to create a machine translator for Fon (to and from French), by Bonaventure Dossou (from Benin) and Chris Emezue (from Nigeria).[14] Their project is called FFR.[15] It uses phrases from Jehovah's Witnesses sermons as well as other biblical phrases as the research corpus to train a Natural Language Processing (NLP) neural net model.[16] Suppressive Forts Defense and Partisan Raid for Sabotage Offense.

Harmony and Contrast Guerilla Warfare (Partisan Raids for Sabotage): Raiding, also known as depredation, is a military tactic or operational warfare "smash and grab" mission which has a specific purpose. Raiders do not capture and hold a location, but quickly retreat to a previous defended position before enemy forces can respond in a coordinated manner or formulate a counter-attack. Raiders must travel swiftly and are generally too lightly equipped and supported to be able to hold ground. A raiding group may consist of combatants specially trained in this tactic, such as commandos, or as a special mission assigned to any regular troops.[1] Raids are often a standard tactic in irregular warfare, employed by warriors, guerrilla fighters or other irregular military forces. A partisan is a member of a domestic irregular military force formed to oppose control of an area by a foreign power or by an army of occupation by some kind of insurgent activity. Sabotage is a deliberate action aimed at weakening a polity, government, effort, or organization through subversion, obstruction, demoralization, destabilization, division, disruption, or destruction. One who engages in sabotage is a saboteur. Saboteurs typically try to conceal their identities because of the consequences of their actions and to avoid invoking legal and organizational requirements for addressing sabotage.

Harmony and Contrast Siege Warfare (Suppressive Forts): A siege (Latin: sedere, lit. 'to sit')[1] is a military blockade of a city, or fortress, with the intent of conquering by attrition, or by well-prepared assault. Siege warfare (also called siegecrafts or poliorcetics) is a form of constant, low-intensity conflict characterized by one party holding a strong, static, defensive position. Consequently, an opportunity for negotiation between combatants is common, as proximity and fluctuating advantage can encourage diplomacy. A fortification (also called a fort, fortress, fastness, or stronghold) is a military construction designed for the defense of territories in warfare, and is used to establish rule in a region during peacetime. The term is derived from Latin fortis ("strong") and facere ("to make").[1] In military science, suppressive fire is "fire that degrades the performance of an enemy force below the level needed to fulfill its mission"[clarification needed]. When used to protect exposed friendly troops advancing on the battlefield, it is commonly called covering fire. Suppression is usually only effective for the duration of the fire.[1] It is one of three types of fire support, which is defined by NATO as "the application of fire, coordinated with the maneuver of forces, to destroy, neutralise or suppress the enemy".

In the Hebrew Bible, the destroying angel (Hebrew: מַלְאָך הַמַשְׁחִית, malʾāḵ hamašḥīṯ), also known as mashḥit (מַשְׁחִית mašḥīṯ, 'destroyer'; plural: מַשְׁחִיתִים, mašḥīṯīm, 'spoilers, ravagers'), is an entity sent out by God on several occasions to deal with numerous peoples.

These angels (mal’āḵīm) are also variously referred to as memitim (מְמִיתִים, 'executioners, slayers'), or, when used singularly, as the Angel of the Lord. The latter is found in Job 33:22, as well as in Proverbs 16:14 in the plural "messengers of death". Mashchith was also used as an alternate name for one of the seven compartments of Gehenna.[2][3]

In 2 Samuel 24:15-16, the destroying angel almost destroyed Jerusalem but was recalled by God. In 1 Chronicles 21:15, the same "Angel of the Lord" is seen by David to stand "between the earth and the heaven, with a drawn sword in his hand stretched out against the Hebrews' enemies". Later, in 2 Kings 19:35, the angel kills 185,000 Assyrian soldiers.

In the Book of Enoch, angels of punishment and destruction belong to a group of angels called satans with Satan as their leader. First, they tempt, then accuse, and finally punish and torment both wicked humans and fallen angels.[4]

In Judaism, such angels might be seen as created by one's sins. As long as a person lives, God allows them to repent. However, the angels of destruction can execute the sentence proclaimed in the heavenly court after death.[5] Also called Malachei Habala ("Sabotage Angels"), they punish sinners in the underworld and are equated with Shedim (demons) (Berakhot 51a; Ketubot 104a; Sanhedrin 106b).

The angels of punishment as satans are recounted in Islam in the form of a hadith. According to which, a murderer is instructed to repent from their sins by leaving their evil environment and moving to a better one. However, they die on their way, thereupon a disagreement between the angels of mercy and the angels of punishment under the leadership of Iblīs (Satan) occurs, who may take the soul of the repenting murderer.[6]

However, Satan did not have control over those angels as he had lost authority during the rebellion, instead tempting and manipulating others to do his dirty work.[citation needed] As he was not the one committing the sin, punishment goes to the wrong doer, and Satan instead will become a victim along with other sinners from humankind to be tortured by those angels.[7][8]

V΂I DIVINATION