#ignore the tense irregularities...

[sematarygirls]

you and rafe had met, dated, and gotten married, all while hiding your secret identities as spies from each other, but when it came to light that you both were not only spies but spies from rival agencies, it became clear that one of you had to die by the other's hand.

after a tense shootout that destroyed the home you two lovingly shared for so long, a symbol of your relationship that was once perfect and now in shambles, you realized that you couldn't kill him. you loved him. in this business, attachments were lethal. you put aside that rule for rafe, sparks flying the moment you met the handsome, charming man, and now, that would be the very thing that would become your undoing.

[itsnesss]

heyy, could you write a jun-ho smut with a jealous reader (I didn't think of any specific situation), I'm sorry, english is not my first language 😭😭

I love your writing so much!!!

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you feel insecure and jealous during a dinner with jun-ho, especially when another woman approaches him. after an intense emotional moment, jun-ho reassures you in the restaurant bathroom. the scene ends with jun-ho asserting his dominance and claiming you publicly, leaving no doubt about your relationship

warnings | jealousy and possession, insecurity, smut, explicit content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, semi public

word count | 2.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The restaurant was filled with laughter and conversations. You could hear the clinking of wine glasses and plates being served in the distance, but everything seemed distant to you. Sitting at the table next to Jun-ho, you felt that, no matter how hard you tried to enjoy it, something didn’t fit. The atmosphere seemed lively, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. His coworkers were talking about topics you didn’t fully understand, and although you tried to follow the flow of the conversation, your thoughts always returned to one thing: her.

It was impossible not to notice. The girl, with her dark hair and melodic laughter, stayed close to Jun-ho the entire time. Every time he made a joke, she laughed louder than the others, casually touching his arm, as if they shared a complicity you couldn’t reach. Every time their eyes met, you felt as if the air around you thickened, as if the world suddenly shrank, leaving you alone in the middle of that crowd.

The focus of attention seemed to always be Jun-ho, but there was something in the way she got close to him that made you twist inside. It wasn’t just that they were talking; it was the way they looked at each other, as if they shared a secret history that you didn’t know.

You felt increasingly uncomfortable, like an intruder, and when she leaned toward him to say something, touching his arm again, you couldn’t stop an intense feeling of jealousy from taking over you. You felt stupid, but you couldn’t help it. Why did it bother you so much to see how they laughed together, how they got close, as if they were the only ones in the room?

Jun-ho, unaware of your thoughts, continued enjoying the conversation. His coworkers also seemed charmed by his presence. He was the center of attention, and you, even though you were sitting next to him, felt invisible. Was it always like this with everyone? So close, so natural? You couldn’t stop wondering what they had that you didn’t.

With your heart racing, you took a sip of wine, trying to calm down, but when you looked at the girl again, you saw her smiling, moving even closer to him. Something inside you exploded. You didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to keep seeing that scene. No matter how many times you told yourself you shouldn’t feel that way, the anxiety kept growing, taking over your mind and body.

You decided to stand up abruptly. You couldn’t stay there, feeling like the air was suffocating you. Jun-ho looked at you instantly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern as he saw you get up from the table.

You felt tense, your breathing irregular, but you tried to keep calm. You looked toward the hallway, feeling the need to get away.

"Just... need some air," you replied, your tone not very convincing, but enough for him not to insist.

Jun-ho stared at you for a moment, then stood up as well. Without a word, he followed you down the restaurant hallway. You didn’t want him to come, but you couldn’t stop him from taking your hand with a firmness that, although gentle, was impossible to ignore.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?" he asked as they walked. There was a hint of concern in his voice, but also something else. Was it jealousy that sparkled in his eyes? You didn’t know, but what you could feel was the tension in his posture, the way his steps became quicker as he noticed you pulling away.

"I just need to be alone for a moment," you replied, but you couldn’t stop your tone from sounding more curt than you had planned. Frustration was starting to surface, and the last thing you wanted was to show Jun-ho how insecure you felt at that moment.

Finally, the two of you reached a small secluded corner, where he stopped you gently, looking at you with an intensity that made you swallow. The distance you had tried to put between you both didn’t exist, and Jun-ho's closeness made you feel more vulnerable than ever.

"What’s going on?" he said, this time without the previous concern, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You couldn’t keep hiding it. The poison of jealousy coursed through you, and although you knew it wasn’t rational, you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

"It’s just... her... I can’t stop looking at her," you said, gritting your teeth, your gaze fixed on the floor. It was hard to look into his eyes, even though you knew he wouldn’t understand unless you said it. How could you explain that every time she got close to him, you felt like something in your chest was breaking?

Jun-ho remained silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, but there was a hardness you had never heard before.

"Are you getting jealous?" he asked, his tone so serious it almost made you regret speaking.

The blush appeared on your face instantly. You tried to find an exit, a way to take back the words you had just said, but the truth was, you couldn’t. That’s what you felt. No matter how silly it seemed, you couldn’t stop comparing yourself to her, to the way she seemed to have all of Jun-ho’s attention.

Before you could say anything else, Jun-ho took your hand and, without a word, led you to a nearby door. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this conversation hang in the air. He wanted you to clarify it, he wanted both of you to clarify it.

He led you to the bathroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click, and the sound of the others’ voices faded away. All that was left was the echo of your breathing, his and yours.

Jun-ho looked at you with unusual intensity. There was a different energy in the air, something palpable, and you could feel it in every fiber of your body. Something had changed in him too, as if the situation had brought out a more passionate, more possessive version of himself.

"I’m going to show you that I’m only yours," he said in a low voice, like a promise, as his fingers traced your face. Every word was a heartbeat, and his eyes wouldn’t let you escape.

Your chest sped up, and when his lips met yours, you couldn’t stop a wave of desire from flooding your body. The kiss was deep, urgently warm, and at first, all you could feel was his closeness, his body pressing against yours with force, as if he wanted to erase everything else from the world.

But it wasn’t just that. You could feel his hands on your body, touching you with a palpable need, as if he were finally claiming you, as if the jealousy had pushed him to prove that only you mattered. And in that moment, all you thought, all the insecurities you had felt, faded completely.

"Jun-ho..." you murmured between kisses, but you didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t necessary.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands found your waist, pressing you against him as his body moved with the same urgency you felt. His kisses were gentle at first, but they became more intense, more demanding. You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want anything to separate you from him in that moment.

Without thinking, his fingers found your dress, sliding underneath to caress your legs. You arched towards him, knowing there was no turning back. You wanted to feel his touch, his tongue in your throat, his teeth caressing your nipples. All you wanted was him.

Both of their breaths were heavy, they were both panting, but they couldn't stop. He gently spread your legs, and when his fingers found your wet panties, he couldn't help but let out a deep sound of pleasure. It was as if you had driven him crazy, but you didn't feel guilty. You wanted it that way. You wanted him to realize that only you could make him feel that way.

"You are so beautiful" he said between kisses, moving his tongue along your neck. His fingers found your pussy, pressing it gently.

"Jun-ho... Please" you murmured, but you didn't need to say more. He knew exactly what you needed.

With a softness that surprised you, Jun-ho slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them slowly. You could feel your inner walls caressed by his fingers, the warm touch, the movement so firm and confident, and before you could realize what was happening, your vagina began to contract. You clung to his shoulders, trembling with pleasure, and couldn't help but let out a moan.

Jun-ho continued moving his fingers, looking at you as your walls closed around them. The vision was so erotic, so exciting, that you felt like you were about to explode again.

"That's it, my love," he murmured, moving his thumb towards your clit. Come for me... Come to me, my love.

Your eyes closed and the orgasm took you on a journey of pleasure. You felt like you were flying, as if Jun-ho were the center of the world and you were surrounded by his energy. It was his touch that had brought you there, his finger pressing on your clitoris with softness but firmness, and you could do nothing but surrender to him.

It wasn't until several seconds later, when your breathing began to calm down, that you realized your panties were stained. But you didn't care. You couldn't be happier that Jun-ho had given you an orgasm in the restaurant bathroom, simply because you had made him feel jealous.

The idea was as erotic as it was sexy, and you didn't want it to end. You wanted to keep feeling his touch, feeling him inside you, as if it were possible to merge your bodies into one.

"I want to feel you inside me," you said softly, looking into his eyes. Jun-ho also seemed calm, but his pupils were dilated. You could see in them the need, the desire to fuck you.

Without a word, he lifted you off the ground and set you on the countertop. They were lucky that there was no one around at that moment, or the situation would have been even more embarrassing.

He pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion, revealing his hard cock. It was so beautiful, so big, so perfect. You desired her inside you, you wanted to feel her thickness, her warmth.

You didn't wait any longer. You lowered your panties and sat back on the countertop, spreading your legs so he could come closer to you. And that's exactly what he did.

He got between your legs, looking into your eyes as he placed the head of his cock at your entrance. You felt so wet that you knew he could slide in easily. And that's exactly what he did. He slid his cock into you with a smooth but firm motion, and you couldn't help but let out a scream.

"That's it," Jun-ho murmured between kisses, sliding his cock inside you. "You're so wet... You're going to like my cock, aren't you?"

You didn't respond. It wasn't necessary. You let his cock fuck you, let his touch take you to a wave of pleasure, while his fingers played with your nipples. And it didn't matter that you were in the bathroom of a crowded restaurant. The only thing that mattered was him, his body on top of you, his cock fucking you with such need.

"How does it feel?" you said in a whisper, arching towards him with each thrust—. How does it feel when you fuck me? What does it make you feel when you have me inside?

Jun-ho seemed lost in his own sensations, but upon hearing you, he opened his eyes again. He looked into your eyes with a burning intensity.

"It makes me feel powerful," he said in a very low voice, moving his hips so that his cock sank even deeper into you. It makes me feel like only I can do it, like only my cock can do it.

You felt yourself blush, but you didn't stop. You couldn't, you didn't want to. You wanted to listen more.

"And what does it make me feel?" you asked, tightening your walls around his cock. He let out a sound of pleasure, but continued speaking.

"It makes you feel like I'm yours," he replied in a firm voice. It makes you feel like you own my cock. As if only you deserved it.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to tell him that he was also your master. But you didn't. You couldn't speak, because at that moment, Jun-ho moved faster, thrusting his cock so deeply that you couldn't help but orgasm.

Yes, an orgasm, right there, in the bathroom of the most public place, with Jun-ho fucking you. And you couldn't complain. The sensation was so intense, so sexy, that you didn't want it to end. But Jun-ho seemed to know you were coming, because he moved harder, squeezing his fingers on your hips.

Your vagina contracted, and Jun-ho began to come. His muscles tensed, his breath stopped, and his cock emptied inside you.

Both were still, panting. You knew you should be ashamed, but you couldn't feel anything but pride. Pride in knowing that Jun-ho belonged only to you, and that he had shown it in the sexiest way you could imagine.

Finally, he pulled out of you and helped you down from the countertop. The semen began to spill onto your panties, but you didn't want to clean yourself. You wanted to take it home, feel its touch on your panties all day.

Jun-ho smiled upon seeing the expression on your face.

"Don't worry," he murmured, kissing you softly. I think you already understood. "You're jealous, and I'm going to give you something so you always feel secure. Okay?".

You didn't respond. You didn't need to do it. You knew that Jun-ho would always be there for you, but only for you. And that was more than enough.

After what happened in the bathroom, everything seemed different. The air between you and Jun-ho was charged with a new tension, something you had never experienced with him before. The words he had whispered to you in the middle of the kiss kept resonating in your mind: "I'm going to show you that I'm only yours." You felt yourself going crazy, every fiber of your being burning with the intensity of his caresses, but now there was something even stronger, a need you couldn't ignore.

When Jun-ho opened the bathroom door, the noise of the restaurant hit you full force, but it was no longer the same. Even though the others continued chatting and laughing, the world felt more distant than ever. You walked beside him, as if you were floating, and the only thing you could think about was what had happened between the two of you, what he had shown.

The curious thing was that, instead of trying to smooth over the situation or hide what had just happened, Jun-ho seemed even more confident about what had occurred. And as soon as they returned to the table, he made no attempt to separate from you.

As they moved forward, you felt more uncomfortable. Everything seemed to be happening at a different speed, as if everything around you were slowed down, while your body continued to vibrate with the electricity that Jun-ho had left in you. Your eyes searched for hers, but this time, you felt no fear, no jealousy, no insecurity. Jun-ho's dominance over you was so clear that, for the first time, you felt completely secure.

The place was lively, but when they reached the table, something in the atmosphere changed. Everyone seemed so busy with their conversations that they didn't notice the immediate change in the interaction between you and Jun-ho. However, what happened next made it clear that he no longer intended to hide what was between the two of them.

Jun-ho sat down again, but this time, he didn't let you sit next to him like before. No, this time he took your hand, guiding you onto his lap without hesitation. The murmurs at the table faded as he, with a fixed and dominant gaze, drew you closer, as if ensuring that no one could question who you were to him.

Everyone's eyes turned towards you, and in that moment, you felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Jun-ho smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was a smile that spoke of possession, of control. Suddenly, you felt his hand slide down your back with a firmness that made you shiver.

"This is so you have no doubt," he murmured, before his lips met yours in a passionate, direct kiss, in front of everyone.

The clash of sensations was immediate. The world around you disappeared, only he and you existed, and the intertwined mouths. The kiss was neither shy nor brief; it was long, intense, full of a promise that didn't need to be verbalized. Jun-ho held you tightly, making your body press closer to his, as if you wanted to disappear into him.

At first, the room fell silent. No one dared to interrupt, surprised by Jun-ho's audacity. But then, someone laughed nervously, and another murmured something softly, as if trying to downplay what had just happened. However, Jun-ho showed no signs of concern. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy every glance, every whisper at the table, as if he fed off the attention they gave him.

When they finally parted, the air around them was charged, but not with tension, rather with an unbreakable confidence. Jun-ho looked at you with a smile that knew exactly what it was causing. He knew there was no way anyone could doubt what was between them.

"Is that clear to you?" he asked in a low voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Your breath was ragged, but it wasn't just because of the kiss. There was something in his attitude, something in the way he had behaved that had completely shattered you. And now, looking at him, you understood that there were no doubts. There was no room for insecurities. You were with him, and that was all that mattered.

You nodded, without the need to say a word. You knew you didn't need to speak. Jun-ho had done everything he needed to do to make sure there was no room for doubt. And when everyone's attention slowly returned to their own conversations, you felt different. It wasn't that you had been "possessed" in some way, but there was something in that kiss, in that public display of affection and control, that had erased any insecurity you might have had.

The others returned to their conversations, some of them even trying to discreetly glance towards where you and Jun-ho were sitting. But he didn't let you go for a second. The way he held you, the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were his, without the need for words.

[dorabellingham]

Cramps

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you end up not being able to stand the pain at dawn and need his affection.

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The night was silent, and your house seemed immersed in a peaceful rest. Jude slept deeply next to you in bed, breathing in a rhythmic and serene way. However, for you, tranquillity was just an illusion. The pain in your womb, which had begun as a bearable nuisance during the day, now seemed to multiply in intensity, making it impossible to find a comfortable position.

Lying on your side, you squeezed your eyes, taking a deep breath to try to relieve the pain. With each new sting, your body shranking involuntarily, and you moved from side to side in bed, desperately seeking some relief. But nothing seemed to help. The heat of the blanket seemed to suffocate you, the pillow did not offer enough comfort, and the pressure of the pain gradually increased, becoming unbearable.

You bit your lip so as not to let out a loud moan, not wanting to wake up your boyfriend. But, inevitably, your constant movement in bed and the weight of your discomfort began to affect him. Still sleepy, Jude frowned and turned to the side, feeling the bed move repeatedly.

-Y/n?

He murmured with his voice hoarse with sleep, opening his brown eyes slowly.

You stopped for a moment, closing your eyes tightly and taking a deep breath, as if you could pretend that everything was fine.

-Hum?

Your voice came out weak and hesitant.

He blinked a few times before leaning on one of his elbows, looking at you in the twillness of the room. His gaze immediately detected something wrong. You had your face partially hidden by the pillow, your breathing was irregular, and even in the dark, he could see that your body was tense.

-What's up?

He asked, waking up completely.

You were silent for a moment, but another wave of pain crossed your belly, and you couldn't contain a choppy sigh. Jude moved quickly, turning on the light of the lamp next to the bed, and the soft glow revealed your dejected expression.

-Darling, talk to me.

He insisted, his voice now full of concern.

You squeezed your eyes, trying to ignore his attentive gaze.

-Just... just cramps, Jude. It will pass.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced.

-Just cramps? Babe, you're squirming in pain in bed. This is not normal.

You took a deep breath, resting one of your hands on your abdomen, as if this was able to relieve the discomfort.

-It's normal for me. It's always been like that.

Jude shook his head negatively, sitting next to him.

-That doesn't mean it has to be that way. You're sweating, love. Are you feeling anything else? Dizzy? Nausea?

You hesitated before answering, because, in fact, the cold sweat flowed down the back of your neck, and the feeling of nausea began to manifest itself.

-You don't need to worry... I just...

You tried to speak, but a new intense contraction made you shrink, pressing your face against the pillow.

Bellingham was even more alarmed, his body leaning over hers.

-Fuck, Y/n, that's not right. I'll get you something, maybe a medicine, a hot water bottle... something needs to help.

He was already about to get up when you held his arm, your small but firm hand, preventing him from leaving.

-Just stay here a little bit, babe...

You asked in a whisper, your eyes opening slightly and meeting his.

Jude felt his heart tighten in the face of his evident discomfort. Without hesitation, he sat down next to you again and pulled you closer, making you settle against his chest. His hands passed through your hair in a reassuring way, while he deposited soft kisses on the top of your head.

-Breathe in, darling. I'm here.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on his warmth, on the rhythmic pace of his breathing, but the cramps seemed to be testing your patience to the extreme.

-It's not passing, Jude...

You murmured, your voice fragile.

He tightened his arms around him, as if he could absorb the pain.

-I know, babe, I know...

He whispered, hating not being able to do more.

For a while, he just stood there, holding you, caressing you back and muttering reassuring words. But when you shuddered in pain once again, he realised that it couldn't go on like this.

-Do you want me to get some medicine now?

He asked, his voice full of concern.

You nodded slowly, and he, with a last kiss on your forehead, got up quickly to get what you needed.

When he came back with a glass of water and the medicine, you had a dry mouth and eyes heavy with exhaustion. He helped you sit down, holding the glass while you took the pill.

-You need to rest, Y/n. I know it's hard, but try to relax a little, please.

You lay down again, and he settled next to you, pulling the blanket over you and keeping his hand firm on your belly, as if that could somehow protect you.

-Has it improved a little?

He asked after a few minutes.

You nodded weakly, your eyes already closing with fatigue.

-Thank you for staying with me, Jude.

Jude smiled lightly, depositing a last kiss on his forehead.

-Always, babe. Always.

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

[eri-pl]

@edennill I was thinking more about what you said about Valarin grammar, and of course you were very right!

Of course it would be very irregular, because complexity of meaning.

The relationship between "see" and "have seen" is maybe same enough as "hear" and "have heard", but very different from, say, "forge" and "have forged". They'd have a lot of tenses, some existing only for one or a few verbs. The elven scholars would group them into larger groups like "past simple", "past perfect" etc just with irregular forms, but the Ainur would say "No! No! those are different!"

And for other verb grammar it's even stranger: there would be no clear table of [person x number x maybe gender x honorific? x tense x...]

Sure, for some there would be. The categories that incarnates have would mostly have the table structure (person x genders x number x tense), but surely there are future tenses that Elves can do and Men can't (...let's not even begin on all the more transcendental tenses, but Men also have a tense of "finished for good" that's likely never used for Elves, but maybe Feanor...).

But most of the language is less regular-ish:

There is a number/gender for a married couple as a whole in particular.

Each Vala has their separate honorific, because each has such a different relationship with their Maiar. Of course you can't have those forms in plural, or, for example, Aulë's honorific verb forms in feminine grammatical gender.

Inclusive "we", exclusive "we", "I'd love you to be included if you want"-"we",… A ton of them. And the uncertain/wishful forms are obviously only for future tenses, because in the past it's either inclusive, exclusive, or probably "You too, but in a different way" and some others… [the XKCD geologists post came to my mind]

And many, many other things like this. And don't even get me started on the stranger parts.

And I still (even more than before) hold to the HC that Mairon wanted to make it regular at some point.

But now it's clear to me that it was late, it was when he was already falling. Because when you have a language that's irregular and complex to match the complexities of it all, and someone wants to force it into tables, and that's bad... Oh, it fits so well! It fits with Tolkien's attitude of "who pulls a thing apart in order to understand it, is dumb".

He would try to do hyper-regular grammar in Black Speech.

And I agree, Fefe learned to use the more normal parts well.

Fingolfin just spoke Quenya, not willing to do another thing in which he was inferior to his (half!) brother. Finarfin learned to use the normal parts not as well as Feanor, but still well, and then ignored it for most of the time anyway, and just said things in whichever way felt right, resulting in a (rock-opera-style) wild mix of brilliant ideas (that reinforced the Valar's belief that the Elves know things well and need no explanations) and absolute trash (mostly politely ignored).

BTW you'd think, maybe, that it was like: Manwë made the words for air-related things, Ulmo for water etc, but no. Everyone else made words for various kinds of wind and Manwë was like "But those two are very different, you can't out them in the same category!" and similarly for the other Valar.

The more someone knows a thing, the more difficult it is to put it into categories— no, that's not fully true, either. Categories and words do have merit, because they allow for narratives and parables and literary devices and many things like that.

But also, language is a simplification of the world, not the world itself, so the closer someone is to comprehending a part of the word, the less language-based it would be, or at least the more nuanced and bigger the language, I think.

Somehow, those both are true.

…still, I do think that Manwë complained about doubted the words for winds, and Ulmo for various water phenomenons.

[thatfandomslut]

Kissing It Better

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: r experiences her first panic attack over a failing grade

Request:

Hiya! I was wondering if you could write a Janis x reader! With maybe some hurt/comfort because I’m a sucker for that lol but anything that you’d like to do! You’re an amazing writer and I’m loving allllllll of your mean girls stuff!!!! <3333

Heavily inspired from that one Teen Wolf scene in season three where Lydia kissed Stiles.

Mean Girl Requests are open.

(Y/n)'s heartbeat hammered loudly in her chest, throbbing in her ears as she stared at the paper in front of her. Her vision began to blur when she saw an 'F' in bright red ink. She never earned a grade below an A- until today. Janis put a comforting hand on her knee, but it didn't seem to work as her breathing began to grow irregular at the thought of her parents discovering the grade she received. Her fingers twitched slightly as she stood up slowly, ignoring the eyes that set on her before she escaped the room that seemed to be closing around her.

It felt as though her lungs were going to collapse as she finally made her way to an empty classroom. Her hand flew on her chest as she struggled to breathe. This was going to affect her GPA and her class ranking. Her parents were going to be mad at her. Various thoughts flashed through her mind as she tried to swallow, hoping to help her breathe. She felt lightheaded as she slid down a wall, pulling her knees to her chest. She was startled when Janis made her way into her blurry vision, falling to her knees in front of (Y/n).

"You got to breathe, baby. Look at me, look at me. Let's try to breathe together." Janis tried to walk her through some breathing techniques, but nothing seemed to be working. She cupped her girlfriend's cheeks gently, wiping the tears from her face as she tried to think. She was growing increasingly worried as (Y/n)'s breathing grew more labored. She searched her eyes as she remembered a scene from a show she liked when she was younger. She shook her head before going for it, kissing her in an attempt to distract her. And it was successful as (Y/n) melted against Janis's lips, losing her initial shock. It was their first kiss as a couple and over a panic attack.

When Janis pulled away, (Y/n)'s chest heaved as she caught her breath. She was allowing her eyes to search all around Janis's face. "I learned from this show I used to like… Teen Wolf… I learned that sometimes, kissing it better might be an option. When I kissed you, you held your breath. Just like Stiles did when Lydia kissed him. I was surprised that it worked, but I'm glad it did." Janis explained her actions, her cheeks growing just as warm as the tips of (Y/n)'s ears began to feel.

Janis bit her bottom lip as she watched (Y/n) nod softly. There was a moment of silence as (Y/n)'s breathing returned to normal. "I'm sorry to have ruined our first kiss like that. I just saw that failing grade and I panicked. I could just see the disappointment on my parents' faces, and I somehow felt even more embarrassed with you there. I don't want to disappoint you, either. Then, I started thinking about my GPA and my class ranking… I haven't ever failed a test before." (Y/n) admitted shyly. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but she knew that Janis wasn't judging her.

Instead, Janis wrapped her arms around (Y/n), kissing her cheek when she pulled her in. (Y/n)'s tense shoulders relaxed in her girlfriend's hold as she closed her arms. They were burning from crying, the same reason her cheeks felt a bit sticky. She rested her forehead on Janis's shoulder as she allowed herself to be comforted by the girl. It was crazy how comfortable Janis made (Y/n) feel just by holding her.

"You don't ever have to feel embarrassed around me. I will never be disappointed in you. Especially not over your grades. You are so smart, and the night before the test, you stayed up helping your grandmother. Maybe, if you explained that to Ms. Norbury, she'd let you retake it." Janis offered a solution. Her solution wasn't bad. They both knew that Ms. Norbury was an amazing and kind teacher. She always wanted what was best for her students. "When you're ready, we'll go back in. I'll walk to her desk with you, if you need me to. I'm here for you, (Y/n)."

Janis's words brought a smile to her face as she inhaled. (Y/n) then pressed her lips onto Janis's again. She had to remind herself not to feel embarrassed over the fact that their kisses tasted like salt due to her crying. She knew not every kiss was going to be like that. For now, she focused on the fact that Janis had just made her feel good again. She knew that Janis was an amazing girlfriend. Though she was impulsive and loud, she was also very reasonable and always helped (Y/n) find a solution for everything. (Y/n) found herself lucky that the girl reciprocating her kiss was her girlfriend.

As they pulled away, (Y/n) gave her a nod that caused Janis to stand up and extend her hand out. (Y/n) took it, following suit as they left the classroom and journeyed back to their previous class. The classroom was now empty except for Ms. Norbury, whose lunchbox was opened. She set her sandwich down as she looked at (Y/n) in worry. "You ran off pretty quick, (Y/n). Is everything okay?" She inquired kindly, gesturing to the desks in front of her so they could sit.

(Y/n) declined the offer as she grabbed her bag from where she left it earlier, gathering her things. "I was actually going to ask you something." (Y/n) said, reapproaching Ms. Norbury. She seemed to know exactly what (Y/n) was going to ask for. "I am so much better than what I did on that test. The night before, I was up all night helping my grandma with something. I was wondering if there was a chance I could retest?" She asked, hope swimming in her eyes.

Ms. Norbury smiled as she looked at (Y/n). "Of course, if you want to swing by after school today or before school tomorrow, the test will be available if you're ready." She said, and (Y/n) grinned, swiftly hugging Ms. Norbury before hugging Janis. The feeling of accomplishment achieved thanks to Janis, who offered the solution she didn't even think about herself.

As they walked out and down the hallway, she proceeded to pull Janis in a hug once more. "Thank you for helping me and kissing it better." She whispered softly as Janis let out a small 'anything for you' that was muffled into her hair.

[dlsintegration]

Tell us your fluffy loustat headcanons or no cake for you

hiiii darling. I’m sorry for replying to this ONE FULL YEAR AFTER YOU SENT ITdcfghvjbkn i don’t even know if you’ll see it or if you’re even still into this show but I was struck by a random wave of inspiration so…… fluffy headcanons you say….

Fully ignoring the rules of vamp sleep here but I think both Louis and Lestat have a difficult relationship to sleep, Louis because of the remnants of his human life and his irregular sleep patterns and Lestat because of. well. quite literally getting KIDNAPPED. so I think Louis usually waits for Lestat to fall asleep before he himself does, also since Lestat mentions having nightmares I think Louis can actually feel when he does by the way his body tenses up and gently wakes him up to remind him they’re both safe

Still on the subject of sleep I think Louis’ favorite sleeping configuration is having his back to Lestat’s front but Lestat loves it most when Louis curls up onto his chest like a cat so he can have his weight on him and be able to wrap the whole of him in his arms :(( 

I think Lestat actually got Louis a ring shortly after they got married in canon and Louis obviously doesn’t wear it out not to arouse any suspicions but he does keep it in a small box inside his dresser and only wears it on some occasions. I think specifically when they fight and haven’t actually talked to eachother in a few hours and Louis isn’t mad at him anymore but doesn’t want to be the first one to audibly admit that he misses him he just wears it around the house until Lestat notices…

We know Lestat keeps Louis’ name sewed onto the inside of his suit pocket but I think he also leaves little notes around the house before he goes hunting or doing any of his other jobless vampire activities… they’re often full of typos (do not waist your life…..) and Louis has rolled his eyes (and blushed) a few times because of them but he keeps every single one neatly tucked inside the pages of his favorite books..

[tricks-tickles]

Asking For It

alternate title: Craig Tucker’s Foolproof Guide to Getting What You Want

creek is once again consuming my soul so have this my lovelies

word count: 2262

pairing: Lee!Craig/Ler!Tweek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ACK! Craig! What is wrong with you?” Tweek shrieked, flinching as Craig appeared from nowhere, his hands suddenly slamming down on Tweek’s shoulders, shaking him playfully.

The air was colder than usual, and despite being bundled up to his eyes in scarves and jackets, the movement was enough to make his face sting. Tweek took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his jackrabbit’s heart.

“I don’t know,” Craig responded, “I’m just in a weird mood.”

He smiled and fell into step next to Tweek as they walked to school, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Tweek leaned into him, soaking up Craig’s warmth to offset the winter day.

****

“Craig,” Tweek hissed, “Stop fucking prodding me.”

They were in French, and Tweek was desperately trying to focus on memorizing his past participles when he felt the end of Craig’s pencil press into his side again, making him twitch as a bolt of electricity shot through him. He turned to shoot Craig another glare, answered only by his sly grin. He glared until Craig turned back to the front of the class, folding his hands on his desk innocently.

Tweek grumbled to himself, then went back to work, still on guard for any surprise pokes. Urghh, what’s the past tense of vivre again? Vives? Or is it irregular? This is too much pressure…

****

“Craig!” Tweek called, jogging a little to meet him where he stood in the lunch line. He forced himself to ignore the way people glanced at him, and stopped in front of Craig. He tried to step into line but Craig blocked him.

“Let me cut in, man, I’m hungry.”

Craig grinned. “Hi hungry, I’m Craig.” He said, still blocking Tweek.

Tweek rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny,” He said, but he was smiling, a little. “C’mon let me in.”

Craig folded his hands behind his head, giving Tweek the smuggest look known to man.

“Make me.” He said, grinning.

Tweek groaned, then glanced down the line to where Jimmy was standing further up. He smiled cheekily at Craig and then turned and walked away.

“Hey, Jimmy! Can I c-cut in next to you?”

“S-s-sure, man.”

****

“Craig!” Tweek cried, sliding on the icy puddle that had formed outside of the school. Craig reached out, latching onto his arm to stop him from falling.

“Watch out honey, it's slippy.”

“I know it’s-GAHH- slippy!” He said, eyeing the ground with suspicion. There was a sheet of ice covering the short path outside of the school, and unlike Craig, his shoes didn’t have a good grip. He eyed the pavement, trying to look for clear spots when his whole world suddenly tipped as he lifted into the air.

He squirmed. “Put me down!” He said, hitting Craig’s back from where he was slung over his shoulder.

“Nope.” Craig smiled, crossing the icy path with ease.

“Craihig,” He giggled, trying to sound annoyed, “Peheople ahare staharing.”

Craig hummed, then put him down on the other side of the path. To anyone else, his face would look neutral, as monotone as his voice, but Tweek could see that shine in his eyes, the twitch of his lips and he knew that in Craig’s way, he was beaming. He felt his insides go soft, then grabbed Craig’s hand for support as they made their way down the street.

****

“Craig, you know you d-don’t have to wait for me.”

Craig was sitting in the stockroom of Tweek Bros Coffee, sprawled over some crates as he scrolled through his phone, clearly bored.

He hummed, scrolling further. “You’ll be done soon though, babe.”

“Yeah but- AH- your house is closer to mine than the s-store, so it would- ACK- be more convenient to wait there- and get off those boxes! They might break!”

Craig shimmied a little from side to side, then arched his back, stretching his arms towards the floor.

“But I’m comfy.” He moaned.

Tweek twitched. Craig had been in an… odd mood today. He leaned over and jabbed Craig’s side, grinning when he flailed and his arms shot up. Craig’s eyes were shining again and he looked almost- excited. Weird.

Before he could follow that line of thought, the doors to the stockroom swung open and his mother poked her head through. 

“Sweetie! Could you clean the tables at the back? Then you and your little friend can go home.” 

She disappeared again and Tweek giggled. “We’ve been together for y-years and you’re still my little friend. Come on buddy, get- ACK- ready to go.”

****

“Craig… are you listening?” 

Craig had been oddly silent on the way back home, not upset but- something else. Now, a light flurry of snowflakes had started and he hadn’t even noticed to put his hood up. 

“Craig!” Tweek grabbed onto his jacket, pulling on it lightly.

“What?” Craig snapped.

Tweek wilted a little at the response, “Are you mad at me?” He said quietly.

“Oh! No babe, I’m not mad at you,” Craig replied, “I’m just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Tweek said, still gripping his sleeve. 

Craig smiled softly, then grabbed Tweek’s hands and pulled him close.

“You.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss him. He let go of Tweek’s hands, which wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Craig wasn’t overly fond of P.D.A. but there was almost no one willing to spend an extra second in the cold ogling some high schoolers kissing in the snow.

****

“Craig…” Tweek said, trying to wriggle away from him. A difficult task, given that Craig had wrapped his arms around Tweek and was softly kissing his neck. It turns out it was very difficult to concentrate on homework when your boyfriend was clinging to you like a koala. 

“Come cuddle,” Craig muttered into his ear, both shy and eager at once. 

“I- GAH- would! But I have so much homework.” He said, trying to spin around to reason with Craig.

Craig sighed, holding him tighter. “But honey, it’s Friday, and your parents will call us down for supper soon, then I won’t get to touch you for hours.” 

“You,” Tweek slid forwards, then stood up and around to the chair to grab Craig’s arms and push him backwards, “Are so,” He pushed him onto the bed, sitting on his waist and leaning down till they were nose-to-nose, “Dramatic.” Tweek kissed the tip of Craig’s nose, then sat back.

“You’ll live.” He said.

Craig groaned, covering his face. At the same time, Tweek’s father shouted upstairs.

“Boys!” He called, “Come down for dinner!”

Craig groaned louder.

****

“Craig,” Tweek said, voice muffled by his shirt which he’d somehow gotten tangled around his head, “What do you want to- AH- watch? I think Good Omens season two is out.” He trailed off, finally yanking off his shirt and looking at Craig, who was staring at his phone.

“Craig? Are you looking it up?” He pulled on his pajama top, an old one of Craig’s that he’d stolen at some point.

More silence.

“Craig?” He asked, concerned.

“I’m going to get changed,” Craig said quickly, throwing his phone and all but fleeing the room. 

Tweek stared at the door. It wasn’t unusual for Craig to get changed in the bathroom, but the silent treatment was different. Feeling his hands start to tremble, he fisted them into his shirt and took a deep breath, trying to figure out if he’d done something. Pressure started to build on his chest as one of his hands shot up to latch onto his hair, and his breathing sped up. 

He shook his head and took several long hard breaths, then grabbed Craig’s hoodie that he’d left on the bed and shrugged it on, enveloping him in Craig’s calming scent. He lay back on the bed and took more deep breaths. Thank God he’d started seeing a therapist, and started a new medication that let him rationalize that it was more than likely an issue with Craig, rather than one of his own, and that Craig would tell him when he was ready. 

He set up the bed and the T.V., and not long after Craig shuffled in. Craig made a beeline for the bed, pulling back the blankets and flopping on top of Tweek, resting his head on his chest.

They lay like that for a few minutes, Tweek playing with Craig’s hair and watching the T.V.’s idle screen while Craig fiddled with the hem of Tweek’s shirt.

After a period of silence, Craig finally spoke.

“I… need to ask you something.”

Tweek hummed, tilting his head, “What’s that, baby?”

Craig’s ears burned as he buried his face in Tweek’s chest.

“It’s embarrassing.” 

Tweek’s eyebrows shot up. Craig? Embarrassed?

“Is it a sex thing?” He asked, half teasing.

Craig’s face shot up, fully red. “No!” He said.

Tweek giggled a little, “I was just teas-”

“No, I need you to understand, it isn’t a sex thing. At all. Just… something I like. And that I want. And I’m usually okay with just thinking about it but I really, really want it and I figured I could just get you to do it but nothing I tried worked and…” He trailed off.

Tweek’s mind was reeling. What the hell was he talking about?

“It…” Craig sighed and shuffled upwards so he could hide his face in Tweek’s neck.

“I want you to…”

“Tickle me.”

Tweek blinked.

“What?” He said, a little bewildered. The wrong thing to say, as Craig shot up and covered his face with his arm.

“Forget it!” He said, embarrassment coming off him in waves.

“Wait! Craig,” He sat up too, lightly pulling Craig’s arm away from his face.

He was fully red, darker than Tweek had ever seen, and was dramatically avoiding eye contact.

“You want me to… tickle you?”

He nodded. 

“Okay!” Tweek said. Craig’s eyes shot up, studying him.

“Seriously?” He said suspiciously.

“Yep,” Tweek lay back, patting his chest, “Come here.”

Slowly, Craig settled back down, half happed in blankets and his face in the crook of Tweek’s neck.

“Do you want me t-to be gentle or-”

“Just do it,” Craig muttered.

Tweek laughed, “Okay.”

He softly trailed his fingers up Craig’s sides while he thought about the other times they’d tickled each other. Craig did always seem very down for Tweek getting revenge and, looking back, gave up much quicker than normal. Maybe. Tweek wasn’t exactly an expert on normal, and if he was honest he sort of liked tickling too, it was fun to be close to Craig, and let him turn his brain off for a while. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Craig’s soft huff of laughter and realized his fingers had crawled higher, onto Craig’s ribs. He dug in a little, relishing in the full-body twitch and bubble of giggles that worked their way out of Craig’s throat.

“Twehehek…” He said.

“Yeah?”

“Uhm, cahan you do a lihitle more?”

Tweek’s heart squeezed. He had never heard Craig sound so cute. Wordlessly, he gently flipped them over so he was half lying on Craig and scratched his ribs.

Craig tipped his head back in laughter, his legs kicking fruitlessly beneath the blankets.

“Twehehehek!” He cried, gripping the comforter. As his hands crawled higher, Craig’s laughter grew more frantic, but not louder. Tweek glanced up and was momentarily distracted by the sheer love he felt for the other boy. 

Craig’s head was turned to the side, half buried in the pillows. His face was flushed, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide open (unusual, as Craig was as insecure of his braces as he was of his teeth before.).

And his laugh. Slightly monotone, like his voice, but so carefree and happy. Tweek felt his insides squirm at how beautiful Craig was in that moment.

Then, his hands burrowed into his underarms and Craig shot up nearly head-butting Tweek as he cackled.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE!” He laughed, shaking his head and gripping Tweek’s forearms and pushing them down. “ACK- sorry! Where do you want m-me to go?”

“Hehehe, uh,” Craig leaned back down, covering his face, “My stomach?” He said quietly. 

Tweek’s hands shot down, but Craig grabbed them before they could make contact.

“Gently.” He said, looking away.

“Aw, okay,” Tweek said, pushing up his shirt.

“Wh- uh, okay,” Craig said, watching Tweek’s hands with rapt attention. Tweek gently skimmed the light brown skin, grinning when it twitched beneath his fingers.

He drew soft shapes on Craig’s stomach, hearts and stars, and smiled at Craig.

“You’re s-so cute,” He said.

Craig groaned into his hands, “Shuhuhut uhuhup,” He giggled.

“Hmm?” Tweek asked, “Did you tell me to shut up?” He twitched his fingers, softly scratching his nails. 

Craig’s back arched, “Nohoho I dihihidn’t.”

“If you say-say so, man.” 

Tweek continued to softly tickle Craig’s stomach, drumming his fingers over Craig’s hips and spidering around his belly button. By the time Craig had had enough, he had a wide, dopey smile stretched over his face and sleepy eyes. 

Tweek rolled off of him, wrapping his arms around him from the back, and flipped through the T.V. to find something to watch while Craig drifted off in his arms. 

Thinking back to Craig’s behavior throughout the day, from scaring him in the morning, (playfully) annoying him throughout the day, and being weird on the way home, he realized Craig had been asking for it all day. He huffed and leaned down, kissing his forehead. Craig mumbled sleepily and Tweek smiled. He knew now. 

Eventually, he settled on a film and relaxed back into the pillows. It was a good day.

****

[lifblogs]

Crossing Paths

Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024 Day 1: Cadet Batch @neurodivergent-tech-week

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 7167 Summary: Clone Force 99 are on their way to a fortress world for a training mission when their shuttle is hijacked by none other than Hondo Ohnaka. Can they get out of this mess? WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Tech recognized the familiar jolt of a ship coming to a pause, but—

“Why has our shuttle stopped?” Wrecker asked, rushing ahead to see if he could view what was going on through one of the few transparisteel viewports offered to them outside the cockpit. 

From the starboard side, there wasn’t much to see: just black, empty space, and the twinkling of foreign, faraway stars.

“We’re not scheduled to dock yet,” Hunter said. “We still have another hyperspace jump to make.”

“Doesn’t seem like the pilots agree with that,” Crosshair said, trailing behind them as they walked the passageways, shoulders a bit hiked up, everyone on high alert.

“Yes, this is highly irregular,” Tech said.

He stowed his datapad on his belt, letting Hunter take the lead.

Blaster fire sounded, and everyone froze.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff! Tech didn’t have his blaster on him. They were being transported for a training mission, so they had all left their blasters in their barracks, about to wander around to kill some time.

Hunter at least had his vibroblade.

“Positions, everyone.”

Body already remembering his training well, Tech took a position to the right side of the passageway, fists raised to protect his face and chest. Crosshair took the left, and Wrecker was behind him. All of them were readying to fight, despite being severely outgunned.

What is going on?

Hunter pressed a button, and sealed the door in front of them.

Everyone’s breathing seemed too loud, and Tech tried to ignore the way it seemed to press at his eardrums like actual matter rather than waves. It almost tickled, the sensation deeply uncomfortable.

“What do you think is going on?” Wrecker asked in a too-loud whisper.

Tech ran through the catalogue in his mind, and came up with, “Pirates, perhaps. Or whatever enemy we are being trained so hard to fight.”

“Fun,” Crosshair commented, voice lethal enough to down an entire platoon from ten klicks away.

“Oh, I’ve never met a pirate before!” Wrecker said.

Everyone shushed him.

The blaster fire sounded again, louder, closer.

Sweat dotted Tech’s upper lip.

His instincts told him to back away, to run, and he even tensed his calves against the urge to do so.

Screams filled Tech’s ears, the screams of injured and dying men, their escorts for this training mission. He swallowed roughly, hoping the clones he’d spoken with during this trip were alive, but he wasn’t so sure about that.

At this point in their lives they were teenagers, probably around the biological age of fifteen or sixteen. Their training was getting more and more intense, and for this they were supposed to train on a fortress world, and get the feel of how a fully operational military base worked.

Would they even make it there?

“That does not sound good,” Tech said, surprised his voice didn’t quaver.

“Hunter, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Crosshair voiced.

Tech couldn’t help but agree with him.

Something—perhaps an armored body—banged against the door.

“Fall back,” Hunter ordered. “We make for the barracks. The entrance is smaller, more easily defensible.”

“Plus our blasters are there,” Crosshair added.

Wrecker groaned, clearly upset that he wasn’t able to use his physical prowess just yet. Tech could imagine that he wished he could barge through the enemies as soon as the doors opened.

They drew back in an organized rush, sealing the few doors in the passageways behind them.

The shuttle wasn’t very big, just a standard transport.

The power cut out, and soon they were bathed in the red emergency lights.

“Great,” Wrecker commented.

In the darkened passageway they all but ran into a pair of clones who were heading for the bow.

“Cadet, report,” one said. The flowy design in red on the helmet suggested that this was CC-9565, Ven. Tech had had a few meals with him, and had learned that he had a great eye for military strategy.

The other was CC-3498, Blight, the jagged geometrical markings on his helmet a strong identifier. He was what the others would call a bit of a wild card, but Tech liked his flying abilities and quick thinking.

Hunter fell into line, saying, “Intruders are aboard the shuttle. We believe…” He swallowed roughly, and continued, almost panting the words, “We believe there have been casualties. We sealed the doors, so we don’t know how many men are left, or who the intruders are.”

“All right. We’ll take it from here. Get to the barracks, and prepare for battle.”

All four of them said their yes sirs, and then broke off, Ven, and Blight holding their blasters at the ready, Clone Force 99 heading away from them.

When they got to the barracks, and readied their weapons, Tech began to shift his weight from one leg to the other.

Time passed.

And passed.

“We should go check on them,” Wrecker suggested. “Ven, and Blight could need our help.”

“They told us to stay here,” Crosshair pointed out, maybe just to be argumentative. 

He was all but lounging with his rifle, and Tech was gritting his teeth from it. He loved Crosshair, but could he at least take a situation seriously for once?

No, that was unfair.

Crosshair was perhaps the most serious of them all, maybe enough to rival Hunter. He just showed it in different ways.

Hunter checked his blaster one more time, and said, “Let’s move out.”

It didn’t take long to find the enemy as they were sweeping the ship. They were too big to hide in the vents like Tech wished they still could, so when one of the passageway doors opened, and they were ready to spring in, they came face to face with Weequays.

So they are pirates.

Why would they be attacking a vessel transporting clones, of all things?

They all paused, and then the shootout started.

Tech twirled, jamming himself into a small alcove, the others doing similar maneuvers.

He aimed, heart nearly stopping as he realized for a moment that he’d never fired upon another lifeform with the express intent to kill.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Tech aimed for the chest of a Weequay firing at Hunter, he inhaled, exhaled. Squeezed the trigger.

The Weequay went down with a smoking, burnt hole through the heart; and Tech didn’t have time to lift his goggles and wipe away the sudden wetness in his eyes. He blinked, blinked again, and cursed himself for crying in the middle of battle.

His vision cleared somewhat, wetness coalescing at the bottom edge of his goggles.

Tech wanted to glance at the others, see if they were having similar problems.

Again, there was no time.

Everything became smoke, and bright bolts nearly searing his eyes, lighting up the passageway in confusing flashes, and screams, and cries. The red lights of the passageway. His senses were nearly overloaded, but his body moved as it had been trained, mind barely needing to consciously take in every detail.

His breathing sawed in and out of his chest despite hardly moving, adrenaline working overtime to try and keep him alive.

Hunter took out the final Weequay in the group.

Tech resisted the urge to lower his blaster and lean against the bulkhead. This might not be over yet.

Hunter went over to observe one of the bodies, nudging it with a foot to test if he was really dead.

“What now?” Wrecker asked.

“We advance,” Hunter said, “see if we can get the pirates to retreat, retake the ship, and get the hell out of here.”

“Do we go back to Kamino?” Tech asked, trying to think five steps ahead.

“We’ll contact the Kaminoans when we retake the ship. Now move, come on!”

They jogged down the passageways, running into bodies—both those of clones, and Weequay—blasters raised at chest level, ready to fire. A detached coldness took over Tech, making it easier and easier to look at the bodies.

Clone Force 99 frequently paused to do a quick check for enemies, and checking to see if any of the other clones were alive, and then they’d keep moving.

Talking sounded dead ahead, and they all turned into alcoves, trusting the shadows to hide their presence.

“What a mess,” a voice said in an accent Tech hadn’t had much time to study yet: Weequay. “Look what you’ve done. I didn’t want everyone dead. I just want those clone cadets. And what if they’re not even alive? They’re worth a lot of money to me, you know? I need them alive. Do you even know what the means?”

A strange, hoarse laugh followed. A Kowakian monkey-lizard? He recognized it from his various recordings.

Tech frowned, wondering who would pay to have them. Sure, they were finishing up training to be a special ops force, but going to all this trouble?

“And I like money,” the Weequay went on, voice getting louder as he drew closer.

Tech signaled to Hunter, What’s the plan?

Hunter turned to them, knowing Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker had an eye on the passageway ahead of them.

He flashed various hand signals that basically amounted to, Charge them, and take them by surprise.

Ah, so the usual.

The voice drew closer, steps sounding like a loud and over-important swagger against the durasteel.

Go, Hunter ordered.

They charged around the corner, firing.

Tech took everything in the passageway in in less than a second, filing through all this information for immediate use. There were five Weequay in the passageway, one with a large red coat and goggles, the Kowakian monkey-lizard lounging on his shoulders, and giggling. All the flare suggested he was the captain of this pirate crew. The others grabbed their blasters almost immediately, two Weequay coming in to guard the leader…

…who shoved them aside.

He didn’t have a blaster raised. In fact, he raised his empty hands.

Hunter and Crosshair shot the knees of two of the Weequay in front and they went down in screams and groans.

The one in the red coat shoved the blasters of his other men down.

“Stop, stop. We want them alive. Alive is good. We all like being alive, don’t we?”

Tech considered shooting him, shooting the others, but it didn’t feel right now that their blasters were lowered.

“Hold,” Hunter said.

Wrecker didn’t quite listen, charging through with a rough cry and smashing the heads of the two suffering Weequay on the floor together, rendering them unconscious.

Guilt prickled at Tech’s chest when his brain presented him with the selfish, unsavory thought of, At least I don’t have to hear them scream anymore.

The one with the coat got close enough to push at Wrecker’s chest, while his pet jumped down and sauntered over to Tech. In a flash his datapad was in its hands, and he made a grab for it, but blasters started to raise again.

Tech huffed, but stepped back. He glared at the animal, and it shook the datapad, taunting him.

“You’re a big one,” the captain said to Wrecker.

Wrecker stepped back.

“Thanks?”

The Weequay drew closer as his pet with its stolen object clambered up to his shoulder again. Hunter levered his weapon at him.

“Come any closer and you’ll find yourself with a hole in the chest. You and your pet.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” he said, taking a step back. “Boys, boys, boys. I don’t want to kill you. We don’t want to kill you.”

“I kinda want to kill them,” a Weequay in the back commented.

The supposed-captain rolled his eyes, and sauntered over to him, grabbing him by the neck.

“Don’t you understand?” he cried. “We need them.”

He shook him, and then let go.

He sniffed. “I’m sorry for my friends. They don’t have much going on upstairs sometimes, you know?”

“Hey!”

“Huh?”

“Why do you want us?” Hunter asked.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to not find out. Let’s just say a lot of, um, spice is involved.”

“Spice?” Tech asked, not having really heard the term before.

The captain sauntered over to him, and he was close enough for Tech to press his blaster against his forehead, pausing the Weequay who had outstretched arms. He did falter as he glanced at his stolen datapad the Kowakian monkey-lizard was now playing with it.

“Don’t even try it,” he told the captain.

“Fine, fine. You boys are trigger happy, aren’t you? Look at this mess!”

“Who are you?” Crosshair demanded.

“Oh, how rude of me. My name is Hondo Ohnaka, the best pirate captain in the galaxy,” He bowed in a rather overdramatic way, movements thrown wide. “And I am here to deliver you to my current employer for this job. But come, come, why don’t we head to the mess and talk without the blasters? I’m starving.”

Everyone just stared.

“You do have a mess hall, right? You eat? Actually, do clones need to eat?”

“Of course we eat,” Crosshair scoffed, voice injected with enough venom to stun a rancor.

“Tough crowd,” Hondo commented.

Tech slowly started lowering his blaster.

“What are you doing?” Hunter hissed.

Tech turned to his team, saying, “We need to know more about what’s going on. If Hondo here wants to talk, then let’s talk.”

Hondo pointed at him. “I like you.”

“I am afraid the feelings are not mutual.”

“No, they wouldn’t be, would they?”

“Fine,” Hunter said, motioning for everyone to lower their weapons. “Let’s hear him out.”

“But first,” Wrecker said, charging forward again, poking at Hondo’s chest hard enough to make him wave his arms a little as he almost fell backwards, “we want to know if Ven, and Blight are alive.”

“Um, who?”

“Our friends.”

“Two clones that went to confront you,” Hunter asked. “Please, are there any others alive?”

“I certainly hope so. I could get into a lot of trouble for what my men did. Why don’t we go find them, and then we can eat?

Tech looked around at all the carnage, stomach plummeting.

“How can you eat at a time like this?” he demanded.

“Oh, it’s easy, my dear boy. You see, you put food in your mouth, you chew, and you swallow. Simple as that.”

“He meant the dead bodies,” Crosshair intoned.

“Right! That. I eat around dead guys all the time. You wouldn’t believe how messy this business can get. Now, come on! Let’s go. We’ll check the cockpit first.”

Hondo started leading them away, and Clone Force 99 stared at each other, frowning.

“I don’t like this,” Crosshair admitted.

“Neither do I,” Hunter said, “but we have no choice. Come on.”

By the time they caught up  to Hondo, Hondo had his arms thrown around Ven, and Blight while his pet knocked on Ven’s helmet with Tech’s datapad. Hondo was talking to them like they were old friends out for a drink instead of two men he could have killed and probably would have if not for Clone Force 99 deciding to leave the barracks.

“Are these the two you were looking for?” Hondo inquired. “They’re a bit shaken up, but they’ll be fine.”

Then he said to his men who waited to the side, “Bind them, and throw them in a supply closet somewhere. I can’t have fully trained clones wandering around my ship.”

“Excuse me,” Tech said, “but this shuttle is actually Kaminoan property.”

Hondo laughed. “Do you understand pirates, my boy?”

“I am familiar with your… profession, yes.”

“Well, then it shouldn’t be a stretch for me to say this ship is mine now.”

Hondo approached and poked him in the forehead. Tech frowned hard enough that if looks could kill Hondo would have been dead years ago, body imploded in space. And he spared a second or two to train that look on Hondo’s highly irritating pet.

Ven, and Blight didn’t say anything with blasters pointed at them, until they were being toted away. 

“Stay strong, cadets,” Ven said.

“We’ll figure this out,” Blight promised.

Tech highly doubted that, but he recognized their words as what was almost a mandatory script of reassurance. It was just how most lifeforms interacted with each other, some sort of script that Tech had never gotten (so he tended to make his own).

Hondo shoved Ven and Blight, and then kicked a body (Tech grimaced, stomach turning over), and they were forced to lead Hondo to the mess after their weapons had been taken from them. Though, Tech was pretty sure Hunter’s vibroblade was hidden in his sleeve, strapped in place with a holster he kept there for emergencies like this (not that anything like this had happened before).

Eventually all four of them were sitting down in the mess across from Hondo. Tech and Crosshair had almost matched sneers for Hondo as he ate, and the others looked like they were experiencing varying degrees of disgust.

Guards with blasters set to stun had those blasters held to the backs of their heads. The cold of it was already starting to warm from Tech’s body heat.

Tech sat beside Wrecker, who sat beside Hunter, and Crosshair was next to him on the far end.

“So silent,” Hondo commented, shoving more food into his mouth.

His pet ate right from his plate.

Hondo took a sip of his drink—a Kaminoan engineered juice that was perfect for clone metabolism—and slammed it down.

“What is this?” he cried. “Don’t you have any alcohol around here?’

“No,” Hunter answered. “Not unless you check the barracks for contraband, I suppose.”

Hondo waved at two of his men. “Go—go do that.”

“Why haven’t you just taken us to your ship yet?” Tech asked, finding Hondo’s methods strange. It unnerved him a bit that he couldn’t quite grasp his enemy yet, but he would. “Aren’t we supposed to be delivered to your employer?”

“All in good time, my friend.”

Hunter growled at him.

“You boys are so rude.”

“You killed our escorts,” Crosshair spat.

“That was an accident!” Hondo cried. “My word, can you not understand a thing?”

“I think you’re the one not understanding,” Hunter argued.

“Fine, you are my prisoners. I have to deliver yout to my employer alive, but I’m hungry. Can’t a hardworking pirate captain take a break? Jeez.”

He continued eating, his pet spilling the juice after one taste. 

Hunter’s sneer was almost as bad as Crosshair’s. Wrecker sat in surprised, grim silence.

Tech tapped his fingers against the table, desperately wishing for his datapad, if only so he could type to release all this horrible energy within him.

He was trying to figure Hondo out as he tapped away, trying to see how they could possibly get out of this. If they tried anything physical they’d be stunned.

“How much are you getting paid?” Tech asked.

“As if I’m going to tell the boy who doesn’t know what spice is.”

“I have already figured that out. Go on.”

Hondo gave a number, and Hunter whistled.

“Wow,” Wrecker said.

Tech ran the numbers through his head, comparing them to others he knew about, and of course accounted for the inflation problem he’d discovered quite by accident once.

“The Kaminoans can pay more,” Tech said.

“Tech, are you sure about that?” Hunter asked.

“Right!” Hondo cried, throwing his fork about. “Names. Names, names, names. How rude of me—I forgot to ask you your names.”

He went down the line, pointing at Tech.

“Tech.”

“Yes.”

“And you, the big one.”

“Wrecker.”

“Hunter,” Hunter sighed.

“Figure it out yourself,” Crosshair answered.

His Weequay guard took offense, and shoved his blaster against his head. Crosshair grunted, being forced to bend over the table.

“Stop that—that nonsense,” Hondo ordered. “I’m trying to befriend them, not torture them.”

“Last time I checked friends don’t sell each other for drugs,” Hunter commented.

“Then you must not have any good friends, my boy.” He gestured at Crosshair, shoving what had survived his wild gesturing with his fork into his mouth, chewing roughly. “Now, come, tell me your name.”

Crosshair glared, eyes showing that if he had a rifle Hondo would probably be shot directly in between the eyes, not even a millimeter off.

“Crosshair,” he spat.

“See, was that so hard? So, you four, you’re different. Not regular clones.”

Crosshair crossed his arms, and joked, “Oh, what gave that away?”

Wrecker, not picking up on the joke (and it had taken Tech a few seconds, and if his calculations were correct Hunter had been able to understand it a whole five point four seconds earlier than him), said, “I am really big.”

Hondo sniffed. “Yes, you are. What are they feeding you?”

“Rations.”

“Enough of this,” Hunter said. “Just take us to your ship and sell us if that’s what you’re going to do. We are not your friends, we have no desire to have any sort of relationship with you. I don’t know what spice you’re snorting to delude yourself into thinking you’re the good guy here, but get your head out of the clouds. I’ve had enough of these games.”

“Games,” Hondo guffawed.

Two Weequay returned at that moment with a bottle of alcohol, and Hondo grabbed it, popped the cork, and started drinking

“Ah, that’s better,” he commented; passing it to his pet; who, to Tech’s surprise; drank it quite heartily. Hondo leaned in, and Tech was reminded of the predators that drew their prey in with pretty colors, or bright lights, and then they struck. Hondo wasn’t stupid. “I do not play games,” he intoned, voice low, lethal. “If you don’t want to eat with me you can go be locked up in the barracks for all I care. I’m taking this ship with me. I can leave you in the care of these fine gentlemen.” He gestured to the Weequay behind them. “Now go. I’m going to finish my lunch.”

“And get drunk,” Crosshair commented in a low voice.

He was lightly smacked with the blaster, and he growled, rubbing at his head.

Crosshair, why can’t you keep silent sometimes?

Most times he didn’t speak much at all, but in tense situations his few words tended to easily turn a bad situation into a worse one. Crosshair lived for conflict.

Tech looked back at Hondo and his pet as they were led out of the mess hall (as if they didn’t know their own way, which made anger boil in Tech’s chest amidst the cold shock he realized he’d been feeling), studying him.

There was a way to crack him. There had to be.

~~~~~

“Do we have any grenades?” Wrecker asked, looking around at the four of them and then eyeing the guards.

Crosshair sighed, and leaned back against a bunk. “Does it look like we have grenades?”

“Um…”

“Crosshair, leave him alone,” Hunter said. “He’s just brainstorming.

“Yeah, that,” Wrecker agreed.

“Well do it quieter or we’re all in trouble,” Tech murmured, not taking his eyes from the scuffed deck. Currently, if he tried to look and understand people’s faces he’d lose his train of thought entirely.

His fingers tapped against his thigh, and he desperately wished to feel the keys of his datapad against the pads of his fingers instead of his trousers. His fingers almost itched, but deep. It was highly uncomfortable.

But he was thinking.

Script.

He needed to script something. He needed to talk to Hondo.

Without informing the others what he was doing (why would he need to? They’d find out soon enough) Tech stood, turning to the guards. Two of them pointed their blasters at him, but Tech was unfazed by it at this point. If you’re going to use them, use them. Don’t just use them as a prop.

“Tech, what are you doing?” Hunter asked, almost getting to his feet.

Tech waved a hand, telling him to stay where he was.

“Excuse me,” Tech said, “but may I have my datapad back?”

“What, so you can contact someone for help?”

Tech rolled his eyes. “That is not actually what it’s for.” Though I’m sure with some tuning I can give it that capability.

“I don’t know,” one of the guards said to the other. “Maybe he’s got some plan. Could use it as a weapon, perhaps.”

Another roll of his eyes.

He wanted to check his recordings, and make notes. That was all.

He pushed his goggles higher up his nose, then crossed his arms, jutting one hip out. “Do you even know what a datapad is?”

The guard just hefted his blaster at him. So that was a no then.

Typical. There was no way he could properly explain himself to someone who apparently did not care to utilize his brain.

“Fine,” Tech bit out. “Can I at least have flimsi, and a pen?”

“What for? To craft an escape plan?”

“No, I want to have my thoughts in order for when I speak to Hondo.”

“Hondo’s busy.”

“Oh, I suppose being drunk is an occupation now?” Tech quipped.

“Tech,” Hunter said, tone full of warning.

Right. Too much snark.

He pushed his goggles up his nose again.

“Please,” he said. “I’ll let you look over anything I write down. If you find anything suspicious you can get rid of it, or report it to Hondo, or whatever else you want to do with it.”

“Just flimsi and a pen?”

Tech nodded.

“Fine, but sit back down or you’ll find out what getting stunned feels like.”

Tech turned with a sigh. “I already know that well enough,” he informed them, somewhat under his breath so he wouldn’t start anything. To think they didn’t take him seriously. They just saw a teenager, not someone who had been in training his entire life.

A guard was ordered to go get him the flimsi and the pen, leaving them with just three of them instead of four. Hmm… He hadn’t planned on him and his squad outnumbering the guards in the room, but he wondered if they could also use that to their advantage.

Hunter seemed to notice. “What are you planning?” he whispered, leaning in. “You know I have—”

“Yes, I am aware,” Tech uttered quickly, not wanting them to be overheard, especially about Hunter still having his vibroblade.

These guards were sloppy for even allowing them to talk. If Tech were in charge he would have bound and gagged all of them, and separated them for good measure. He supposed it was good he wasn’t.

“I just want to talk to Hondo,” Tech said, “and get him to talk to the Kaminoans. I’m sure they’d pay more for us than whatever Hondo is getting from his employer.”

“But we’re just an experimental unit,” Hunter said. “Any of us could be decommissioned at any time. How are we worth anything?”

Tech glanced at him, raising an eyebrow to show he found his words slightly ridiculous. “Yes, we’re an experimental unit, but look how far we’ve come, how many tests we’ve aced, how we work as a team. They’re not getting that from the regs.”

He must have spoken louder than intended because Crosshair said, “You got that right.”

“Yep,” Wrecker agreed, leaning back against a bunk, arms behind his head.

“While we’re four on three,” Crosshair began, “or five on three if you count Wrecker twice, we could overpower them.”

“And then what?” Tech asked him. “We’re still on a ship with mostly dead clones taken over by a pirate. We’d have to seize the cockpit, figure out our coordinates, and probably fight our way out of here as we’re hounded by Hondo and his men.”

“Sounds fun,” Wrecker commented.

“I want to try talking first,” Tech said.

“What, scared of a little action?” Crosshair teased.

Tech readjusted his goggles so Crosshair could easily see his glare. “You know I’m not.”

“Stow it,” Hunter said. “If we’re going to act now we don’t have much time.”

“Well, we could release Ven and Blight,” Tech said. “They could help us.”

“Are we doing this then?” Wrecker asked, leaning in.

Hunter looked to Tech, the one who had had a different plan to begin with, and though Tech was a bit disappointed he couldn’t try his plan, he saw that time was running out. Change was an inevitable fact of life, he kept telling himself. And yet, it still stung a bit. He figured if his mind didn’t work so abnormally fast this would be more of a problem. He nodded.

Hunter flashed some hand signals, which Wrecker studied with confusion.

Crosshair leaned in and whispered, “He says we’re attacking on three. You take the guard by the door.”

Wrecker cracked his neck.

The guard Tech was assigned was behind him. He didn’t watch him, just watched Hunter’s fingers, waiting for the signal.

Three.

Two.

One.

They all stood as one.

‘Hey, what are you doing?”

“Sit back down, you little shabs.”

Wrecker cracked his knuckles, laughing. Having had a recent quick, and painful, growth spurt, Wrecker towered over them.

“Who are you calling little?”

Tech charged his guard, the others going after theirs. Wrecker easily dispatched his; Hunter sliced at the wrists of his, grabbing the blaster; and Crosshair had wrestled his to the ground (he was winning). Tech went in low to avoid the blaster, and he used his weight to lean against him, and then twirl, the angles and shifting of his body throwing the guard across the room, where he tripped over Wrecker who had stooped down to grab a blaster.

Just as Wrecker was about to whack him in the head, Tech had the blaster in his hands, and fired, not exactly remembering if this was set to stun or not.

It was, and he nearly hit Wrecker.

“Hey!” Wrecker cried.

“Sorry.”

Hunter stunned his screaming and bleeding guard almost carelessly, and Tech was suddenly so very glad he wasn’t ever going to be Hunter’s enemy.

After quickly surveying the room Hunter said, “Let’s move.”

As they were leaving the barracks they ran into the guard with the flimsi and the pen.

He stood slack-jawed.

“Sorry about that,” Tech said, gesturing at what he held. Then he stunned him.

“Should we split up?” Crosshair asked as they once again traversed the passageways. “We need to find Ven and Blight.”

“Wrecker, go with Crosshair. Check the port side. Tech and I’ll check starboard. We meet up at the cockpit, ready to fight. Now move!”

They separated flawlessly, and went on their search.

Hunter paused in one passageway after they’d just shot up a bunch of Weequay (settings thankfully on stun [Tech figured he was going to have to get over this issue with killing at some point in his life]).

“What is it?” Tech asked, panting a little from how fast they were moving and taking out enemies.

“This way.”

He split off from their original path, and Tech followed, trusting Hunter and his enhanced senses.

He stopped at a supply closet, and the banging coming from within was evident.

Hunter hit the button to open the door, and Ven and Blight—bound at the wrists and ankles—practically fell on them.

As Hunter cut their bonds, Blight commented, “We were told you guys were good, but still in training. Guess we underestimated how good.”

“Not much estimation has to be taken into account,” Tech said, fingers fiddling with nothing because he didn’t have his datapad. “The pirates seem to be lacking in intelligence. I accidentally tricked them, and then we were able to overpower them.”

“And the captain?” Ven asked.

“We still need to take care of him,” Hunter said.

Ven and Blight grabbed blasters once they’d shaken out their limbs a bit, and they let Hunter take point.

After so much training the firefights didn’t take much concentration for Tech. He supposed part of him had worried that the real deal would be too much to handle on the psyche, but he knew how to move, what to anticipate, and how to take out their enemy. Most of the fighting involved dodging stun blasts, ambushing the enemy because Hunter knew where they were before anyone else, and firing at targets who didn’t have many places to hide.

Tech was sweating a bit, and panting by the time they made it to the cockpit. Hondo was waiting for them, the Weequay probably having commed about their escape.

Crosshair and Wrecker had made it there first, and were in a bit of a standoff.

“Well, well, well, boys, I can’t say I didn’t expect this. You know what your issue is?”

“I’m assuming you’re going to tell us,” Hunter said.

“You’re too stubborn. You can’t be good little captives and stay locked up. And to think I had offered to share a meal with you. So rude!”

“Capturing us is rude,” Wrecker argued.

Seeing that the standoff was going nowhere, and probably wouldn’t proceed for some time, Tech strolled right up to Hondo, up to his stupid, annoying pet, and ripped the datapad from its claws.

“I’ll take that.”

“See what I mean?” Hondo said, gesturing. “Taking my property.”

Tech didn’t bother to argue, and just rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll just stun all of you,” Hondo said. He waved to his men. “Take them out.”

“Wait,” Tech cried as blasters were raised in earnest now. “There can be a diplomatic solution to this.”

“I already told you the Kaminoans cannot pay higher than what I’m already getting paid to capture you.”

“Then think about why we need to be captured,” Tech said.

Hondo laughed, as did the other pirates. He walked up to Tech, grabbing his chin.

“You’re valuable to someone,” Hondo explained, “and that’s all I need to know.”

Tech pulled away, and wanted to spit in disgust. “Then we’re surely valuable to the Kaminoans. Think about it. We look different, we had this substantial escort—we’re worth a lot of money.”

“Can they pay in spice?”

“Yes.”

“Tech,” Hunter warned.

Hondo let out a big sigh. “Look at all this work you’re making me do, and for no reason! Fine, fine, fine. I will talk with the Kaminoans. But only after you get restrained in the cockpit. So no funny business.”

The cockpit door opened as he made to step in, and Tech saw a massive, circular ship through the viewport (probably Hondo’s), and then a smaller golden ship that could probably only fit one passenger—a solar sailer perhaps? It was on approach.

“Ah,” Hondo said, freezing.

“What?” Wrecker asked.

“It would appear my employer is here to pick you up.”

“Kriff,” Hunter swore.

~~~~~

The four of them were properly restrained now, binders attached to anything bolted down, and Tech’s datapad had been confiscated once more. Ven and Blight were locked up in the cockpit with them, and when Tech looked over they were trying to discreetly free themselves from their binders.

Hondo stood before Clone Force 99, and before him was a darkly dressed man, the lines of his face, and his gray hair and beard suggesting he was in his later decades, yet he moved with a fluidity and grace Tech found himself studying. His clothes were finely tailored, it seemed, and the materials were rich despite the plainness to them.

His voice was deep, and sonorous.

“You have done well, Ohnaka.”

Hondo bowed to him, movements sloppy (perhaps purposefully so).

“Of course, Count. Four teenage boys. Wasn’t too hard.”

“The bodies and distress still lingering on this ship suggest otherwise.” He paused, looking at Tech. “What are you staring at, boy?”

“The Kaminoans can pay both of you double,” Tech said.

Hondo laughed, clapping Tech on the shoulder from where he knelt close to his side (and not by choice).

“Oh, this one. He keeps talking about payments. So ridiculous. We like to have our fun.” He pat his shoulder again, and Tech bristled, trying to throw him off.

“I am well aware what the Kaminoans would pay for all of you.”

“Tell me, is it double what you’re paying me?” Hondo asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t see how that is any of your concern, pirate.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It was.”

“That, my friend, is where you’re wrong. Anyway, four strange clones, all yours.”

“Why do you want us?” Tech asked, deciding to be as blunt as ever to cut to the heart of the situation.

The count came closer, and leaned in.

“What does that matter to you, boy?”

“I would say my future and well-being matter to me.”

“Well forget about it. Your future will belong to me now.” The count gestured to Ven and Blight, who had stopped their struggles now. “And who are these two?”

“No one important,” Hondo said.

“Good. Kill them.”

Tech’s eyes widened slightly. Hondo hesitated.

“Come now, Count, there’s already been so much death today. Why don’t we just relax, and—”

Suddenly there was a hum, and Tech was blinking against a red, glowing blade in his vision. He was dying to record the sound.

Now what is that?

“Do not test me, pirate scum.”

Hondo somehow still stepped forward, and poked the count right in the chest. “And don’t test me. You see my ship out there? I could easily have it destroy your solar sailer, leaving you at my mercy, and, Count, I am not very merciful today.”

“Then killing these two should be nothing to you.”

“Fine, fine. Kill them if you wish, but I won’t have their blood on my hands.”

A plan formulated in Tech’s mind, faster than it would in a regular mind, and he saw what he had to do, no matter how distasteful it was.

The previous fighting had ruined some of the durasteel in the cockpit, specifically the seat Tech was cuffed too. He’d noticed a small strip of metal earlier, and hoping his aim was right, he jammed his wrists into it.

It slammed home into the binders, and with some quick maneuvering, they came free.

There was no time to discuss the plan, only time for action.

He didn’t attack the count head on, not wanting to mess with what he assumed was an incredibly deadly weapon. What he did do was trip Hondo and his pet, which got him his datapad.

Hunter complained, “Tech, this is no time—”

He tapped away at it, and soon a loud screeching sound was emanating from the device. It was an animal he had recorded on one of their training missions, fascinated with how disabling the sound was if one wasn’t at least mentally prepared for it.

It dropped everyone in the room, but he knew his brothers would recover quickly.

The blade deactivated, the red hum silencing.

And the count dropped it.

It was the closest weapon, closer than a blaster, so Tech rolled, reaching for it.

The hilt was heavy and strangely curved, but he quickly got a feel for it as he stood. He found the button to activate the blade, and figuring he knew exactly what this kind of weapon did, he went to free Ven and Blight with it.

“Don’t move.”

They were still cowering from the horrible screeching noise.

But they remained still as the blade burned right through their binders. How fascinating!

Tech freed the others, and by the time the count had a hold of himself, he was sneering at Tech, standing to his full height.

“You have no idea what you are wielding, boy. Now give it here before you hurt yourself.”

“Make me,” Tech challenged, not sure where the words came from.

Bright light filled the room, crackling so loud his eardrums felt like they were going to burst. Heat zinged right towards him.

The blade caught it.

Then Tech realized what was happening. Lightning had sprung right from the count’s fingers and it had been shot towards him, and the blade had caught it, humming loudly.

He could scarcely breathe, in shock, exhilarated.

Something yanked on the hilt. He tightened his grip.

Tech didn’t quite know what the force was, but somehow knew the count was the one yanking on the hilt.

“Hold onto something!” Tech yelled.

“I’m tired of your plans!” Crosshair cried, but did as he said.

Tech didn’t have time to check if the others were okay, fighting hard against whatever yanked at the hilt.

He turned and slashed through the transparisteel, anchoring himself on the console.

Instantly the vacuum of space attempted to suck everything from the cockpit, breathable air included.

The count went rushing past him, and as he held onto the viewport, transparisteel slicing into his hands, he snarled at him. “You have no idea what kind of enemy I am.”

“I hope to see you on the battlefield, then,” Tech said, releasing the weapon towards the count with the blade activated. “If you survive.”

Hondo was sucked out too, banging into the count, who grasped at his weapon. Tech grabbed his datapad as the Kowakian monkey-lizard passed by (and he resisted the urge to give the creature a rude hand gesture). Some of the surviving Weequay were also pulled out, but not all of them.

Tech couldn’t get a gasp of air in now, getting closer and closer to the broken viewport.

He slammed a button on the console, ray shields falling down over the viewport, and he almost collapsed from the sheer lack of forces pulling on his body.

Ven and Blight quickly shot down the last of the Weequay.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ven said.

They took over piloting, and Tech brushed off his datapad.

Hunter wrapped an arm around his shoulders, congratulating him on his quick thinking.

“Well, isn’t that what I do?” he asked, not quite sure what the point of all this was. They were safe now, the ship giving a jolt as they made it to hyperspace. Ven and Blight were talking with the Kaminoans, and they were heading home. If anyone else could think as quickly as him surely they would have done it too. Tech was nothing special.

Or, he supposed he was. Otherwise, this day never would have happened.

He took a seat, trying to contemplate that.

Huh, I’m special.

For some reason that was harder for him to wrap his mind around than all the deaths. He was just Tech, and he had acted as he was supposed to. Still, it was good to see his team safe, and to know that he had gotten them to that point.

The only one not congratulating him so far was Crosshair. Crosshair just sat beside him, a toothpick in his mouth.

Tech went back to searching things on his datapad.

Eventually, Crosshair said, “Nice job.”

Tech eyed him, knowing a compliment from Crosshair was rarer than naturally occurring astatine.

He took in a deep breath, realizing just then that tension had made doing so quite difficult earlier.

It felt good.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Crosshair nudged him.

Tech smiled at his squad.

[ezrabridgerwrites]

andy/alexey + [ STROKE ]

[ STROKE ] sender absentmindedly plays with receiver's hair while they're focused on another task

“That’s a really great use of colour, Mina,” Andy said, nodding in approval at the splodges of paint on the little girl’s canvas. “It really highlights…” His blue eyes raked over the pointed ears of what he assumed was some sort of… mammal. “The posture of your cat.”

Mina’s brows furrowed together. “It’s a unicorn.”

“That’s what I said,” Andy said breezily. He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “You’re a genius. It’s a deconstructed Picasso.”

“What does that mean?” Mina asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Only good things,” Andy reassured her, heading back to his own canvas before he could accidentally offend another child.

He settled back down on his rickety stool, wondering how much of his own budget he could use for new chairs. Probably not a lot of it since his heating had shut off again this month and Alexey had warned him not to be stupid with money what with winter just around the corner. Still, half of the chairs he was using for his art classes felt like a safety hazard for his kids. His own wobbled precariously underneath him and he tensed, awakening an ache in his muscles that he wished he could say he’d gotten from an incredibly heroic act in a truly terrible fire. Instead, they’d had another cat stuck in a tree call and Andy hadn’t wanted to bodyshame the cat, but there was a reason his arms were trembling a little as he picked up a paint pot from the ground.

He let out a small grunt as he dipped his brush in the russett-coloured paint, figuring if he mixed it with a little more white he could get the exact shade of Rocky’s fur. So focused on his task, his tongue poking out between his lips, he didn’t even notice someone approaching him from behind until a hand was in his hair - not for the first time that day, he might add.

“You gotta stop,” he said, the smile on his face betraying his words.

He tipped his head back until it thunked against Alexey’s chest and he stared at the man upside down.

Teasingly, he poked Alexey’s chin with the dry end of his paintbrush and rolled his eyes when his best friend ignored him and pointedly began combing through his hair again.

“You’re not gonna find anything,” he said, semi-confidently. He understood Alexey’s concerns though, especially since, given the aforementioned lack of heating, Alexey had taken to being Andy’s very own space heater, clambering into bed with him after a shift, covered in lipstick and glitter, in order to keep him warm. And while the rattle of Andy’s lungs that had kept Alexey awake during their childhood sleepovers wasn’t an issue anymore, he figured that the other man did have a valid worry about sharing a pillow with someone who’d been exposed to head lice.

When Freya’s mom had dropped her off that morning, she’d tugged Andy to the side and quietly informed him to perhaps keep Freya sitting a little ways away from the other kids because of the unwelcome guests he’d found residing in her daughter’s hairline. She’d had the necessary treatment otherwise she’d never have let her come to class, Mrs Blue assured him, but just in case.

Naturally, Andy had text Alexey to let him know, because he informed the other man about everything that occurred during his day from what he had for lunch to Rocky’s irregular bowel movements (sometimes in the same message). When Alexey had showed up at the hall with two cups of coffee, he’d immediately set both of them down and started checking Andy’s hair periodically as if expecting to find a creepy-crawly in there.

As much as Andy thought it was unnecessary, he had to admit the feeling of Alexey’s fingertips massaging his scalp was kinda nice and he let his eyes flutter shut for a minute before collecting himself.

“Stop,” he scolded the other man lightly. “You’re gonna embarrass Freya.”

He shot a surreptitious glance towards the little girl who was sitting, paint dripping from her brush and onto her jeans as she stared open-mouthed at them. 

Immediately, Alexey withdrew his hand and she pouted and returned to her masterpiece. Andy realised with a jolt of guilt that he abruptly missed the tingling sensation and grabbed Alexey’s wrist.

“Maybe double check. It’s a matter of health and safety,” he declared.

[nid-pysgodyn]

PSA to Spanish Learners: Learn About Intonation.

To the linguists, I am aware intonation is the incorrect term for what I'm about to say, but it is the most accessible term to non-linguists.

Please learn where you're supposed to put the emphasis on a word. If you don't understand what I mean, read the following sentence: "Where's the record maker... thingy? I need to record something."

Did you say the first 'record' the same way you said the second? Chances are, you probably said the first one as 'record' and the second one as 'record'. In English, if a word with more than one syllable can be said as both a noun and a verb, the stress will differ depending on which you're using it as.

Now that we know what we're talking about here...

Why should you learn about it?

1). Why not learn about intonation? Did you learn to roll your r? Did you learn to pronounce 'j' as 'kh'? If you want to learn a language, why would you draw the line here? If you use an English 'r' instead of a rolled one, you'll probably still be understood. However, if you use the wrong stress, that can cause legitimate problems.

2). It matters, like a lot. Where you put emphasis on a word can change what you're saying. There's small stuff like 'papa' (potato) and 'papá' (dad), which is easy to distinguish from context, but that's not always the case. For instance, let's say you're asked about who paid the bill on a date you just went on, and you say:

"Pago la cuenta"

If you put the stress on the first syllable, as is written, you'll have said 'I pay the bill'. If you put the stress on the second (so 'pagó') you'll instead have said that your date 'paid the bill'. Where you put emphasis on a word is important for the present tense forms and their past tense forms of a lot of verbs.

On top of that, it can help you predict some of the patterns of irregular verbs. You know that word 'dormir' that for some reason goes to 'duermo' but also has the form 'dormimos'? Well, that's just an intonation thing. In 'duermo', the emphasis is on the first syllable, so you change the letters. In 'dormimos' the emphasis isn't on that syllable, so it stays as 'o'. Try it out on some other verbs. If you don't know where the intonation would go then lucky for you...

3). It's so easy to learn. Here is everything you need to know about: a). If there is an accent on a letter, the stress goes on that syllable. Ignore all other rules, the stress will always go where there is an accent e.g. 'camión', 'teléfono' b). If the word ends in a vowel (a,e,i,o,u), n or s, put emphasis on the second to last syllable e.g. 'entonces', 'baloncesto', 'joven' c). Otherwise, put the emphasis on the last syllable. e.g. 'pastel', 'celular'.

That's it. That's literally it. That's all I want you to know. Remember it. Use it. It's good. It's useful. Please.

[bloodandlegacy]

VI: Bound by Legacy

The summer had been a calculated dance of restraint. Weeks passed under Professor Fig’s watchful guidance. Each deliberate flick of my wand seemed to reassure him, bolstering his trust in my efforts, while I quietly kept my own secrets close.

Secrets were power, I reminded myself. Let them underestimate me. There was safety in their ignorance.

Now, as the final days of summer slipped away, the fruits of that charade were about to be tested.

A faint thrum of magic lingered in the air as Professor Fig secured the last piece of luggage onto the carriage. 

Nearby, I stood with my wand loosely cradled in my hand, its weight a reminder of what I had chosen to hide..

Fig turned, brushing off his hands as the last strap on the luggage tightened itself. “Have you been practicing, Andromeda?” he asked, his tone carrying that familiar blend of expectation and encouragement.

“A few spells.… nothing too challenging,” I replied, my voice deliberately modest.

His eyes flicked to my wand, lingering thoughtfully. “Considering its history, you’ve done remarkably well. A good wand chooses its wizard, but sometimes, it’s the wizard who makes the wand work.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I said instead, letting just enough pride touch my words to seem genuine.

Before the conversation could go further, a sharp crack shattered the quiet. The shimmering remnants of Apparition dissipated, leaving a man standing tall and composed despite his hurried entrance. 

“George,” Fig greeted, his demeanor shifting instantly to something more formal.

The man inclined his head briskly. “We have much to discuss,” he said in a hushed tone, his words edged with urgency. “But not here.”

Fig nodded, his expression sharpening. “Agreed. Not here.” he said, gesturing to the carriage. 

As I watched George climb into the carriage, he was clutching a faintly glowing container. There was something about the way the light pulsed; it looked alive. 

I hesitated before following, sliding into the seat opposite George as the carriage lifted into the night sky. Fig sat composed across from me, his gaze briefly darting to George, who fussed with his robes before turning his sharp eyes toward me.

“And who might this be, Professor Fig?” George asked, his curiosity keen as he gestured toward me.

Fig’s warm smile returned. “This is Andromeda Gaunt, one of Hogwarts’ newest students.”

George’s brows rose in surprise. “New? Bit late, ain’t she?”

“I’m starting as a fifth year,” I said careful to keep my tone confident despite the awkwardness of the admission.

“A fifth year?” George repeated, his disbelief evident. “Highly irregular. I don’t recall hearing of such a thing.”

Fig kept his tone unbothered. “The headmaster’s idea. Andromeda is a special case—her aptitude and potential are exceptional. She’ll catch up in no time.”

George’s skepticism lingered but softened at Fig’s assurance. “Well, Hogwarts does have a reputation for welcoming exceptional students. Still, fifth year… quite the leap.”

Satisfied with Fig’s explanation, George moved on, pulling a folded copy of the Daily Prophet from within his robes. He unfolded it carefully, revealing a bold headline: "Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion: Truth or Gobbledegook?"

As the two men spoke of Ranrok’s rebellion, the air in the carriage grew tense. There was a long silence before George spoke again. 

Eleazar, Miriam, wrote to me about Ranrok. She said he was after something ancient.”

Fig’s expression darkened, his warmth replaced with concern.

George hesitated, glancing briefly out the window. “She sent me this.” He reached into his coat and withdrew the glowing container.

Fig leaned forward, his curiosity ignited. “That’s goblin metal,” he murmured, and then his voiced trailed off.

My eyes remained fixed on the container. Its glow… it felt alive, almost sentient. “I see something,” I said hesitantly, breaking the silence.

Fig’s tone was now sharp. “What do you see?”

“A glow,” I said, pointing to the faint pulsing light. “Right here.” My fingers brushed the surface, and with a soft hiss, the metal clicked open, revealing a small, ornate key.

“How…?” George began, but his question was swallowed by a deafening roar.

A massive dragon tore through the air, consuming the carriage in a blinding inferno. I barely had time to scream before George was engulfed, his silhouette vanishing into the chaos.

“Andromeda, hold on!” Fig shouted, grabbing my arm as I clutched the container. The air shimmered and warped. A blinding vortex of light and sound enveloped us, pulling us from the flames.

The world spun violently, a kaleidoscope of light and sound engulfing me. With a bone-rattling thud, I hit the ground, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

Groaning, I clutched my side. Professor Fig’s voice cut through the haze. “Drink this.” He knelt beside me, offering a small vial of green liquid. “You’ll feel better.”

Without hesitation, I took the potion, and the ache began to subside, clarity returned. Fig was already on his feet, his sharp gaze scanning our dimly lit surroundings.

“I think we’re in the Highlands,” he said, gesturing toward the opening of the cave. “Come, Andromeda—let’s move quickly.”

Fig glanced back as we navigated the uneven terrain, his steps were steady despite the treacherous ground. The ruins grew larger with each step, their crumbling walls bathed in the silver glow of moonlight. 

Every shadow seemed to whisper secrets, and each gust of wind carried the weight of something long forgotten. Fig motioned for me to follow as he disappeared through an arched entrance.

The interior was dark,, the faint glow of magic dancing along the edges of the walls. As we ventured deeper, a gleaming surface emerged from the shadows.

I paused, drawn to its mysterious glow. A vision materialized within the glimmering portal—a vivid image of the grandiose façade of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

“Do you see it?” I asked, my voice tinged with urgency.

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No. Whatever you’re seeing—it’s just for you.”

I extended my hand, hovering it over the glowing symbol etched into the stone. Fig’s voice broke the silence. “There’s something about this place,” he said softly. “And something about you. I haven’t seen this magic before.”

Taking a deep breath, I pressed my palm against the symbol. The air rippled and distorted, holding still for a heartbeat. Then, the ground shifted beneath me, and the world dissolved in a cascade of light and energy. The ruins vanished, replaced by the grand halls of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Marble floors gleamed under the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns, while towering columns disappeared into shadow.. As Professor Fig and I approached the central desk, a goblin turned sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto us.

“And what brings you here?” he asked, his gravelly voice edged with suspicion.

Fig stepped forward, his tone calm. “We’ve come to see Vault 12.”

The goblin’s eyes flicked to me, narrowing slightly as though weighing my presence. Without a word, he extended his hand and Fig place the key in the goblin’s palm. The goblin examined it before giving a curt nod. “Right this way.”

We were led to a waiting mine cart. As soon as we took our seats, the cart propelled us forward with dizzying speed. The tunnels twisted and turned, ancient stone walls lined with glowing runes blurring past too quickly to see. The air grew colder the deeper we descended.

“Vault 12,” the goblin said. “The instructions are clear: I will unlock the door, once you enter, it will be sealed behind you.”

The cart screeched to a halt in front of a massive metal door. The goblin inserted the key, and after a slight turn, the vault groaned open, revealing a dark corridor Fig and I stepped inside.

“Beyond this point, you are on your own,” the goblin stated flatly. The heavy door closed behind us with a resounding thud.

The air inside the vault was thick, every breath felt heavy. Fig broke the silence, his voice steady. “Look around. See if you can find that glow again.”

I tightened my grip on my wand, illuminating the faint symbols carved into the stone. With a flick and a whispered incantation, glowing outlines of doors and sigils materialized. “There,” I said pointing toward the furthest wall.

Fig nodded, his approval evident.

The deeper we ventured, the colder the air became, the more the ancient magic surrounding us felt alive, humming with power, as though it were watching. 

Finally, we stepped through a doorway into a circular chamber. The ground trembled beneath our feet as a massive statue carved into the wall came to life, its stone limbs grinding as it stepped forward. Its glowing eyes locked onto us, and it raised a colossal sword.

“Watch out!” Fig warned, his wand at the ready.

I raised my wand, casting Protego just in time. The impact jolted up my arm, but I held firm.

The room erupted into chaos as more statues emerged from the walls, their movements deliberate and relentless. Spells flew from my wand. Then I felt it start to unfurl. The Obscurus.

I couldn’t let Fig see this. I pulled back on offensive spells, letting Fig take the lead on this battle. Massive sparks flew from his wand, as he cast repeatedly at the giant figure, his spells landing with an impressive precision. 

The battle was grueling, each moment a test of restraint, to hold back. When the final statue crumbled to the ground, silence descended on the chamber. The Obscurus finally subsided completely, and I felt like I could breathe again.

Fig placed a hand on my shoulder, his expression equal parts pride and caution. “Well done.”

That was well done, maybe I can control this, at least in some way. I didn’t have the chance to speak before Fig was motioning for me to follow him to the next room.

The final chamber held a Pensieve, it cast rippling patterns across the walls and above it hovered a delicate bottle with silvery contents swirling.

“This… this is unusual,” Fig murmured, his voice filled with awe. He approached slowly, and carefully tipped the bottles' contents into the Pensieve. The silvery threads of memory pooled and swirled, beckoning us closer.

The pull of the unknown was irresistible. Together, we leaned into the Pensieve, and the world dissolved into shimmering light.

When the light faded, we found ourselves within a memory. Two figures stood in animated conversation: one tall and stately, the other shorter with a scholarly air. Their words carried an intensity, as though the fate of the world rested on their discussion.

“Charles Rookwood and Percival Rackham,” Fig whispered.

“Ancient magic is not for the unworthy,” Rackham declared, his tone resolute. “It is a gift bestowed sparingly, meant for those chosen to wield its power.”

Rookwood nodded, his expression was grave. “The responsibility it carries is immense. Misused, it could unravel the very fabric of our world.”

As the memory faded, their words echoed in the mist. My mind raced with questions. Fig’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Miriam suspected something of this nature… ancient magic. She believed that it had the potential to change everything.”

Before I could respond;

“Well, well. What do we have here?” said a guttural voice from the distance. 

Ranrok stepped from the shadows, flanked by a squad of goblins. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the chamber, lingering on the Pensieve before landing on me.

Professor Fig stepped forward, his wand raised and unwavering. “You’ll find we’re not so easily intimidated.”

Ranrok chuckled, the sound low and chilling. “Ah, the bravery of wizards… always so delusional.”

Chaos erupted. Spells exploded around us. I didn’t think Fig would notice if I used an Unforgivable here, so I quietly cast Imperio under my breath. 

Ranrok’s sneer twisted into a grimace. “Retreat,” he snarled, and his remaining troops pulled back. Fig grabbed my arm, with an urgency in his voice, he said, “Andromeda, now’s our chance!”

In a whirlwind of colors and loud sounds, we apparated again. When the world settled around us, we were in the forest and everything was still, a stark contrast to the chaos we had left behind.

Through the thinning trees, Hogwarts rose on the horizon. Its towering spires pierced the sky, and its twinkling lights shimmered against the darkened sky. The sight was comforting, it was a beacon of safety after everything I’d endured. 

Professor Fig placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’ve shown great courage today, Andromeda,” he said. “But this is only the beginning.”

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

Sunset

Basil Hawkins/Diez Drake (Ch.1052)

Warnings: Major Character Death | Blood & Injury

Summary: Drake is dying. At least he won't be alone in the process

Words: 2,383

A/N: I wrote this some time ago. I posted it on here like a year ago, but since then I changed it again... so yeah. It's rather cheesy I suppose, but I needed to get it off my mind and the Drawkins fandom needs some love.

[also available on AO3]

~☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆☽~

Everything hurts.

Nearly unable to move, Drake lays on the hard wooden floor.

His chest moves with shallow, painful breaths. He feels like hell.

That bastard got him good.

Nobody had cared enough to pick him up or to tend to his wounds, sooner or later he’ll have to drag himself up and away. He’s already send a call for help. Help that probably won’t come or come to late. There is no need to be delusional. There isn’t a single member of SWORD in reach.

Cipher Pol or the Marines will probably kill him on sight, and the people of Wano would be right if they just left him here to die, given the things he’d put them through under Kaido’s rule.

In the end the radio signal his Den-Den-Mushi is sending right now will probably just alert his superiors of his death.

If he hadn’t been confirmed dead already.

He’d have enjoyed to see the dawn of the new era, lead by the Straw Hat Boy who’d managed to unite an army behind him practically from scratch, just by being himself. By being a good man. Coby was right. And Stawhat would be able to do it again, and thereby manage to do what Drake never was and never will be able to do: to make their doomed world a better place.

A sharp pain suddenly pierces through the right side of his torso. It makes Drake gasp and wince.

This is it apparently. There are worse ways to die, he thinks. It’s at least somehow honourable isn’t it? To die on the field, during a war. It had been predictable that his life would play out this way.

Still, if he had the choice, Drake would prefer to not die in the ruins of Onigashima, and he sure as hell never wanted to die slowly and alone like this.

The sharp pain in his side slowly turns into an agonizing ache. It leaves his body tense and shaking. Drake shivers slightly in cold sweat. Panting, he stares at what is left of the ceiling and waits for his inevitable death. Maybe it’ll just break in and smash his skull in the process. Definitely preferable to slowly wasting away to internal bleeding and whatever the hell else is wrong with him.

Drake closes his eyes in exhaustion. He can feel his legs going numb slowly but surely.

Through the faint ringing noise in his ears and his own irregular panting breaths, he suddenly believes to make out the sound of footsteps on the wooden planks.

Apparently he isn’t as alone as he thought, though the sound of the steps alone, heavy and slow, as well as the occasional dragging noise, tell him that whoever his visitor is - they aren’t in a good shape either. A set of jarring and panting breaths adds itself to the steps, and Drake can make out the movements of another person to his right.

They reach out to lean against a post a few meters away. Their breath goes heavy as the sound of their steps suddenly dies down.

“Drake…”

It’s Hawkins, his voice raspy.

“...is it true...? That you were a Marine Dog the whole time?”

Drake slowly moves his eyes to look at him more closely.

A different kind of sickness rises in his throat.

“Do you really expect me to answer that?,” he asks quietly, trying to ignore the distant feeling of guilt.

“...do you have nothing else to say?,” Drake adds with a defensive tone in his voice.

Hawkins falls quiet.

Drake watches as he slides down onto the floor with a heavy thud until he more or less leans against the post behind him.

Once again the air was filled solely by their painful breaths.

Hawkins sits slightly hunched over, a few droplets of sweat shine on his forehead and his skin is ghostly white beneath the dark red blood that covers his face and clothes. Drake can see him shaking from his position on the floor.

Hawkins won’t make it either.

Judging from the thick metallic smell of blood that makes its way to his nose, the magician is bleeding out. The moment that fact registers in his head, his eyes fall to Hawkins’ left.

He is missing an arm.

Drake wants to scream.

“You look like hell…,” he states in an attempt to hide the emotions that are twisting his heart.

”I thought that your cards-,” he coughs, blood runs down his lip,”...promised you safety if you stayed loyal to Kaido” What went wrong?

The cards.

Hawkins certainly hasn’t encountered many people that didn’t make at least one snappy comment about them. Drake himself cursed them more than once. He was certain that one day they’d be Hawkins’ downfall, because he trusted them more than himself.

The faint memory of warm water and a candle lit room flicker to life in the back of his mind.

It was one of the most intimate moments they shared. They talked about fears and pasts and beliefs. It was one of those moments that had Drake questioning what had gotten into him, how he could let the literal enemy get so close. For his own and for his partners sake.

But he’d never managed to stay away. And he’d been too scared to loose what they had to tell Basil the truth.

It’s like they are the earth and the moon, orbiting around each other. Meant to be.

So cliché. Must be the blood loss.

No. Actually Drake has always been quite sentimental at his core. He just doesn’t like to remember it.

The cards belong to Hawkins, Drake knows. He needs them, since they are his most loyal and trusted companions since early childhood. Raised on an island in the North Blue, where people worshipped mediums as prophets, he was somehow bound to turn out this way.

Being born a medium is rare. And being born a magician, like Basil is one, is even rarer.

Word about mediums travels fast once they are revealed, and more often than not, being discovered means their downfall. They get abducted by human traffickers, world nobles and other scum, who treat them like attractions. Others, Basil had told him, had gotten killed by priests of other faiths.

Being born a medium or even a magician wasn’t a lucky draw in this world.

Drake can’t blame Basil for acting accordingly, and clinging to everything that can promise him safety.

His partner was lucky for being able to escape. He was lucky to still be alive.

And he knows that.

The fear of death, imprisonment and betrayal that remained of his past would probably never leave him.

Drake just hadn’t had the strength to tell Basil the truth. Not when the Marines had part in wounding his soul so deeply all those years ago.

“I submitted to that monster,” Hawkins says, his voice deep and exhausted. His words are tainted in something akin to hurt or anger because we are dying and you betrayed me Drake,”because doing otherwise would have been courting death. The only certain way of survival in that moment, was siding with him.”

He pauses and takes a few short breaths before continuing:“But Kid and his Crew fought anyway, they were ready to die, they started their journey prepared to die”

Slowly he lifts his head and lets it fall against the wood behind him. He looks defeated.

Basils eyes catch onto a ray of light that falls through a cut in the ceiling. A tremor runs through his body.

His voice shakes as he continues: “Even if I had foreseen his victory… do you really think I would have gone crawling back to him?”

They catch each others eyes and stay like this for a moment.

Hawkins knows choices have consequences better than anybody, and when he makes his choice it’s after thinking it through thoroughly. Because there usually is no going back. The decisions he makes are final. He is to proud of a man to turn back.

Hawkins decided to join Kaido not ready to face death yet. He’d betrayed his allies. He had weighed the odds and his choice had led him to this moment here, unknowingly maybe, but he had known, that even if he decided to join Kaido, there was a chance for his certain death.

Hawkins chose this. He…

“If the Straw Hat boy would come and liberate this land, would you join him?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. It’ll depend on the circumstances and the odds”

He wouldn’t enter a fight without looking at his chances which means-

He knew.

A hot-cold feeling shoots through Drakes body.

He thinks back to a moment that happened just a handful of hours earlier.

Hawkins told him. Back when he’d tried to push him to switch sides, because he couldn’t bear the thought of Basil dying while he was fighting for a man like Kaido.

“What are your cards telling you?,” Drake asked. And Hawkins had told him that he was predicting the survival chances of a certain man. “One percent. What a pity”

Damn it Basil

“When you were predicting the future… the man you were talking about…”

The magician grins. It looks quite twisted and scary, especially with the blood that trickles out of his mouth at the movement. His eyes fell from Drakes, they seem black, maybe overtaken by one of the Shadows he sometimes talks about.

A Shadow of Death. He’d been trying to escape it for so long - until today.

Today he had decided to face it. And it won.

“It was me…,” Basil nearly whispers, a silent tear running down his face.

Then he collapses.

His body hits the floor with a dull thump.

Quiet.

Drake stares in shock. His body is still, nearly unmoving. There’s shivers rattling through his limbs.

Did he pass out? Just collapse? Is he-?

“Even if I die in the war of liberation that might be about to come, I’ll die in the knowledge that I have been loved”

No.

Drake needs to make sure. He needs to know. He can’t die in peace if he doesn’t know if Basil still knows. He has to tell him-

Determined, he wills his body to move. His arms shift in jerking movements.

When he turns his head to focus on his target, something in his neck area cracks loudly and he groans in pain. His vision turns fuzzy for a few seconds, before he slowly starts to crawl forward.

Suddenly less than three meters feel like an ocean. His body is filled with pain, even though some parts have gone numb already, his legs, he can’t feel at all.

He claws his gloved fingers into the ground and pulls forward with all the strength he can muster, his muscles tremble violently with the effort. Clinging to the slight movement and stray twitches in Hawkins’ body, he hopes, Gods even prays, to the Shadows and Lights and Spirits and whoever the hell else his partner believes in, that he isn’t gone yet.

It takes him what feels like hours to finally reach his destination.

Drake slumps down in exhaustion face to face with Basil, on wood that’s drenched in his lovers blood. There’s more and more leaking from the stump that once had been his left arm. Drake can feel it soak through his clothes. It almost makes him choke.

His lovers eyes are closed. Sorrow slowly settles in his stomach at the display in front of him.

Drake reaches his left hand out to stroke away strands of golden hair that have fallen over Basil’s still features. He runs his fingers back down the side of Basils with a feather light touch, and thinks that he can feel shallow breaths hitting his wrist.

Drakes fingers linger on slightly agape lips for the fracture of a second, before the trembling takes over his body again. His arm falls to the ground, all strength gone.

Breathing gets increasingly difficult and he feels dizzy and sleepy.

“Basil,” Drake whispers and links their fingers together.

“Come on love, not yet” Please

Basils lashes flutter.

He tries to look at Drake through half lidded eyes that are partly crusted by blood. His ruby eyes look pale, the black of his tattoos stands out starkly against his wilting skin.

“Drake,” he breathes.

They look at each other, neither one daring to look away.

“We’re dying,” the blonde states slowly,”I can see the shadows”

Another tear runs down his face.

“...I’m so tired”

Drakes eyes begin to itch, his vision slowly becomes blurry with tears.

“...Drake?,” Basils voice wavers slightly. He sounds small somehow, insecure.

“Was it all a lie…? What we had?”

Two tears slowly make their way down the side of Drakes face. They’re mirrored on the features in front of him. Their tears paint slow rivers through the canyons of drying blood on their cheeks.

“No”, he whispered,”No, it wasn’t. I love you-”

He has to stop because he’s unable to stop the quite sob that makes it’s way up his throat.

“ I swear I do. I- I’m sorry I lied. I was too scared to lose you”

He saw Basils face come closer. Their foreheads touch the next moment.

They just share each others breath for a bit.

Their lives drain away with every passing moment.

“Even when the sunset takes us down with it into the dark of the night,” Basil coughs lightly, “Even if our souls join the Spirits in the realm of fates and we’re nothing more than the essence we were created out of. I’ll always love you”

Their lips touched.

A feather light touch. Eyes closed. Tears streaming down their faces now like rain in autumn.

“And I’ll find you, whether we enter the endless beyond or whether we re-enter the circle of life,” Basil says, and he smiles lightly as he adds:”I’m glad. That you’re here with me”

His body goes completely limp. No more tremors shake his form.

“I’m glad that I’ll die… while being loved,” he breathes.

“So am I,” Drake replies.

They share their last breaths while looking at each other with fading gazes.

The light dies behind their eyes as night falls over Wano.

Their everlasting gaze is all that remains of their love.

[drgyana]

How Chronic Jaw Tension Impacts Heart Rhythm Stability

Most of us think of heart rhythm problems as being caused by serious medical issues like clogged arteries or long-standing high blood pressure. But sometimes, the source of irregular heartbeats can be much simpler—and much more surprising. One often-overlooked trigger is chronic jaw tension. That tightness in your jaw from stress, teeth grinding, or poor posture might be doing more than causing discomfort. It could be quietly affecting the way your heart beats.

Understanding the Jaw-Heart Link

The jaw is closely connected to the body’s nervous system. Specifically, it’s linked through the trigeminal nerve and nearby muscles to areas that help control the heartbeat. When your jaw is tight for long periods—due to clenching, grinding (also called bruxism), or even tension from stress—it can trigger a response from your nervous system that affects your heart rhythm.

Tight jaw muscles can increase the activity of the sympathetic nervous system. This is the same system that reacts when you feel scared or stressed. It raises your heart rate and blood pressure. While this is normal in short bursts, chronic activation of this system can cause your heart rhythm to become unstable over time.

Symptoms You Might Notice

When your jaw tension starts to affect your heart, you may not even realize the two are related. Some symptoms to watch for include:

Irregular heartbeat or skipped beats

Chest tightness or mild discomfort

Feeling anxious without a clear reason

Jaw pain, especially in the morning

Headaches or neck stiffness

These signs don’t always mean you have a serious condition, but they do mean your body is under stress. If these symptoms happen often, it’s a good idea to consult a medical professional.

What Causes Jaw Tension in the First Place?

Jaw tension doesn’t happen out of nowhere. Some common causes include:

Teeth grinding during sleep: Often stress-related and not always easy to detect

Stress and anxiety: Tense muscles are one of the body’s ways of dealing with mental pressure

Bad posture: Slouching or looking down at screens all day can misalign the jaw

Dental issues: Misaligned bites or missing teeth can create constant tension

It’s important to note that any of these can become chronic if left untreated. And once they become chronic, they don’t just stay in the jaw—they can affect your whole system, including your heart.

When to Get Help

If you’ve been feeling strange heart flutters or unusual tiredness alongside jaw discomfort, don’t ignore it. Especially if you’re also dealing with stress or poor sleep. A simple consultation with a doctor can give you peace of mind—or early intervention if needed.

If you're looking for expert help, visiting the best and reputed cardiologist in Bhubaneswar can be a smart first step. A specialist will assess not only your heart function but may also work with dental professionals or neurologists to understand the full picture.

Managing Jaw Tension to Protect Your Heart

The good news is that jaw tension is treatable, and improving it can also improve your heart rhythm. Here are a few ways to start:

Stress management: Regular breathing exercises or yoga can relax the muscles around your jaw.

Jaw exercises: Gentle stretching and movement can help reduce tightness.

Dental support: A night guard for teeth grinding may ease pressure while you sleep.

Posture correction: Simple changes in how you sit or use your phone can reduce muscle strain.

Regular check-ups: Keep up with heart health through blood pressure checks and heart rhythm monitoring.

Sometimes, it’s not just about treating symptoms—it’s about finding the root cause. A visit to the best and reputed cardiologist in Bhubaneswar can help identify whether your heart rhythm concerns are linked to muscular tension or something more complex.

Conclusion

Jaw tension is more than just a sore spot or a symptom of stress. It’s connected to the systems that control your heartbeat. When left untreated, it can create a cycle of stress and heart rhythm changes that may go unnoticed until they become more serious.

Understanding this connection gives you a chance to act early. Whether it’s through better stress habits, posture improvement, or a visit to a cardiologist, taking small steps today can make a big difference tomorrow.

[millorett]

Calmer Sleep Through Responsive Settling: How to Improve Your Sleep Naturally

Understanding the Importance of Sleep

Sleep is one of the most fundamental aspects of overall well-being, yet many people struggle to achieve restful, uninterrupted sleep. Whether due to stress, irregular routines, or environmental factors, sleep disruptions can lead to fatigue, irritability, and even long-term health issues. While many turn to medication or strict sleep training methods to resolve these problems, a more natural and gentle approach exists—responsive settling.

This method emphasizes a mindful and adaptive approach to sleep, allowing individuals—both children and adults—to develop calmer sleep patterns through responsive and personalized techniques. Unlike rigid sleep schedules or methods that involve ignoring distress signals, responsive settling focuses on creating a sense of security and relaxation, ultimately leading to more restful and rejuvenating sleep.

What Is Responsive Settling?

Responsive settling is a gentle sleep technique that encourages individuals to recognize and respond to their body’s natural sleep signals while maintaining a calm and comforting sleep environment. For parents working with infants and toddlers, this approach helps children feel secure as they transition to independent sleep. For adults, it involves tuning into personal sleep needs and making gradual adjustments to foster a more relaxed sleep state.

Unlike conventional sleep training, which often emphasizes self-soothing without external comfort, responsive settling acknowledges that sleep is a dynamic process. It encourages caregivers and individuals to adapt to specific needs at different moments rather than adhering to strict sleep rules.

The foundation of calmer sleep and responsive settling lies in establishing a soothing sleep routine that respects natural rhythms while reducing stressors that may interfere with rest. Instead of forcing sleep, this method works by gradually creating a supportive sleep environment that encourages relaxation and minimizes nighttime disruptions.

The Role of Relaxation Techniques in Achieving Calmer Sleep

Achieving calmer sleep naturally requires an understanding of what factors contribute to restlessness. Stress, anxiety, overstimulation, and an inconsistent sleep environment can all lead to poor sleep quality. Incorporating relaxation techniques into a bedtime routine can help signal to the body that it’s time to wind down.

Breathing exercises are one of the simplest and most effective methods for calming the nervous system before sleep. Deep, slow breaths help activate the body’s relaxation response, making it easier to transition into sleep. Similarly, progressive muscle relaxation, where one systematically tenses and then relaxes different muscle groups, can relieve physical tension and promote sleep readiness.

Another key element of calmer sleep and responsive settling is creating a sensory-friendly sleep space. Reducing exposure to bright screens before bed, using calming scents like lavender, and maintaining a cool, dark room can significantly improve sleep quality. For children, comfort items such as a favorite blanket or soft music can offer additional reassurance and make the sleep environment feel safe and inviting.

Why Lifestyle Adjustments Matter

For those struggling with persistent sleep difficulties, simple lifestyle changes can have a profound impact. Nutrition, daily movement, and exposure to natural light all play a role in regulating sleep cycles. Avoiding caffeine and heavy meals before bed can prevent disruptions, while regular exercise can promote more restful sleep.

Consistency is also essential. Keeping a steady sleep and wake schedule helps regulate the body’s internal clock, making it easier to fall asleep and wake up feeling refreshed. Engaging in calm, screen-free activities before bedtime, such as reading or journaling, can also help transition the mind into a restful state.

Mindfulness practices, including meditation and gentle yoga, can be particularly effective in promoting calmer sleep. These techniques reduce nighttime anxiety, helping the brain disengage from the stressors of the day and prepare for deep, restorative rest.

When to Seek Support from a Regression Specialist

For those experiencing chronic sleep disturbances—especially parents struggling with infant or toddler sleep regressions—seeking the guidance of a regression specialist can provide valuable insights and solutions. Sleep regressions occur at various developmental stages and can lead to frequent night wakings, resistance to naps, and overall sleep instability.

A regression specialist works to identify the root causes of these disruptions and provides tailored strategies to address them. Instead of offering one-size-fits-all solutions, they assess sleep environments, bedtime routines, and individual sleep patterns to develop personalized approaches that align with responsive settling principles.

For parents, this means learning how to support their child’s sleep without excessive interventionsthat could create negative sleep associations. For adults, working with a specialist can help break cycles of poor sleep habits, allowing them to reset their natural rhythms in a sustainable way.

One highly regarded resource for parents facing sleep challenges is Calmer Cuties, a website dedicated to helping families navigate infant and toddler sleep regressions through gentle and responsive sleep strategies. Led by Sharon, a certified nurse with over 30 years of experience, Calmer Cuties offers personalized consultations, sleep regression plans, and educational resources to support families in achieving healthier sleep routines.

Conclusion

Achieving calmer sleep naturally is possible through thoughtful adjustments to sleep routines, lifestyle habits, and relaxation techniques. Responsive settling provides a gentle yet effective approach to sleep by prioritizing security, comfort, and gradual transitions into independent sleep.

For those experiencing ongoing sleep disruptions, seeking support from a regression specialist can make a significant difference in overcoming challenges and establishing long-term, healthy sleep patterns.

By embracing a responsive approach to sleep, individuals and families can cultivate a sense of peace, allowing for more restful nights and better overall well-being. Those in need of professional guidance can find expert support through Calmer Cuties, where personalized strategies help ensure every child—and parent—can experience calmer sleep and responsive settling in a way that feels natural and sustainable.

[greatwyrmgold]

It makes phonemic sense. iɐt turns to æet (or something, I'm not an IPA expert).

However, that pattern is only true for irregular verbs. The regular English past tense is to add an -ed suffix. Considered, typed, reviewed, edited, scheduled, posted. There are a lot of irregular verbs, but more regular ones.

So perhaps English should have a prefix denoting future tense? Well, it sorta kinda does, if you ignore the fact that "will" is a whole verb of its own.

while we're at it english verbs should have future forms. "he will eat" denotes a grotesque lack of imagination. in french we go "il mange > il mangera". what would that look like in english