#Daria if you are out there!!! Daria please if you are out there!!!!

[blacktacmopsi]

Kick HeadCanons: Romantic Things Edition

For as weird and eccentric as I like to think Kick is, when he's in love, he falls HARD.

Though he tends to be a bit dense when someone likes him, if he has a crush on someone, you can definitely tell.

He will not outright say he likes you, instead he'll hang around you more, go out of his way to talk to you, and make an effort to see you often.

Once he admits it, he's actually a very sweet & romantic partner... Granted, unconventional.

Kick shows his affection by touch and by gift giving.

His gifts can range from somewhat unusual to very cute.

"I was doing pushups outside this morning and found this cool rock. I think you'd like it." "When I was at the commissary today, I saw this little fish plushie. It made me think of you :)"

No matter what he gives you, one thing remains clear- YOU ARE ALWAYS ON HIS MIND!

He's crazy about you even if he doesn't outright show it.

Sure, he has his sleazy side, but when this man is in love, he's at your feet and so caring. Hell, he even gives Hesh a run for his money here.

Despite this, you still have to deal with his odd behaviors.

He doesn't mind pda and suggestive flirtation. If out in public, and no one is around, he'll squeeze your ass and whisper dirty things to you.

Just don't call him 'babe' as a pet name. He hates that. "Sweetheart... Please. I cringe when I hear that. It makes me think of Kevin from Daria."

If you go out on a date, Kick cleans up GOOD. It's like the only time he dresses well (as we all know his sense of fashion is... Well... Not quite there).

He's the kind of guy that would love to see you wear an oversized shirt of his. He also is the guy who gives you his hoodie.

Once you're in a more established relationship with him, he tends to get more suggestive/ sexual in every day life. It's because he's gotten comfortable around you. The sweetness is still there for sure. That's not going away.

If you're sick, Kick will be your personal doctor. Since he gets sick a lot too, he's always prepared for cold & flu season.

You would never know it, but he's very good at emotional intelligence and support. If you're dealing with depression or anything of the sort, you can always go to him to talk about it.

He'll make you laugh so much in your relationship. Definitely the hilarious partner.

When he's away on a mission, he'll call you as often as he can... And send you an occasional nude/ dick pic if you're cool with it. "Little Kick says hi! :)"

Overall, if you're looking for a more unconventional romantic partner, Kick is your guy.

If/ when he proposes to you, it will most likely be in your bedroom. "This is our most intimate space. It's the place we share our deepest love. Why wouldn't I propose to you here?" He definitely doesn't want a big flashy wedding. Hell, he wants it super private. He would be fine if it was just you & him and no one else. For a honeymoon, he would want to take you to some unconventional place. Think somewhere cold like that one resort in Finland where you can sleep in a glass igloo. You and him will watch the aurora borealis and make love under it for hours.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I am still thinking about tmagp 2, did you know that ep was written specifically for me?

[fortyfive-forty]

WTA 9 - 12 AS LYRICS FROM SONGS I HAVE SAVED [1 - 4] [5 - 8] [INSP]

MARIA SAKKARI [GRE] -> GAVE YOU EVERYTHING [THE INTERRUPTERS] JEĻENA OSTAPENKO [LAT] -> SO WHAT [P!NK] KAROLÍNA MUCHOVÁ [CZE] -> A BEGINNING SONG [THE DECEMBERISTS] DARIA KASATKINA [RUS] -> LIGHT MY LOVE [GRETA VAN FLEET]

[lights-at-night]

did anyone else pick up on how many of the cases weren't from the victim's point of view? it's happened 3 times so far (4 if you count daria? she's complicated) out of seven cases. tma in comparison has 130 out of 154 statements (i am only counting s1-4 because s5 messes with format) (if the numbers are a bit funky please note that i hand counted them so i apologise for that). of course, we only have six episodes of protocol, but there is clearly a difference and i can still make a post out of it.

maybe it's because we aren't only getting stories from the survivors now, as other people have mentioned

but also, those accounts from the perpetrator remind me somewhat of statements from avatars. needles' poetic, ominous manner of speech sounded similar to statements like jane prentiss, manuela dominguez, etc. (side note: needles was very corruption in my opinion. calling the stabbing/other violent actions an act of affection was definitely reminiscent of jane and the hive, just saying). others have pointed the parallels between jonah magnus and the violin guy, but i'll do it again: guy obtains much power via acts of violence, and despite knowing it hurts people this guy continues to see the skill and power with a cost as a blessing, keeps the origin of the power secret and passes it onto another person, who they tell the origin of the power to and bestow the power upon this other person, who did not ask for this. samuel webber's contentment with his new form while retaining an underlying sense of fear is comparable to avatars who love and fear their entity in equal measure.

as well as this, these cases seem more directly aligned with tma entities. magp 4 is extremely slaughter, and resembles mag 42 (grifter's bone). magp 3 is corruption, and mag 6 is also corruption in my opinion (i think people agree with me on that?).

i'm sorry i haven't planned this out i just noticed something and spent an hour typing on my phone about it. tell me your thoughts in the tags, i'd love to see someone make an actual theory about this!

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/08/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&CrewSightings; DavidJenkins;RuiboQian;Samba Schutte; Alex Sherman; Rhys Darby Cameo; Fan Spotlight; SaveOFMD End of the Line Statement; SaveOFMD Billboard News and updates; Watch Party Reminders; OFMDCrew Gratitude Event; Kudoboard Reminders; New Kudoboards; Fundraiser Statuses; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

Chaos dad poked his nose out to send us some lovely and encouraging words. "Your power is noticed and admired, Don't doubt it. Ever."

= Ruibo Qian =

Our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian had so much love and support to send today.

= Samba BTS =

Samba's keeping us fed with little bits of BTS each day, thank you Samba. Full Video here courtesy of @daria-meoi

= Alex Sherman =

Oh Alex, our 'Ass Tonight' Guardian Angel. I love that he's just over here liking all our unhinged stuff on top of the usual porn.

== Rhys Darby Cameo ==

Our wonderful crew-mate @_irene_adler and the Our Flag Means Daddy crew got us a wonderful bed-time story from Rhys. Please check it out on Cameo.

== Fan Spotlight =

Thank you @melvisik for continuing to give us lovely collectibles for all our cast & crew. Tonight is Fred Armisen!

== Save OFMD Crew "End of the Line" Statement ==

"Like our inimitable captain Stede Bonnet, we aren’t ready to give up just yet. We are devastated by the news from David Jenkins that attempts to find an alternative home for Our Flag Means Death have "reached the end of the road", but we want to keep fighting—not just for Our Flag Means Death, but for all the shows cancelled before their time. Shows that people put their heart and soul into. Shows that create life-changing experiences for their fans." Please read the rest on the website here.

== Save OFMD Crew Billboard News ==

== OFMD Gratitude Event ==

Join the OFMD Crew on Saturday March 9th, 11 AM PST / 2 PM EST / 7 PM GMT / 8 PM CET, follow OFMDCrew on Twitter.

== Watch Party Reminders ==

03/09/2024 there will be a watch along with the German premiere of OFMD Season 2!

@OurFlagRTL at 1PM EST/4PM GMT/5PM CET #OurFlagRTL.

Feel free to watch in any language you like! #SaveOFMD#LongLiveOFMD

= Wrecked =

Wrecked Season 1 Catch Up Party Starts Tomorrow at 8 am CST / 2pm GMT on the #RhysDarbyFaction server, feel free to reach out if you need access.

= Coming & Going =

Tomorrow 3/9, 9pm cst - 1030pm cst / (3/10) 3am gmt - 430am gmt on the #RhysDarbyFaction server.

We know it's awful, we're getting drunk and having a laugh.

== Kudoboard Reminders! ==

= Taika =

Kudoboard Link

The board will stay up until March 12th, and we will share the link with him on March 13th. The Kudoboard is monitored prior to approval to prevent trolls from jumping in (so if you don't see your additions right away, that's why!)

== Cast & Crew Kudoboards ==

In addition-- thank you to @sharpenyersword on Twitter for setting up ALL THE KUDOBOARDS!

Go send the cast and crew some love folks!

David Jenkins

Nathan Foad

Con O'Neill

Ruibo Qian

Leslie F*cking Jones!

Matthew Maher

Samson Kayo

Alex "Ass Tonight" Sherman!

David Fane

Fellow OFMD Fan Crew!

== Fundraiser Statuses ==

Many fans are turning their grief and feelings of poison into positivity. Since this post by @gentlepanpirate was posted this afternoon around 1:45 MT, the eSIMS and Sanitary Products for Gaza has gone up 12%. Do you have a few dollars to spare? Everyone doing just a few dollars will move it up fast. If not no worries, please consider sharing the link instead!

givebutter.com/OFFP3

= In Soup Now =

In Soup Now in honor of Kristian Nairn's favorite charity Team Haven Belfast, is at 17% Great job everyone working on helping feed unhoused neighbors. Can't donate? No worries! Please consider sharing the link!

https://givebutter.com/OFFP3

== Articles ==

Lot of articles tonight yall. Remember that every one of these shows you made an impact. It sucks cause a lot of them say "failed to find a home" which isn't true, we were robbed of one. But they still matter. The fact that they wrote anything at all shows we've been making waves. You still have power, as Chaos dad said. They didn't take that from you.

Our Flag Means Death Creator David Jenkins Confirms Show Has Reached the End of the Road

Our Flag Means Death Fails to Find New Home After Max Cancellation — Read Creator’s Statement

'End of the Road': Our Flag Means Death's Fate Confirmed by Creator

Our Flag Means Death Creator Addresses Chances of Series Return

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Raises White Flag on Former Max Comedy

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Says It’s “The End Of The Road” After Comedy Fails To Find New Home

Our Flag Means Death Is Officially Done After Not Finding New Streaming Home

Series creator: No new home found for canceled 'Our Flag Means Death'

Our Flag Means Death Creator Confirms The End Of Cancelled Max Show

Our Flag Means Death creator couldn’t find a new home for the series, which is now officially on its way to Davy Jones’s locker

Our Flag Means Death season 3 not happening, creator confirms

Our Flag Means Death creator “officially confirms” show cannot be saved

Our Flag Means Death Canceled After Two Successful Seasons

Our Flag Means Death officially over as the queer series fails to find a new home

El creador de ‘Our Flag Means Death’ dice que es «el final del camino» después de que la comedia no logró encontrar un nuevo hogar.

Our Flag Means Death creator says it's officially the 'end of the road' after show fails to find new home

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH IS OFFICIALLY OVER, CREATOR CONFIRMS SEASON 3 FAILS TO FIND NEW HOME

Unfairly cancelled show fails to find new home: ‘It’s the end of the road’

Heartbreak in the High Seas: Our Flag Means Death Officially Sails Into the Sunset

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies.

I know some of you found out the news later than others, and it's still very raw for you. I'm sending so much love your way, I know you had less support than some of us when you found out and that's got to feel terribly lonely. I've talked to some folks who were fine yesterday, and not okay today, and vice versa. Just know we are here luvs, we are here, and we're happy to talk. We're all going to be grieving for a while. So please be kind to yourselves. Give yourself some grace, it's okay if you can't do much right now. It's okay if you don't finish that gif set, or that artwork, or that fic. It's okay if all you do is get by today. You are doing enough. It's okay if you need to have distractions so you're doing twice as much as you did before. Distraction can help a lot with nervous energy. Give yourself room to be creative, and to let your mind wander, it could use a break. Take some time to laugh if you can. Laughter really can be healing. I wish I had some advice for tonight. I wish I had some better words of encouragement, I know it's all very hard right now for everyone.

Please just know a few things, and you've heard them before, but I need to hear them once in a while so I'm going to say them to you.

You are loved.

You are worthy.

You are enough.

You are beautiful.

You are kind.

You are exactly the way you should be.

You are loved.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Just som giggle from our two guys to hopefully bring a smile to your face.

Daily Darby Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @IBrokeCharacter on twitter.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

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

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

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now there’s a thought.

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

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

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

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

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Admiral.”

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

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

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

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Disappointed?” he asked.

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

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

“What?” he sputtered.

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

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

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

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

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

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

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

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

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

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

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

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

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

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

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

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

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

“Lived here long?”

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

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was taken aback. “I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ice?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stalker,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

[sirianasims]

I had no idea what to do with these feelings for Samuel. Now that the floodgates had been opened, I ached to touch him, kiss him, bury my hands in his soft curls.

The fact that he was now actively avoiding me only made it so much more painful. Every girl he spoke to felt like a personal attack.

At the end of the final semester, we threw one last party at our house.

I was out of control. I wanted Samuel to notice me, to want me, but I didn’t know how. He had wanted me once, years ago, even tried to kiss me. But how did I get us back to that?

I had finally asked Jessica for help. She rallied the team, and tonight I found myself wearing one of her dresses. There had been no time for me to learn how to walk in heels, but Daria had some sandals that would do. Trisha even helped me with a tiny bit of makeup.

The party had started by the time I had gathered my courage and came downstairs.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I entered the living room. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish, but I needed Samuel to notice me.

He definitely saw me, but his face remained unreadable.

An hour or so passed. I made sure to stay near him, trying to catch his eyes, but it felt like he was doing his best to ignore me.

I wasn’t getting anywhere.

Everyone else was having fun, Daria and Griffin even started doing keg stands. Slightly discouraged, I went over to cheer them on instead.

And then, just as Daria dropped Griffin on the floor, Samuel appeared next to me.

He grabbed me by the arm, not too gently.

“Come.”

“Ow! Samuel, what -“

“We need to talk. Upstairs, now.”

I followed him.

As we entered my room, Samuel closed the door and turned to me.

“Now please enlighten me, Freya. What are you playing at?”

I hadn’t actually planned this far. I was never good at talking about my feelings, but I knew that this could be my last chance, so I just blurted it out.

“Samuel… I really miss you – and I hate that we never talk anymore, and I don’t want you to… be with someone else.”

Samuel said nothing.

“I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, but I love you.”

He stared at me for a second.

“For fuck’s sake, Freya. NOW you tell me? After I spent the last seven years trying to get over you? And now you’ve finally decided that you love me? That isn’t how it works! That isn’t how any of this works!“

Once more, he turned his back on me.

“Samuel, wait…”

He slammed the door behind him. The silence was deafening.

Why did I even try? I should have expected this. The tears were burning in my eyes.

The door was torn open again almost immediately and Samuel marched back into the room.

“Dammit, Freya!”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you really are”, he croaked, closing the distance between us.

“But you’re my idiot.”

beginning / previous / next

[parabugz]

you should watch the vampair series especially if your name is raegan please rae please

rant:i discovered the vampair series in 2018 briefly and went back to it and it was a huge hyperfixation from 2019-2022, then in 2023 i kinda tried to shove it down cause i got cringeshamed out of liking vampires but i rewatched it and god. its so good. its so inspiring. daria cohen is insanely talented and it might beone of my favorite things in the world

[yachiblanca]

If you have watched the TV series Daria or MLP (Maud Pie's character, who is not emotional), can we have a reader with the same human character? (I bet GN, for I don't know what gender to put). At least they are sarcastic. How would the pillarmen feel about such a person?

It's been a long time since I last watched MLP!

Pillarmen with a Reader that hardly expresses emotions

Kars doesn't seem to be bothered with you being quiet and repyling somewhat short, he likes the quiet company after all.

You'll see him raise a brow when you reply at him sarcastically, he's just never met anyone who talks to him like that- he's quite taken aback, especially that he's a god himself.

He'll attempt to start a conversation with you, a topic that's enough to last long with conversations. Though you still gave him the short replies- he really thought of it not a big deal, but in reality- he's trying hard to make you reply longer than before.

"Is that all you have to say...?" Kars is mentally desperate to see you in another emotion- at least, he made several attempts to make you react something else like complimenting you.

Kars at the end of the day understands you can't express much emotions, "A human like you needs to ..smile more."

Esidisi finds you entertaining despite barely expressing any emotions, this man is kind of a happy-go-lucky guy, he'll try to make the funniest jokes you ever heard.

He'll try to make you angry at first, though you didn't react that much- that made him more curious on you, he's soon trying to find what can make you express a bit.

You might see him in every corner, he's trying to find what your hobbies are and maybe he'll try it with you.

"Human is there anything that you find pleasing?" "Does that really matter?" You'll get the daily basis of him poking around you. Saying the stupidest things you've ever heard, you might giggle on one of them.

Esidisi would never give up on you- he needs to witness you express a single emotion at least, so you gotta get used to him sticking with you everywhere

Wamuu is totally fine with you, he doesn't think much about it when he notices your behavior.

He'll start conversations with you to the point he gets carried away- expecting you to at least be surprised or amazed by his true warrior skills back in the years, you replying with "Oh wow, cool."

Wamuu coughs "Is there anything else you want to know?" You shrugged, Wamuu doesn't understand you that much- until that he knew that you hardly expressed emotions.

He might get a little awkward, but if you actually have the thought of telling a small story- trust me, he's relieved. He thought that you disliked him at first.

He appreciates it alot if you give him little compliments his face doesn't show it, no matter how short it is. He knows that you gave him acknowledgement to what he's saying.

Santana

Both of you don't notice but Santana's other fellow kind portraits you and Santana the same, quite the same.

Santana doesn't care of you replying short- but what gets his attention is the lack of reaction he gets from a different kind, among the past years. Santana has observed humans (Hamon tribe) and he surely saw different kinds of face expressions or how the way they talk, but yours was different.

He's going to try to find out why you were different, well you will catch him staring at you longer than before "...Santana?"

His arms raise as his hands placed on both of your cheeks- suddenly pinching it, his fingers slightly pulling both of your cheeks to form a smile, you wonder why he was doing this- you didn't know what to do.

"I always see humans have this face, it suits you very much."

[dariamalek]

Mahsa Amini: How A 43 Year Long Battle Has Finally Made It Into The Light

I am done with being silent. 

I am done with tolerating the silence of others. 

My name is Daria Malek, and I am an Iranian-Canadian writer who’s art was silenced due to the control of the Iranian regime. Ironically, The Green Ney was a story of how women were silenced during the Iranian revolution, especially their art. 

Yesterday, on Saturday October 1st, over fifty thousand people had closed off Yonge Street, the longest street in the world, protesting for Mahsa Amini, and the other 83 people murdered for speaking up for their human rights. 

I am so privileged to live in a country where I, not only as a woman, but also a visibly minority, have protection beyond my rights. And as I watch my fellow Iranians in their homeland fight for theirs, it makes me wonder what am I do to with this privilege? What am I to do with the freedom of speech that I have? 

I was silenced by the Iranian regime, but that is no longer. 

Four years ago, I began writing a novel called The Green Ney, the story of an infertile American journalist in a dying marriage, who travels to Iran in January 1979 and gets stuck in the middle of the bloodshed of the Iranian Revolution with a lonely, mute orphan to care for. 

Through her journey, she met multiple women who symbolized each right that was stripped from them during the revolution. Each of these 12 women were women that I had met on my trip to Iran in 2016, spanning over the three cities that I have visited. These are real women. These are real people. 

This was my time to speak for these women who were silenced in their own dirt but, I had to face a dilemma: if I were to publish this novel, I would be banned from going back home to my country, and even put my family, including my grandparents, in harms way. 

This was three years ago. Enough is enough. It is time to speak up. 

Mahsa Amini was 22 years old when she was detained by “morality police” in Iran for not wearing her headscarf on her head correctly. Not because she had killed someone, assaulted someone, or stolen something from someone but, because she had not covered her hair to the standard of the “morality police.” How ironic that they are called “morality police” when they have no problem murdering a child because they are so weak to be worried about the hair of a women turning men on. Where are your morals?

Why are you painting our men to be so weak? So weak, that the wrists and ankles of a woman may awaken their uncontrollable sexual urges? 

Our men are better than this. Our women are more respectable than this. 

The greatest part of watching these protests was seeing the men and women come together in unison to fight for the women of Iran together. 

For Mahsa Amini, you will always be remembered as an awakening for the people and a motion for change. We will honour your name and what you did to change the world. 

Shervin Hajipour, your angelic voice and talent will be forever in our ears, singing for what you believe in, in hopes that people will listen and feel your pain and we did. 

Hadis Najafi, your courage will never be forgotten. To be so brave, beyond your years, only for them to strip you of the rest of your life. But, I hope you know that they may have taken your life but they could never take away the strength and bravery that you possessed. When I watch the video of your blonde hair going up in a ponytail, ready to fight for the land you walk on, it gives me chills - an inspiration to truly step up. 

For all the other people who were protesting or injured and murdered for speaking up: you make me proud to call myself an Iranian. We as people have a history of being headstrong and courageous. We must protect our beautiful culture, our art, our poetry, our food, our dance and everything that makes us Iranian, from the Islamic regime. They stole it from us once and it is our duty to take it back. 

What started off as a feministic fight, turned into a humanitarian revolution. 

If you have any Iranian friends, please reach out to them. Ask them how they are doing. Give them a hug and stand by them. They’re worried about their families back home; they can’t talk to them or hold them. Give back the support that we gave the rest of the world when they needed us. 

And please, help us be the voice of the people who don’t have one. 

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.4K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

14 Yelona

Kazi was tired. 

She was tired of arguments. Tired of responsibility. Tired of the conflictual, pathetic emotions roiling inside of her, like the ocean fraught with a coming storm yet unable to truly form. 

Most of all, she was tired of the guilt gnawing on her, wearing away her mind until, soon, nothing would remain of her. 

Resentment constricted her lungs and twisted her thoughts. It itched in a place she couldn’t reach, persistent and frustrating. Unignorable.  

Her emotions, meticulously maintained and carefully locked away, wanted to escape. The signs were obvious last night. 

But the problem with repressed emotions—the problem with being told since she was a little girl that emotions were bad and not to be expressed—was their tendency to erupt. Too much time locked away and they grew frustrated. 

Repressed emotions concerning Daria, outside of their arguments, were months in the making. 

Kazi knew her emotions were too volatile this morning. And yet she couldn’t bother to halt her trek out the backdoor.

Foggy gray of early dawn cooled the morning temperature. The fog, heavy and thick, haunted the jungle surrounding the house. Dew speckled fern stalks and tree leaves, splashing her bare legs as she stalked around the side of the house to Daria’s garden. 

Daria was kneeling in freshly-churned soil, planting new seedlings. Loose long sleeves and trousers protected her from the morning chill, though sweat still blotted her forehead. Hair tied back, she appeared content. Serene. 

It was the packet of seeds beside Daria—a packet similar to the one currently sitting on her nightstand—that made Kazi pause. If she hadn’t seen her own packet of seeds only a few minutes ago, she would have blamed Daria for stealing them. 

Did Wolffe gift her sister seedlings for the Harvest Festival, too?

The question contained too many possibilities she didn’t want to consider this early in the morning and after her argument with Wolffe. She reconcentrated on the object in her hand, feeling rattled and out of place. 

“I have your potion,” Kazi said.

Shoulders stiffening, Daria lifted her face, her scowl dark with umbrage. 

Green eyes devoid of their usual warmth, Daria extended a hand. Kazi stepped into the enclosed garden and handed her sister the potion. Once finished, Daria thrust the bottle back at her, not once looking in her direction. 

Usually Kazi would walk away. Shut herself in her room and seethe at Daria’s behavior. Scream at her sister in her head. Call out Daria on every single shitty thing she had done in their lifetimes.  

Instead, Kazi pocketed the potion. “Why didn’t you accept my Festival gift?” 

She was searching for a fight. Seeking out a means to release her resentment. But she didn’t care. She was tired of caring so fucking much. 

“I was trying to be a good sister,” she said. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, dismissive, her tone was far too brittle. Far too hurt. 

Refusing to even look in Kazi’s direction, Daria glowered at a spindly plant, her gloved hands fisted atop her thighs. 

“I was trying to bridge this gap between us.” Kazi folded her arms across her chest, her emotions frothing and snapping. “I’m trying every day. And you brushed me off like it meant nothing.”

Her voice broke on the last word and she pressed a palm against forehead, ordering herself not to cry. Lack of sleep, tension with Wolffe, guilt concerning Neyti were crushing her. Pressing through skin and muscles and bones, grounding her into nothing more than dust.

But it hurt. To see the contempt in her little sister. To bear the responsibility for their broken bond. To know she had hurt Daria—she had hurt her little sister. 

Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps. “I’m trying to fix things—”  

“That is the problem,” Daria snapped. Pushing herself to her feet, she glared at Kazi. “You’re trying to bridge the gap when you don’t understand why the gap exists. It’s unhelpful and a waste of time.”

“I know why the gap exists.” She dropped her hand to her sides, fisting them tightly. “It’s existed ever since I left home. You changed then and you haven’t been the same since.”

“I have been different?”

“Yes.”

Daria stared at her incredulously. “You were different, Kazi. You have been different ever since Papa died.”

The fog seemed to thicken and the jungle quieted. It held its breath, thick leaves and elder trees listening, waiting. 

“You disappeared after Papa died,” Daria said, her voice trembling. “You were there, physically, but you weren’t really there. I tried so hard to help you—to support you and be there for you—but you shut me out. You weren’t there for me anymore.”

Kazi released a cynical breath. “I was a kid, Daria, and I was grieving. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of you.”

“I didn’t want you to take care of me!”

Raw emotion hoarsened Daria’s voice. She stared at Kazi with such distressed anguish it was as palpable as the wetness of the fog. 

“I wanted to be with you.” Daria threw up her hands. “I wanted to sit in your room with you while you hid. I wanted to walk to the harbor with you, and visit the lighthouse with you. I only wanted to be with you. I gave you space to mourn Papa, but giving you space turned into months and then years, until I realized you no longer cared for me.”

Memories from that time swarmed the back of her mind. Kazi remembered a soft-spoken girl knocking quietly on her bedroom door, leaving dessert in the hallway, offering to visit the sailboat, asking to watch the storms. 

Years of the soft-spoken girl longing after a sister who was too numb to feel or care.

“I thought I had done something to make you hate me.” Daria’s throat bobbed and she wiped at her cheek. “We were no longer friends, and then you disappeared. You left me. I knew at that moment that what we had no longer existed. I was no longer important to you, and I accepted that.” 

You left me.

The words echoed hollowly in her head, and Kazi froze. 

How long had she feared getting close to others knowing they would eventually leave? How long had she resented Papa for dying and abandoning them?

All those years keeping others at arms-length to protect herself from abandonment, and she had abandoned her little sister. 

Mist caressed Daria’s honeyed hair, wetting her lips and eyelashes. “I still wanted you to be okay. You didn’t have friends. You shut everyone out. So I thought if you no longer wanted to spend time with me, then I would find someone who would take care of you. Because you were lonely and I didn’t want to see you so unhappy.” 

“I isolated myself for a reason.” Kazi rubbed her arm, the chill of the mist seeping into her body. “And I only have myself to blame for my lack of relationships. So you shouldn’t have felt bad for me—”

“I loved you,” Daria whispered. “I loved you more than anyone, and I wanted to see you happy.” 

“Daria—” 

Daria raised a hand to silence her. 

“I met potential suitors.” A mirthless smile twisted Daria’s face. “I vetted them based on your personality. I looked for men who were kind and respectable. Men with a good work ethic. Men spoken highly of, because you deserved the best. I knew you no longer loved me, but I thought I could find someone who would take care of you. Someone who would make you feel happy.”

“Daria.” Kazi stared at her sister incredulously. “I have always loved you.”

Her sister scoffed. “There’s no need to lie—”

“Everything I have done the past year has been for you,” she said, gesturing to the house. “When you fell ill, I returned home. When Mama became distraught, I intervened. When the healers said there was no hope, I sought medicine and help because I refused to give up on you. I am trying to start a new life for you. Everything I do is for you.”

Daria’s smile turned sad, placating. “You do that out of duty, Kazi. Not because you love me—”

“Don’t say that.” Kazi shook her head disbelievingly. “Don’t fucking say that.”

“Ever since I fell ill, I have been nothing of consequence. I’m a burden to you. I won’t be here for much longer—”

“Stop it.”

“I won’t be,” Daria insisted. “And I don’t want to leave you in this world alone because you have lost everyone and it hurts me to look at you.”

“Daria—” 

“I look at you and I no longer see the sister I admired. The sister I loved. I no longer see the Kazi who snuck around the harbors, the Kazi who spent her weekends sailing. I no longer see the Kazi who told me stories late at night because I was scared of the thunder, and the Kazi who took me out dancing every time it rained. I thought you might find that person again if you had someone in your life who could help you carry your burdens. Someone who cared for you.”

Stricken speechless, Kazi could only stare at her sister. All this time she thought Daria wanted her to marry because of tradition. Because of their upbringing. 

She should have known Daria’s personal interest was driven by something more. 

“I’m scared, Kazi.” Daria breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m scared I’m going to forget those moments. I don’t want to forget when you were alive.”

A tear slid down her cheek and Kazi looked away. 

Because it had been years since she truly felt alive, and when she tried to remember its warmth and comfort, disappointment and self-hatred made themselves known. Two shadows leaching the life from her.

“I tell Neyti stories about you.” Daria regarded her with a sunken appearance, the planes of her face dull and harried. “I want her to know you. I want her to know you the way I knew you. That’s why I asked her to draw that photo of us. I wanted to show her who you truly are.”

Energy and warmth and anger dissipated from her body and Kazi sighed, her bones sagging. Wariness guarded Daria’s gaze, as if her sister expected her to react coldly. Cruelly. 

“You’ve never been a burden,” Kazi said hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” 

Daria blinked her surprise, and Kazi mentally berated herself. Had she really been so apathetic and closed-off from Daria the past years that apologizing was shocking?

“I’m sorry I…disappeared after Papa’s death.” She searched her sister’s gaze. “I’m sorry I left you without warning. I’m sorry I ignored you for years. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped to talk to you, or listen, or just be there for you. I’m sorry.”

Kazi let her hand drift to one of the spindly plants, the fuzz of the stem tickling her palm. A piece of her wanted to reach for Daria, to close the distance between them, to hold her sister’s hand one more time. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

“I pulled away because I couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing you. The thought of failing you…” She shrugged, laughing hollowly. “I couldn’t bear it—I didn’t want to bear it. I pulled away, not because of anything you did, but because I didn’t want to fail you. And now this gap exists and I don’t know what to do. The thought of losing you—”

Choking on a renewed surge of emotion, Kazi closed her eyes and tilted her face to the foggy sky, breathing in through her nose. Exhaling through her mouth. 

Less than a year and a half remained before Daria passed. Her sister’s memory would start to worsen and fade in six months. So much time had been lost and so little remained.

“I dream sometimes,” Daria interrupted her thoughts and Kazi opened her eyes. Her sister raised a hand and played with a wisp of mist. “I dream of the lighthouse, of the two of us sitting up there while a storm rolls in.”

A soft smile smoothed her features and she closed her eyes, like she could envision the dream. Envision a time when the lighthouse was their safe place and reality didn’t exist, and pain and heartache and bitterness were concerns for adults. 

A time when two little girls played and laughed and dreamt of happy wonders.

“I dream of us sharing our citrus-stars, and the tales you would tell me of the dragons.” Her voice was wistful, gentle, like the whisper of a breeze. “I dream of the waves lapping at my feet, and the sand between my toes, and the warmth of the sun on my skin and the way it always reminded me of home. Sometimes I swear I can still smell the ocean.”

Daria’s eyelashes fluttered open, the green of her eyes glassy. “I hate waking up. I’m so tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of not talking. I’m tired of avoiding one another. I want to go back to the lighthouse and never leave.” 

Deep down, Kazi did too. But she refused to admit it.

Enshrouded by an impenetrable fog, the two sisters considered one another. 

The fracture in their relationship was overt in the ragged lines around their eyes, the honesty Kazi withheld, the way they relied on themselves for comfort rather than one another.

They would never return to their former innocence and naïve adoration. Mutual hurt and wariness kept them at bay. 

But they could start anew. Try to nurture a new dynamic. 

Kazi wanted it. She wanted it badly.

So she knelt near the freshly-churned hole Daria had dug and a moment later, her sister settled beside her, retrieving her trowel. Kazi’s hands trembled slightly. 

As a seedling required attention, patience, and effort, so too would reconciliation. It wasn’t something that would sprout overnight. It was something they would have to cherish and protect and choose. Over and over again. 

So, together, they planted the first seed.

Missing her usual swim wasn’t as harrowing as Kazi typically imagined. A quiet hour in the garden with Daria proved a necessary reprieve from her routine. Her head felt clearer, and her chest lighter.

Kazi was lost to her thoughts—thoughts of relief, subtle hope for the coming months—as she wandered into the house. She was so consumed by her musings she didn’t notice Wolffe standing beside the kitchen bar. Less than a meter separated them when she finally came to her senses and faltered to a stop.

Wolffe stood straight, his stance wide. Determination hardened his gaze.

Their argument the night before dampened her new-found relief and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek. She thought Wolffe would avoid her, again, this morning.

In hindsight, her assumption was blatantly inaccurate and disingenuous to his character. Wolffe confronted conflict in order to find a solution. He had an overbearing need to understand the intricacies of things around him and a level-headed desire to confront issues, determine their problems, and then fix them. 

When it came to Wolffe, Kazi knew she couldn’t avoid their argument. She couldn’t pretend their argument hadn’t left her reeling and resentful; she couldn’t feign nonchalance and disinterest. 

She was also aware that her avoidance tactics, especially the unconscious list of grudges she kept in the back of her mind, were an unhealthy handling of conflict. A year in therapy explained the need to admit to feelings of hurt and betrayal rather than suppress them. 

However, she had a fatal flaw: hubris. 

She couldn’t admit to being hurt. It was a weakness. A vulnerability that would enable others to take advantage of her. Or, to see how pathetic she was and to abandon her. 

Suppressing emotions and avoiding conflict were her scapegoats. They had protected her for so long. 

Wringing her hands together, Kazi scanned the kitchen, avoiding Wolffe. A knife and cutting board, both damp with water, were drying on the counter. The bowl of chocolates was half-full. An overgrown plant trailed its vines to the hardwood floor. Finally, she glanced in Wolffe’s direction.

He regarded her, his expression unreadable, and tapped two fingers on the bar. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry.”

His apology surprised her, and her eyes widened marginally. 

“I…overreacted,” Wolffe said. A twinge of discomfort grimaced his features and he rolled his shoulders back. Steady, unflinching eyes sought hers. “I had…expectations I now know were inaccurate. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you.” 

The lowness of his tone, the hesitation in his pauses and the searching depth of his gaze, alerted her to something more. Something deeper behind his words. Like a confession spoken underwater. Some of it made sense. Other pieces left her confused. 

“You were right.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re nothing to each other. And I’m sorry for pushing the conversation.”

Regret dulled the vestige of her resentment, and in its wake, Kazi winced, raking a hand through her hair, wishing for the neat perfection of her braids. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmured, rubbing her chest. An attempt to quiet the remorse pinching her insides. “You’re not…nothing to me.”

Heat warmed her cheeks and she dropped her gaze, exhaling her frustration. She needed Wolffe to know she valued his presence in her life. She needed him to know he wasn’t nothing. 

He was…more. 

But she didn’t know how to define her feelings for him, much less explain them to him.

“I was frustrated with you,” she said. “And it came out wrong.” Her explanation still fell short—it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t. Hesitantly, she took a step toward him, searching his guarded features, silently begging for him to understand. To forgive her. “I was mad at myself for thinking you would join us. I took out my own anger on you, and I didn’t mean it. All of what I said—I didn’t mean any of it. I swear—you’re not nothing to me.” 

Brows furrowed, Wolffe observed her for a long moment. His gaze was full of calculation, and the longer he studied her, the more his underscored frustration revealed itself. The flaring of his nostrils. The scrunching of his eyes. The rigidity in his shoulders. 

He tapped his fingers against the bar. “I didn’t realize the hike meant that much to you.”

“It didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.” Wolffe took two steps toward her, close enough she could see the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I know it did.”

“What do you want me to say? That it mattered to me?” She threw up her hands. “Because it did, Wolffe. It mattered to me. You promised, and I felt real fucking stupid getting my hopes up only for you to not show. And the worst part—the worst part is that I know the missions come first to you, that nothing else matters. So I had no right to be upset with you, and I overreacted. But you promised, and I couldn’t let that go.”

“I know what I promised.” His throat bobbed. “Does Neyti know…?”

“No.” A hint of relief relaxed his stiff posture. His arched brow demanded an explanation and Kazi shrugged. “I thought it could be a surprise, so I didn’t tell her beforehand, and I obviously didn’t tell her after.”

“The mission—”

“Always comes first,” she interrupted. “I know that, and I shouldn’t have been upset about it. I’m sorry.”

Displeasure pressed his lips together and Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I chose the mission over you because I was frustrated. You wanted me there and I told you I would be. I regret going back on my promise.”

The honesty in his words made her shift uncomfortably between her feet. 

A self-deprecating smile tugged on her mouth. “After what happened with Neyti’s classmates’ parents, I was upset. I kept thinking if you had been there, then maybe things would have been different. It was easier to blame you rather than accept responsibility for my own actions.”

Wolffe stilled. “Something happened?” 

“It was nothing—”

“Ennari,” Wolffe growled. “What happened.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He returned her exasperated look with an equally reproving scowl. She sighed. “One of the mom’s said something rude about Neyti. She said it loud enough that Neyti overheard.”

Just the reminder of Eris's falsely sympathetic comment irked her.

“I should have walked away the moment those women wanted to talk,” she said, scoffing at her stupidity. “I should have known nothing good would come of it. But I thought… I thought maybe if they talked with me, then their kids would be more accepting of Neyti.” She clenched her fists behind her back. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so fucking stupid, and Neyti overheard everything, and I didn’t protect her—”

“Kazi.”

It took her too long to discern Wolffe through the blur of her gaze, and even longer to realize she was about to cry. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes open. Ordered the tears away. 

Most people claimed crying was cathartic, a pleasant release of emotions. Not for her. Crying was humiliating. Draining. She hated the uncontrollable sensation of sobs wracking her spine and clawing their way from her lungs. She hated the headache it always spurned. 

Most of all, though, she hated crying in front of others. She hated knowing they could see.

“Sorry.” Wiping at her eyes, Kazi cleared her throat, ignoring the humiliated flush in her face and neck. A tear tickled her palm. She loosed a shaky breath. “Sorry, I don’t know why—”

“You’re not a failure.”

Her chuckle was strained. “I know.”

Gently, Wolffe angled her chin back, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You’re not a failure.”

“I know,” she repeated. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. To see the broken mess lurking beneath her composed exterior. 

He lowered his face to hers, and he murmured, “I’m not going to abandon you and Neyti again.”

Raw promise quieted his words and softened his features, and Kazi believed him. It was funny, and curious, how she knew he meant it—how she trusted him. Funny and curious, but also alarming.

Wolffe traced his finger along her jaw, unhurried in his approach, as if acting subconsciously. She wanted to breach the minimal distance separating their bodies. To lean into the heat of his chest, listen to his heartbeat beneath her ear, and simply rest there. To not feel so alone. Just for a moment. 

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and as he stilled, she wondered what it would be like to turn off her mind. To damn the consequences and lose herself. Just for a moment. To learn what his mouth would feel like on hers, what it would feel like on her neck, on her breasts, between her thighs—

“Ennari.” The warning in his voice, rough and low, brought her gaze back to his.

A loud thud jerked them apart. 

Kazi glanced at the staircase where Neyti, dressed in a pink dress, was straightening from her apparent jump. Satisfied with her landing, she waved. 

“Are you ready for breakfast?” Kazi asked, grinning.

Neyti nodded.

“Before that,” Wolffe said, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and retrieving a small packet. He dropped to a knee beside Neyti. “I have this for you.”

Intrigued, Kazi leaned forward, eyeing the small object. Her eyebrows raised in recognition. Similar to the packet on her nightstand, similar to the packet outside with Daria, Wolffe had bought Neyti her own seedlings.

The gesture was so thoughtful it rendered Kazi speechless. She could only stare at Wolffe, stare at the man who was watching Neyti, subtle apprehension lining his forehead. 

Neyti accepted the packet with shrewd interest. She brought it close to her ear and shook it softly. Seeds rattled inside. Her lips parted. She lifted her gaze to Wolffe’s, a silent question in her eager face. 

A chuckle eased the tension from Wolffe, and Kazi quietly laughed, too.

“I forgot to give it to you at the Festival,” Wolffe said, his eyes darting in Kazi’s direction. “We can plant them in the garden. Is that…all right?”

Appraising the packet of seeds, Neyti traced a tiny finger along the petals etched into the exterior. A small, yet dimpled grin brightened her face and she nodded at Wolffe. His sigh of relief went unnoticed by the little girl who showed Kazi her new packet.

“I bet they’ll be beautiful once they bloom,” Kazi said, fixing the ruffles on the sleeves of Neyti’s dress. “Maybe Mr. Wolffe will show you after breakfast—”

A fervent shake of her head and Neyti blinked wide, pleading eyes at her. Kazi raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She was about to lecture on the importance of breakfast but Neyti shifted her pleading gaze to Wolffe. 

Expecting Wolffe to refuse Neyti’s request, his hesitation shocked Kazi. He looked from Neyti to her, rubbing the back of his neck, and then pushed himself to his feet, nudging Kazi with his elbow.  

She sighed. “Fine. But don’t stay out too long.”

Neyti grinned wider and clapped her hands. 

Just as Kazi was turning toward the kitchen and Wolffe was making his way to the sunroom, she watched a tiny hand reach for a larger one. Wolffe stumbled, his spine stiffening and eyes narrowing. Cautiously, he regarded the hand in his. Neyti, oblivious to his hesitant assessment, shook her packet of seeds, tugging Wolffe forward.

Slowly, Wolffe closed his fingers around Neyti’s, his hand engulfing hers. The two wandered through the sunroom and out the backdoor. 

From the sunroom windows, Kazi watched them together, something warm and wistful blooming inside her. It poked through her heart and tugged. Gentle yet demanding. 

Frowning at the strange sensation, she massaged her chest. It was a feeling she attributed to her childhood.

A desire for the security and laughter and adventure of her youth.

Yearning. 

But it was no longer confined to the past. 

Like an extended hand grasping another in the midst of uncertainty, like fingers intertwining in search of connection and comfort, yearning squeezed her heart. 

Yearning for—

Oh.

Oh.

Masterlist | Chapter 14 | A Muse | Chapter 16

A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.

Next chapter release – April 18th  

Artwork of Kazi and Daria by the lovely @eyecandyeoz!

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[tcwmatchmakingau]

The Blacklist

Summary: The coldest commander in the GAR meets a different kind of match when he makes an unscheduled visit to Daria’s office.

Commander Neyo vs. ofc: Daria Trace, featuring @littlemissmanga ofc: Yen (hope I got her lines just right🥰)

Rating: T

Word count: 1080

“I think I’d live here, if I wouldn’t drink enough caf to power an ion cannon,” Daria mused, as the barista passed cups of iced caf to her and Yen. She thanked the young woman and dropped credits in the tip jar before the pair headed to their favorite bench to people watch.

“You already do that. Besides when are you ever home?” Yen asked with a raised brow.

Daria was saved from answering when her comm beeped.

“Trace,” she answered smoothly.

“Daria,” Blizzard said nervously once the matchmaker answered her comm.

“Hi, Blizzard…is everything alright?” Daria asked, looking up at Yen with a puzzled expression.

“No, not at all. Commander Neyo is here again.”

Daria released a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her weary soul.

“Let me guess, the woman I set him up with doesn’t follow orders?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Yen’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Neyo was their most difficult client. He’d been on more dates than anyone, and despite Daria’s preternatural ability to put the right people together, she remained unsuccessful with the commander.

“He didn’t say. He barged in, and now he’s camping out in your office. Please come back. He’s so scary,” Blizzard whispered despite the fact that his desk was nowhere near Daria’s office where the commander waited for her.

“I’m on my way, love. If he gets fussy with you, just call Fox or Thorn,” she instructed.

“I’m going to call them now, so they’re in the area at least,” he replied.

“Ok, I’ll be there soon.”

As she ended the call, she looked up at Yen. The exhaustion and irritation evident in the set of her lips, and the quirk of her eyebrow.

“How many dates has it been?” Yen asked, eyes narrowed as she thought of how many times Neyo had been to the office to monopolize Daria’s time.

“To quote our darling, Blizz, ‘too kriffing many’,” Daria said, shaking her head.

“You’re going to have to swallow your pride on this one.”

“He’s going to ruin my track record.”

“That’s better than his unscheduled visits surely,” Yen offered, as the two of them took off for the office.

“I guess it is, I just,” Daria began before she remembered how much of a migraine Neyo had been.

She hadn’t even understood his presence in her office when he’d come in to build his profile. Unlike his brothers, Neyo seemed to just want a soldier that wasn’t related to him. Unfortunately, that meant his only viable matches were strong-willed people, that didn’t care about his rank or his authority. He’d barged into her office to complain about the ‘battalion of brats’ she’d set him up with, and demanded she find someone respectful.

Daria had leveled him with a look before wading back into the ever evaporating pool of matches.

“You know what? He has this coming. It’s not me, or our system. It’s him,” she said, taking an aggressive sip of her drink.

“There’s my girl,” Yen said with a grin.

As the pair of women arrived at the office they were pleased to see Fox waiting just outside.

“Blizzard called and said you may need assistance escorting someone off of the premises,” Fox said, folding his arms. “Who is it?”

“Commander Neyo,” Daria said, eyes locked onto Fox’s visor.

Fox sighed in irritation. “I should have known. Alright, I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Thank you, Fox,” Daria replied, as they entered the lobby.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” Blizzard hissed. “He’s been out here twice to ask where you are.”

“I’ll handle it from here,” Daria assured him, waltzing back to her office.

“Commander Neyo, you’re in my office during my lunch break again.” She took her seat behind the desk, resting her arms on the surface and clasping her hands together.

“Look, Ms. Trace, despite your reputation, you’ve been unsuccessful in finding what I’m looking for,” Neyo said, sitting back in his chair, and narrowing his eyes at Daria.

“You’ve rejected the last 5 matches for,” Daria paused as she brought up his file. “Ah, here we go. Insubordination, too affectionate, a clear disregard for authority, disrespect, and today’s lucky lady: frivolous hobbies?”

“Some foolishness with stuffed animals,” Neyo supplied. “I need someone obedient, self-sufficient, respectful, with the approved list of hobbies I sent to you yesterday.”

Daria looked at him, eyes reading his face like a book.

“No.”

“Excuse me.”

“Is this your first time hearing the word? I said no,” Daria repeated. “You don’t want a partner; you want a subordinate you can sleep with. That’s not why we’re here.”

“You had better watch your tone, Trace,” Neyo said, voice dropping to a low pitch, meant to intimidate.

“The only thing I’ll be watching is you leaving my office. I’m exercising clause 15c of our terms and conditions.” Daria pulled up the documents on her datapad, and passed it to the commander, clearing her throat before reciting the clause in question. “Owing to the fact that matchmaking is not an exact science, and therefore cannot be guaranteed, our matchmakers, that’s me, reserve the right to terminate the services of any client, that’s you, should it become clear our matchmakers are unable to assist the client in acquiring a successful match.”

Neyo stared at the datapad a moment, before looking up to meet Daria’s eyes. The glint in his brown eyes was downright dangerous, but Daria had gone toe to toe with politicians, the rich, and the entitled of every species. There was nothing but ice in her veins when a man challenged her.

“I’ve done all I can do for you, and I do not believe a continued professional relationship is in our best interest. Now would you like to show yourself out, or would you prefer an escort from Commander Fox?”

Once it became clear that Daria was not some shiny, who would roll over for him, Neyo decided to snatch up what was left of his dignity and vacate the premises. As the disgruntled commander’s steps faded down the corridor, Daria released a shaky breath, and relaxed into her office chair.

Blizzard’s head popped around the corner. “Absolute. Kriffing. Legend. I’m telling all the boys.”

Daria looked up at him with a grin, and took a sip of her watered down caf. “Ugh, non-profit or not, he owes me an iced caf.”

Blizzard’s laugh could be heard all the way back to his desk.

[dariaendzhyel]

Вампирская жизнь Vampire life

Daria: Vlad...You need to talk to her...

Vlad: She never left the room?

Daria: I just went out to eat and that’s all. She wants to talk to me, but not so much with you... There are cookies in the bag, take them to her.

Vlad: Got it, I’ll do everything in my power.

Vlad: Hello, were you awake?

???: No, is it something urgent?

Vlad: I brought you cookies.

???: I see, leave it on the table.

Vlad: Ev? Something happened? Why don't you want to talk to me? I somehow offended you

Eva: Come on later...I'm tired and want to rest.

Vlad: Okay, okay! Rest, gain strength!

Eva: And please, don’t forget to close the door.

Vlad: Okay...Good night, Ev.

Ev: Yeah, calm down.

Vlad:* What am I doing wrong...*

[cecilebutcher]

Using my bb Sephie for this ask <3

"Ms. Olympia... I'm quite curious if you would be interested in having tea with me and chat? Are you fond of tea? I have all sorts of different tea bags here... Let's see Chamomile, Rose, Iris, Pomegranate-that's my favourite... But I'm getting ahead of myself. I just wonder if it is alright with you if we have a talk about your family, and especially a certain... Blue flamed gentlemen. I must say it must be interesting to have a lot of family members..."

!!Likes do nothing, Reblog instead!!

Word count: 583

Warning⚠️: none

For: @catboiie16

Daria was out on a weekend buying some stuff that her and her brothers were running low on. Usually Nester would be sent for these types of errands, but today he was resting so Daria took it upon herself the eldest of the bunch to go do it. While in a small store that sells teas and coffee’s she was tapped on the shoulder. When she turned her head she was greeted by a raven haired girl, much shorter than her, and honestly a bit adorable.

“Excuse me, are you Daria Olympia?” The girl asked looking up at her “yes, may I know who you are and why you’re asking?” She said as she placed a bag of French coffee into her basket “yes of course. My name is Sephie. I go to school with your Cousins, Idia and Ortho. I was wondering if you’d like to have some tea with me and chat if you are free?” The girl, Sephie, said with a soft voice. Daria noted the small blush as she mentioned her cousins but decided not to mention it. “I’d like that, Idia told me a bit about you. Let me just buy these items and we’ll be on our way”

After a bit the two were on their way to nrc to have the tea Sephie had promised. Thankfully Daria was in a simple button up shirt alongside some dress pants so it was appropriate for this occasion. “Are you fond of tea Ms. Olympia?” “Quite a bit yes, though I usually drink coffee. But on a day like this tea is best” she replied as the two walked through the large gate of the school “what type do you like. I have chamomile, Iris, Rose, Pomegranate- that one is personally my favorite. But if you like more normal stuff like black or green I’m sure I have some somewhere.” Sephie listed as she read them of a small notebook “I’ve never had pomegranate tea, let’s try that one shall we?”

Soon the two sat down at a garden that was in the pomefiore dorm. “So Sephie, what exactly did you want to talk about?” Daria asked as she stirred her tea before taking a sip out of it, the taste was a bit sweet but other then that she liked it quite a bit, she’ll have to ask Sephie where she got it from. “Oh yes. I just wonder if it is alright with you if we have a talk about your family, and especially a certain... Blue flamed gentlemen. I must say it must be interesting to have a lot of family members..." She finished, a small blush forming on her face. Daria smiled at her “of course. Ask whatever you want. And yes, my family is… interesting as you, said it” Sephie returned the smile and the two started talking.

Soon the sun was setting and the two ladies started heading towards the gates of the school. “This was lovely Sephie, I enjoyed it very much” Daria told the younger girl as she stepped outside the gate “as did I. Let’s do this again” Sephie replied with a smile “thank you again for agreeing to meet me and chat Ms. Olimplya” “please, call me Daria” the Raven haired nodded before the two bid farewell and started walking away.

As Daria walked away she took out her phone from her pocket and started dialing a number. “Idia! you will never guess who I just had tea with”

comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 likes do nothing. Seriously, don’t like, reblog.

!!New years event. Ends January 31!!

I put extra care and love in this just for you cat love ya hope you liked it<3

[bradshawsbaby]

Again, happy anniversary, love🥳!

You know me, I gotta join in on the celebration with a Hannix request😉… may I ask for a little drabble about JJ and the twins meeting Ellie for the first time🥰?

Love and hugs all the way from switzerland🫶🏻💗!!!

Thank you, Daria! Always so thankful for your friendship and support! 🥰

“Okay, boys, I know you’re excited, but you have to remember that Mommy is really tired and still needs a lot of rest,” Jake said, turning around to face his three sons once he’d stopped the car in the hospital parking lot. “So that means we’re going to take it easy on her, right?”

“Right!” came the chorus of three little voices, making Jake grin.

“Is Mommy okay?” Liam asked, glancing up uneasily at the tall building ahead of them. He’d been wary of hospitals ever since his bicycle accident, when he’d been rushed to the ER to get twelve stitches in his chin.

“Of course, buddy. It just takes a lot of work, having a baby. And Mommy did an amazing job. Your baby sister is perfect,” Jake told the boys, beaming with pride, in both his wife and his newborn daughter.

“Is she tired, too?” JJ asked curiously, cocking his head to the side as he looked at his father from his booster seat in the back of the car.

Jake chuckled at that as he climbed out of the car and began unbuckling the boys. “A little bit. I guess being born is a lot of work, too. But she’s excited to meet you.”

“Can we play with her?” Ben questioned, hopping excitedly from foot to foot as he stood beside the car, waiting impatiently for his father and brothers.

“Not just yet,” Jake explained patiently, reaching into the passenger seat for the bouquets of flowers the boys had wanted to pick up—white roses for their mother and pink daisies for their new little sister. “She’s still too tiny. But you can hold her.”

Ben grumbled about how that was “no fun,” but JJ and Liam seemed excited at the prospect of getting to hold Ellie for the first time.

“Come on, fellas. Time to go see our girls,” Jake announced, clutching the two bouquets in one hand while he held Ben’s hand in the other. JJ took Liam’s hand and tugged him along dutifully beside their father.

Less than ten minutes later, the Seresin boys were pushing open the door to Phoenix’s hospital room, where she was currently sitting up in bed, rocking Ellie in her arms.

“MOMMY!!!” JJ, Ben, and Liam cried in unison, rushing to the side of her bed and clamoring for her attention.

“Is that the baby?”

“Can we see hold her?”

“CAN I PLAY WITH HER?!”

Chuckling softly, Phoenix held up a finger to her lips, warning the boys to keep their voices down. “Your sister just fell asleep,” she whispered, reaching out to touch each of her sons’ cheeks with a smile.

The boys’ eyes widened as they nodded, standing on their tip toes to gaze in fascination at the tiny baby nestled in their mother’s arms. Her eyes were closed, but she hiccuped softly in her sleep. The dark dusting of hair on her head matched Phoenix’s, Ben’s, and Liam’s.

“We brought you flowers, Mommy,” JJ said when Jake gently nudged him from behind and handed him the white roses.

“Oh, they’re beautiful, my loves! Thank you,” Phoenix beamed, blowing them kisses.

“And for Ellie, too!” Liam exclaimed excitedly, holding up the pink daisies proudly and trying to show them to the baby.

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” Phoenix laughed, eyes sparkling as she looked up at Jake and winked.

“Can we please hold her, Mommy?” Ben begged, turning his best puppy dog eyes on his mother.

“Of course,” Phoenix nodded, bouncing Ellie gently. “But one at a time, and you have to let Daddy help you,” she added.

One by one, Jake lifted the boys onto the end of Phoenix’s bed and carefully assisted them as they held their baby sister for the first time, showing them how to best cradle her head.

“She’s tiny,” JJ commented.

“She has dark hair like me and Ben, Mommy!” Liam chirped.

“She sleeps a lot,” Ben remarked.

Each of the boys made sure to give a sweet kiss to their sister’s forehead before she was placed back in their mother’s arms.

“Can you bring her home soon?” JJ asked, looking up between his parents.

“Very soon,” Jake nodded, wrapping his arms around Phoenix’s shoulders and tenderly stroking his daughter’s head.

Their little family was finally complete and they couldn’t be happier.

Join my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! 🥳

[hyba]

T A G : FIND THE WORD

Jumping in the open tag from @oh-no-another-idea. Thanks for leaving the tag open! 😊

The words they've given are: raven, wound, travel, and hand.

RAVEN

I... I don't think I've ever used... this word in my writing? I'm so confused; how can that be??

That being said, I have used ravenous, so that's what I'll substitute it with. Here's a little excerpt from An Entity In Your Midst, my standalone horror that I've been working on for centuries:

Being in school was a welcome change, especially with what had been happening at home. She’d begun to question her own sanity, and when her mother had suggested that she stay home for yet another day, Anya had put her foot down. She didn’t tell anyone about it, not even her best friend Daria, who’d tried to get her attention all throughout first period. She couldn’t avoid her forever, though, and at the end of second period, when lunch had finally come around, Daria pulled her back while the class shuffled out, ravenous and loud.

WOUND

Since I've already gotten us started with An Entity In Your Midst, why not continue? :D

An excerpt from Agafiya's journal:

Ilya refuses to tell me what he and Sergei saw that night. He came back covered in scratches and mud and bruises and a broken arm – and even then, he still held his rifle with a death-grip, and his eyes were wide and wild. When I saw him like that, for a moment I feared he was on of them, come for us. But then he dropped to his knees and fell forward, unconscious with what I think was both exhaustion and shock. Maria and I did our best to treat his wounds, but I fear it is the mental wounds that will need the most time to heal.

TRAVEL

This game has me reading back over AEIYM and I LOVE ALL OF IT. (Where's the rest of it??? Why is it not finished??????) No wonder I was obsessed with this wip for a little while.

When he had heard about his dear friend Mikhail Volkov and his charming family, he felt the pain in his bones. What misfortune had befallen them had been unexpected and terrifying. Nobody could explain what had happened to them, only a handful of days after he had traveled down there to check on young Fyodora.

For reference:

Mikhael Volkov OC intro

Fyodora Volkov OC intro

HAND

So many to choose from for this one, but I decided on this excerpt:

“Please keep this between us,” Mrs. Volkov said. “She’s been very ill. She’s not herself.” “She’s another person entirely,” Nina grumbled, shaking her head. She was still waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. She became aware of Mrs. Volkov’s hand, still holding her shoulder in a firm grip, and stepped back, opening the front door. “It’s been very difficult for all of us.” Mrs. Volkov held a knowing look, but there was fright etched onto her face, and it unsettled the young girl. “I have to go,” Nina whispered, backing out of the door. “My parents expect me home. I have to go.” And with that, she turned and ran.

I'm going to tag a few peeps for this one, but please feel free to ignore! @dyrewrites @leave-her-a-tome @contes-de-rheio @scribble-dee-vee @akindofmagictoo @wiredhouse

Your words, should you accept the challenge, are: night, touch, window, and weight.