#load board strategies

[artisticdivasworld]

Navigating Technology in Trucking

Technology has changed just about every industry out there, and trucking is no exception. For new truckers, the amount of tech involved can feel like a lot to take in at first. From electronic logging devices (ELDs) to load boards and route-planning apps, technology has become an essential part of how the modern trucking industry works. The good news? Once you learn the basics, this tech can make…

[ilovolderman]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It’s game night, and Sam is being extra suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, uno

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It was a Monday, and Sam Wilson was once again spiraling.

Not because he had a particularly bad day or because a rogue pigeon had decided his sandwich was a target. No, Sam’s mental breakdown was much more subtle, much more insidious.

It was because of the vibe.

The vibe was off.

At first, it was innocent. Steve had invited everyone over for "a quiet evening," which meant they were playing board games and pretending they weren't all secretly trying to outsmart each other with complex strategies and alliances.

But it wasn’t the games that were bothering Sam.

It was you and Bucky, like always.

You and Bucky entered the living room at the same time. He was holding a bag of fries like it was an offering, and you had a look on your face like you were trying to keep from laughing at a private joke. It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but Sam’s gut tightened. He'd been through this before.

He had a sixth sense for this kind of thing.

A totally normal looking Bucky waved at Sam, but there was something about the way he did it—too casual, too... loaded. You smiled as you sat down on the couch, and Bucky followed.

Then, the thing happened.

You both reached for the same side of the couch at the same time. And you didn’t immediately pull away like people usually do when they're not on the verge of launching into some kind of... well, whatever this was.

You just... stayed there.

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing like he was a detective trying to crack an impossible case. This was the moment. The moment when his suspicions shifted from theory to solid fact.

Sam wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly—without explanation—Bucky’s arm was draped over the back of the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few moments passed.

Still no words.

Just an... unsettling silence as you both stared ahead at the game unfolding in front of you.

Sam looked from you, to Bucky, then back to you. His fingers twitched. The notepad was in his lap, but he hadn’t written a single thing down yet. How was he supposed to document what was happening?

It was... too subtle.

He turned to Steve. “Are they—?”

Steve, blissfully unaware, was deep into his Monopoly strategy. “Hmm?”

“Do you notice anything... off about them?” Sam asked, nodding toward the couch.

Steve glanced over and blinked. “What? They’re sitting next to each other?”

Sam clenched his jaw. “It’s the way they’re sitting. They’re... too comfortable. Like they’re already sharing the same DNA. You see that?”

Steve squinted for a moment, then shrugged. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Sam was about to respond when Tony strolled into the room, “What’s this about reading into things?” he asked casually, taking a seat next to Steve.

“They’re being weird,” Sam muttered, pointing to the couch.

Tony leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean how they’re subtly acting like they’ve been married for thirty years, without the commitment?”

Sam’s eye twitched.

Tony grinned at the chaos unfolding in Sam’s mind. “Don’t overthink it, Sammy. Some people just get comfortable with each other.” He took a sip from his glass.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky were still sitting there, but now you were exchanging an absurdly synchronized look.

You both looked at each other like you were reading a secret book written in a language only the two of you could understand. The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

Then—just as Sam felt his sanity slip away completely—you both laughed. At nothing.

A soft, almost eerie laugh, like you were in on some joke only the two of you got.

Tony, who was now practically snickering, leaned over and whispered to Steve, “We should’ve put money on it. Sam’s on the edge, and he’s about to combust.”

Sam stood up abruptly, looking at the pair on the couch, then back at Steve, his eyes wide with the fury of a thousand unanswered questions. “That’s it. I’m gonna ask them directly.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “You really don’t want to.”

But Sam was too far gone. His mind was locked in a war with his instincts. He marched over to the couch, put his hands on his hips, and shot you and Bucky an unrelenting stare.

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam, he was handing you the fries, leaning toward you. You smiled at Bucky like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and Sam felt his soul physically leave his body.

This was it. This was the moment that proved it.

"You two are literally a walking romcom," Sam spat out in a low voice, too quietly for anyone to hear except you and Bucky. "I see it. The fries. The eye contact. It’s like... like... a plot."

You smirked. “What’s your deal, Sam? I’m just getting some fries. Everyone loves fries.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his grin. “Yeah, Sam. What’s your deal?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You guys. Are you really gonna sit there and keep telling me you’re just friends?”

Both of you paused. The air felt like it shifted, like it thickened, as if the universe was waiting for the punchline. Sam’s pulse quickened.

And then, in perfect unison, both of you said:

“We’re friends.”

Sam stared at you both, utterly dumbfounded.

“Friends?” he whispered in horror. “With... this?”

You both blinked at him innocently.

“Of course,” you said.

“We’re just good pals,” Bucky added, just barely holding in a laugh.

 “I—I can’t,” Sam muttered, trying to make sense of the absolute absurdity unfolding before him.

Bucky slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, like the world’s least convincing therapist. “You’ll get there, Sam. You just have to let go and stop thinking so hard about it.”

Sam made a strangled noise that could’ve been a scream or the noise of a man who had just realized he was doomed. He glanced at Peter, who was giving him a look of pure, unfiltered sympathy.

“Is this some kind of test?” Sam asked, his voice rising. “Am I being pranked? Are you two secretly married? Or, like... I don’t know, are you... trying to get a rise out of me?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “No, Sam. We’re just casually enjoying life... together.”

“Together,” Sam repeated, clutching his head dramatically. “I’m going to be sick.”

And then, just to make sure he was completely defeated, you reached over, casually brushing your hand against Bucky’s arm before giving him a tiny, affectionate squeeze.

Sam blinked. His notebook hit the floor with a dramatic thud.

“I knew it.” he gasped, and then, as if the universe had somehow heard him, he heard Natasha’s voice from across the room, still half-asleep:

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous. Just let them enjoy the vibes.”

Sam’s soul left his body.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky exchanged yet another impossibly synchronized glance.

Tony, still grinning, patted Sam on the back. “Don’t worry. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh. Just not today.”

And with that, Sam grabbed his coat, shook his head, and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky reached over, snagged the last of the fries, and handed them to you. “You think he’s buying it?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I think we’ve got him exactly where we want him.”

Bucky smirked. “Good. Let’s mess with him some more tomorrow.”

The room was quiet now. The chaos had died down. Steve had gone to clean up the kitchen, Tony had retreated to a mysterious project involving lasers, and Natasha was now fully asleep, curled up with a blanket over her face on the armchair.

That left just you and Bucky, still curled on the couch — the battlefield of your dramatic emotional warfare against Sam.

You reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the deck of Uno cards you’d swiped earlier. You looked at Bucky with a mischievous little glint in your eye.

“Wanna play?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “I thought we already emotionally destroyed a man tonight. Isn’t that enough chaos for one evening?”

You started shuffling the deck, your fingers moving deftly. “Just one game. Come on. I promise not to make you cry.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky said, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at you. “You’re only confident because you’ve been cheating.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “I do not cheat! I win with style.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, lounging comfortably as he took the cards you dealt him. “Style, manipulation, same thing.”

The game started quietly, the soft rustle of cards filling the silence. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, knees bumping occasionally. The warm, low lamp cast a golden hue over everything, and the mood had shifted from chaos to... something soft. Comfortable.

Halfway through the game, you narrowed your eyes. “You’re letting me win.”

Bucky paused mid-draw. “What?”

You pointed at his hand. “You had a +4 and a Reverse like, four rounds ago. You haven’t played either.”

He blinked, all innocent puppy eyes. “What are you talking about? Maybe I just forgot.”

You squinted harder. “James Buchanan Barnes. Do not lie to me.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering his voice like it was a secret. “Fine. Maybe I’m letting you win a little. You get this cute little proud look when you think you’ve cornered me. It’s adorable.”

Your face flushed, and you tossed your card at him. “That’s cheating in a different way.”

“It’s strategic emotional warfare,” Bucky replied smoothly, grinning as he finally laid down a card. “I’m adapting to modern combat.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Well, stop it. I want a fair game.”

He nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. “Understood. No mercy.”

You resumed playing, and this time he was relentless—Reverse, Skip, Draw Two. You shrieked in betrayal as your carefully constructed hand crumbled.

“This is what happens when you ask for a fair game,” Bucky said, laughing.

“I take it back!” you shouted, laughing as you threw your hands up. “Bring back the gentle sabotage!”

Bucky leaned over, gathering the cards again, but this time he didn’t start a new game. He looked at you, expression softening.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “Being here with you… it just makes everything else fade out..”

You tilted your head, suddenly serious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached over and brushed a piece of lint off your sleeve. “Feels like home. Like peace.”

Your heart melted a little, the kind of soft ache that came when you realized you were exactly where you were supposed to be. You shifted closer, your legs pressed gently against his, and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move for a moment—then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you just a little closer, like muscle memory.

“Uno?” you whispered.

“Only if I get to win this time,” he whispered back.

You smiled into his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

And in the warm, quiet room, surrounded by discarded fries and chaos-shaped memories, the two of you played on.

“Uno,” you announced, placing your second-to-last card down with a triumphant grin.

Bucky stared at you in betrayal. “You said we were being nice this round!”

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I was nice. I could’ve skipped you again. You should be thanking me.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence as he picked up a card from the draw pile.

You squinted at him. “Say it again.”

He leaned in, his voice low and smooth like velvet. “You heard me.”

Your heart fluttered. Stupidly. Ridiculously. And yet, you couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep your cool, placing your final card down with a flourish.

“Game,” you declared smugly.

Bucky groaned and dropped his hand. “Unbelievable. First you destroy Sam’s psyche, now you destroy my winning streak.”

“I’m on fire tonight,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes softening as he looked at you. “You really are.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel like something was shifting again. Not in a chaotic, Sam-spiral kind of way. In the way the air gets thicker when something good is about to happen.

He leaned forward, slow and certain.

You met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. His hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing along your skin like he’d been waiting forever for the right moment and wanted to savor it now that it was here. You melted into it, your fingers curling into the sleeve of his henley.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both just... stayed there.

No words. No teasing. Just you and him and the warm hum of everything unspoken.

You yawned a moment later, trying (and failing) to hide it behind your hand.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a tiny kiss to your temple. “Okay, game champ. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” you said, already half-asleep against his shoulder.

“You just yawned into my clavicle.”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, snuggling closer.

He smiled, shifting so you were tucked more comfortably into his side. He grabbed the discarded throw blanket and wrapped it around both of you.

“You’re staying right here,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You made a sleepy little noise of agreement, already drifting.

And as the last of the game night chaos faded into silence, Bucky pressed one more kiss to your hair, rested his cheek against your head, and held you close.

Neither of you moved for a long, long time.

Hours later, the room was wrapped in a sleepy kind of silence, warm and golden under the dim light.

You and Bucky were curled up on the couch, tangled beneath a blanket, both long since surrendered to sleep. Your head was tucked against his chest, his arm securely around you like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His metal fingers rested gently against your side, thumb unconsciously tracing small, soothing circles.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Almost.

From the armchair in the corner, Natasha Romanoff slowly opened one eye.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just... observed.

Because of course she’d heard everything. The kiss. The whispers. The “you’re lucky you’re cute.” The affectionate laughter. The unmistakable sound of two people falling completely, irrevocably into something more.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.

She watched as Bucky instinctively pulled you closer in his sleep, like even unconscious, he wasn’t letting you drift far. You murmured something incoherent and nuzzled into him, and he murmured something back that sounded suspiciously like your name and definitely like trouble.

Natasha shook her head slightly, amusement flickering across her face.

“You two are the worst,” she whispered to herself, barely audible over the sound of the heater kicking on. “Hopeless.”

But her voice was warm. Fond.

She leaned back into her chair, pulled her blanket tighter around her, and closed her eyes again—smiling like she’d just watched the final twist in a very long-running, extremely satisfying spy mission.

She wasn’t going to tell.

Not yet.

After all, what fun would it be if she ruined the secret when she could just enjoy watching the rest of the team slowly unravel trying to figure it out?

She’d wait.

She could keep a secret.

For now.

next part

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[nerdladydraws]

Taking Engineering Lessons Home: A SCRUM Task Board for Household Chores

After teaching during COVID, all my task management strategies fell apart. My mental load was overflowing. When my second child was born in 2022, I couldn’t afford to let things continue to get out of hand. It felt like nothing was getting done in the house, the piles of laundry never stopped, and I could never catch up. Mind you, I still feel like that. But this helped. Continue reading…

[glowettee]

if you can’t join them, beat them at their own game | monda vanderwaal

you know what no one tells you when you’re the weird girl? the forgotten girl? the one on the outskirts of every group chat, the one who fades into lockers and background noise and the “oh yeah, her”? they don’t tell you that being invisible is a superpower.

because when they’re not looking at you, you can see everything. and when you’ve been left out of the game long enough, you stop waiting for someone to pick you. you start learning how to build your own board, your own rules, your own checkmate. and mona vanderwaal? she didn’t just reinvent herself. she weaponized invisibility. she turned being overlooked into a strategy.

this is for the girls who are done playing nice. who are tired of being everyone’s “before” picture. who are finally ready to stop being ignored and start being unforgettable.

i have been quite feeling invisible lately, i felt like friends haven't been matching my vibe, been wishing i had other things i don't have. while admiring other strangers without knowing their lives. it feels like invisibility has been present in my life lately. so, this is why i made this post, mona from pll has been on my mind lately and her character development in the show has resonated with me lately. so here is to the girls who are tired of being invisible, who are ready to be themselves without caring about the projections others make of them.

what they don’t see is what you can use

mona started as the sidekick, remember? “loser mona.” that’s what they called her. she watched all the pretty girls treat her like she was disposable, like she’d never be anything more than a tag-along or a punchline. but the entire time, she was studying the rules. and not just the social rules, but the unspoken ones. who has power, who doesn’t. who pretends, and who sees through it.

and once she saw how fake the system was? she didn’t cry about it. she coded her way out. literally. like… not to be dramatic but she created a terror network from a burner phone and lip gloss. the girl rebranded herself from the inside out and didn’t ask for permission once.

so here’s what i need you to understand if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt underestimated:

→ you’re not “too quiet” or “too weird” or “too much.” you’re just still loading.

and when the download completes? you’re going to be so dangerous they’ll wish they never ignored you.

✧ how to weaponize reinvention (like mona did)

reinvention isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. it’s about realizing who you’ve always been beneath the projections. you’re not “turning into” someone else. you’re unearthing the girl who’s been waiting for her moment.

here’s your mona-core transformation plan i created for you all. think of it like a silent blueprint. no one has to know you’re doing it until it’s already done.

1. ✧ go ghost to get clarity

you don’t evolve in a crowd. you evolve in silence. mona vanished, on purpose. she took time away from the people who only saw her as one thing. if you’re trying to reinvent yourself while staying in the same rooms with the same people who never valued you, it’s like trying to paint your masterpiece on a foggy mirror. it won’t stick.

go ghost. log off. step back. observe more than you post. this is not isolating forever. it’s giving yourself the space to remember who tf you are without the noise.

2. ✧ romanticize your obsession phase

mona didn’t just glow up. she obsessed up. she got smarter, sharper, faster. she learned to code, built surveillance networks, studied her enemies' every move. while they were partying, she was plotting. it wasn’t out of spite... it was because she finally cared about herself more than she cared about them.

find your thing and get borderline delusional about it. your grades. your skincare. your SAT prep. your book you're writing. your personal brand. pick one obsession and make it your everything. fall in love with knowing more than everyone in the room. there is nothing more powerful than a girl with an obsession no one sees coming.

3. ✧ be unrecognizable. but still you

when mona came back, she wasn’t “loser mona” anymore. she was glossy. mysterious. her words were clipped like she’d deleted half her personality just to make space for ice. you don’t need to become mean. you just need to become unreadable.

leave the overexplaining behind. let people wonder. change your style. update your habits. wear something unexpected. shift your tone. speak softer, think sharper. nothing scares people more than the girl they thought they knew, suddenly looking like a puzzle they never had the pieces to.

4. ✧ build a life that makes you unbothered

this is not about revenge in the messy, petty way. it’s the softest kind of revenge: becoming so content in your own world that their validation feels irrelevant.

mona didn’t just take power, she built systems. her lair. her data archive. her skillset. her “i don’t need any of you to win” energy. you need your own version of that. maybe it’s your notion dashboard. your pinterest board. your secret google doc full of ideas. your weekly routine. your skincare archive. make your life a fortress. girlblogging has become a part of my life, and i use it as a system to improve myself while helping others.

5. ✧ be scary in a way they can’t name

the ultimate mona move? no one ever quite knew what she was thinking. and that made her powerful. she wasn’t dramatic. she wasn’t loud. she was calculating. strategic. collected.

learn how to be calm in chaos. learn how to let people underestimate you and say “thank you.” start doing things that don’t make sense to anyone but you. when you stop performing for their approval and start acting from your own internal plan, you become intimidating without lifting a finger.

✧ final thoughts from mindy (aka: me)

some of us were never meant to be the main character in their story. because we’re meant to write our own. if they didn’t choose you, good. now you’re free to choose yourself with no interference.

i want you to stop apologizing for how deeply you feel things. for how hard you try. for how long you remember the mean things they said. you are not too sensitive. you are not overreacting. you are collecting data. and one day, you’re going to turn all that hurt into something unrecognizable and sharp and stunning.

mona didn’t need a second chance. she made one.

and so will you.

xoxo mindy~

⋆ free resource drop: a printable guide for overthinking, burnout, and perfectionist spirals. download “deprogramming your trauma-coded ambition” here →

[p0orbaby]

I’d Probably Still Adore You with Your Hands Around My Neck

summary: leah has a secret

warnings: SMUT 18+, sub!dom, bottom!leah

a/n: your request is my command

word count: 1.6k

-

It starts with a look. A subtle one, really, just a quick flick of Leah’s eyes, down and up, like she’s checking to see if you noticed. But you always notice.

You’re observant like that. Like a hawk, or maybe more like a cat, because there’s something inherently smug about the way you register these things. It’s how you caught on to Leah’s little secret in the first place.

You’re in the kitchen, and she’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through something utterly boring on her phone. Probably an article about defensive strategies or how to perfect her backspin. You’re chopping vegetables, slowly, because you’ve caught on to the fact that Leah has a thing for watching you use knives. It’s not the sharp objects themselves that do it; it’s the way you’re so confident with them, the way you handle everything with this casual precision that borders on reckless but never actually is. You’re good with your hands, and she knows it. Really knows it.

You catch her peeking at you again and decide to test the waters. “Leah, can you pass me the olive oil?”

A simple request. Nothing too loaded. But you notice the way she hesitates before reaching for the bottle. You wait, pretending not to care, but your ears are pricked for any sign of the shift.

She hands you the oil, and you make a point of brushing your fingers against hers when you take it. Just to see what happens.

She shivers.

You almost laugh out loud, but you’re not cruel. Not too cruel, anyway. Instead, you give her a small, almost imperceptible smile, a reward for being such a good sport, and turn back to your chopping.

“So,” you say casually, “anything exciting happening today?”

She grunts, which is her standard answer for “not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.” You wonder, as you slide the knife through the tomato, if she even knows what’s happening. If she notices that with every slice of the blade, she’s slipping further into that place where she’s not entirely in control anymore.

It’s a subtle descent, like someone drifting off to sleep, and you’re more than happy to nudge her along.

“Why don’t you come over here,” you suggest, your voice still light, breezy, as if you’re not luring her into anything at all. “Keep me company”

She pushes off the counter and walks over, stopping just behind you. Close, but not too close. Always so careful, your Leah. Always so measured.

But when you turn around, leaning against the island with the knife still in hand, you see that look again. That flash of something dark and needy that she tries so hard to keep under wraps. You can’t help yourself; you press in closer, until your chest is almost brushing hers, until you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“You seem tense,” you murmur, pretending to inspect her face for any signs of stress. “Rough day?”

Leah swallows hard, but she doesn’t move back. “Just the usual,” she says, her voice low. A little too low.

You set the knife down and grab a piece of cucumber from the cutting board, holding it up to her lips. “Here,” you say, like you’re being the kindest girlfriend in the world. “Eat”

She hesitates again, and you can almost see the wheels turning in her head. She’s calculating, analysing, trying to figure out if this is a trap. But she doesn’t want to disappoint you, so she opens her mouth, and you slide the cucumber between her lips.

Her eyes flutter shut, just for a second, and you have to suppress a grin. She’s such a sucker for this. You’re not sure if it’s the authority in your voice or the way you’re feeding her like she’s some pampered pet, but either way, it’s working.

You take another slice, holding it up again. “Good girl,” you whisper, and this time, her eyes snap open with a look that makes your pulse multiply. There it is, the crack in her armor, the thing she’s trying so hard to hide but can’t.

She chews and swallows, her throat bobbing, and you wonder how far you can push this. How much she’ll let you get away with before she snaps. You’ve been doing this for a while now, playing these little games, but it’s still a thrill to see how much she’s willing to surrender.

You set the cucumber down and grab her hips, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you. “I think you need to relax,” you say, and she nods, almost imperceptibly, like she’s too scared to actually agree out loud.

You lean in, your lips brushing her ear. “Bedroom,” you whisper, and she shudders against you.

She hesitates again, just for a second, before she turns and walks toward the bedroom. You follow, taking your time, watching the way her shoulders tense and relax with every step. She’s trying to play it cool, but you know better. You’ve got her exactly where you want her.

By the time you reach the bedroom, she’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching her. She looks so small like this, so different from the commanding presence she usually carries herself with.

You cross the room and stand in front of her, your hands sliding up her arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. “Lie back,” you say, and she does, her breath hitching as her back hits the mattress.

You climb onto the bed, straddling her hips, and you can feel the way her body reacts to the weight of you on top of her. Her hands twitch at her sides, like she’s not sure what to do with them.

“Hands above your head,” you instruct, and she complies, her fingers gripping the pillow behind her. She’s always so eager to please, so ready to follow orders, and it’s almost too easy to get her like this. Almost.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers, and you feel her body tense beneath you. She’s waiting, anticipating, and you let the moment stretch out, let her feel the weight of your control before you finally press your lips against hers.

She kisses you back with a desperation that makes you ache, her mouth opening under yours, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s trying to tell you something without words. And maybe she is, maybe this is her way of saying she needs this, that she’s been craving this, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

You pull back, just enough to break the kiss, and you watch the way her chest rises and falls, the way her breath comes in short, shallow gasps. She’s already so worked up, and you haven’t even touched her properly yet.

You slide your hands down her body, feeling the way her muscles jump under your touch. “You’re so tense,” you murmur, your fingers trailing over her ribs, her stomach. “You need to calm down”

She nods, her eyes wide and dark, and you can see the way she’s fighting to keep herself together, to not lose it completely. But you’re not going to make it easy for her. Not tonight.

You slide your hand lower, slipping under the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps as your fingers brush against her. She’s already wet, and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that spreads across your face.

“So needy,” you tease, and she lets out a soft whimper, her hips bucking up against your hand.

You take your time, dragging your fingers through her slick heat, feeling the way she shudders beneath you. You can tell she’s trying to hold back, to not give in too quickly, but you’re not having that.

“Don’t hold back,” you say, your voice firm. “Let me hear you”

She whimpers again, louder this time, and you reward her by sliding two fingers inside her, feeling the way she clenches around you. She’s so tight, so hot, and it’s all you can do to not lose yourself in the sensation of her.

You start to move your fingers, slow and steady, and you watch the way her eyes flutter shut, the way her mouth falls open in a silent moan. She’s so beautiful like this, so open and vulnerable, and it makes your heart race to know that you’re the one who gets to see her like this, who gets to make her feel this way.

You pick up the pace, your thumb circling her clit, and she’s panting now, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She’s close, you can feel it, and you lean down, pressing your lips to her ear.

“Come for me,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes.

She cries out, her body going rigid under you as she comes apart, and you keep moving your fingers, drawing out her pleasure until she’s trembling, her whole body shaking with the force of it.

You finally slow down, easing her through the aftershocks, and you pull your hand away, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you watch her chest heave with the effort of catching her breath.

You slide off her, lying down beside her, and you pull her into your arms, feeling the way she finally relaxes against you, her body melting into yours.

She’s still shaking a little, and you press a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering soothing words in her ear as she comes down from her high.

You can feel the way she’s clinging to you, like she’s afraid to let go, and it makes your heart swell with affection for her.

“Good girl,” you murmur, and she sighs, her breath warm against your skin. “You did so well”

She doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles closer to you, and you can feel the way her body is still humming with the afterglow of her orgasm.

[luigisleftshoe]

Father to be Luigi Headcanons

When you tell him, he short circuits. It doesn’t matter how you tell him, cutesy note, direct announcement, accidentally show him the test. He just stares at you, dead silent, blinking like you told him you saw God in your breakfast toast.“You’re… wait. Wait. You’re—holy shit.” Then he drops to his knees and just wraps his arms around your stomach like you are literally holding the sun inside you.

He cries. Not like sniffles. Full tears. Starts talking too fast. Laughs mid-cry. Wipes his nose on his hoodie sleeve.“Are you okay? Are you scared? Are we gonna be okay? You’re gonna be such a good mom. Like unfairly good. I love you so much I might combust.”

Immediately panics about everything. Googles prenatal vitamins Orders 4 types of water bottles. Buys books with titles like "Engineering the Modern Father: Emotional & Structural Load-Bearing.” You tell him he’s spiraling. He stares at you like: “I’m literally responsible for protecting the vessel of our love, babe. I’m chill. This is me chill.”(He is not chill.)

Turns into the weirdest health nut alive. Bans you from lifting grocery bags. Meal preps aggressively. Has a meltdown over mercury levels in canned tuna. “Babe, this hummus has SODIUM. You’re carrying our future. You’re a national monument.”

He adds “baby-related zones” to his mental map. Hospital. Closest 24-hr pharmacy. The route to your OB/GYN. “Safe bathrooms within 10 miles.” honestly he'd probably build you a  custom Google Map. Color-coded. Shared with you. Titled: “Pregnancy Pathways: Wife Protection Plan v1.” or something dumb like that 

Starts timing your commute. Like if you normally take 13 minutes to get home and it takes 16 today?You’re getting a text like:“Not trying to be crazy but are you good? You’re +3 mins over your projected arrival time.”

Becomes weirdly obsessed with nesting but in a Luigi way. He’s not just building a crib. He’s: Comparing ergonomic gliders. Creating a color-coded “vibe board” for the nursery. Installing blackout curtains while shirtless and muttering: “I’m making a cave for our little cave goblin.” Also insists on a stupid theme like “Jungle Italian Renaissance” 

Talks to your belly like it’s a walkie-talkie. “Hey kid. It's me. Your dad. She’s doing great. Kicked ass at work today. Just wanted you to know you’ve got a good one growing you.”, “If you ever hurt her from the inside, we’re gonna have beef. Love you tho.” Also puts headphones on your stomach and plays the Interstellar soundtrack.

Gets extra soft during sex. Like, he still knows how to make you feel good, but now he’s obsessed with holding you, whispering into your skin: “I’m inside my wife while she’s carrying our baby. This is some spiritual shit. I’m overwhelmed.” Also cries after and tries to hide it bc ya know he has to be tough.

Man is SAT at every doctor's appointment. He doesn't care what kind of work conflict he has or anything he is making it to every single one and taking diligent notes. He will ask a million questions and asks them again after you leave. He will start a shared notes app with you of all the stuff the doctor said too just so you can refer back to it at any given moment. 

Once you hit the third trimester? He’s fully insane in the best way. Has you on live location. Has the hospital on speed dial. Has your OB’s entire office schedule memorized. Is running simulations in his head for “what if the water breaks at Target” vs. “on the freeway” vs. “in your sleep”. He’s sending you texts like: “Leaving for work. Your phone’s charged, right? Remember: if labor starts, call me, not Uber. I’ll dropkick a minivan.”

he absolutely spent the third trimester over-researching birth options. He’s made charts. He’s watched vlogs. He’s asked his friends inappropriate questions. He’s printed out: Hospital birth plan, Home birth plan, and “Emergency forest birth” plan (just in case). And he has each one stuck to your fridge just in case.  He has a binder labeled “BABY STRATEGY.” When you ask what he actually wants, he says: “I want what you want. But also... home birth just feels so “sacred”. I wanna catch the baby myself. What if they imprint on me.” He’s both dead serious and so unqualified. You tell him: “I’m not pushing out a baby next to our houseplants.” He nods. Understands. Still gently lights a candle “for ambiance” when you hit 38 weeks.

When your water actually breaks, he thinks he’s the one dying. You're like “hey babe I think—” and he’s IMMEDIATELY ON THE FLOOR. “It’s happening. Oh my god it’s happening. Babe? Babe. Where is the bag. WHERE IS THE BAG.” Trips over the cat. Puts your sneakers on the wrong feet. Fully tries to hand you your skincare bag instead of the hospital one.

He’s still trying to convince you to labor in the bathtub before you go. “Babe. One bath. One soothing breath. You love baths. It’s in the plan. Page 3.” You’re like “I am leaking LIFE. We are LEAVING.” He salutes. Grabs the bag. Opens the wrong door. Walks into the closet.

In the car he is every kind of maniac. One hand gripping the wheel The other hand gripping your thigh like it’s an anchor. Voice shaking as he tries to coach you through contractions using a YouTube video he half-remembered from March “Breathe in 4. Out 6. You’re doing great. You’re incredible. You’re hotter than Beyoncé. I’m so scared.” Keeps whispering “my wife is having my baby” like it’s a spell.

At the hospital, he is both deeply unhelpful and absolutely devoted. Cries when they ask if he’s the dad.  Holds your hand like he’s on a sinking ship. He is absolutely terrified of getting in the way of the doctors and nurses trying to help you but he also completely glued to you at the same time. And when the nurse says “she’s fully dilated”? He just blurts out:“Wait I thought we had more time. I didn’t even get to do the affirmation mirror thing.”

In the quiet moments between contractions, he’s whispering to your stomach. “Hey kid. I know it’s wild in there. Take your time. Be safe. But also please be chill. Mommy’s doing amazing. Daddy’s losing his mind.”

And when it’s go time? He’s right there. Holding your leg. Crying. Absolutely useless but incredibly present. He sees the head and gasps like he’s watching the Northern Lights. Then yells “BABE. OUR BABY HAS A SKULL. I CAN SEE IT. THIS IS INSANE.”

When the baby comes out, he falls apart. Just drops to his knees beside the bed. One hand on your face. One on your thigh. Sobbing. “You did it. You did it. I love you. I love them. I’m gonna pass out. But like romantically.” He’s shaking when he holds the baby. Can’t stop staring. Mumbles: “Hi. I’m your dad. I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you.”

[whencyclopedia]

U-Boat: Germany's Submarines of WWI & WWII

The U-boat, short for Unterseeboot (undersea boat), was the name for submarines used by the German Navy during the First World War (1914-18) and Second World War (1939-45). In the two Battles of the Atlantic, U-boats sank thousands of ships, but defensive strategies such as dropping depth charges, providing air cover, and, above all, the convoy system, ensured Britain was supplied with the resources it needed to continue both wars until victory was achieved on land.

U-Boats in WWI

When WWI began in 1914, the German Imperial Navy had only 20 operational submarines or Unterseeboots (undersea boats), as they were known, a name soon shortened to U-boat. Together, Britain and France had around 200 submarines. German production went into overdrive to catch up. The German navy constructed several classes of submarines to meet different requirements, such as coastal patrols, laying mines, and long-distance vessels. By 1917, Germany had 140 U-boats. While the British Admiralty focused on smaller submarines for the defence of ports, Germany opted for a vessel that could attack enemy shipping anywhere at sea. U-boats became particularly important following the Battle of Jutland in May 1916 (a strategic victory for the Royal Navy, but one with high losses), after which the giant German battleships were largely confined to port. U-boats, on the other hand, were free to roam hidden beneath the waves and attack at will any enemy target they came across in the North Sea, Atlantic Ocean, and the coastal waters of the British Isles.

The earliest U-boats, the UB class, were limited to coastal operations, but developments improved their operational capacity as the war wore on. The typical WWI U-boat had a range capable of reaching the Western Atlantic Ocean, a top speed of 17 knots, and displaced around 700 tons. U-boats carried six torpedoes. Two torpedoes could be fired from the bow and two from the stern. The submarine also had a gun which could be fired when on the surface; this had a minimum calibre of 4.1 inches (10.4 mm). A diesel engine was used when on the surface, and twin electric engines when submerged. The crew on board numbered up to 39 persons. Conditions on board were extremely cramped and uncomfortable, and made worse by the constant stench of diesel fuel, which even permeated the taste of the submariner's food.

The German Navy built a larger class of U-boats, which was unarmed but capable of carrying cargo. The Deutschland was the first of this type, put in service in 1916. Some of these cargo submarines were subsequently converted into armed vessels known as U-cruisers, although the first were not operational until 1918. The U-cruisers had an impressive range of 12,000 nautical miles, and they could well have turned the tide of the war if they had been produced earlier and in larger numbers.

The UC-class submarines were used as minelayers from 1915. With a slow speed of six knots and a limited range of 750 nautical miles, these vessels were designed to stay near coastlines and lay mines, 12 per trip. The mines were released from near-vertical tubes that had been flooded. An upgrade to the class in 1916 increased the range tenfold and the mine load to 18. The UC II class was also armed with a 3.4-inch (8.8 cm) gun. The UE-class submarine was a larger, ocean-going version of the UC-class. The UE-boats, in service from 1915, could voyage 8,000 nautical miles and carry 34 mines. A class upgrade in 1918 meant the newer UE-boats could carry 42 mines in their tubes and another 30 in deck containers.

Read More

⇒ U-Boat: Germany's Submarines of WWI & WWII

[lewismcqueen]

stowaway.

jedi!lh44 x pilot!reader

summary: A survivor of Order 66, Lewis has been running for most of his life. That is, until he decides to sneak onto the wrong ship. wc: 4k-ish cw: canon-compliant war crimes...? implied violence (this is star wars babe), open ending if you squint. author may have inaccurately remembered the star wars timeline a/n: this was super fun to write!! i'm turning this in like an hour before may 4th ends in my timezone like a late assignment lol. the angst was extra fun because the amount of angst depends on how much you know about star wars. may the 4th be with you and all that

You dust off your jacket, stretching your limbs after the last of the cargo is on board. The lasat you had picked it up from tried to tell you what exactly was in it, but you raised a hand to stop him; you didn’t need or want to know. Too much information made it easier to end up in an interrogation room. You were about to get the ship ready for takeoff when a sudden CLANG! sounded in the hallway. You spun on your heel towards the source of the noise. It came from inside one of the storage rooms.

Could be another stray lothcat, or something falling, but you didn’t wanna take your chances. With slow, deliberate steps, you inch your way towards the door, keeping a hand on the holster resting on your hip. 

-

Lewis sat in the back corner of the dark cantina, scarfing down a channelfish sandwich with relish. It was rare that he could scrounge up enough credits for anything fancier than roasted vegetable stalks in a to-go carton, but the peddler that passed by him in the alleyway had just so happened to be woefully unobservant, and had had quite the heavy load dangling from his back pocket. The guy was practically asking for it, really. Lewis kept the rest of the remaining credits in a leather pouch tied to his hip beneath his cloak, which had been patched and mended so many times that it was hardly recognizable as the garb of a former padawan. 

He didn’t deserve to be one anymore.

She had told him to run. That everything would be alright, because it was only a few clones who had only blasters while the Force was with her, and would be with him as well. So run, and she’d find him. As she stood with her saber leveled in defense as the soldiers closed in on their camp, his master’s eyes had been kind. So kind. But it was a sad sort of kindness, a look that spelled imminent defeat.

But Lewis had done what he was told. He had run. And he’d been running ever since.

He now lived a life so very far off from the warm quarters and smooth floors of the Jedi Temple, one soaked with freezing rain that muddied his boots whenever he couldn’t find a proper nook or cranny to hide in. He was getting older—nineteen years now—and fewer of those would hide him. That also meant less sympathy from otherwise kind strangers who would’ve taken pity on a smaller boy earlier on. 

Lewis finished off the last of his meal, wiping his fingers off on his cloak before putting his hood up and braving the chill of Lothal nights. The desert planet was no place for a boy from Coruscant, but he’d have to make do until he found another…

There. In the distance. A ship. 

The entrance was unmanned, the ramp still lowered. He watched as a small figure in the distance appeared to be pushing large boxes of…whatever was in there…onto the hold. Meaning, they were preoccupied. Now was his chance.

With quiet steps, a strategy that he still remembered from his training days, Lewis boarded the craft. It was small, but not pitiful. Likely a smuggler’s ship. Still, he would only have a few seconds to select a hiding spot before he was caught, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to get into another blaster fight after losing his borrowed one in a spat with a very unhappy pilot. Scanning the interior, his eyes eventually landed on a nearby storage closet that seemed to be unlocked. Perfect.

Lewis smacked the button that made the door slide open and slipped inside, letting it close automatically. 

Now, you’d think that with the Force being strong with him and whatnot, he would’ve sensed the pile of crates that he was backing into. But alas, he was out of practice, and almost let out a very un-stealthy yelp when a crate of overripe fruit came crashing down over his head. He had heard footsteps in the distance, which immediately went quiet.

Oh, he was so fucked.

-

“Look, I can explain!”

You had your blaster pointed mere inches away from the boy’s face. He looked close to your age with a tan complexion and closely cropped hair, like he’d just shaved it all off haphazardly the way stormtroopers did. But he didn’t seem to have any weapons on his hip. Still, there could be some hidden away beneath that nasty-looking cloak that reeked of mildew and sweat. One of the fruit crates seemed to have broken near or on his head, bits of splintered wood and pieces of fruit littering his clothes where his shoulders were. The sight would’ve been funny if it didn’t mean he’d just cost you several weeks’ worth of extra food.

“Take that off,” you ordered, your nose wrinkling. He quickly obeyed, revealing nothing but a boring beige tunic and a small pouch hanging from the belt tied around it. You narrowed your eyes. “That too.”

Picking pieces of fruit pulp out of his hair, he looked down at where your blaster was pointed. His eyes grew large. “But I need—”

“You need a hole in your skull? Empty those pockets, then I want your hands back up. No funny business.”

The young man pouted (pouted!) and untied the pouch, tossing it at your feet. It made a clinking sound as you kicked it to the side—credits. Hm. If your run was delayed because of him, you might have to keep these.

He kept his hands raised just as you’d instructed, and you could see that they were trembling. Face slick with sweat and looking gaunt, this kid seemed miserable. And most likely harmless. But anyone could look docile while staring down the barrel of a weapon. You weren’t sure exactly how to proceed.

“Okay, so…talk. What are you doing stowing away on my ship?”

He blinked, then began in a clipped accent that suggested he wasn’t from around here. “W-well, I had just gotten something to eat finally, and I was thinking I’d try to get back home—”

“I don’t need your life story, boy,” you interrupted coarsely, making him flinch. “I need to know why you’re on my ship.”

“I just…need to get off this planet. I’m from Coruscant, originally.”

Ah, a city kid. Must be lost. Explains the accent.

You paused, weighing your options. Coruscant was on the path to your destination anyhow. If this kid was lying, you could just throw him overboard. It didn’t seem like he had anyone of significance that would look for him.

You raised your blaster back up to his face, somewhat enjoying the way that he visibly tensed. “Get up. Slowly.”

He did, legs trembling with the action and hands still raised. You backed up just enough to give the boy space to exit the storage room before poking the end of your weapon into his back, urging him forward towards the front.

Before you could move on with your own mini interrogation, the stern voice of an imperial officer called out from the bottom of the ramp leading into the ship.

“Hello? Anyone up there? Er, this ship has been selected for a random search. Please prepare to be boarded.”

Fuck.

Had your new guest not held you up, you might’ve taken off by now. For a moment, you considered just shooting him yourself before you were inevitably arrested for smuggling illegal contraband off-planet. Instead though, you took a deep breath and hoped for the best. Better to not act brash and make things worse.

“Hands down, but no sudden movements,” you hissed into the boy’s ear. “I’ll handle this.”

He nodded and slowly lowered his hands. You holstered your blaster, putting on your most polite smile before moving in front of him to greet the officer, who was flanked by two stormtroopers with weapons drawn.

The man had the same severe face and sallow, pale skin as all the rest of them, wearing the same stiff black uniform stamped with the Imperial insignia that seemed to mold his body into a rigid, upright posture. Vacant grey eyes stared back at you, more or less uninterested in you so much as he was interested in meeting arrest quotas or collecting a hefty fine.

“Good morning officer,” you spoke clearly and pleasantly, “We landed here yesterday to visit family. Just passing through.”

The man gave you an unconvinced look, then pressed past you and the boy. He turned to one of the stormtroopers. “Check the cargo hold.”

You tensed, struggling to come up with some sort of excuse that might hinder them.

“Most of it’s fruit, if you’re wondering.”

The officer continued walking without sparing you a second glance. “I wasn’t. That’s quite a bit of fruit for one trip, miss.”

“Yeah,” you laughed nervously, “They’re for my father-in-law. Loves his dragonfruit!”

You turned to the stowaway, who looked like he was about to soil his pants as he watched the men push further down the hallway. When you caught his eye you jerked your head towards them, urging him to follow you in tailing behind.

With the men surrounding one of the hovering metal containers of god-knows-what, you were sure that your heart was actually now beating in your throat instead of your chest. You tried your best to school your expression into a neutral one that would give nothing away. 

The officer lifted his chin, looking you dead in the eyes. “Go on, then. Open it.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. “Of course!”

“Don’t dilly-dally, we haven’t got all day,” he snapped when he noticed you intentionally dragging your feet.

“Ah, wait. I’ll open it!”

You froze. The boy had somehow appeared next to the cargo while you weren’t looking, the stealthy fucker. He beamed at the officer and both stormtroopers with a sudden confidence that made you nervous. Mentally, you prepared yourself to run. This was usually the moment when people—even your own former crew—tended to sell you out. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand, though. The reward for turning in illegal smugglers was quite handsome.

You thought the boy might just open the thing, or suddenly point the finger at you and make his escape that way. Instead, he slowly brought his hand up. 

He waved it in the air with a practiced grace akin to a theatre performance, and spoke clear as day, “You do not need to check this cargo.”

You groaned internally. Great, he wants to play games. Now the both of us are going to jail.

But then, something miraculous happened. The officer’s expression seemed to relax, as did the stance of both stormtroopers. He repeated, “We do not need to check this cargo. You’re free to go.”

The man spun on his heels and marched in the opposite direction, guards in tow. Mouth slightly agape, you watched their figures retreat down the hallway. You then turned back to the boy, who looked surprised at himself.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” he breathed. You made brisk steps toward him, making him jump. “Wait, please don’t—”

“What are you?” you asked, scanning his face suspiciously as if you’d find the answer there. 

The boy’s tongue darted out to wet chapped lips. “I’m, uh…well, I can use the Force. Sometimes.”

You were ready to call bullshit. The Jedi were long gone by now, either dead or in hiding. They might as well have been a mere legend. But then…what the hell was that magic trick he did? Did he have secret connections to some distant higher-up, or did they just find him particularly charming? You crossed your arms, trying your best to look stern.

“Well, whatever that was—and I don’t believe you, by the way—it seems we’re both goin’ the same way. Lay low, help out around here, and I’ll drop you off. Are we understood?”

The boy’s face slowly lit up as he registered his luck. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes ma’am!”

You rolled your eyes as you turned to go back inside. “And don’t call me ‘ma’am’, I’m hardly twenty-two yet.”

Once you were back in the sky, the boy told you that his name was Lewis. When asked if he still had parents, he looked uncertain. Said his mother sent him off to “finishing school”, and that he hasn’t seen her since. She was probably waiting for him on Coruscant, he’d said. You didn’t have the heart to tell him not to get his hopes up.

It didn’t seem to matter whether you spared him or not, because as soon as he saw the new Imperial Palace overhead, you watched the hope in his eyes die slowly. You gave him a sympathetic look from the pilot seat.

“Still wanna check? She might still be—”

“No.”

You sighed. “Well, I’m sorry. But I can’t keep givin’ you joyrides. I’ve got cargo to deliver.”

Lewis lifted his chin, determined. “I’m good with tinkering, fixing things. I don’t eat much either. Take me with you.”

“As in…part of my crew?” you asked skeptically. He began speaking pragmatically, like a diplomat.

“You saw me back there, I’m useful. I’ll keep quiet when you ask. Can’t imagine it’d be easier to run a tight ship all on your own.”

You were silent for a moment, staring out into the night sky. With nothing else to lose, Lewis was unlikely to suddenly turn on you anytime soon. And if he wasn’t lying about the weird Jedi powers, you might have more leverage here than you initially thought. The bounty for turning in a Jedi was higher than that for both treasonists and smugglers combined. It seemed like a fair trade.

“Fine,” you nodded curtly. “But you gotta burn that robe. It stinks. And get me new crates of food to make up for the mess you made.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now, what’d I say about callin’ me ma’am?”

-

Before long, the hollow sounds of whirring machinery were accompanied by the clink of mugs and sounds of tinkering. You eventually found out that it was one of Lewis’ favorite hobbies as the years passed by. Fixing things came to him as easy as breathing. 

It was a clear blue day, and you’d landed the ship in the middle of an empty abandoned field near an old communications tower that had long fallen out of use. Lewis was sat cross legged in front of one of the power generators with his toolkit beside him, doing his usual maintenance. The sight of him with furrowed brows and his bottom lip jutting out slightly in focus made a small grin spread across your face.

“I can sense you staring at me, y’know.”

You snorted, taking a rare sip of well-brewed tea. “Sure you can, oh great Jedi master.”

Lewis had begun growing his hair out, loose dark curls brushing his forehead. A forlorn look flickered across his face, but only for a brief moment. He smiled, shutting the generator closed before turning to you.

“We’re all good to fly. Feel like hitting the markets today?”

“Let’s hope we don’t get caught up in another blaster fight.”

“Wouldn’t mind seeing one from a distance, though. Today’s been so boring!”

You did, in fact, get caught up in another blaster fight. 

It was a lucky thing that you had pulled Lewis down beside you behind a fruit stand as soon as the shooting started. A gaggle of stormtroopers had been dispatched in a flurry of white, chasing after a raven-haired boy who zipped past them on a hovercraft, his orange jacket flying behind him. It wasn’t long before the chase led to a stand-off in the middle of the square, and the boy was joined by a group of assorted individuals that you could only half-see. Someone in green armor, another in bright pink and orange. Little bits and flashes of color. 

“Lewis, get down!” you hissed at him as he began to poke his head up over the stand.

He didn’t listen, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. You heard a strange noise just then. It was faint beneath the din of yelling and disarray, but it was an electrical screech followed by a low fwoom sound. It sounded like a weapon being activated, one you didn’t recognize. All the more reason to escape as soon as possible.

Lewis’ eyes widened, and it felt like the entire marketplace grew still. 

Curiosity finally getting the better of you, you slide your goggles over your eyes and hesitantly peek over the stand. It was the person in green, a man with a complexion close to Lewis’ with brunette hair tied back into a ponytail. He had a holster on his hip, and wore no robe or tunic.

But he had a lightsaber.

You sucked in a breath, a chill running down your spine. But the Jedi are gone. Who could they have possibly trained all this time? Might be a fraud just showing off.

But then blaster shots began firing from the other side in a storm of red, and the man began spinning the bright green blade like nobody’s business. He parried every single one.

“Lewis,” you tugged frantically at his clothing. “We gotta get outta here. Now.”

After you pulled him away from the mess, he was quiet back onboard the ship. You observed him as he wiped down his pilot’s helmet, an old thing that he’d customized with smuggled paints. He had created intricate cloud-like patterns along the sides, bright yellow with bold black outlines.

You knelt down beside him and spoke softly, brushing back frizzy coils from your face. “Hey. You alright? You’re not usually this quiet.”

Lewis paused his cleaning, saying nothing for a moment. Then he turned to you and said quietly:

“Some of us are still out there. Fighting back.”

Us.

Lewis had never referred to himself as such when discussing The Jedi Order before. Though, he rarely spoke about The Order at all if he could help it. It made sense, considering you’d laughed him off the last time he’d brought up the Force, pretending that the idea still sounded completely ridiculous to you. You caught him meditating in his room sometimes, cross-legged on the bed with his eyes shut, still as a rock. Unsettlingly still. It was unclear now whether you had imagined it, but you thought you’d seen his helmet hovering in mid-air in front of him.

“You don’t know if that man was the real thing or not, though. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

And I’d hate to watch your hopes die again.

Lewis wouldn’t budge. “I know it was the real thing. I felt it.”

“Well…alright, but I wouldn’t—”

“He had a lightsaber!” he cried suddenly, his voice breaking at the end of the word. “You can’t even really turn one on unless you’re…y’know…”

He trailed off, staring back down at his helmet. You reached out and placed a gentle hand beneath his chin, lifting it so that he met your eyes. They were still as brown and owlish as the day you’d found him and had a blaster aimed at his face.

“Unless you’re…?”

“Strong in the Force,” he finished, then smiled sadly. “I was pretty close to getting my own.”

Your eyes widened. “So you trained at the temple.”

He nodded. 

“How did…” you stumbled for the right wording. “How did you make it out?”

Lewis’ expression darkened. “I’d rather not talk about it. Just…I’m just glad that I’m not the only one left.”

You brought your knees up to your chin, deep in thought. Lewis liked to be tight-lipped about where he came from, what life was like before hitching rides on ships. Before you. You’d only ever heard about Order 66 from a distance, through word of mouth and Imperial announcements of the decree. No one in your former crew or in the area knew any of the thousands of Jedi that perished that day. But Lewis? He was almost one of them. Guilt tugged at your chest at the idea that you’d once considered turning him in.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you pinched his cheek. “You’re not gonna abandon ship to go join ‘em, are you? I still need someone to gather tea leaves for me.”

You felt him smile beneath your touch. But he didn’t answer.

-

It took you about a day to realize that Lewis had gone for good.

He had been distant in the weeks since that fateful conversation. Somewhere else. You caught him staring up at the sky longingly, as if there was something up there that you couldn’t see. You should’ve seen it coming, in retrospect, but that didn’t stop your lower lip from trembling when you finally barged into his room and realized his helmet wasn’t there anymore. The only thing left was his intercom, and his toolbox.

You should’ve known.

-

The day had finally come. You’d been caught. For smuggling actual fruit, no less.

The entire craft shook as soon as the TIE  fighters opened fire, and you could feel the vibrations in your teeth. You cursed beneath your breath as you gripped the wheel. Shields were down. One more hit and it was over. 

Just when it felt like you’d be sent hurtling back down to the surface in a ball of fire, the barrage of blasts stopped. A tower of smoke billowed past you as not one, but both TIE fighters were blasted out of the sky. 

Someone had just gotten rid of them for you. 

You looked up, and a shadow fell over your face as a ship ten times the size of yours loomed above. Your blood ran cold. The rounded symbol of a soaring phoenix was painted in white on its belly, and it finally dawned on you: you’d just been rescued by the rebellion.

-

The interior of the ship was a stark contrast to the cramped, messy lodgings you’d been occupying your whole life. It was all a sterile white, bustling with activity from pilots dressed in bright orange to robed, diplomatic-looking characters to armored captains and fighters. Your ship had been badly damaged by the chase, and a young woman in a slick bun had very candidly informed you that a warrant was out for your arrest, so you’d best lay low. 

She led you to an empty room, dark and cool with one mattress to rest on while you got your bearings. You sighed as you sank down onto it, wondering how in the hell you had ended up here. 

“Oh,” the woman stopped the door before it could close, “Seems like you’ve got a friend here. Someone’s come to see you. He’s the one that pointed out your ship.”

A friend in the rebellion…?

Sure, you’d taken part in some less-than-patriotic conversation amongst your old crew, but you doubted any of those cowards had it in them. You had no distant relatives who knew you were even alive. That left only one possibility. 

The doors slid open with a whoosh, and the helmeted figure of a man of medium height appeared in the frame. The helmet was bright yellow. He spoke your name in a muffled, soft voice that you recognized instantly.

A lump began to form in your throat as you rose hesitantly from the bed. “Lewis?”

Slowly, carefully, he removed his helmet. 

You almost didn’t recognize the young man—no, he might be in his early thirties by now. The fully grown man—standing in front of you. He had managed to grow a bit of a beard that looked well-groomed. His hair had been grown out even longer, braided into square sections and tied back into a ponytail. But those same round, scared eyes stared back at you. It couldn’t have been anyone else. 

You nearly knocked the man over, making him drop his helmet as you wrapped your arms around him, hot tears stinging your eyes. Lewis reciprocated the hug, and the extra strength in his arms surprised you. He’d put on a lot of muscle. Maybe too much muscle, you thought as the hug began to tighten.

“Lew…can’t breathe over here.”

He released you, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. “Sorry. I just really missed—ow! I said I was sorry!”

Lewis rubbed his shoulder where you’d just smacked him with full force. You crossed your arms.

“That’s for packing up and leaving me without so much as a goodbye note. I missed you too, but you’re an asshat.”

He lowered his head. “I know, I know. And I wanted to, but there was just no time. They told me it was now or never, essentially.”

Uncrossing your arms, you brought them up to cup his face with both hands. You let your thumb swipe over the roughness of his facial hair as you got a closer look at him. He had gotten his nose pierced, the little silver stud glinting in the light coming from the hallway. It was nearly small enough to miss. You steeled your eyes and gave Lewis a good, hard stare.

“I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sights again. You know that, right?”

He lifted an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “Seemed like you were doing just fine without me.”

“Hm. True,” you brought his face closer to give him a light peck on the lips. “But I miss havin’ an errand boy.”

Lewis’ eyes flickered downwards before he leaned in to recapture your lips in a much deeper kiss. The longer you stood with your arms wrapping around his neck, the hungrier and more desperate it became. You felt your back press against the doorframe, Lewis’ body now flush against yours. It felt like an eternity had passed before he pulled away.

“I do a lot more than run errands now,” he said, panting to catch his breath. “But it’s included sometimes.”

You ran a hand lazily down his chest, still leaning on the doorway. “What are you doing now?”

“Well,” a proud grin softened his features. “We’re gonna blow up the Death Star.”

[artisticdivasworld]

How to Earn Trust and Get Better Loads: Tips for New Truckers

Here is the sixth part in our series to help new truckers start off on a positive footing. We hope you are finding the information in these posts useful and that we are enabling our newest truckers to be successful in their businesses. When you’re new to trucking, one of the most important—and sometimes most challenging—parts of the job is building strong relationships with brokers and shippers.…

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Know any gaming myths to debunk?

Gaming myths have been around as long as games, from the earliest Sumerian board games to the latest video game for your brand new Nintendo 64. Here are a few popular myths over the years to debunk:

The Royal Game of Ur: According to the weekly cuneiform tablet of Lord Kotaqu VI, the Royal Game of Ur held a secret block that could be accessed by moving a stone left, right, left, and right and up and down several times. This was simply untrue and Kotaqu was executed for his charlatan magic.

Chess: Several early critics of the game of Chess claimed that the game's battlefield strategy emulation inspired violence, despite many studies showing that Chess players like Gandhi were no more likely to go to war than non-Chess players such as Napoleon, except in certain Sid Meier simulations.

Texas Hold-'Em Poker: Many poker players were prone to cheating, especially in the old west. There are claims that card manufacturers such as Bicycle and Hoyle began to include serial numbers and codes, such as letter "L" on the lower left corner of a card so that nobody could claim a 9 was a 6, and so on. Though this has never been proven, many still claim that the L is real.

Pong: In the 1970s, games went electronic and many myths developed about this strange new form of play. The first game, "Pong," was much like table tennis, and some players claimed that one could, with proper timing, pick up the "ball" pixel and throw it on the "roof" of the video screen. This was proven untrue as more people learned how computers worked.

Tomb Raider: As more teenagers played video games, playground rumors such as a "Nude Code" to show the game protagonist naked became popular. Though there is no nude code in Tomb Raider, there is one in Kirby's Dream Land, in which Kirby can appear nude but for shoes by starting the game in normal mode.

Dark Souls: With the complexity of the world of Dark Souls, many rumors and myths were spawned, such as the ability to fast-travel early, a hidden map behind an old fog gate, and even the ability to enter other games by switching discs during a load screen. This last bit was only true in one case, where replacing the game disc with Postal 3 would improve the quality of the Postal game by making it crash irrecoverably.

Super Mario Bros. Wonder: The newest Mario game's "Wonder" mechanics are strange and diverse, leading to many rumors about weird tricks they can result in. While the normal game can turn Mario into a sticky blob, make inanimate pipes crawl like inchworms, or illuminate previously invisible walkways, claims of Wonder effects that make the console explode, save money on your car's extended warranty, or even let you see real people's names and how many days they have left to live have mostly proven false. One Wonder effect that did prove real was a 79 step ladder that lets Mario climb into a developer room. The room didn't have all that much in it, but also, it's everything.

[clare141312]

MHA X READER WITH ATOM EVE´S POWERS

Words: 4k Warnings: Cursing, Violence

Chapter 6

"Today's training is a little different. You'll have three instructors—me, All Might, and another faculty member—monitoring you," Mr. Aizawa announces once everyone is settled. 

"Sir! What kind of training is this?" Sero asks, raising his hand. 

"Rescue," Aizawa replies, holding up a card. "You'll be dealing with natural disasters, shipwrecks, and situations like that."

Rescue training. It sounds boring, but I guess a hero needs to be versatile to stand out—like All Might. He doesn’t just fight villains; he’s known for incredible rescue missions too; I think to myself.

"Disasters, huh? Sounds like we're in for a big workout," Kaminari remarks. 

"Totally," Mina agrees, her excitement bubbling over. 

"Real hero stuff. This is what separates the men from the boys. I'm shakin' with excitement!" Kirishima exclaims enthusiastically. 

"Finally, I'll get to show off how good I am in water. Ribbit," Tsu adds confidently. 

"Everyone! I don’t think Mr. Aizawa is finished talking," I point out, cutting through the chatter. 

"I wasn’t," Aizawa confirms, making everyone gasp. "What you wear in this exercise is up to you. I know you're excited about costumes... but keep in mind that you haven’t gotten used to them yet, and they might limit your abilities. This special training is at an off-campus facility, so we’ll be taking a bus to get there. That’s all. Start getting ready," Mr. Aizawa instructs before leaving the room, opening the panels that reveal our hero suitcases as he goes. 

"Deku? Why are you wearing your PE clothes? Where's your costume?" Uraraka asks, tilting her head curiously. 

"You saw it after the combat training. It was kinda trashed. I'm still waiting on the support company to fix it up," Midoriya explains with an awkward smile. 

A sudden whistle blows right next to me, making me jump. 

"Where'd you even get that?" I complain, glaring at Iida.

Oh, shit. I momentarily lose my temper. I need to do better at controlling it. Thank God he doesn’t seem angry, I just have to play it of as playful banter. I think as my panic begins to settle.

"Gather around, Class 1-A! Using your student numbers, form two neat lines so we can load the bus efficiently," Iida announces, still blowing that whistle relentlessly. 

I use my quirk to snatch it from him, sending it flying. "No whistles," I say firmly, crossing my arms into an X. 

"But how will I get everyone's attention?" Iida flails his arms dramatically, clearly distressed. 

"Iida, if you want to get people’s attention, you need to do it in a way that doesn’t annoy them," I reply with a small smile. 

"The bus’s open layout ruins my boarding strategy," Iida complains, looking genuinely frustrated. 

"Iida, you really need to chill," Mina teases, smirking from beside him. 

"If we’re pointing out the obvious, then there’s something I want to say… about you, actually," Tsu says, turning her attention to Midoriya. 

" What is it Asui?" Midoriya asks.

"I told you to call me Tsu," she insists, her tone firm yet casual. 

"Oh, yeah. Right," Midoriya mumbles, blushing and starting to sweat. 

"That power of yours—doesn’t it seem a lot like All Might’s?" Tsu suggests, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. 

Yeah, it’s just like All Might’s quirk—because it *is* All Might’s quirk. They have the same one. I really want to ask Midoriya about it, but what if I come across as nosy? The thought nags at me as I try to decide what to do.

"What? Really? You think so, huh? I never really thought about that. I guess it’s kinda similar..." Midoriya stammers, sweating and visibly flustered. 

"Wait, hold on, Tsu. You’re forgetting that All Might doesn’t hurt himself. That makes a huge difference," Kirishima points out before scratching the back of his head. "Still, I bet it’s cool to have a simple augmenting type of quirk. You can do a lot of flashy stuff with it. My hardening’s super strong and can destroy bad guys in a fight, but it doesn’t look all that impressive," he adds, sounding a little down on himself. 

"Oh, no way! I think it’s really awesome looking. You’re definitely pro material with a quirk like that," Midoriya says sincerely, trying to lift Kirishima’s spirits. 

"You really think so? Still, it seems like it’d be easier to be a popular hero if I had something flashier," Kirishima replies, a hint of doubt lingering in his voice. 

"No one’s going to care if your quirk is flashy or not when you save them," I chime in, stating it as an undeniable fact. 

“You really think so?” Kirishima asks.

“Of course.” I reply with a smile.

"My Navel Laser has the perfect combination of panache and strength," Aoyama declares, clearly proud of himself. 

"But it’s way lame if it gives you a stomach-ache, sweetie," Mina teases, softening the blow with a pat on Aoyama’s shoulder. 

"Well, if any of our classmates have pro quirks, it’s Todoroki, Kuramoto, and Bakugo," Kirishima points out, nodding toward them. 

"Sure, but Bakugo’s always angry, so he’ll never be that popular," Tsu says matter-of-factly. 

That’s true, but some people like being degraded, and with his good looks, he’ll probably be super popular with the ladies, I think to myself, glancing at Bakugo. 

"What’d you say? I’ll kick your ass!" Bakugo snaps, standing up abruptly. 

"You see?" Tsu says, casually pointing at him. 

"You know, we basically just met you, so it’s kinda telling that we all know your personality is flaming crap mixed with garbage," Kaminari remarks, smirking. 

"You’re gonna regret the day you applied to this school, you loser! I’ll kill you!" Bakugo roars, his voice echoing. 

"Whoa, look!" I interrupt, stepping in to stop the fight and pointing toward the massive structure ahead. "Is that the arena we’re using for rescue training?" I ask.

"Yes, now quiet down," Mr. Aizawa orders, his voice cutting through the chatter. 

"Yes, sir," everyone agrees in unison. 

"Hello, everyone! I've been waiting for you!" Thirteen greets us as we step off the bus. 

"It’s the space hero, Thirteen! The chivalrous pro who’s rescued tons of people from disasters across the world!" Midoriya lists excitedly, his eyes shining. 

"Woo-hoo! Thirteen is one of my favourite heroes!" Uraraka exclaims, her enthusiasm matching Midoriya’s. 

"I can’t wait to show you what’s inside!" Thirteen gestures toward the entrance with a wide grin. 

"This is going to be awesome!" we all cheer in unison. 

We step into a massive dome filled with several different sections—two large tents, one with fire and the other with clouds, a large lake, a mountain zone, and a ruined city. In the center, a fountain offers a clear view of each section. 

"Holy crap! It looks like some kind of amusement park!" Kirishima exclaims, his eyes wide with excitement. 

"A shipwreck. A landslide. A fire. A windstorm. Et cetera. I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters," Thirteen explains, pointing around at the different areas. "I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. But you can call it USJ!"

"A shipwreck. A landslide. A fire. A windstorm. Et cetera. I created this training facility to prepare you for different types of disasters," Thirteen explains, gesturing around at the various sections. "I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. But you can call it USJ!" 

"Hey, shouldn’t All Might be here already? Let me guess—he booked an interview instead," Aizawa mocks as he walks over to Thirteen, and they both lower their voices. 

"The clock’s ticking, we should get started," Aizawa suggests, his tone serious. 

"Excellent. Before we begin, let me just say one thing. Well, maybe two things. Possibly three, four, or five," Thirteen rambles on, clearly excited. 

"We get it!" the class calls out in unison, amused by Thirteen’s enthusiasm. 

"Listen carefully. I’m sure you’re aware that I have a powerful Quirk. It’s called Black Hole. I can use it to suck up anything and turn it into dust," Thirteen explains, proudly showcasing their unique ability. 

"Yeah, you’ve used Black Hole to save people from all kinds of disasters before, haven’t you?" Midoriya agrees excitedly, clearly impressed.

Wouldn’t Black Hole be more useful for killing than rescuing? I think to myself, and as if thirteen reads my mind, she says, 

"That’s true, but my Quirk could also very easily be used to kill," Thirteen informs, making the entire class gasp. I pretend to be surprised and gasp along with them.

"Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous. In our superhuman society, all Quirks are certified and stringently regulated, so we often overlook how unsafe they can actually be. Please don’t forget that if you lose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly. Even if you're trying to do something virtuous, like helping rescue someone. Thanks to Aizawa's fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your Quirk’s potential. And because of All Might’s combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons over to this class. Today, you’re going to learn how to use your Quirks to save people’s lives. You won’t be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help. After all, that’s what being a hero is all about—ensuring the safety of others." 

That’s all I have to say. Thank you so much for listening," Thirteen bows, and I think to myself She is so awesome! As we all cheer in agreement.

"Right. Now that that’s over..." Aizawa starts, but suddenly the lights in the dome flicker out. Something black and swirling appears in front of the fountain, the lights sputtering on and off. 

"Stay together and don’t move! Thirteen, protect the students!" Aizawa orders, his voice sharp and commanding. 

“What is that thing? … Wait, has the training started already? I thought we were rescuing people,” Kirishima asks, his voice tinged with agitation. 

“Stay back,” Mr. Aizawa commands as he puts on his goggles. “This is real. Those are villains.” As soon as Mr. Aizawa says that, I freeze, so many possibilities running through my mind.

“What? Real villains? No way. How could so many of them get into a UA facility this secure?” Kirishima asks, his worry evident as he glances around nervously. 

“Because that Villains has a portal quirk.” I say and point at the shadowy figure at the fountain.

“Wait how do you know that?” Midoriya Questions.

“His DNA. I don´t just manipulate matter but also see it.” I reply. 

"Why aren’t the alarms going off?" Yaoyorozu points out, her voice sharp with concern. 

"Good question. I’m not sure," Thirteen admits, and we all gasp in unison. 

"Is the entire campus under attack? Or is this their only target?" Todoroki begins, his voice calm but focused. "Either way, if the alarm sensors aren’t being triggered, then one of these villains must have a Quirk that’s masking their presence here. They carefully chose this isolated facility as an entry point at a time when a class was being taught. They’re fools for trespassing here, but they’ve clearly thought this out. Whatever their plan, they must have a concrete objective in mind. But what is it?" he analyses, his

"Thirteen, get them out of here and alert the main campus. Actually, if they’ve got the ability to block our sensors, they might be jamming our regular communications too. Kaminari, try using your Quirk to contact the school," Aizawa directs, his voice firm. 

"Yes, sir!" Kaminari responds immediately, placing his hand on his headgear. 

"What are you gonna do? You can’t fight them on your own! There’s too many of them. Even if you can nullify their Quirks, your fighting style’s not suited for this. Your power works best in stealth and one-on-one fights. That’s not gonna help with a group!" Midoriya blurts out, practically mansplaining Mr. Aizawa’s Quirk to him. 

"You can’t be a pro if you only have one trick," Mr. Aizawa replies, his goggles now fully on and his expression resolute. "I’ll leave it to you, Thirteen." 

Without hesitation, Aizawa leaps down the stairs like he’s flying, landing smoothly and maintaining his momentum as he charges at the villains. His scarf flashes out, erasing their Quirks in an instant. With a fluid motion, he captures three villains in his weapon, slamming them together and knocking them unconscious in one seamless attack. 

"Move!" Thirteen shouts, and we all sprint after her toward the exit, adrenaline surging as the situation escalates. 

"Whoa, he’s holding them off. I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated him," Midoriya says, still lagging behind us. 

"Come on, Midoriya!" I yell, urging him to pick up the pace. 

"This is no time to be analysing. We have to go!" Iida calls out, his voice sharp with urgency. 

Suddenly, a shadowy portal materializes in front of us, forcing us all to skid to a halt. 

"There is no escape for you," the villain steps through, his voice calm yet menacing. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. We are the League of Villains. I know it’s impolite, but we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. And besides, isn’t this a fitting place for All Might, the symbol of peace, to take his last breath? I believe he was supposed to be here today, and yet I see no sign of him. There must’ve been some sort of change in plans we could not have foreseen. Ah, well, in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I still have a role to play." 

"Wait, no!" I call out as Bakugo and Kirishima suddenly charge at the villain without hesitation. 

Bakugo’s explosion erupts on impact, creating a thick smoke screen that temporarily obscures the portal villain.

"Did you think we were just gonna stand around and let you tear this place to shreds?" Kirishima shouts defiantly, his fists clenched.

"Seriously, why are you guys running towards danger? You’re supposed to be running away from it! What the hell is wrong with you people?" I yell, panic rising in my voice.

"You live up to your school’s reputation," the villain says mockingly. "But you should be more careful, children. Otherwise, someone might get hurt." His tone is calm, but the threat is chilling.

"You two, get out of the way right now!" Thirteen yells, her voice sharp with urgency.

"I’ll scatter you across this facility to meet my comrades… and your deaths!" the villain declares, and suddenly, we’re surrounded by the swirling darkness of his shadowy portal.

"What’s going on?" Iida shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The next thing I know, I’m plummeting toward the landslide zone. 

"Crap!" I squeak, activating my powers to fly down and slow my descent. 

I really wanted to keep the fact that I can fly a secret. I had this whole plan where, when I finally revealed it, everyone would be like, *"Since when can you fly?"* and I’d casually reply, *"Since forever."* But this? This is a life-or-death situation. No time for keeping secrets now. 

I start scanning my surroundings, trying to see if anyone else is here, but my thoughts are interrupted by a voice. 

"You were right about that guy being able to portal us, but where are the others?" Todoroki questions, his tone calm but alert. 

"I think it’s just us here. He said he’d scatter us around the facility," I reply, pointing toward the centre. "We’re in the landslide zone. I got a good look while I was in the air—it’s a couple of miles that way to the centre. But our classmates are probably in the other rescue zones." 

As I finish speaking, figures start emerging from the shadows ahead of us. 

"Villains," Todoroki confirms, his voice sharp, and my mind begins racing. 

What should I do? My thoughts spiral. I could just blast them, but my feet won’t move. No, I just have to act. I could freeze their feet to the ground… but Todoroki’s probably planning to do that. And he’s better at it anyway. So maybe… if he freezes them, I can use my power to make a rope and tie them up.

As if reading my mind, Todoroki freezes the villains’ feet to the ground in an instant. I jump into action, forming a rope from thin air and quickly binding them. 

"That was way too easy. These guys came here to take on All Might?" I frown, glancing at the restrained villains. 

"Aren’t you embarrassed to lose to two children?" Todoroki taunts with a smirk. "For God’s sake, you’re adults. Put up a real fight." 

"So the plan was to scatter us and then kill us," Todoroki scoffs, his voice icy and disdainful. "You were woefully unprepared. In fact, it looks to me like you’ve had no training at all. You haven’t the slightest idea how to use your Quirks." 

He steps forward, and I glide along beside him, using my Quirk to skate across the ice just like we practiced in combat training. 

"This power... they had us the instant we were warped here," one of the villains stammers, teeth chattering from the cold. 

"They’re not kids—they’re monsters! So cold..." another whimpers, huddling in on himself. 

"How do they plan to kill All Might?" Todoroki muses, his tone calm yet cutting. "At first, I thought they’d gathered a force of elite criminals who could simply overpower him." 

He glances at the shivering villains and shakes his head. "Which obviously can’t be their master plan. Most of these villains are low-level thugs. Just pawns." 

"From what I can tell, there are only three or four truly dangerous people here," I suggest, trying to piece together the situation. "If that’s the case, then what we need right now is more information." 

Todoroki nods in agreement before stepping closer to one of the villains whose face is the only thing not frozen. Ice crystals swirl in the air as Todoroki raises his hand toward the trembling man.  "Listen carefully," Todoroki says, his voice calm but menacing. "If you stay frozen, your cells will slowly die as your body succumbs to frostbite and hypothermia. Luckily for you, I want to be a hero, so I’d like to avoid unnecessary cruelty." 

The villain flinches as Todoroki’s icy hand gets closer. "But I can only do that if you tell me how you plan to kill All Might. That’s the only way you’ll survive."

I stare at Todoroki, my face paling. He is super scary. I think, keeping my distance. 

After securing the villains, Todoroki and I head toward the center. I fly above the ground, and he glides smoothly on an ice path he creates as we move. 

When we arrive, the scene before us is horrifying. All Might is locked in combat with the Nomu. As I focus on its DNA, I notice something unsettling—there are similarities to Midoriya. It has multiple Quirks embedded in its makeup, but that's not the part that stands out. What catches my attention is how its Quirks look like they were forcibly injected, as if they don’t naturally belong to it. The massive creature has its hand plunged through All Might’s side, fingers digging deep. Its lower half is halfway into a swirling portal, and it’s trying to drag All Might into the void with it. All Might, unyielding, strains to hold his ground against the overwhelming force.  

As we skid to a stop, both Todoroki and I spot Midoriya sprinting toward the action. The shadowy villain shifts into his path, opening a portal. Before Izuku can react, Bakugo appears out of nowhere, detonating an explosion that blasts the villain sideways. 

We land as Todoroki sends a surge of ice rushing toward the Nomu, freezing over its body and encasing its hand. 

"One of your poorly trained thugs told us you're here because you think you can kill All Might," Todoroki declares coldly. 

All Might leaps down, landing beside me with a heavy thud. 

"Are you alright, All Might?" I ask, concern thick in my voice. 

Kirishima charges at the man with the hands, but the villain evades him effortlessly. 

"Let me heal you," I offer, placing my hand over All Might's injury. I lower my voice as I add, "Your injury was already bad before, but now it’s worse." 

“Before?!” All Might echoes in alarm, his tone sharp. 

“Don’t worry,” I reassure him quickly. “I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I figured it out the first time I saw you in person. I do have a lot of questions for you afterward, though. I hope you won’t mind.” I give him a small smile before focusing on my task. 

Using my Quirk to manipulate the atoms in his body, I begin to heal him. Controlling organic matter is still new to me, and it takes all my concentration. A headache pounds behind my eyes, but I manage to stop the bleeding, though I can’t do much more. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” I apologize softly, feeling inadequate. 

“It’s fine. You did really well,” All Might reassures me, his voice warm and steady as he pats my head. 

“Dammit, that was going to be so cool!” Kirishima grumbles, clearly frustrated. 

“Guess I found your body that time, you smoky bastard!” Bakugo mocks as he pins the shadowy villain to the ground. 

“The Symbol of Peace will not be defeated by delinquents like you,” Todoroki scoffs, his voice icy with contempt. 

"Kacchan! Everyone!" Midoriya's voice trembles, tears forming in his eyes before he quickly wipes them away. 

“Kurogiri. How could you let this brat get the best of you?” the hand-covered villain scolds coldly. “You’ve gotten us into a real jam here.” 

“You got careless, you dumb villain,” Bakugo sneers, his tone full of confidence. “It wasn’t hard to figure you out. Only certain parts of you turn into that smoky warp gate. You use that mist to hide your actual body, as a kind of distraction, thinking it made you safe. That’s why we missed. But if you didn’t have a body, you wouldn’t need this neck armour, right? You’re not immune to physical attacks if they’re well-aimed.”  The villain grunts under Bakugo’s hand, and Bakugo lets off a few minor explosions as a warning. 

“Don’t move! You try anything funny, and I’ll blow your ass up right now, got it? They’ll be cleaning you up for weeks,” Bakugo growls menacingly. 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound very heroic,” Kirishima teases with a smirk. 

“They escaped uninjured and captured my two strongest men,” the hand villain mutters, his voice low and simmering with anger. “Kids these days really are amazing. They make the League of Villains look like amateurs. Can’t have that. Nomu.” 

At his command, the Nomu pulls itself free from the frozen wormhole. The portal vanishes, and the creature’s limbs snap and crack—but it keeps moving as though nothing happened. 

“How is that thing still moving? He’s all messed up!” Midoriya exclaims, his voice tinged with horror. 

"Stay back, everybody!" All Might commands, putting his arm out in front of me as the ice breaks off the Nomu and its lost limbs regenerate.

"What is this? I thought you said his power was shock absorption!" All Might calls out. I feel bad for not mentioning this sooner.

"I didn't say that was his only Quirk," the hand villain explains. "He also has super-regeneration. Nomu has been modified to take you on even at 100% of your power. He's basically a highly efficient punching bag that hits back."

Everyone gets into a fighting stance. "First, we need to free our method of escape. Get him, Nomu!"

"He's fast," All Might voices, just as the Nomu lunges toward Bakugo and attempts to punch him, sending everyone flying back. Now, Bakugo, Todoroki, Midoriya, Kirishima, and I stand behind All Might, who pushes us out of the way.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya worries as the smoke clears. "Kacchan? Whoa, that's awesome, you dodged him!" Midoriya exclaims, seeing Bakugo standing next to him.

"Shut up, no, I didn't, you damn nerd," Bakugo denies.

"Then how'd you get over here?" Kirishima questions.

"So, he protected the child, huh?" the hand villain sneers.

"These are kids, and you didn't hold back!" All Might yells.

"I didn't have much choice. He was threatening my companion. Besides, these kids are no angels. The plain-looking one—he tried to kill me with a maxed-out punch. What kind of 'hero' does something like that?" the hand villain rants. "You think you can get away with being as violent as you want just because you say it's for the sake of others? Well, you know what, All Might. That pisses me off. Why do people get to decide that some violent acts are heroic, and others are villainous? Casting judgment on what's 'good' and what's 'evil.' You think you're the Symbol of Peace? You're just another government-sponsored instrument of violence. And violence always breeds more violence. I'll make sure the world understands that once you're dead."

"You're nothing but a lunatic," All Might retorts. "Criminals like you... you always try and make your actions sound noble. But admit it, you're only doing this because you like it. Isn't that, right?"

"He's got me figured out," the hand villain mutters.

"We've got them outnumbered," Todoroki points out.

"And Kacchan found the mist guy's weakness," Midoriya adds.

"These dudes may act really tough, but we can take 'em down now with All Might's help," Kirishima declares, his Quirk activating. "Let's do this!"

"Don't attack. Get out of here," All Might commands.

"You would've been in trouble earlier if it weren't for us, remember?" Todoroki points out. "You need our help."

"I thank you for your assistance, but this is different. It's going to be alright. She needs you more than me. Keeping people safe is a hero's first priority," All Might insists.

"But you're too hurt. And you're almost out of..." Izuku begins, worried.

All Might begins punching the Nomu rapidly, each blow sending shockwaves through the air, and he retaliates just as quickly. The two exchange blow after blow, with All Might throwing the Nomu around with incredible force.

"A real heart will always find a way for justice to be served!" All Might declares, leaping into the air and slamming the Nomu down before landing beside him. "Now, for a lesson. You may have heard these words before, but I'll teach you what they really mean. Go beyond! Plus, Ultra!" All Might delivers a powerful punch, sending the Nomu flying into the cone above, electrocuting him before the villain is blasted through the cone, out into the sky, and eventually into space. That was the last thing I saw before blacking out.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

tell me about him.

the story i remember: an orphan boy is raised to be very good at sports. he accidentally kills the local king’s favorite dog, and takes the dogs place as a guard??

not an orphan! he has many dads. really a disproportionate number of dads. and also a mum. she's called dechtire or dechtine and doesn't come up very often, but she's the sister of conchobar, king of the ulaid, so cú chulainn is the king's nephew

he gets his name by killing (deliberately) the watch dog of a man named culann, bc he was late to a feast and the dog had already been let out to guard the place so it tried to kill him but he got there first. culann wasn't thrilled about this, so young sétanta (or sédana but it's sétanta in all the versions of the boyhood deeds that i know) is like "i will get you another dog and in the meantime i will guard your land for you" and everyone is like, cool, that seems a reasonable thing for a six year old to say, let's give him a new name while we're about it

anyway then he grows up to do a shitton of murder, most notably in táin bó cúailnge, which is the story of one 17-year-old boy (cú chulainn) versus the armies of ireland, and he's winning. also he kills his best friend/foster brother in a deeply homoerotic duel, as ya do.

bunch more murders, bunch more adventures, then eventually it catches up with him ~16 years later and the kids of loads of people he killed are like "hey so fuck that guy in particular, right?" and team up to murder him bc truly he was great at making enemies. bye bye cú chulainn. he dead.

cú chulainn's best friend, best weapon, and probably the sole reason he didn't die at 15 instead of 33 is his charioteer láeg mac riangabra. láeg my best beloved. bit of a weirdo, bit obscure, no one's totally sure where he comes from and also he is entirely down to do murder for cú chulainn when necessary. probably a similar age to cú chulainn which frankly explains a lot. they play fidchell together which is a strategy board game a bit like chess so basically they are the chess club nerds who will beat YOU up

i love them, your honour

[diamondwerewolf]

Some pikmin headcanons, super mundane edition:

- All of Olimar’s children are in someway named after fictional characters (from comics or old strategy board games) he has to pitch them very hard to his wife. Their middle names are zodiacs

-Louie is SUPPOSED to be wear contacts/glasses but always forgets to

-Olimar can speak more than one language, but usually only around his parents

-Sometimes photos of olimar as an adolescent are mistaken for his son. It doesn’t help that the hat he wears is the exact same one olimar had as a teenager

-olimar’s parents don’t like Tarrey. She doesn’t care.

-while they don’t make much, Tarrey has managed to curate a very lovely home. She’s immensely thrifty, an excellent craftsman, and a gardener. Her pride and joy is their backyard

-despite being a housewife, tarrey’s degree is in agriculture

-carrots are to hocotate what corn is to ohio. Or oranges to Florida

-based on what little view of hocotate we have, olimar’s family live on the planet’s desert coast. The town is situated around a critical collection of oasis ponds and lakes. Hocotate is the devil child you get when you cross Japanese mountain side with Nevada and Florida. The drive to the beach is a solid hour.

-the house is in Tarrey’s name. A wedding gift from her mother

-Louie likes to stay up late, which may be why he’s always late to work. He has never been on time, ever

-Louie drives a truck for now. He’s saving up for a new motorcycle…to replace the second one he wrecked popping wheelies on the interstate in the middle of the night with his friends. Despite being a goober he does wear good gear.

-yes Louie has friends

-Louis will drive for hours just to go do some dumb shit in another town, or satisfy a specific food craving

-Louie’s late mother was a cruise ship pilot. Which is why he got an easy job in space cruise cargo loading before working for hocotate freight

-most of Olimar’s alone time is in the family garage. He has an office of sorts set up there where he works, listens to music, or reads news. There’s a small computer desk and a shelf with his action figures and trinkets. There are barrels of scrap wood and various power tools.

-bulbie is based on a beagle, so he yodels instead of barks

-after establishing more of a relationship with olimar and his family, Louie comes and goes from the family home. Sometimes he's there to use the kitchen, the tools in the garage, or wash his clothes. He has his own fridge in the garage so Tarrey won’t kill him for eating food meant for the kids

-Louie can pick locks……

-olimar has very enthusiastically shared pictures and notes he’s taken on pnf-404. He’s shared some stories about his time with the pikmin. Though….has neglected to go into detail about being turned into a leafling as not to worry his wife. If she asks, his answers are vague

[conspirartist]

for the other meme bc i didn't wanna list every single one of your characters for drawing!! i know how long art can take sobs

i'll do dorms by letter and number to avoid confusion!!

poppy - IGNI-3, IGNI-4, IGNI-7

lottie - IGNI-6, IGNI-7, H-1

adra - IGNI-2, IGNI-3, IGNI-5

kaeith - SV-2, SV-3, SV-5

First of all, thank you very much for the ask (and for thinking on how to take off the load of drawing all of them, I love my boys, but good lord there are too many of them). Also, sorry in advance this one is ridiculously long, I hope you don't mind the rambling...

Poppy

- What's a hidden talent they have? I would say singing, Poppy may not think so, but he’s a good singer. If you ever enter Ignihyde and see a bunch of students gathered around a door, stock still and way too quiet, chances are Poppy is inside, either humming or singing to himself and no one wants to enter because they know he’ll stop the moment he knows someone is listening.

- What's a hobby they enjoy doing alone? What's a hobby they enjoy doing with other people? If it's gaming, what type of games do they enjoy most? He really doesn’t like performing in front of (any) an audience, so even though he plays the ukulele, chances are you only ever hear him through a closed door. That said, he absolutely loves board games and for those not only he needs company, he craves it – club meetings are his favorite part of the week, his main strategy is along the lines of “I may lose but I’m dragging everyone down with me”.

- Do they want to apprentice somewhere like S.T.Y.X/for the Jupiter Conglomerate? What's their dream career? Do they ever try to impress Idia hoping to get their foot in the door? As most people born at Isle of Woe working for S.T.Y.X is less a matter of ‘if’ and more a matter of ‘when’ or sometimes ‘how’, his parents work there and so, more likelly than not, will he – hopefuly doing something he kind of likes, if not, well people find a way to do something even if indirectly, after all a lot goes on to keep a whole island cut off of the rest of the world and it takes more people than one might initially imagine. That said, if he could choose he would like to go into research and development of warding spells (maybe even teach some day, that would be nice). As for impressing Idia, yeah that boat sailed a long time ago, most impressive thing about him is how he hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion yet (although one may argue that at this point Idia is more horrified than impressed really) – but it is nice to have someone recognize his habilities; Poppy tries to do his best to return the favor, it’s what a good vice housewarden and friend would do (and Idia could use both around his corner, he thinks).

Lottie

- Is there anything your OC would infodump about? How do you get them to share? Do they ever get insecure about their rambling? Lottie’s the resident motormouth, he loves to talk and isn’t ashamed of it. Getting him talking is pretty easy too, just stand close to him for a couple seconds too long and he’ll get going. His favorite topics, in no particular order are: his latest project; his most recent misdeed (although he won’t phrase it this way); how unfair it is that he got benched in the last club match (he didn’t tackle that guy from Scarabia that hard, what do you mean it’s not a contact sport? and he technically used magic to launch himself from his broomstick, so really what’s the problem?) and how much he likes his dormmates, even though they keep nagging him about silly stuff like safety measures and hazardous prototype testing.

- Do they want to apprentice somewhere like S.T.Y.X/for the Jupiter Conglomerate? What's their dream career? Do they ever try to impress Idia hoping to get their foot in the door? You're kidding? Of course he does! They must do a lot of cool stuff in there, let him in already! He’ll be the coolest mechanic Twisted Wonderland has ever seen! Of course he tries to impress housewarden Idia, he built his own little brother, how cool is that?! Although housewarden always seems a little more nervous than usual around his prototypes, it’s ok though, vice-housewarden Poppy says Idia-senpai is not very good with people, so Lottie just needs to hang out with him even more until he gets used to him (by the way have you seem housewarden? He just finished tweaking his latest project and he’s pretty sure it won’t explode this time, his future intership is on the line you guys)!

- Have they ever gotten collared by Riddle? For what? How long? How often does it happen? Oh a bunch of times already, being on the same year group doesn’t help. Most instances involved Bites, the roomba, living up to its name and terrorizing unsuspecting students and their unprotected ankles: the little thing was made as a companion for the dorm’s roomba, Staby and developed a nasty personality all of its own after being fed way too much magic by an overintusiastic Lottie – it acts like a demented cross between a guard dog and a very poorly trained familiar, absolutely hates Riddles guts and tried to ‘kill’ the robot supossed to be its companion in three separate occasions. Longest collar time was around six hours, after he managed to botch a tecnomancy spell (honestly more like poorly test it during class) so badly that, not only the rebound managed to blow a hole through the classroom wall, it kept going across the hall and straight up through Riddle’s cauldron in the lab over. Overall Riddle mellowed down a lot since his overblot, but it still happens quite often, especially when taking into account Lottie’s not even in his dorm (it was quite a contention point between him and Idia, besides the whole housewarden meetings, but somehow they found some shared sympathy in trying to rein in the absolute chaos that is Lottie Phinyx).

Adra

- What is the project/invention they are most proud of? Probably the wings prop he did for that one Film Studies’ Project: Fully articulated, remotely controled (he had to ask Lottie’s help for that part, which was fun but also a little terrifying, considering it would be strapped to someone’s back) and with a bunch of LED work – beautiful and functional, not even Vil found a problem with this one.

- What's a hidden talent they have? He’s a good dancer, but it very rarely comes up, so people just don’t know. Not like he’s secretive about it or anything, he even did a couple classes when he was younger!

- How competitive is your OC? How easy is it to rile them up? Adra’s actually pretty chill, he quite enjoys doing things in a more colaborative way. Usually he’s pretty hard to rile up, with a notable exception: artistic divergences – he and Vil are constantly at each other’s throats over costume choices (if he gets called tacky one more time, he swears to the Seven, he’ll end up in the news and not in a good light).

Kaeith

- What sport do they specialize in? If they don't play, what club are they in? Or do they ever play referee? Not quite his speciality, but he’s very good at track and field (even without his boots), he’s quick and has very good reflexes (a life time running from the consequences of his own mischief definetely helped).

- Does your OC ever get into physical altercations? How do they usually play out? Not really he runs from them, he knows he doesn’t have the physical strenght to back him up in a fight (that doesn’t stop him from running his mouth though, he’s fast, he can run). Although he's been doing way less running since he got into the Gargoyle Research Society, most people don’t want to risk pissing Malleus off.

- Does your OC have beef with someone outside of the dorm? Is it reasonable in your opinion? Is the other character aware?  He does and it’s mutual! He and Sebek don’t get along at all, having them at each other’s vicinity is a nightmare for everyone involved (Malleus, poor guy, just wants them to get along) – As to if it’s reasonable, well, as entertaining it is to watch Sebek being himself I do believe I wouldn’t last a full 15 minutes around him without seriously considering the possibility of throtling him at least once (Kaeith himself has a tendency of being very annoying and antagonistic whenever he feels like he has something to prove, so really, not like Sebek's the only one at fault here); I would say yeah, completely reasonable, they both suck (affectionate) and I think they should kiss about it, hehe.

[satoshi-mochida]

Farland Saga I & II Saturn Tribute launches June 26 in Japan for PS5, PS4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC - Gematsu

Strategy RPG collection Farland Saga I & II Saturn Tribute will launch for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC via Steam (Farland Saga I Saturn Tribute, Farland Saga II Saturn Tribute) on June 26 in Japan, developer City Connection announced. The PlayStation 5 and Switch versions will be available both physically and digitally.

The standard physical edition will cost 5,500 yen, while the limited edition will cost 9,900 yen. The latter includes a copy of the game, a special box, a special fan book, the two-disc soundtrack CD, and an acrylic stand. The digital editions will cost 2,970 yen per game (or 2,950 yen per game on Xbox One and PC).

Here is an overview of the collection, via City Connection:

Farland Saga I Saturn Tribute

What Will the Boy Witness at the End of Battle?

On the remote island of Entrich, far from the mainland, three nations have maintained a fragile balance: the military superpower Yohk, the agricultural kingdom Barth, and Thulk, an independent state led by demons. Leon and Ralph, who lost their parents in a great war, were raised by the knight Brian and have since grown into skilled warriors. One day, they attend a trilateral peace ceremony in Barth, only to find themselves caught up in a catastrophic incident that shatters the fragile relations between the three nations. Branded as traitors, they flee alongside an innocent princess accused of a crime she did not commit. Thus begins an escape that will ultimately decide the fate of the world.

Seamless Transitions from Fully Voiced Drama to Tactical Battles

Aside from movie cutscenes, the entire story unfolds on a quarter-view battlefield, ensuring a deeply immersive experience. Through a combination of conversation windows and pixel art, the characters engage in serious yet sometimes comical dialogues, leading seamlessly into tactical battles. Under your command, their journey will be chronicled in a tale that will one day be called legendary.

Exclusive Saturn Tribute Features to Fully Support Players!

A newly implemented “Always-On Status Display” for allies, allowing you to grasp the battle situation instantly. “Rewind” and “Quick Save and Load” functions, ensuring peace of mind even if you make a mistake. Finding battles too challenging? Activate the support function to double the experience points gained! Note: This game, including its menus and in-game text, is available only in Japanese.

What is Farland Saga I?

Farland Saga and its sequel, Farland Saga: Toki no Michishirube, take place eight years apart, each depicting adventures of their respective eras. This two-part simulation RPG series became widely beloved for its adorable character illustrations, comical animations, and captivating dialogue. This title is based on the first installment, Farland Saga, originally released in 1998, now enhanced with new features to improve playability.

Farland Saga II Saturn Tribute

A Fiery Explosion of Magic! The Adventure of Karin the Mage Begins!

Entrich. The wounds of the great conflict that shook this island eight years ago have finally healed, and travel between the island and the mainland is flourishing once more. A lone girl boards a ship bound for the mainland. Her name is Karin. Having recently lost her grandfather, she now stands alone in the world. Before his grave, she makes a bold vow: “I’m going to make a name for myself on the mainland!” Her destination is Attracta, one of the mainland’s most prosperous trading cities. What fate awaits her as she embarks on her journey as an adventurer?

From Everyday Life to Battle! More Humor, Faster Combat!

Centered around the Adventurers’ Guild in Attracta, Karin and her companions find themselves in all sorts of comical misadventures—200 percent more humor than the first game! Combat has been optimized for speed, making battles more engaging and accessible. The battlefields are more diverse than ever—mountains, mines, the sea… even rooftops!? Every day brings a new, thrilling adventure!

Exclusive Saturn Tribute Features to Fully Support Players!

“Always-On Status Display” for allies, ensuring quick and easy battlefield awareness. “Rewind” and “Quick Save and Load” features, allowing you to correct mistakes and retry tough situations with ease. Finding battles too challenging? Activate the support function to double the experience points gained! A simple yet deep battle system, where each character has their own unique traits. Lead them to victory with your strategic command! Note: This game, including its menus and in-game text, is available only in Japanese.

What is Farland Saga II?

Farland Saga and its sequel, Farland Saga: Toki no Michishirube, form a two-part simulation RPG series, each depicting the grand adventures of their respective eras. The series gained popularity for its adorable character illustrations, lively animations, and engaging, humor-filled dialogue. This title is based on Farland Saga: Toki no Michishirube, the second installment originally released in 1998, now enhanced with new features to improve playability.

Watch the first trailer below. Visit the official website here.

Trailer #1

[langblrtr]

Temel Kelimeler / Basic Words

- **게임 (geim)** – Oyun / Game

- **비디오 게임 (bidio geim)** – Video oyunu / Video game

- **보드 게임 (bodeu geim)** – Masa oyunu / Board game

- **플레이어 (peulleieo)** – Oyuncu / Player

- **레벨 (rebel)** – Seviye / Level

- **점수 (jeomsu)** – Puan / Score

- **승리 (seungni)** – Zafer / Victory

- **패배 (paebae)** – Yenilgi / Defeat

- **캐릭터 (kaerikteo)** – Karakter / Character

- **아이템 (aitem)** – Eşya / Item

Oyun Türleri / Game Genres

- **RPG (알피지, alpi-ji)** – Rol yapma oyunu / Role-playing game

- **FPS (에프피에스, epeu-pi-eseu)** – Birinci şahıs nişancı / First-person shooter

- **전략 게임 (jeollyak geim)** – Strateji oyunu / Strategy game

- **퍼즐 게임 (peojeul geim)** – Bulmaca oyunu / Puzzle game

- **액션 게임 (aeksyeon geim)** – Aksiyon oyunu / Action game

Oyun Komutları & İfadeler / Game Commands & Phrases

- **시작 (sijak)** – Başla / Start

- **저장 (jeojang)** – Kaydet / Save

- **로드 (rodeu)** – Yükle / Load

- **일시 정지 (ilsi jeongji)** – Duraklat / Pause

- **재시작 (jaesijak)** – Yeniden başlat / Restart

- **게임 오버 (geim obeo)** – Oyun bitti / Game over

Online Oyun İfadeleri / Online Gaming Phrases

- **파티 (pati)** – Takım / Party

- **길드 (gildeu)** – Klan / Guild

- **퀘스트 (kweseuteu)** – Görev / Quest

- **PVP (피브이피, pibeupi)** – Oyuncu vs. oyuncu / Player vs. player

- **PVE (피브이이, pibeui)** – Oyuncu vs. çevre / Player vs. environment

😊🎮