#these belts are a great way to use all scraps

[reiding-writing]

Can i get a workshop session? How about spencer with a reader who's actually smarter than him? Maybe she's younger too, thanksss

GENIUS² — SPENCER REID!

working alongside another genius was a blessing, in more ways than one.

early!seasons!spencer x reader | fluff | 1.3k | event masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n— the genius x genius trope is great i love it

Spencer Reid prided himself on being one of the smartest people in the room.

At 24 years old, he was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs under his belt, and an eidetic memory that made him practically a walking encyclopaedia.

His mind moved faster than 99.7% of the world’s population, processing information, analysing patterns, and solving puzzles with ease.

But none of that prepared him for you.

You were younger than him by two years, and while you didn’t have a wall lined with degrees like Spencer, your intelligence was undeniable.

A bachelor’s degree in Theoretical Physics had been enough to earn you a spot in the BAU, something that had surprised even you.

Hotch had seen something in you—your ability to not only understand the unsub’s behavior but to intuitively connect pieces of information in ways most people couldn’t. It was something the team found invaluable.

And it didn’t take long for Spencer to notice.

Where Spencer excelled in academic brilliance, you had a talent for thinking outside the box. You connected dots faster than most people even realized there were dots to connect.

Spencer was used to being the one with all the answers, the one who could solve problems others struggled with, but you? You were different. You weren’t afraid to speak up, even if it meant contradicting his carefully constructed theories. You didn’t care about bruising egos, least of all his, and it fascinated him.

The first time Spencer realised you were special was during a particularly tough case.

The team had been chasing down a serial killer for weeks—a cryptic unsub who left strange, undecipherable messages at each crime scene.

Spencer had spent hours poring over the notes, scrawling down numbers, symbols, and trying to make sense of the pattern, but nothing clicked. His frustration was palpable; his fingers were tapping restlessly on the desk, and his usually sharp mind felt like it was hitting a wall.

An iron wall, covered in spikes and barbed wire.

Then you had walked in. Quietly, unassuming, you hovered over his shoulder for a moment before making a suggestion that cut through his fog of confusion.

“You might be thinking about this too literally,” You said casually, your voice breaking through the silence.

Spencer looked up, frowning slightly, both intrigued and a bit defensive. “What do you mean?”

You slid into the chair next to him, your eyes scanning the pages spread out across his desk. “You’re trying to solve this like a mathematical puzzle, but uh— the letters in the corners of his notes are literally just spelling out ‘library’, so I went to the nearest library and spoke to the librarian on staff, she gave me this,”

You pull out a scrap piece of paper from your pocket and hold it out towards him, a handwritten poem.

Spencer blinked, the pieces clicking together in his mind with almost audible force as he took the poem from you.

You’d identified the connection instantly, something Spencer would have done himself had his mind not been knotted up in frustration. But instead of feeling defeated, he was astonished.

“How did you-?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You shrugged, as if it were obviousLooking at the bigger picture can be really useful sometimes,”

Spencer stared at you for a moment longer, watching as you calmly began jotting down more notes, your mind racing ahead as if you’d never even paused for breath. He realised, in that moment, that you weren’t just another member of the team. You were his equal—possibly even more than that.

From then on, Spencer found himself constantly intrigued by you. The two of you often ended up working side by side, bouncing ideas off each other in a way that was both exciting and intimidating for Spencer.

You were quick, your mind moving in a different way than his, and he found himself almost eager to keep up with your train of thought. You saw things he didn’t, caught details he might have missed, and he wasn’t sure how to handle that. No one had ever made him feel… not inferior, but challenged in such a unique way.

The conversations between you were often odd. Both of you were too intelligent for typical small talk, so you found yourselves discussing obscure facts or debating over scientific theories in the most random of moments.

Spencer would mention something about a 14th-century mathematician, and you would immediately counter with a parallel discovery made in physics centuries later. Neither of you really knew how to navigate personal conversations, so you stuck to what you both understood—facts, theories, and knowledge.

One evening, after a particularly long day spent on another complex case, the bullpen was empty except for the two of you. The team had gone home, but you stayed behind, just like Spencer always did, combing through the evidence again, searching for a missing piece.

You were seated across from him, your brow furrowed in concentration, scribbling notes onto a pad of paper.

Every few minutes, Spencer found himself glancing at you. It wasn’t something he could control—his curiosity about the way your mind worked was something that pulled him in, a constant mystery to unravel.

You were focused, absorbed in your task, and Spencer couldn’t help but admire how quickly you picked up on things. Sometimes, you were faster than him, and that realization both thrilled and unnerved him.

“You’re staring again,” you said, your voice breaking the silence without even looking up.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t used to being caught off guard, and you did it effortlessly. “I—I wasn’t staring. I was just… thinking.”

You finally looked up, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “What were you thinking about?”

He swallowed, his brain scrambling for an answer that didn’t sound ridiculous. “You’re really good at this,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “You are too.”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren’t his strong suit, and he wasn’t used to receiving them either. “I mean, you’re younger than me, but you’re just as—no, sometimes more—effective than I am. It’s… impressive.”

For the first time since he’d met you, you looked almost shy. “I’ve always looked up to you, you know,” You admitted quietly. “When I first started here, I thought you were kind of untouchable. Like, how could anyone keep up with a guy who knows literally everything?”

Spencer stared at you, speechless. The idea that you—someone he viewed as his intellectual equal, if not superior—had once looked up to him was almost unbelievable. It made him see you in a different light.

“Well,” he said, after a long pause, “I guess we keep each other on our toes.”

You smiled at that, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. It was a strange dynamic—two people too intelligent for normal conversations, yet too awkward to fully acknowledge the unique bond that had formed between you.

But it worked. You pushed each other, kept each other sharp. Whenever Spencer stumbled over an obscure reference, you were there to catch it. When you went too far into the realm of abstract thinking, Spencer reeled you back in with hard logic.

You were a perfect balance—an unstoppable team, even if neither of you would say it outright. And in a world where people rarely understood either of you, you had found something important in each other, an unlikely equal.

[catboybiologist]

Alright I can't finish this all in one sitting, but here's at least a bit of.... something? A word vomit? A prelude to smut about the eroticism of the machine? For all you robot, mecha, and spaceship fuckers out there. @k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl that means you

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- something to interface with the hull, move the new titanium plates and particulates into place, have a living, growing mass interfacing with the steel so that the ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous interface with the hull full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, and integrating with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, and let them suffer and rot after disposal. So as far as the official record was concerned, they didn't have brains.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on a... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship. They were pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

But I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chasiss I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I strapped in to the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as the tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, that was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. But whatever reason that was, the best pilots were still the ones that knew both their ship, and the ship's brain. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers rooting them into the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on. ...?

"We got a scrap run."

^_^

:)

^_^

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and what Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time.

I punch the boost.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hey there! Hope you’re doing well today. I was wondering if you could do a Tom Holland x fem! reader. While Tom is out of the house, Reader puts up glow-in-the-dark stars on Tom’s ceiling along with two lamps (one that looks like the moon and one that looks like the Sun.) To top it off Y/n leaves a note saying “You are my moon, my sun, and all of the stars. So I did this to make sure you always know.”

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → Pure fluff, Soft romance, Established relationship

Summary → Reader surprises Tom by decorating his room with stars and lamps, leaving a sweet note that turns his whole day around.

Tom had been on set all day. The kind of day that leaves your shoulders aching and your patience threadbare. You knew it, too. He’d texted you during a break with just one word: “Drained.” No emojis. Not even a gif. That was when you decided.

You’d been holding onto the little box of glow-in-the-dark stars for weeks now. Two small lamps you found online, a soft, peachy sun and a pale moon one with crater-like texture, had been sitting in your closet, waiting for the right moment. And tonight felt like it.

He’d given you a key to his place months ago. You’d only used it once or twice when he wasn’t home. But now, slipping it into the lock of his flat, your heart thumped with nervous excitement.

His place was dim and quiet. You took your shoes off, set your bag down, and went straight to work.

First came the stars.

You peeled off the little adhesives one by one, sticking constellations above his bed. Orion. Cassiopeia. A few random swirls of stars too, your own signature galaxies. You kept checking your phone every few minutes, making sure he wasn’t suddenly on his way back.

Next were the lamps.

You placed the “moon” lamp on his nightstand. When turned on, it glowed soft white with just a hint of silver, like moonlight in the middle of winter. The sun lamp went on his desk, warm, honey-colored light spilling across his notepads and books. The whole room felt different. Magical. But still his.

Last, a note.

You scribbled it on a scrap of notebook paper and tucked it just under his pillow:

> You are my moon, my sun, and all of the stars. So I did this to make sure you always know.

- Y/n

And then you were gone, locking the door behind you with a soft smile and a fluttering heart.

---

Tom got home close to 9 PM, peeling off his hoodie and shoes like they weighed a ton. His bones were tired, his mind still buzzing with scene rewrites and lighting adjustments.

He didn’t notice it at first.

But as he stepped into his bedroom, the glow hit him.

Tiny green stars blinked from the ceiling above. The room was softly lit in warm gold and silver. He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Then grinned.

“Y/n,” he whispered to the empty room.

He saw the note, picked it up gently, like it was glass.

Read it once. Then again.

And then, he laughed.

Not a loud laugh, but the kind that shook his chest and made his throat feel warm. The kind you let out when someone knows exactly what to do to fix your worst day.

He sat on the bed, phone in hand, and immediately called you.

You picked up on the second ring. “Hi,” you said casually, though you were already smiling.

“Hi?” He echoed. “That’s all I get?”

You laughed. “Did you get home?”

“I did. And I might be sitting under Orion’s Belt right now.”

“I told him to keep an eye on you.”

“And the lamps?”

“The sun’s for when you forget how bright you are. The moon’s for when you need peace. The stars are so you always remember someone loves you to the ends of the galaxy.”

There was a pause. He didn’t say anything at first. You heard him sigh softly.

Then, in a low voice, “I’m coming over. I need to kiss you under actual stars.”

“You could just look up.”

He laughed again. “Nah. They’re great, but they’re not you.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[hidefdoritos]

How do you decide what to do to fix clothing that needs mending(like what type of mend a tear or hole needs)? And when is something too far gone to fix?

Hey, thanks for asking great questions!

So the two main ways of repairing holes are (1) covering them with more thread or (2) patching. Generally, "more thread" is good for little holes that aren't very worn out, and "patching" is good for big holes and lots of wear! Plus there's a third type I call "preventative mending": fixing things before they have the chance to wear out.

Descriptions of how the mends look and how they were done are in the alt texts.

Examples of "more thread" mends:

A tiny hole on sturdy fabric. Needs more thread!

Some end results. The first one is just back and forth mending. The second mend was larger, so I wove over it. Personally, this is the largest darning I like to do. (It's easier for me to make a patch than to essentially weave my own fabric over a big hole.)

Examples of "patching" mends:

These jeans recently wore through. (I intended to do my DIY ripstop on the thighs, but life kept happening.) The hole is maybe the size of a quarter, but the fabric all around it is also very weak and worn. The line marks where the fabric is strong enough to hold a patch.

Here's the inside and outside of some jeans I've been working on for a few years. I started by actually doing the DIY ripstop. When that was really disintegrating, I put patches on the inside. As the outside disintegrates more, I'll use my machine to do "more thread" mends. That'll anchor the mend to the patch and keep the patch from showing through to the outside world.

Example of a "preventative mend"

I've had these jeans for a couple years. Pockets and belt loops tear often, and I don't like showing my boxers to the world. So, before the threads can tear apart all the way, I'm putting a second layer behind them to spread out the strain and create a little extra protection.

When is something too far gone to fix?

Part of me wants to answer "never," but that's not the case.

Once upon a time, I went to a barn sale, and I found the old owner's favorite pair of jeans. "Tattered" doesn't begin to describe them. Every pocket was tearing away, all the belt loops were popped, the knees were gone, the cuffs were just threads, and every inch of them looked well-worn and well-loved. Repairs, at this point, would take a week.

It's too far gone when the effort required is more than you're able to give.

I got them for something like a quarter, brought them home to wash, and they became my first pieces of patch denim. The back pockets became cargo pockets on some other pants. The zipper got salvaged. Almost all the scrap denim you see in this post is from them.

If the repair is so intensive that the clothing is better as rags/scrap, then it's too far gone.

[Or if it's a holey sock. I hate darning with all my heart. I'd rather chew sandpaper than walk on darned socks. I just hack them up for stuffing.]

[artnerd1123]

Big thinker, attention blinker, and always down to tinker~

profile undercut~

Name: Inventor Pronouns: she/her Gender/sexuality: trans woman + lesbian Species: human  Height: 5’3”  Age: late 20s Occupation pre-dungeons: mechanic/repairman of many assorted machines (cars, factory equipment, household appliances, anything really), general tinkerer  Dungeon wish: a complete understanding of everything in the universe!!!  Fighting style: scrappy. In EVERY meaning of the word. She’s incredibly skilled at building her own weapons/equipment on the fly, and uses this to her advantage on the battlefield, able to use a “gadget” for free the entire fight- though she scraps it for a new one after each battle. Her lineups often seem slapdash and chaotic, but her experience as a mechanic, computer code geek, chemist, and holder of two science based PHDs mean that even when something backfires, the results help further her goals. Any advantage she can have she’ll take, though she tries not to fight unfairly with those weaker than her/equal to her in strength/prowess. She’s not experienced in a lot of weapon use, but she doesn’t have to be- she just has to know how to build em! She can make them pilot themselves if need be. All that being said, her stocky body is still PACKED full of muscle and energy, so even though she’s not a great fistfighter, she can and will fuck you up  Strengths: high energy, curiosity that knows no bounds, her hunger for knowledge is never sated (and therefore her persistence of answers never wavers), will get up over and over again no matter how many failures she endures, works great off of spite, in all aspects of her life she’s highly inventive- no seriously! She’s resourceful, extremely good at troubleshooting, and always thinks outside the box. She absorbs information like a sponge, and even if some of it leaks out now and again, she’s never one to shy away from re-studying her topic of choice. She thrives in chaotic and fast paced environments, and has experience in mechanical/chemical/computer coding/a bit of biology all firmly under her belt. Weaknesses: absolutely cannot sit still, processing slower tasks is difficult and waiting is excruciating, so her patience with her own work is very low, working hard off of spite can make her run herself into the ground if she’s not careful, has trouble reaching out for help in her own personal life struggles, can get overly emotional, explosive when angry, her one track pursuit of knowledge often leaves her blind to the obvious (bad) stuff happening around her, getting her to fully drop something is really difficult unless you have a project that’s more exciting, sticking to just one thing is agony so she hops between projects a LOT- not that great for long term goals  Personality: Inventor is always bright eyed and bushy tailed no matter how late of a night she had! She’s fast paced in how she works, how she talks, how she reaches for activities/knowledge, and how she exists day to day. She likes to keep herself busy all the time, and has a BLAST doing so- after all, you never work a day in your life if you love your job! And she LOVES being able to tinker with all sorts of gadgets, machines, and all manner of chemical reactions. Despite her avid love of finding and learning about new things, she can be timid around strangers, unsure how to present herself or conduct herself around them. She’ll shake it off and go back to her own bouncy eager self with enough time. While she often gets impatient with her own work, she does her best NOT to be impatient with people- especially those who are helping her in her work, and those she loves. Her patience when it comes to learning about new topics and/or people is vastly larger. She often wears her emotions on her sleeve, getting riled up easily (for better or for worse). Passionate is probably the best way to describe her overall. She is, however, terrified of being a failure. Being told you’re worth nothing growing up will do that- hence why she keeps moving all the time. Something’s bound to turn out eventually! There’s no way those screaming for her downfall are right. Right?

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

The spotify norrix drabbels you wrote are so great🧡🖤🧡🖤 could you also do number 4 for obvious reasons and number 69 also for obvious reasons 😇😂

Thank you and of course! You ended up picking two very different songs, so you get two very different drabbles. :)

4. Who I Am - Restrung Performance Version by Alan Walker, Peder Elias, and Putri Ariani

Lando stood beside the car, helmet tucked under his arm. The garage was humming with activity around him. He was looking down at his car, the sharp number 4 staring back at him.

This was his first day back at the track since he and Martijn had come out.

He'd been scared, at first. He had a lot to lose. Martijn had tried his best to support him, and his best was honestly amazing. But even then, he didn't have as much to lose as Lando did. The music industry was a hell of a lot more queer-friendly than motorsports were, after all. A queer DJ wouldn't get torn to pieces like a queer F1 driver would.

Still, at the same time, he'd decided, enough is enough. He was through hiding. He wasn't like everyone else, he never had been. So why should this be what got people into a tizzy?

This was who he was, and he was through hiding. He didn't fit into the crowd, and he didn't want to.

Being queer shouldn't be a big deal. But even if people treated it like it was, he wasn't going to let it stop him from being who he was.

Footsteps approached behind him, and then Martijn was by his side. He rested a hand gently on Lando's waist, and Lando leaned into his touch.

"Hey," Martijn said softly, "one last hug for good luck?"

He didn't need to ask Lando twice.

Whoever he was, whoever he became, he was glad that he had someone like Martijn by his side through it all.

--

69. The Old Therebefore/Singing at Snakes - from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Rachel Zegler and James Newton Howard

Lando's eyes shot open sharply, his body jolting. He winced in pain, his head throbbing and limbs feeling heavy. He tried to take in his surroundings.

The first thing he registered was that the car was kind of upside down.

The second thing was that it was getting kind of uncomfortably warm.

Uh oh . . . he thought, looking down in alarm. Smoke was pouring from the car. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He tugged at his safety harness. His hands shook as he fought with it. One clasp came undone, but the other was stuck. He pulled at it harder. The effort made his ribs ache.

The heat started to spread.

Fuck. No, no, no, he thought in a panic. He had to get out of the car right now. He would die if he didn't.

He kept pulling. The buckle refused to budge.

I'm going to die, he thought in terror. Trapped in a wrecked, burning car. This was how he was going to go out.

No. No no no no no. Please, no -

Martijn. Martijn is watching.

He's going to watch me die.

That realization froze Lando for a split second. In the next, he was yanking at the buckle again, harder than before. Pain in his ribs be damned.

No. I'm not letting Martijn see me die like this. I'm not done yet.

I'm not done yet.

He fought with the buckle, ignoring the heat as it continued to creep closer. Finally, just when he thought he had run out of strength, it popped free.

He threw the belts away, then grabbed the steering wheel. It clattered to the ground, closely followed by him. Then he was twisting his body and crawling away, using every last scrap of strength he had, and then more. Until he couldn't crawl any further.

When he finally fell to a stop, rolling onto his back and wheezing, he saw the car a few meters away. Flames slowly filled the cockpit, right where he had been sitting. The upside-down hunk of metal had threatened to be his end.

But death wasn't going to claim him yet.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

As the marshalls rushed his way, the cameras no doubt focused on him, he sighed in relief and closed his eyes. I'm okay, Marty. I'm going to come home.

I'm okay.

[sheliesshattered]

We had a fabulous time visiting Batuu yesterday! Our outfits were comfortable and functional and well suited to what turned out to be a relatively cold and cloudy day in southern California. Disney cast members definitely seemed to interact with us more because we made the effort to dress up, and we got some lovely compliments from other guests, too. We were even gifted some BSO credit coins by random strangers who liked our outfits!

It was Jack's first visit to Batuu, and while I did get to spend a little bit of time there with my mom in October, this was my first opportunity to really explore the entire area, browse through the shops, and sample all the food and drinks available. It was at least as cool as my first impression of it back in October, and Jack was impressed and delighted by all of it. We spent a good portion of the day just admiring all the details and world-building and excellent sets.

Jack has requested no photos, but I did manage to snag this pic of him blocking the camera like a victim of the paparazzi, lol.

But look at those pleats! Both Jack and I are so pleased with how they turned out. Several of the Resistance jackets on display in the Rise of the Resistance queue had similar pleat details, and it was fun to look at them up close.

Over this last weekend and all the way up to late Monday night, I was able to add a few last details to our outfits. I finally adjusted the chain length of my dangley earrings and glued the leather cording wraps to the back of my kyber crystal necklace so that it wouldn't slip out. While I had the glue out, I figured I'd take a stab at making some spat-type things to cover the lacings of my tall Doc Marten boots. I was completely winging it from start to finish, but I'm really happy with how they turned out!

The spats are made from some left over suede I've had in my stash for literally more than 20 years now -- it's been used for an Aragorn vest for Jack, a couple of bags for me, and the inner layers of the big wedge shaped piece on my Oswin belt. And I still have some left over! Maybe I'll make myself a belt pouch to match these spats at some point in the future.

The narrow end of each spat tucks under the laces closest to the toe of my boot, and theoretically secures to itself with a hook and eye, though I found the hook didn't really hold from that angle, and really wasn't necessary anyway. The straps then velcro around the back of my leg, at the lowest point of the bend of my ankle, and right at the top of the boot, so that the strap sits just above the top edge of the boot in the back, which helps keep it from slipping down.

To make these I really just draped scrap suede on my boot while wearing it, started cutting it to the shape I thought might make sense, then copied that over for a second spat. I measured how much I would need for the straps and how much of an overlap I wanted for the velcro, then cut out all those pieces and glued them together using E6000 -- which works wonderful for adhering velcro to suede and suede to suede, but is a bit more iffy with the metal hooks and eyes (one eye popped off when I was taking off the spat at the end of the night, but since it wasn't staying hooked anyway, I'm not fussed).

Despite being such a quick off-the-cuff project, the spats worked out great, and added that last little bit to my outfit by covering the laces of my boots. They're visible in the third photo, the full-length shot in front of the door (and in the video below), and I think they add an understated bit of texture difference in all the black-on-black there, in addition to obscuring the modern look of the boots a bit.

Besides those detail bits for me, I also made a pair of little pockets for Jack's jacket, to hold 'code cylinders'. It's a tiny detail that really makes the jacket look that much more Star Wars-y, and the cylinders themselves are empty and their tops unscrew, so the space can actually be functional, too. (Currently they're filled with gum!)

And at Jack's request, I threw together a quick insert for the zipper section on his collar that used to hold the hood before we removed it. The hood was making the collar too puffy, but without it the collar didn't have enough body to stand up on its own.

I took some measurements, then cut a piece of cotton duck canvas (that I had originally bought to cover the zippers on my Moment vest, before I changed gears and made the Batuu vest instead) to the right length and about three times the height of the interior of the hood section. I did a simple zigzag tri-fold on the height, ironed it flat, and marked some guide lines perpendicular to the length. Then it was just a simple process of quilting the three layers together by machine sewing in short vertical rows ~1cm apart.

The quilting gave the canvas even more stiffness, and after that point it absolutely did not want to fold or droop along the short vertical axis. I slipped it into the former hood pocket (after snipping one corner to fit around the snap I hadn't accounted for), zipped it closed, and gave the whole collar area a quick pressing. It's removable if we ever need to, completely washable, and keeps the collar standing upright without looking too stiff. Jack was very happy with the result.

With our outfits finally done, we headed into the park around mid-morning, with a plan to stay late. I wasn't quite sure what to expect with Batuu Bounding at Disneyland (which is notoriously a bit more hit-and-miss than Batuu East, in Florida), but we got through security without incident and through the rest of the park without anyone commenting on our outfits. We saw someone else wearing the same leather-look leggings as me, and a guy wearing similar jacket and pants to Jack (but without the pleating), which made us feel like we didn't look too weird, by general Disneyland standards.

Once we were in Batuu, though, our bounding definitely got noticed more. A couple of fellow guests complemented our outfits (including the kind strangers who gave us the coins!), and cast members seemed way more interested in interacting with us in-character. I got to bring up a bit about the history I'd made up for Samæni Ray -- which led to one cast member later referring to me and Jack as "my friends from Denon!" All of the prep and character design made it a lot easier to think on my feet in those little improv interactions.

One cast member in particular kept finding us throughout the day, just suddenly appearing out of nowhere it felt like, and kept trying to sell us a speederbike that totally wasn't a broken down lemon.

Later in the day, he kind of sold us out to Kylo Ren and a pair of stormtroopers (but like, in a fun way, lol) which led to an intense interaction with Kylo Ren right up in both my face and Jack's. Kylo Ren is tall, and the voice and the mask and the body language was all perfect up close. There was a bit of nervous laughter on our part, but we kept our cool and convinced Ren that that since we'd only just arrived on Batuu from Denon, we couldn't possibly know anything about any Resistance activity in Black Spire Outpost.

We were way too in the moment to get any photos, but because we were dressed up and Kylo Ren was so much up in our faces, we did draw a bit of a crowd, so for all I know other people may have taken pictures or videos of the event, lol. My family has a saying about 'look hard' rather than take photos, and it was definitely that for us.

Overall the whole day was wonderful, and we ended up spending nearly 12 hours in Batuu without leaving once. I got to pilot the Falcon multiple times (though I can't really say I've gotten any better at it, lol), and got to try out gunner and engineer, too. We managed to ride Rise of the Resistance both during the day and again after dark, explore every part of Black Spire Outpost in detail, learn to play Sabacc with a cast member, have drinks at Oga's, and eat a bunch of really tasty, really well-presented food.

All together it was an excellent, excellent birthday. And we're already talking about when we might want to go back again.

[mezzy303]

Ok laddies time for this week's theory time (do I need to make a masterpost of my theories? This is getting a little ridiculous lol)

Spoilers for One Piece chapter 1115 spoilers under the cut

The way I jumped and threwwww my kindle (onto pillows) when Vegapunk confirmed all the Atlantis theories!!!!!!! I made the mistake of reading it right before bed and I was wide awake for like another two hours talking to a friend and just thinking about it 😅

I honestly was ready to scrap my theory from ch 1113 about there being whole continents 800 years ago before a great flood happened, and I'm still reeling on how it all turned out to be true besides the natural phenomenon part (here's my theory from ch 1114). And Oda once again proves how fucking genius he is bc I never expected 200 meters?????? Omg???? That's over 650ft for my fellow US folks. Here's an image going around Twitter from a YouTube video that shows what are own world would look like if sea levels rose 200m

Insanity

These recent chapters have had me really questioning the mechanics of the One Piece world lol. Tbh I think we all just assumed that the world was just Like That and mainly functioned to drive the plot forward. But there are actual reasons behind it?? With this revelation, I started thinking about how the sinking of land could have been intentional on the Allies' part, beyond the destruction of the Great Kingdom and erasing it from history. The way the world is now, with the Red Line going all the way around and the Calm Belts running perpendicular to it, it's incredibly hard to travel between the different Seas. The islands are also fairly isolated from each other, especially on the Grand Line. It makes it hard for information to travel around, and the only way to get world news is through a heavily vetted newspaper. To me, it all seems purposeful to further subjugate the world by physically dividing the people, making them easier to control and rule over.

I also want to reiterate how easy it would've been to erase the Great Kingdom from history and collective memory when the Allies/World Government had the capabilities of mass destruction that could cause sea levels to rise hundreds of meters. Not only does it make the original land inaccessible, the amount of people that died was probably immense. And with the death of a large number of people comes the loss of knowledge. Those that survived likely wouldn't have wanted to pass down information on the Great Kingdom from both the trauma of the event and the fear of retribution by the World Govt (I assume the laws forbidding research on the Void Century was immediate). So potentially after just one generation, knowledge on the Great Kingdom and how the world used to be would've disappeared. Iirc only the Minks and the Kozuki family passed down info on the kingdom's existence, and their lands are largely isolated from the rest of the world. (Speaking of which, they both are in locations where further rising sea levels wouldn't affect them)

Looking into it further, the way the geography of the world also seems like it's trying to prevent (or at least discourage) people from getting into or leaving the Grand Line and also travel between islands. Just trying to get to that sea is dangerous because it requires a person to either sail through Reverse Mountain, where many pirates canonically have died because of the crazy currents and storms and end up crashing into the mountain, or going through the Calm Belt, which is current and wind free and infested with Sea Kings. And once you're in the Grand Line, the waters itself are extremely difficult to navigate. Now what's in the Grand Line that the Allies may have wanted to prevent people from getting to? Laugh Tale.

For a little while now, I've been playing around with the idea on how the magnetic fields on each island may have been created to specifically help a pirate/sailor get to Laugh Tale. We've already seen Kidd using his awakened devil fruit powers to change the polarity of different objects, what if it's possible to change the polarity of an entire island? With those powers, a person could have created the seven paths of the Grand Line. I'm still trying to decide if this was done outside the Allies' control, or if it was an order from the Allies and the person was secretly loyal to the Great Kingdom.

And don't think I missed that little detail Vegapunk said about the Allies using ancient weapons!!!!!!! Literally each chapter has been teasing the reveal of the Elders having Uranus!!!! ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡ It seems like the Lulusia attack really was just a taste of what their weapon can do. I can't imagine how big an attack (or how many attacks in succession?) it would take to cause 200m sea level change???

[magnoliacharmed]

A Lot to Learn

(GIF credit - jasvvy)

18+, Drew McIntyre x Logan Paul, one-shot

[Also available on Archive of Our Own!]

Tags: Slight age difference, face fucking, anal sex, bruises, come eating

Word count: 2110

Author's Note:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Logan pranced. He pranced and paraded and trounced around backstage like the little boy he was. There was only a ten year age difference between him and Drew, but it felt more like fifteen. He was just so immature— he had no idea what it was like to work his way up to the top. Drew had to claw to the main event, just to have the floor fall out from under him when it was his moment to shine. Logan skipped his way in with his silly social media clout and got the US title bestowed on him like a crown. A crown for a prince that would never truly be a king, a holdover belt to tide his ego over. At least Drew could say there was some prestige to the World Heavyweight Championship. With him earning it, because there was no other option but for him to win, it would gain even more honor. He was a Top Guy, an important figure, something Logan Paul could never be.

“You’re pushing my buttons, kid. I suggest you go find someone else to mess with.”

“No man, I’m doing just fine right here. Am I bothering you?”

Yes.

“You bother me the same way a gnat does. Mild irritation, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh?”

Drew shut his eyes and let his hands rest behind his head. Once Elimination Chamber was over, he and Logan would not be anywhere near each other event-wise. He could focus on more important, worthy opponents, men with years of experience that showed in their sore muscles and scratched up bodies. Logan’s chest was disgustingly unblemished. No scars or bruising, no ring burn discoloring his skin. It was soft, it was pretty… it was fresh. It’d been a while since Drew had seen anyone with so much newness about themselves. Apparently no one had gotten to him yet, not even Roman from what the locker room gossip whispered through the grapevine. So Logan was a bit of a princess, wasn’t just letting any knight in the castle. Interesting images began to form in Drew’s mind.

“Don’t you have to go get ready.” Drew hoped the finality in his voice came across to Logan. It seemed to register in his head, only to be immediately tossed out into his mental wastebin. Logan looked down at his silly yellow vest and smiled the smile of someone who knew how annoying he was being. 

“I am ready.”

Drew laughed. Ready, sure. Oh, the boy thought he was. 

—-

Elimination Chamber was a hard fought match. Once again though, Drew did what he did best. He brawled and won as it was meant to be. Even with Randy stalking around, Bobby giving it a fair shake, and LA Knight showing impressive drive to be the best, the other men didn’t stand a chance against Drew. His prophecy was inching closer to being fulfilled, with no help from Logan buzzing around the ring. He spent a good majority of the match taunting him, which Drew thought was quite bold. It was cute, he was like a puppy nipping at his heels for attention. Drew had noticed that was just the way he was, always poking and prodding at bigger men for scraps of acknowledgement. Maybe it was time to give him what he needed so he’d stop being such a fucking nuisance. 

“Great job out there Drew. Hope my dick drawing didn’t distract you too much.” Logan stood at Drew’s door a sweaty, disheveled, slightly pink mess. That worn out, used up look fit him a lot better. 

“Not at all. Nothing was going to get in my way of going to Wrestlemania… not you or your dick, sweetheart.”

A separate, deeper flush than the one that painted his chest colored Logan’s face as he smiled again. It didn’t quite reach his eyes this time due to some sort of anticipation and fear that flashed in his irises. 

“Thinking about my dick, are you Drew? I’m not surprised, I tend to have that effect on people.”

“You’re quite smug for someone who's had everything handed to him.”

Drew was up and approaching Logan before he could run out of the door and back into his hidey-hole of a dressing room. Probably nothing but bottles of Prime and yes men in there waiting to praise Logan for the bare minimum of selling like he was supposed to and not injuring anyone. It made Drew sick. Logan looked down at the knob and felt the cold surface of the door against his back while Drew’s heavy breathing made his chest rise and touch his. Drew had a lot of dark chest hair that Logan suddenly had to urge to rub his face in.

“You’re right, I have been given a lot. I can admit that I always get what I want, as long as I ask for it.” Logan stared up into Drew’s eyes with a pout that immediately made Drew’s cock stiffen up. 

“So you just asked for big matches? For the US Championship?”

“I asked. Triple H and the executives felt like I deserved it. It was a mutual thing.”

Drew’s expression hardened. What a little jerk, throwing his weight around like that. Of course they would let him get high profile events, he had millions of followers. That meant he deserved shots that the other guys who’d started out wrestling in high school gyms for free food would have never bothered to dream of. 

“What are you going to ask for now?”

The skin around Logan’s eyes creased when he laughed. It sounded undone and nervous, no usual unearned confidence making it too loud of a noise.

“You gonna show me more of what’s under that kilt? I think you tried flashing me as a distraction so you could win.”

“I would’ve won whether I did or didn’t flash you.”

Drew removed his kilt and pulled down his trunks in quick succession, exposing himself to Logan without ever looking away from his face. The sides of Logan’s mouth twitched when he saw how perfectly thick Drew’s cock was. It was crazy he wore trunks knowing he was that was big.

“Nice.”

“Hm. You know what you’re gonna do for me, Logan? You’re going to earn what you want tonight. For the first time in your life, you’re going to have to work for your reward. Got it?”

Logan shrugged and decided to throw caution to the wind. He always got what he wanted in the end. It might take a few false starts and pit stops, but it worked out in one way or the other. He rubbed his face into Drew’s chest and inhaled deeply. His post-match sweat was intoxicatingly strong and only served to make Logan rush to get on his knees. Drew rolled his eyes at the way he exaggeratingly crossed his eyes at the length of his dick. Everything was a joke to this kid. 

Logan pulled out his own cock as he took Drew into his warm mouth. The scent of his sweat was amplified twice over that close to his balls and his mass of equally dark pubic hair. Wrapping his hand around himself, he felt precome drip out onto his fingers. Drew was already groaning from the way Logan hollowed out his cheeks around his dick. 

“You’re a pro at this, huh? Been getting your practice in on the other boys?”

“Not yet,” Logan squeezed himself and stroked with a fervor, then continued to suck. 

Drew couldn’t help but to feel like he was going to come thinking about Logan with his mouth open and waiting for Roman or LA Knight or Santos, any one of the guys he’d provoked over the last year or so, to paint his tongue back to back. His hands reached to grab into the weirdly cut strands of Logan’s hair so he could push his dick past his tongue and down into his throat. Surprisingly he took it well with no tears spilling out or teeth scraping the sensitive skin. Drew closed his eyes and shoved Logan’s head completely against himself, letting the boy gag around him until he slapped a hand against his thigh to let him breathe. Although he felt like he’d die from the loss of sensation and wet, pretty noises, Drew slowly removed himself from Logan’s mouth. 

“I was just about to come too, fuck.” Logan poked his bottom lip out petulantly. 

“You’ll be happy you didn’t.”

Logan was pulled up off of his knees only to be dragged over to the nearest couch. Drew took his time and got comfortable when sat down on it, spreading his legs wide open and letting his cock bob in the air. 

“Come on, take those off and come sit in my lap,” Drew patted at his upper thighs, also covered in hair, and winked at Logan. He wasn’t done with him yet, not by a long shot. From the speed in which Logan stripped down, he knew he wasn't done either. 

Drew picked up a bottle of lube from the side table and squeezed a generous amount into his hand to smooth across his dick. All of Logan’s thoughts, what few he had in the first place, left the building when he sank down onto Drew in one swift movement. Drew’s eyes widened in surprise; he didn’t know Logan was that capable. 

“Aren’t you a good boy?” 

Drew began to fuck up into Logan before he could respond. His face slackened up in ecstasy with every thrust inside of him. Logan attempted to ride back against him, but his aching legs betrayed him by shaking. Not only was he being fucked harder than he’d ever been, the chamber match had done a number on him too. Maybe Drew and the others thought he was just there to bring fresh eyes to the program, but he really was trying his hardest in the ring. Just as soon as he was ready to give up and let himself enjoy it all, Drew pressed his fingers harshly into the flesh of his hips. The sudden pain gave him a jolt that motivated him to grind deep and huff out shallowly. 

“There you go. I knew you’d like that, baby,” Drew smoothed over the marks he’d left deep in Logan’s skin. It was a good thing he wore tights instead of trunks, or else the top brass would have his head for leaving their golden boy all ruined. Logan responded with a steadying breath that turned into a destroyed moan when Drew grabbed at his twitching cock. Gasps fell from Logan’s mouth every time Drew stroked him with his rough palm while he plunged himself as far as he could go inside of him. 

“Please Drew, please—“

Drew watched as Logan’s body shuddered hard while he came. It leaked out messily onto his hand, Logan bucking up into his fist involuntarily from the orgasm. His vision cleared up enough to see Drew holding up said hand to his lips for him to clean up. With the first couple of licks, Drew once again sank his fingers back into the bruises on Logan’s hip to lift him up off of his dick. Seconds later, he felt the warmth of Drew’s come splash across his ass and the very bottom of his lower back. 

“Really got me good here,” Logan ran the pads of his fingers against his reddish-purple bruises and bit back a moan. 

“Wanted to leave a little something behind. Now you’ve got some scars, something that proves you can take a little pain. It looks like you like having them, too, which is an even better sign. It means you’re finally on your way to becoming a worthy competitor. Maybe one day you’ll face me for the title.”

Drew’s smile was patronizingly sweet as he ruffled up Logan's stupid haircut further. Logan was still a young man. It’d take a lot of hard work and practice, not necessarily with Drew alone, to really turn him into the best he could be. 

“Yeah, maybe so.”

“Until then, you come find me or any of the other guys and we’ll try to help you, okay?”

Logan nodded as he put his gear back on in a daze, not even bothering to clean himself up. 

“We won’t break you— not too badly anyways.”

Logan let a weird smile spread across his face when he reached the doorway. It was huge, all teeth and kind of crazy with the corresponding way his pupils blew out and let the blue that surrounded them turn into little slivers..

“What if I wanna be broken?” 

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 9: Paths Unknown

A/N: This chapter follows the episode very closely, I wanted to add it in because all I could think about was how much Tech would have loved it 🥹

Warnings: 18+, that icky plant thing, canon action, some feelings, mentions of experiments.

Word Count: 6.4k+

Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Masterlist

5 months after Stitch was taken.

Tech glanced at his brothers, passing a look through their helmets at the scream that sounded from the chamber behind the closed door.

“That did not go as he expected,” Tech quipped but Hunter scowled. It had been months without Omega, even longer without you. The toll taken was obvious on all of them; from the scuffed and unkempt armour to the worry lines that marked all their faces. Hunter had been relentless, using every contact and ounce of knowledge they had between them to find some solid intel.

He should be happy the Imperials don’t seem to be focussing on his squad anymore but it meant they had what they wanted. And it boiled his blood. Hunter would blaze through this galaxy if he thought it would lead him straight to the rest of his family. But they still needed to be careful and clever.

This current move was dangerous and reckless, if they really analysed it. But this is what they were bred for. Combat, covert missions, tipping the scales in their favour.

“Who stands before me next?” A female commanded.

“I can make a deal,” the desperate Pyke chatted right before Hunter shoved him forcefully through the opening door. They had come to Devaron to chase up the only current lead they had. It chafed on Hunter’s pride, to do the dirty work of others for just a scrap of intel. But he’d do anything for Omega.

The chamber was large, members of the syndicate watched from the sides which Tech took in with great interest. Hunter didn’t care, focussing on the female sat on the throne. He shoved the Pyke again, forcing him out onto the red barrier that he had no doubt the last visitor had fallen through.

“The mercenaries we discussed,” Roland informed Isa Durand.

“Such courage to demand an audience with me.” Her voice echoed through the cavernous chamber, as regal and commanding as her posture on the throne. Tech stood relaxed, his brown eyes taking in new details as he studied everything around them. They had no plan to get out if this went badly. Wrecker was nervous about the drop below his feet but he did nothing except shift a foot on the barrier.

“You’d be dead if my son hadn’t convinced me to consider your offer.”

Hunter pulled the severed horn from his belt, showing what was in his hand. “And we’re here to deliver.” He tossed the horn to Roland, trying not to remember the discussion Tech and Wrecker had on the way here, wondering if the Devaronian was going to try and reattach it. “You asked for the Pyke who disgraced your family.”

“He’s all yours,” Wrecker told them, slapping the Pyke on his back.

“It won’t be traced back you,” Hunter’s helmet tipped towards Tech. “We made sure of it.”

Isa regarded them for a moment and Hunter felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of his face.

“Take him below.” The Pyke protested, threatened, but it was pointless. He was dragged beyond the door and sealed from sight. “Impressive. Your willingness to cross the Pykes shows how desperate you are.” Hunter hated she pointed that out, grateful to the helmet covering his face. “Tell me, why is the intel you’ve requested of such value to you?” Roland had told them to be honest. He said his mother did not appreciate liars and she wouldn’t hesitate to send them below if she thought they were hiding anything.

“Doctor Hemlock stole someone from us. We heard your syndicate had the connections needed to find the Imperial’s base. And since we’ve upheld our end of the bargain,” Hunter ignored the sharp inhale from Tech at his temper starting to come through in his words. “Now it’s your turn.”

Hunter saw Tech’s fingers flex. He wouldn’t have time to do anything if Isa decided to send them into the depths and it irked him. But Hunter didn’t want anything risking this exchange.

The floor extended from the throne dais, meeting the force field beneath their feet so Roland could cross the space to speak to them.

“Hemlock’s whereabouts have been well guarded by the Empire, but one of our sources came across these coordinates linked to his laboratory.”

“And they’ve been verified?” Hunter asked. Too many times had they hoped, only for it to be smashed into a dead end.

“Take what you came for and go, before my generosity runs out,” Isa demanded. Tech reached for the chip, depositing it in a pouch on his belt.

“I hope you find who you’re looking for,” Roland told them quietly. The heaviness in his gaze conveyed he knew exactly who it was.

None of them spoke on the way out to the ship. Hands never straying far from their weapons until the ramp had closed firmly behind them. Tech guided the Marauder easily out of the atmosphere, using the coordinates in the chip to programme their hyperspace jump. Only when the blue and white lights rushed over the canopy, did they breathe easily.

“That went smoother than I thought,” Wrecker broke the silence in the cockpit.

“Indeed. Still, this could be another dead end,” Tech let out a brief sigh.

“No point thinking like that until we’ve visited the coordinates for ourselves,” Hunter murmured. “Wrecker, contact Echo and find out if they can come with us. Tech, what do we know about where we are heading?” Tech grabbed his datapad, moving to the console in the hold where he as able to bring up the details.

“Setron. A jungle planet, with no known occupied settlements. A perfect place, it seems, to hide a secret laboratory.”

“Sounds promising.” Hunter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His gaze drifted to the doll Wrecker had given to Omega, propped up like it was looking for her return. Tech continued to research the planet, looking for a landing site and about any possible threatening creatures or plants they should be aware of.

Wrecker came through from the cockpit, drawing their attention. “Echo said he and Rex need two rotations before they can meet us at the coordinates.”

Hunter frowned, an expression he couldn’t seem to shift these days. He knew he couldn’t just drop these things on Rex and Echo, they had their own fight going on. Yet the frustration was still there.

“That’s not good enough. We’re going now.”

“It would be practical to wait for backup,” Tech said, knowing exactly how reckless his brother was becoming the longer their search went on. “The last few encounters we have had with the Empire, have not always ended in our favour.”

“I know they haven’t.” Hunter stalked into the cockpit. Wrecker sighed and shared a look with Tech before they joined him. “Omega and Stitch have been waiting for us for a long time. I’m not…I can’t make them wait another day.”

Tech couldn’t deny it. Hunter was right, you had been gone for too long. He prided himself on his memory and holding onto facts and details. But for some reason, anything to do with you was not as easy to recall as it once had been. He needed you here, back in the ship with him. Where you belonged.

His attention was directed to the flashing light on the console. “Approaching Setron. I am not detecting any ships.”

“Surely that’s a good thing?” Wrecker asked.

“Perhaps,” Tech answered, bringing the ship smoothly out of hyperspace. “I would have anticipated some form of orbital activity.”

“Maybe it’s that secret they can’t have ships hanging around.”

“Means they will other ways of deterring visitors,” Hunter added. “Eyes open.”

“They always are,” Wrecker sighed.

The ship descended into the atmosphere, drifting through the thick misty, cloud cover to find a clearing in the jungle large enough to house the ship.

“I have run a rudimentary scan of the surrounding area and found no Imperial activity so far.” Tech put on his helmet, checked his blasters and grabbed the datapad.

“Sounds like this could be…” Wrecker stopped mid sentence, glaring at them both as they stared at him. “Fine, I won’t say it,” he grumbled, notching his helmet up so it rested on his forehead.

The ramp opened, letting the stuffy air from the jungle filter into the ship. Tech set his goggles to record, while his datapad caught the fauna noises that warbled through the heavy trees.

Wrecker let out a disgusted sound. “Smells like rancid Jotaz out here.”

“For once, Wrecker. I am inclined to agree,” Tech’s nose wrinkled and wished his helmet filtered out the smell.

“Anything?” Hunter asked.

“Negative,” Tech replied, lifting the datapad higher. “The signal could be being jammed.”

“Mmm. My thoughts too. Let’s move, keep an eye out for anything.” Hunter took the lead through the jungle. Pausing every now and again to sort through his senses. Even though the scanner was potentially being jammed, his enhanced senses were not and Tech watched him closely. Noticing the quickened pace and the sharp change of direction until they broke out of the trees and onto a rocky outcropping.

Below them was the base, and not how they expected to find it. “Fascinating,” Tech breathed. His eyes widening at the buildings and how they had been completely devoured by vines.

“That’s the lab?” Wrecker asked in disbelief.

“They destroyed it,” Hunter pointed out. “Another orbital bombardment.” The reminder of Kamino’s destruction was always there. The explosions that rocked their feet, the water rushing in, the booms as buildings fell into the sea to be swallowed up and never seen again.

“But Omega!” Wrecker panicked. “Stitch…if they were here…”

“We don’t know if they were,” Hunter cut across him.

“The intel we have could be incorrect,” Tech offered, hoping to soften the sharpness of Hunter.

“Whatever this is, let’s get down there and check it out.” He took the lead again, leaving Tech and Wrecker to fall into step.

“I really thought this was going to be it,” Wrecker admitted softly. Tech had no words for him, he couldn’t. Logically he knew there was a high probability Omega and you would not be here. But he had still dared allow a fragment of hope to kindle.

“We might yet find something inside,” Tech finally said.

“Yeah,” Wrecker mumbled. “Maybe.”

The jungle terrain was not easy. Roots the thickness of Wrecker’s arms curled over the ground, slick with soft moss and surrounded by sticky mud. The way down was treacherous, but they’d encountered worse. Finally it levelled out and they slowed to a walk until Hunter raised his fist.

Tech immediately drew his blasters and Wrecker hunkered down. “We’re not alone,” Hunter eased out, drawing his own weapon.

“Freeze!” Two young boys stepped into view, makeshift weapons in their hands. Tech held his weapons steady, trying to figure out what teenagers were doing out here.

Wrecker laughed at them, already deciding they weren’t a threat. “Blaster beats stick, kid.”

“Tech, do you see it?” Hunter asked, not taking his eyes off them.

“Both adolescent males,” he said, casting a sideways glance at Hunter when he held out a hand and relaxed.

“They’re regs.”

“And who are you?” One of them demanded.

Wrecker kicked his helmet up, while Hunter removed his entirely to address them face to face.

“We’re clones. Same as you.”

“You don’t look like clones,” the kid answered back.

“They must be 99s,” the other one said. “Defectives.”

Tech holstered his blasters and pulled out the datapad to run another scan of the area. Something wasn’t quite right but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Defective and effective,” Wrecker told them with a smirk.

“What are you two doing out here?”

“What’s it look like?” The one on the left snapped at Hunter. “Surviving. Or trying to. No thanks to the Empire.”

“They send you to finish us off?”

“Do we look like we’re with the Empire?” Wrecker sounded offended by their words. The boys looked them over, Tech avoided meeting their scrutinising stares, concentrating on the scanner and why it still wasn’t picking anything up.

“What do you want?” One finally asked.

“We’re looking for a young girl. She’s a clone. We think she was sent to the lab here,” Hunter explained. “And an adult, female. A medic but she would have come in as a prisoner.”

“Never saw anyone like that, but Mox might know about them.”

“He won’t talk to them,” the other boy interrupted.

“Please,” Hunter stepped forward. “We have to find them. They’re, part of our squad.” The boys looked at each other until one gave a quick sigh.

“Stick to the trail. Follow our steps. And don’t touch the vines.” Tech looked up at the broken building. He knew those vines weren’t natural, their colouring did not match the other vines within the jungle and if he had to guess, he’d say they seemed to be originating from the building itself.

They all walked in silence for a bit until Wrecker couldn’t take it anymore. “So, er. How did you end up here?”

“When the Empire transferred us off Kamino, we thought we were getting more training. Instead they made us prisoners. Took samples of our blood.”

Tech frowned, his datapad was recording everything so he’d be able to come back to this later. Anything the cadets could give them might help in trying to work out what exactly Hemlock wanted.

“Do you know what they were looking for?” Tech asked them.

“No idea,” one replied.

“They didn’t tell us anything.”

“At least we escaped before they destroyed the facility.”

Tech followed the cadets through the flora, taking care when pushing it aside, the warning about the vines still held his curiosity. “Wrecker!” He shouted, already knowing he was too late.

“What?!” The large clone demanded, letting the thick dark vine go after he’d pushed it aside.

“Behind you!” Hunter called out. Tech rushed forward, watching the vine begin to slither and slide, the end waving in the air.

“Run!” The cadets took off while the others pulled their weapons.

“I do not see our blasters doing any considerable damage,” Tech said as they moved back a few paces.

“We’ll see about that.” Wrecker let loose a few bolts, the vine almost crying out from the burn.

“Don’t shoot! It gets hostile when you shoot!” A cadet called from behind them.

“You mean, it’s not already hostile?” Wrecker shouted.

“I feel this situation has the potential to escalate,” Tech said pragmatically just as a vine from behind grabbed Wrecker, pinning his arms and swinging him back into a tree.

“Hunter!” The vine started to drag Wrecker up. Tech continued to provide cover fire while Hunter pulled his blade free and sliced through the plant holding Wrecker with one swipe. The other vines retreated as abruptly as they had appeared.

“That will not be the end of it,” Tech stated calmly.

“Come on!” The cadets called and rushed off, not waiting to see if the others followed.

They reached a clearing where Wrecker doubled over to catch his breath. Tech was already moving around with his datapad, pressing buttons on his vambrace to cycle through the different scans he could perform and see if the vines showed up.

“What was that stuff?” Wrecker huffed.

“Slither vines.” Tech cocked his head at the reply, not something he’d heard of before. “The Empire made it. It’s some kind of experimental weapon, until they lost control of it.”

“Intriguing,” Tech whispered. He knew Hemlock was interested in experimenting on humanoids, he had no idea the Empire’s interest stretched outside of that category.

He ignored the pang in his chest when his thoughts turned to you, as they always did. He held onto the fact the Empire was so desperate for you they sent out a bounty. Which meant they wanted you for a reason. So you still had to be alive.

“Probably why they ordered a Base Delta Zero on their own facility,” one of the cadets was saying when Tech focused on the conversation again.

“We’ll be safe on the crag. The slither vines haven’t spread there.”

“Yet.”

By the time they made it to the cadet’s camp, darkness had fallen. The other cadet, Mox, had lit a fire seemingly waiting for the others to come back.

“Who are they?” He instantly demanded, pointing the stick at the adults.

“Clones. We found them by the overlook.” Tech stood to the side, his back to the fire so he could put his visor down and scan the surrounding area for heat signatures. He found the lack of signal very peculiar.

“What do you want?” Mox queried suspiciously.

“We’re looking for a young girl. She was taken by an Imperial named Hemlock. And possibly an adult, female medic that would have been brought in as a prisoner. Their names are Omega and Stitch.”

After determining the clones weren’t a threat, Mox sat back down. “Never saw a girl around the lab. Only adults we saw were the scientists, no medics. But I know Hemlock. He was in charge, until things changed. One day the Imperials started packing up and shipped out. So we made our move and escaped.”

“We were the only ones to make it out before the orbital bombardment,” one of the other cadets continued the story.

“Even the clone troopers left us to die,” the other chimed in. “Said they were following orders.”

“They were,” Tech spoke up. “Every clone trooper had a chip inserted by the Kaminoans. It is what allowed the Emperor to use them to devastating effect and eradicate the Jedi.” There was a beat of silence as they absorbed his pragmatic words.

“What about you?” Mox insisted.

“We are defective clones, the chip did not work on us. Well, not all of us,” Tech amended. “We have since had ours removed.”

The boys looked at each other and Tech wondered how long they had been out here for. He admired their tenacity, although it was a trait all the clones shared as well as their survival skills.

“We can take you to someplace safe,” Hunter offered. “But we need to find out if Omega and Stitch were here or where Hemlock took them.”

“There is a possibility the Imperials left behind some intel that could help us,” Tech lifted his visor and turned to the cadets. “Is there a control panel or a data socket that I could access?”

The boys glanced at each other until one responded. “One of the control room panels was still intact during our last scout. I tried to use it to send a signal, but there was no power.”

Hunter looked at Tech who gave a slight nod in return. Anything was worth an attempt right now. “Can you take us there?”

“No way,” the other cadet refused vehemently. “That area is covered in slither vines. It’s toxic.”

“Stak’s right,” Mox agreed, standing up the address them. “Going near those ruins is a suicide mission. You’re on your own.”

Tech wanted to shrug and tell them, they had faced worse odds, when the cadet who’d spoken about the panel stepped in front of them.

“They need help, Mox. I’ll go with them.” When no protests came, he grabbed a blaster and a com out of the crate. With a gesture he started to lead the Batch back down to the jungle floor. The remaining cadets watched them leave with grim expressions.

“I can get you inside the ruins, but you won’t be able to get anything from the console without a power source.”

“I have already thought of a solution to that particular problem,” Tech told the cadet. “We must return to the ship to retrieve it.”

The torch lights dipped over the uneven ground with every step. “This clone you’re looking for…”

“Omega,” Hunter supplied her name in the cadet’s pause.

“How long has she been gone?”

“Too long. But we’re not giving up.”

“The other one. The medic. Is she a clone too?” Tech could feel Hunter’s gaze on him through the gloom, as though he could break apart at the mere mention of you. “She is not,” he answered.

“But she’s just as important to us,” Wrecker added.

“I wish the other clones felt that way about us,” the cadet sighed wistfully. “You may be defective, but at least you’re loyal.”

The ship materialised in the darkness, highlighted by the torches. The ramp lowered, everything about the ship sounded loud and out of place in this part of the jungle. Tech walked up the ramp with Wrecker just behind him.

“Gotta job for you, Gonky.” The droid beeped in excitement and Tech’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

“It will neither be fun or exciting. But it is important,” he told Gonky while attaching a leather harness to him. “Ready?” Wrecker nodded, dropping to his knees and slipping his arms through the straps. Gonky honked, his feet waving around Wrecker’s helmet. “Yes, I’m making sure they are tight enough,” Tech reassured the droid with a gentle pat on the metal casing.

“Right,” Wrecker stood up slowly, finding his balance and shrugging the straps to a more comfortable position. Tech followed him down the ramp, mentally checking his pack for everything he could possibly need.

“Lead the way, kid.” Wrecker’s melancholy mood had lifted with the possibility that this trip wasn’t a complete waste of time.

“Name’s Deke,” the cadet offered.

“I’m Wrecker, Hunter, Tech and this Gonky,” he replied, gesturing to the droid on his back.

“I don’t really know what we’ll find down there,” Deke admitted. “But it probably won’t be pleasant.”

“Nothing ever is,” Hunter huffed a despondent sigh.

The journey down to the entrance was hard work. Their torches only lit up a few feet in front of them and it made the jungle seem to stretch out around them forever.

Wrecker tripped a couple of times, not used to having the weight of Gonky on his back and the ground was unfamiliar. “I don’t like this,” the big clone mumbled to himself.

“It is only going to get more stimulating once we are inside,” Tech informed him.

“Part o’ me thinks you’re enjoying this.”

“I have never seen flora that reacts like these, slither vines. There is an obvious connection within the plant itself, that allows it to deal with any threats swiftly and efficiently. I would really like to see the point of origin. Is it a single specimen that has spread over the entire building, or multiple plants that have grown and connected together?” Tech mused. “From what I have witnessed so far, it almost seems to be verging on sentience.” The group came to a stop but it took Tech three more paces before he realised he was the only one moving. “Is there a problem?” He asked, pausing to look at them over his shoulder.

Hunter shook his head, approaching Tech so he could pat his spaulder fondly. “No, no problem. It’s nice to see you so interested in something again.”

“Does it have to be killer vines though?” Wrecker groaned.

“I do not see anything else remotely interesting other than these vines,” Tech defended himself while feeling the ghost of a smile forming.

“You won’t be saying that when it’s crushing your ribs.” Wrecker knocked affectionately into Tech, nearly losing his balance in the process.

“At this rate, you will not make it to the lab in one piece. Or Gonky. And we need him.”

“Do you want to carry the droid?” Wrecker called over his shoulder. Now Tech did smile, rolling his eyes before following the others. It had been a while since they had had the energy to poke fun at each other.

“This is it,” Deke told them once they had caught up to him. “There’s slither vines everywhere in there. Interesting or not,” he said with a glance at Tech. “Be careful where you step.” He took the lead, with Hunter behind him, then Wrecker and Tech brought up the rear.

Tech looked up as they entered the large entrance of the compound. Vines climbed to the walls, slithering slowly along the ceiling and encroaching on the floor. They had to watch their feet carefully, making sure they didn’t touch any of the tendrils in their path.

“Fascinating,” Tech breathed. The vines seemed to be emitting noxious spores. Deke had mentioned the air here was toxic, clouds of it bloomed sporadically from random parts of the vines. Tech wanted a closer look but he couldn’t get distracted from the main objective.

Deke lead them in silence. Metal creaked above the group and Wrecker paused, his torch light wavering slightly. “I don’t like this,” he hissed to Tech. A deep rolling sound echoed down the corridor. “I really don’t like this.”

“How much further is the console?” Hunter growled. He was just as anxious as Wrecker, feeling that something was going to happen, deep in his gut. He never ignored that feeling.

“Hard to tell,” Deke answered. “More vines have spread down here. We had to stop scavenging the site because of it.”

Tech nudged Wrecker, getting an agitated growl in response before they continued. Hunter looked around, mulling over his next question. “What other experiments were going on in this place?”

“Nothing good. They didn’t exactly tell us what was going on.” Deke paused, swinging his light around.

“Do you hear that?” Tech asked. His visor came down but nothing showed up on the screen. He checked the datapad, tracing the spike in sounds with his eyes.

“Let’s keep moving,” Wrecker urged.

“Wait…” Hunter made them stop, casting his torch light around.

“The sounds…” Tech shook his head. “I assumed they were from an animal. But I was wrong.” He looked up as he spoke, noticing the activity in the plant had increased. “It is the vines.”

Deke cried out as his body hit the floor. Vines wrapped around his legs and began to drag him away. He was lifted into the air, Wrecker grabbed his arms to keep him within reach while Hunter sliced through the violent tendrils with his blade, until Deke dropped to the floor. They crowded together, weapons drawn looking for more vines ready to attack them.

“Look out!” Tech’s warning was just in time as a piece of the vine broke off and launched itself at Hunter. The blast rang out loudly, but vine creature seemed undamaged. It skitted away on misshapen legs, crawling into a hiding place.

“Go! Keep moving!” Hunter shouted.

“Still finding it interesting?”

Tech spared Wrecker a glance, the corners of his eyes creasing with his smile. “Even more so,” he admitted. “Did you see? It had thorns, like teeth.”

Wrecker groaned. “I didn’t. I’m going to have nightmares.”

Their pace eventually slowed as the corridor opened up. Tech looked up when they all stopped. A huge hole broke the roof apart, clearly a wound from the orbital bombardment. Stars littered the sky, a single piece of beauty in this rotten place.

“Ergh,” Wrecker was looking down, where the ground dropped away at their feet. Something bubbled and hissed, liquid oozed in the pit creating a putrid swamp that made even Tech’s eyes water. “I didn’t think it could smell any worse. But I was wrong.”

“We’re in agreement on that,” Hunter said, swinging his torch to further out.

“There’s the console,” Deke pointed to a control panel almost completely hidden by the debris from the roof. “Come on.” He dropped down first, followed by Tech. Then Hunter with Wrecker dropping last, the force of his extra mass created a ringing echo through the whole place.

One by one, they made it across, jumping from piece to piece until they reached the other side. Tech gestured to Wrecker and the pair of them lifted the durasteel strut, tossing it into the fetid quagmire where it sank down out of sight.

“I don’t even wanna know how deep that is,” Wrecker muttered to himself while Tech helped him shrug off Gonky.

The droid chatted a little and Tech inspected the console. Standard Imperial control panel, this would be easy enough to get data from. He pulled the lead from the console, plugging it into Gonky and feeding the battery droid’s power into it.

“Do your thing little guy,” Wrecker patted the droid.

“Well?” Hunter asked from the side, his torch roaming slowly over the swamp.

“Power has been restored. I will be able to download any information they left behind.” Tech plugged in his datapad to the console and started to cycle through the data.

“Something’s coming,” Hunter said slowly. “We need to make this quick.”

Wrecker went to stand next to him at the edge. “Is it more of those things?”

“No. Something…else.” Wrecker pulled out his knife, refusing to be caught unawares again.

Deke stood beside Tech. “I am familiar with this system, most of this data looks to be useless.”

“I am confident there will be something of note in here,” Tech informed him as he pressed another button and opened a separate file. “I just need time.”

A deep rumbling growl grated through the pit. The debris they were standing shifted and Tech adjusted his balance, spreading his legs wider. A large air bubble rose to the surface, exploding in a shower of rancid water and sludge.

Tech barely flinched when Hunter and Wrecker opened fire at whatever had snuck up behind him. Water splashed on his armour and the screen of the datapad, which he just wiped and carried on going through the data. The ground shifted beneath his feet, making him glance to the side. A huge tentacle rose out of the water, wider than Wrecker and set on crushing them all.

“Tech!” Hunter shouted, his armour lit up by the blaster bolts as he fired. “Times up!”

It wasn’t enough to go through everything, but Tech could definitely see his time had run out. Wrecker hastily grabbed Gonky, attaching him back onto the harness while Tech unplugged him from the console. He tucked the datapad away and pulled his own blasters. Deke was talking into his com, backing away, no doubt asking his brothers for help.

“Look out!” Wrecker shouted and the group split. A tentacle came crashing down, Tech’s eyes widened when he saw it wasn’t the limb of some creature. This was a thick vine, twisted and gnarled by whatever experiments it had been subjected to. Tech stood there for a moment, watching the vine rise up once more ready to crash down again.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Hunter’s shout made him move, following the others to climb up and out. The vine came down again, dislodging the durasteel they were climbing. Deke cried out. He began to fall but Hunter reacted quickly, lunging forward to grab his ankle before he went completely out of sight. Tech jumped over, getting to his knees to help pull the cadet up, shooting at the vine at the same time to deter it striking again.

“In here!” They followed Wrecker into another corridor only to be faced with more putrid water. A vine pursued, attempting to seek them out and only getting hot blaster bolts in return. It made the vine recoil, but Tech could see it did no real damage.

Hunter looked behind them, silently making the decision to jump to the floating debris and the others followed. They kept firing as more vines appeared out of the water.

“It’s everywhere!” Deke cried. Tech wasn’t beginning to see a way of this until they were bathed in light.

Light from the Marauder.

The cadets in the ship lowered the cables, but they couldn’t stop firing. Hunter threw one of the little vine crawlers off his arm and Tech shot it. They needed to get on the ship and move it out of the reach of the vines.

“Go!” Deke didn’t hesitate. Grabbing a cable the same time as Wrecker. They both started to lift, Hunter swiftly looked up, shoving Tech towards the cable and shot at a thick vine. He grabbed it, holding on with one hand and his feet, still shooting while Hunter jumped to grab the very end of the cable just in time.

“Osik.” A very fitting word Tech felt, for the current situation. Vines wrapped around the wings of his ship, his grip almost slipping on the cable as he climbed up as fast as he could. The engines struggled against the strength of the vines, flaring with a whine to keep the ship in the air.

“What is that?” Tech looked down at Wrecker’s gasp and realised his assumption at it being just a plant, was incorrect. A circle of serrated teeth rose ominously from the black water. Snarls rumbled through the air as they waved in anticipation of a meal.

“Aim for the mouth!” The cadets started shooting but it made no difference. The creature wasn’t letting go. Tech carried on climbing, heaving himself over the edge of the opening and into the ship.

“We need more firepower!” Hunter yelled through the com as the ship groaned, listing to the side and nearly throwing Tech and the cadets off their feet.

“Incoming.” Tech quickly dragged out the case of explosives, tossing one to a cadet who caught it easily. Mox helped Tech move the crate, giving one last push to ease it over the edge and straight into the open maw of the breast. Stak leaned out, activating the thermal detonator before dropping it down with the rest of the explosives.

Time seemed to stand still as the explosive beeped its count down, rattling round the teeth of the creature until it was finally sucked in with the rest. A bright yellow glow lit it up from within, billowing outwards with the force of the explosion and the vines dropped limply away from the ship.

Tech was already in the pilots chair, pulling away as Hunter and Wrecker pulled themselves up and into the ship.

“I’ve never been so happy to leave a planet before,” Wrecker moaned from the floor. The cadets worked together to free him of Gonky, gently easing to droid to his feet.

Hunter leaned against the hull. He pushed off his helmet, breathing heavily as he regarded his brother. “I dunno,” he said. “It didn’t seem that bad to me.” Wrecker laughed. Hysteria mingled with relief, and Hunter joined in. A sound that hadn’t been heard since you had been taken. He eventually helped Wrecker off the floor, who cracked his back and rolled his shoulders.

“I miss Stitch.” He said that every time his body ached, desperate for the moment he could ask you to do that thing you did with his neck and your hands.

Tech punched the ship into lightspeed, keen to start filtering through the data they had downloaded.

“Did you get much?” Deke asked eagerly.

“I am about to find out.” Tech plugged the datapad in and they both watched the information scroll onto the screen. “It will take me a while to sort through it all.”

“Kids! You hungry?” The boys gravitated to Wrecker who had got the ration box out in the cockpit and started sharing the food around.

Hunter watched them for a beat, a small relieved smile on his face before he turned to watch Tech. “Want some help?”

“It will not take me long,” Tech answered, adjusting his goggles and tapping on the controls of his datapad. “It keeps my mind occupied.”

Hunter nodded. He knew Tech needed this, needed to feel busy. The few days after you had been taken were Tech’s worst. But straight after Omega, he shut off completely. This visit to Setron had been the first time Hunter had finally seen an inkling of his brother shining through the blankness. It had been unnerving, like he was travelling with someone he didn’t know. Hunter supposed this was all new to them, these feelings. Tech most of all.

He walked through to the cockpit, listening to Wrecker tell the boys some tales from the war. He found himself relaxing, joining in with the details because Wrecker only seemed to remember the glorious explosions. They talked about the droids, their memories of Kamino. Because at the end of it all, it had been their home.

Hunter stiffened when Tech came through, the datapad in his hand and a look in his eye. “You found something?”

“I have,” Tech started. “But it could be nothing. I have scoured all the data downloaded, Hemlock transferred his entire base of operations and his experiments to a new location. He never recorded if Omega and Stitch were there, but he does mention a sector.”

“That’s great!” Wrecker’s face split into a beaming smile.

“Still means we have a lot of space to cover,” Hunter said. “But it’s something.”

“Yeah it is!” Stak stumbled under the weight of Wrecker’s joyful back slap.

“It is certainly a lead we cannot ignore,” Tech added.

“What about us?” Deke asked.

Hunter leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ll drop you three off someplace safe. There are good people there, they’ll take care of you.”

“We’re cadets without an army,” Mox sighed. “I don’t know where we fit anymore.”

“You have time to figure it out,” Hunter told them. “Make your own path. Be something other than a soldier.” The war was over. The Republic was finished. He could help these boys to live a normal life, something so many of the clones would never have the chance to experience for themselves.

“What about you?” Mox inquired.

“Our mission is not over yet.”

“Not until we have Omega and Stitch back on this ship,” Wrecker growled.

“Back where they belong,” Hunter stated firmly, meeting his brother’s eyes, both of them nodding in agreement.

“We could help…” Stak started but Hunter shook his head.

“You’ve suffered enough and this is our mission.”

“Why? Worried you’ll miss us,” Wrecker joked, nudging Deke hard enough so he stumbled into Mox.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Stak continued, his nose scrunching slightly. “To sit back and do nothing.”

“Ah, get used to it kid.” Wrecker kicked his leg up, planting it on the console and leaning back in the chair. “As soon as you see those blue waters and those big, big fish. You’ll never want to leave.” The boys all turned to him, asking questions in a jumbled mass that made the large clone chuckle to himself before he began to tell them all about Pabu.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Im pleased to announce I finally know wtf I'm doing -Danny Words: 2,063 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'The Only Exception' -by Paramore

XVIII: Help Boy, I'm Craving Validation

Ara takes her time to change into her PJs, brush her teeth, and brush her hair. She's had a rough week and it's only been four days, so any free time she gets, she makes the best of it.

Hedge is taking the night shift, so she calmly knocks on Leo's door without worrying about the satyr barking at her to go back to bed. 

The door's open, so she lets herself in and finds Leo on his bed: He's reading a book, though Ara can't tell what it's about because the writing is normal and she's tragically dyslexic. Leo isn't, so he reads way more than she does, usually books only a Hephaestus kid would find interesting.

Ara examines his room, it has a worktable and a board just like the one she has back in her room in the Big House, he's pinned a picture of her next to his crayon drawing of the Argo II, and next to that there is a picture of his Cabin Nine siblings.

On the bed, there are scraps of stuff he's dismantled from Hephaestus knows where, and he has different kinds of tools hanging from the walls. Ara worries he might die trampled under all this mess the next time a monster attacks them. Still, she likes it here. It has personality, looks inhabited, and belongs to Leo.

When she looks at the boy Ara notices he's already looking back, waiting for her to say something. She wonders if she should be angry, she's argued with friends before, but this isn't like those times, they didn't even fight. She just feels weird about him after choosing him over everything that used to matter most to her old self.

"You okay?" He asks.

Ara believes he's trying to assess the damage. She's a machine and he needs to know how tough the work ahead will be. It's a weird analogy, but she knows it's accurate when it comes to Leo.

"No," she admits calmly.

Leo was probably talking things out with Hazel while no one was there to interrupt them, and he was gazing into her eyes, probably close enough to tell whether they were liquid gold or not... Ara shrugs off the thought grumpily. 

"To be honest, I'm not insecure enough to believe that you would cheat on me. Also, Frank is twice your size and could break your neck. You're not stupid."

"Wow," Leo replies. "You say the sweetest things."

"Do you want me to be angry?" She inquires. "Do you have feelings for Hazel?"

She's never seen Leo's soul-light during the times he's interacted with Hazel, but still... she needs to hear it from him, otherwise it's going to bother her for the rest of their quest, and she needs to focus.

"I don't want you to be angry, and I don't have feelings for Hazel," he closes his book. "That's not the reason why I'm drawn to her."

"You're drawn to her?" Ara gives a step back.

"Not like that—hey, just sit down?" Leo points at his desk chair. "It feels weird that you're just standing there, like you're ready to bounce at any moment..." 

Ara is thinking about leaving for some reason, but when he points it out, she feels guilty. Leo deserves to be heard, so she sits on his bed (trying not to stab her legs with metal scraps). Leo sits cross-legged and puts his book away. 

"I'll explain," the boy starts to pick up the nails, screws, and pieces of bronze from around her. "Hazel was born way before us..."

"I know that."

"Turns out she used to know this guy, Sammy," Leo makes a face. "Her boyfriend, I guess? But like, the kind of boyfriend you'd have as a kid—"

"She mistook you for her boyfriend from like fifty years ago?"

"Well," Leo pushes all of the stuff he's picking into his tool belt. "That guy was my Great-grandfather."

Ara takes a moment to process this. Sure, why not, she's heard crazier things. "And was he that similar to you?"

The boy grimaces. "Man, it was weird as hell. He was, you know... he had this old-school swag that'd be popular nowadays—and in the past, everyone seemed to love him. He had the girls giggling and..."

Ara never met Leo's great-grandfather, but she's not having this. "Well, you make me laugh a lot," she offers. "That's a big deal nowadays."

Leo looks at her with a pout. "You would've liked him faster than you liked me. I don't blame Hazel for hoping I'd be him."

"Who told you I didn't like you as soon as I saw you?"

Leo ignores her. "Anyway, I'm involved in this 'cause he—uh, sort of promised me to Hazel?"

Ara raises a brow. "How, exactly?"

He blushes. "He was sure I'd meet Hazel and said I'd help her, but I don't know how, and honestly, Hazel doesn't need my help at all."

Ara tilts her head in confusion. "So this is why Frank doesn't like you? Why Hazel looks at me like I stole her favorite toy?"

"I mean, Frank doesn't love that I look like Sammy, but he's got this curse too," Ara's heart skips a beat. "His lifeline's attached to a piece of firewood, and if that thing burns, he dies. Hazel has it for safekeeping. Frank gave it to her."

"So you're like a double threat," she muses. "Well... If I met someone who looked like your middle school crush and also happened to be a hunter of children of Olympus, no doubt I'd be cranky."

"I'd feel the same way if we ran into an Apollo dressed up as a firefighter."

"For the last time, I don't have a crush on Apollo," she scowls.

Leo leans back on his hands. "So that's the story."

"Wait," Ara leans forward. "That doesn't explain why you and Hazel were holding hands."

"Ah crap, I forgot that part," he sits upright again. "That's how she showed me the regressions."

Ara feels a little dizzy. "You can do that?"

"Yeah! She was a ghost for so long, that stuff just happens to her," Leo takes off his tool belt and folds it neatly, just to have something to do with his hands. Otherwise, he'll be tempted to reach out to Ara. "I even got to see Nico Di Angelo from up close. Weird-looking guy."

"Yeah, he needs more sunlight..." she says absentmindedly.

"So... we're good?" The boy's left leg is swinging back and forth on the edge of the mattress. "I'm honestly relieved. Hazel was throwing way too many mixed signals."

Ara makes a face. "I don't like how that sounds..."

He leans forward and tentatively reaches for her hand, giving her butterflies. "Don't look at me like that, cielo. I'm all yours."

Being who she is, Ara wants to hear more of that. Her body lights up a bit. "You are?"

Leo smirks. "Of course. I'm a limited edition and you got the only available item. The other one died almost two decades ago."

Ara presses her lips together to avoid laughing. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," Leo's hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her towards him, smiling playfully. "Sólo poquito..."

She ponders, moving closer obediently. "So you're not leaving me anytime soon?"

"Unfortunately no, you'll have to put up with me."

She smiles, then wrinkles her nose and shakes her head with a heavy sigh. "I don't understand us."

Leo hesitates. "What do you mean?"

"When I was talking to Janus, I said I chose Annabeth's quest but in reality, I think it has to do with you more. I would die for camp, but when they forced me to choose you or go to them... I stayed. I feel guilty."

Leo feels glad at first, then remembers all Ara went through trying to protect her home, and regret settles in his heart. "I would've understood, Arae... I'm sure they do too."

There it is again, the way he says her name, so different compared to how the campers used to hear it and grimace. Ara wants to think that means something, that staying with him is the right choice, but the curse hovers above them, and she's scared. She's so unhappy all the time.

She could tell him about the curse, but it would take away the one thing that still makes him happy. So instead, Ara leans forward. Leo follows her every move, his gaze brightens as he realizes what she's about to do. Their faces are only one inch apart when Leo tilts his head, his nose brushing against hers. 

When she was younger, love sounded fun, but the more she witnessed it the more it started to become something grave. Then Leo does things, like trying to save a nymph from her fate, repairing her dragon, or even saying he would've understood if she'd abandoned him, and she's addicted to what she feels no matter how much it scares her.

Ara knows Leo thinks he isn't attractive, but she admitted just now that she's chosen him over her old life, which makes her feel too vulnerable. It's a different weakness than the one she's used to feeling, it turns her bones into sand. Leo could touch her with one finger and she'd cave in an instant.

Her anxiety gets the best of her and she ends up kissing his cheek. Their bodies glow golden, and Ara wonders if the tug she feels at the base of her stomach will ever go away. "I gotta go."

The boy pulls her back with surprising confidence. Ara falls right on his lap. "Stay."

All of a sudden, she can't speak. "Why would... what?"

Leo cups her face, his gaze is soft and adoring. "Sleep here."

Ara has half a mind to make sure they're on the same page. "Just sleep."

"Just sleep," he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "I cuddle you, and you can warm your feet and won't hear a complain about it."

"Wake up early?"

"At the crack of dawn," he smiles, knowing what she's asking. "Still have repairs to do."

"Okay," she whispers, melting into his hand. "I'll stay."

Leo kisses her. Ara wonders why she doesn't kiss him more often, it would make her days much easier to handle. Her eyes are growing heavy even though her heart is thumping against her chest, and maybe Leo is tired too because all he does is get her under the covers before collapsing beside her. She can hear the tool belt falling off the bed as they lie down but none of them care much about it.

He nuzzles his face on her neck, takes a deep breath, and mumbles. "You washed your hair?"

"It smelled like fish," she replies half-asleep.

Leo kisses her shoulder and then presses his cheek against it. "I like how you smell. I love you."

The words slip out of him so easily but Ara goes crazy over it. "I love you" falls short, she needs a new way to say how she feels about her boyfriend.

"Leo?" Her hand runs through his curls.

"Hm?"

"Goodnight."

They arrive at the pillars of Hercules the next morning, where Hercules is actually waiting for them.

"I'll go," Jason offers. "He's a son of Zeus. I'm the son of Jupiter. Maybe he'll be friendly to me."

"Or maybe he'll hate you," Percy replies. "Half brothers don't always get along."

"Thank you, Mr. Optimism."

"It's worth a shot," Annabeth intervenes. "At least Jason and Hercules have something in common," she looks at Ara. "You too, maybe he'll understand the urgency of the situation if he sees the child of Olympus is with us."

"Or at the very least he'll take pity on me."

"And we need our best diplomat," Annabeth continues. "Somebody who's good with words."

Everyone looks at Piper. Ara's a charmspeaker, but she tends to blurt out exactly what she's thinking at the worst times.

"Fine. Just let me change my clothes," Piper's wearing her pajamas because most of them were violently woken up by a cruise ship.

"You'll be okay?" Leo nudges Ara's side.

"Yeah," the girl tucks in her shirt, she doesn't like how it looks over her shorts. "Should I be nice or should I be like, 'Sup, dude, I'm your replacement!'"

"Just don't let him bully you, whoever he is, you're ten times cooler." Leo tries to help by pushing her hair back and removing a speck of dust from her shirt. "There. You look, er... Olympian?"

"Thanks."

"Take your cloak with you," he adds. "Maybe he'll be impressed if he sees all the blessings you've got."

"Great idea, handsome," she pecks his lips before leaving.

Leo turns to Jason with a huge smile. "Heard that? I'm handsome!"

Jason squints. "Did she sleep in your room last night?"

"Don't tell Percy."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 21: alt. prompt flashback

tw: gaslighting, emotional abuse

There is a full-scale blizzard raging beyond the Palace walls. Rex is of the opinion that letting Senator Amidala die from hypothermia is just as much a failure on his part as leaving her behind to fall prey to the droids, so, instead of facing the kinetic unknown, he turns toward the mountain the Palace is half carved out of.

“I suggest we hunker down in one of the caves and wait for the generals to find us,” he shouts over the screaming wind.

“I suggest we find cover before those clankers can pick off the rest of us,” he shouts over the ear-splitting boom that rocks the valley floor. Somehow, the explosion isn’t quite loud enough to drown out the dull thuds of armored, lifeless bodies hitting the ground.  General Skywalker huffs. “C’mon, Rex. It’s just a few hundred droids. Nothing we can’t handle, right?” His shiny blue blade slices through clankers with ease, twirling in a convoluted dance, the general dodging and weaving in tandem without even breaking a sweat. Rex’s helmet is so full of perspiration he may as well be drowning in it, but he grits his teeth against the protest that threatens to slip out. It isn’t his place to question his general’s tactics. Besides, he trusts General Skywalker; he always comes through in the end.

“Good thinking, Captain,” Senator Amidala answers.

Rex blinks. He hadn’t been expecting the senator to agree with him, though he’s not sure why.

The cave is small, a bit claustrophobic for his taste, but it’ll have to do. As they slink into the measly depths of their shelter, Senator Amidala stumbles, hisses through her teeth. A hand on the wall, she balances precariously on one foot as she lifts the hem of her dress.

“Are you alright, Senator?” Rex asks, dread seeping into his bones as he watches her examine her ankle because he was supposed to protect her, he should’ve been paying more attention, it’s his fault–

General Skywalker hisses through his teeth, sharp, as Kix wraps the bandage tight around his shoulder. “Let’s attack the factory on foot, they’ll never see us coming,” he mocks. “Yeah, great idea, Rex.” Rex resists the urge to point out that he had suggested a stealth approach, and that it was the general who wanted to march the troops parade-style through the valley. Now isn’t the time to be petty. The general doesn’t mean anything by it, anyway. Rex would be just as irate if he’d nearly got his one good arm shot off.

Senator Amidala shakes her head, offers him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I think I only twisted it.”

For some reason, that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty.

The two of them get a fire going to stave off the chill, burning scraps from the senator’s dress, and when Rex thinks it might finally be safe to set up the locator beacon, he extracts it from his belt, flicks the switch.

Then, he curses.

“What is it?”

“The signal’s too weak. It won’t reach through the rock and snow.”

Senator Amidala frowns. “Will it work if we get it beyond the cave?”

“Out into the blizzard, you mean?” Rex says, a little ruefully. Wincing, he rushes to correct his slight. “Theoretically, yes. Realistically, I don’t like our chances of survival. It only takes a couple of minutes for hypothermia to set in.”

“Alright, someone’s gotta go out there and draw their fire while I lead a squad around to the back entrance.” Rex is already shaking his head before the general even finishes his sentence. “I don’t like our chances. There are too many droids on the door. We should–” “That wasn’t a request, Rex!” General Skywalker’s glare is almost cold, but that’s just the pressure of the mission getting to him. It’s getting to all of them. “Find someone to get it done.” Pushing down the anger simmering in his chest, Rex eyes the door, levels his blasters. Because there’s no way in hell he’s going to send the shinies on this suicide run.

There’s an odd look on the senator’s face, something that might be pity, or perhaps an emotion entirely unfamiliar to him. Her slender fingers dance across the beacon’s form, and Rex is reminded, jarringly, of makeup brushes and serenity.

He almost wants to laugh. He'd been a fool to hope the day would end in anything other than utter disaster.

Senator Amidala's face hardens in resolve. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” Rex snatches the beacon from her grip, his fingers grazing her knuckles as he does. “I'll do it,” he says, and it's not quite a snarl, but it's a near thing.

Because someone has to risk their life for this, and that someone sure as hell isn’t going to be the senator.

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 38: Family Dinner

The kids celebrate the fruits of victory and glory in their first major battle, a big dinner that they bribed and bartered for and a large barbeque on base, including all the meal prep that goes into it. I had a lot of fun figuring out what everyone would do in this, and @canyouhearthelight was a lot of help.

Xavier 

His phone was buzzing and he answered it. “Casey, I don’t know where the charcoal is, Shiloh and Vergil aren’t back from the store yet. How’s the meal prep coming?” 

“I’m glad Mark’s as quick as he is with magnetic pulls because if he wasn’t Molly’s knife handling would already have us regretting that Shiloh isn’t here. How’s the pit coming?” 

“Jonathan grabbed the entrenchment tools and shoved me out of the way. He pretty much took it over - it’s almost done.” 

“The grill?” 

“Fuck’s sake, Casey, the suburban white girl is coming out, I’ll go check.” 

“This is the first party we’ve gotten to put on as a group in ages, let me have the control freak shit.”

“Speaking of control, Echo?”

“Her marinade is going great, whatever you’re grilling is going to be slathered in something awesome, chill.” 

“Cool.” He hung up and started jogging towards the armory - on their last leave, they’d swiped some good quality whiskey from a liquor store as a trade to get one of the mechanics down in maintenance to weld some scrap into a workable grill. Now it was time to pick it up. He had only gone about thirty yards before turning around and tapping Jonathan on the shoulder. “Hey, Jonathan. I’m gonna take over from you for a sec. I can finish up the pit, I’m gonna need you to go grab the grill.” 

As Jonathan casually hopped out of the pit and then handed Xavier the shovel, the two boys clapped each other on the shoulder. “Gonna be good food tonight, finally.”

“Hell yeah, brother.” Once Jonathan ran off and he was left working on the pit, he got another text, and he snatched the phone off his belt, this time noticing it was from Mark, on their group text with Echo.

Mark: alright, confirmation two weeks later, Smith and Franks have indeed found Echo’s little sister. Files are apparently available for your detection, Echo. 

Echo responded less than a minute later.

Echo: I talked to Vergil. If Imperator keeps tabs and gets her to where she’s safe, I’ll play along with Franklin. 

Xavier grinned. Everything was going their way. Supposedly, more people were going to be arriving late today, or maybe early tomorrow, and depending on when everything was finally ready, that meant the newbies were going to get one hell of a jumping in. 

He tore at the ground with the entrenchment tool, widening and deepening the pit just a little more until Vergil texted: We have the charcoal. Shiloh’s driving back - they got a bunch more stuff for us to eat as well. 

Molly

Her hand slipped on the knife while slicing the potatoes. She felt an abrupt pull and heard Mark swear as her fingers were saved for the fifth time by someone else’s super power. 

Casey chuckled. “Okay. So when we buy the big fortress for the whole corps, the kitchen knives all have to be steel rather than ceramic.”

Molly flushed. “Or we could get a mandolin slicer.” 

Casey grunted. “Or we could get a mandolin slicer, yeah. Or both. Actually.” 

“Also, for the record, isn’t this kind of problem usually because of shitty knives rather than unskilled cooks?” Mark asked. “I seem to remember my mom saying something about that.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, but we’re all using the same bad knives in this kitchen, and you’ve had to lean on your powers once to save your fingers, you haven’t had to save me at all. It’s not that these knives aren’t making it worse, Molly, and we absolutely need to get a proper sharpener in here, but like. You haven’t had a lot of practice in a kitchen, you know?”

Molly shrugged, embarrassed. “Yeah, only child, I guess.”

Casey nodded. “That explains it. We’re gonna get in more practice, you’re fine. Here, hold a little more like this.” She walked over and corrected Molly’s grip. “Should make it a little easier. I’m gonna finish getting the cornbread into the oven, then…actually can you swap me and make the honey butter? Just whip warm butter in with honey? I’ll take over veggie duty.”

“Thank god,” Molly heaved in relief, laying the knife down. “Pretty sure I can’t hurt myself with a whisk and a bowl.”

Echo grunted. “I’ll run slaw once I’m done with the marinade.”

Molly felt lost, and walked over to where the butter was, threw it in the bowl, and lathered it in honey before beginning to whisk. “So, new people?”

“Yeah, apparently the new conscripts are coming in either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Four of them, I heard.” Echo said, casually indulging in her habit of disclosing information she wasn’t supposed to have. 

Molly didn’t miss the way Mark’s head snapped over. “When did you hear that?”

“Shortly before we started cooking, actually. I wanted to tell you and Xavier, but we were all running around.” 

“No worries. Glad it was here and not in front of staff.” 

“Heh. I would never make you look unprepared in front of staff.” She shrugged. “Everything else about them must be on-paper, eyes-only, so I don’t have it.” 

Molly shrugged. “Music tonight?”

“Yours or Xavier’s?” Mark asked. “Either way, yes. It’s a party. On our turf.” 

“Bit of both - how much dubstep violin combination have you heard?” 

“We’ve got live music now? Praetorian original? Everything about that is awesome.” Casey’s voice came from behind her, even as Molly heard the oven open and shut. The other girl crossed the kitchen and took up a knife next to Mark.  “That’s genuinely cool, Molly. I’m so excited to hear it!” 

Molly flushed. “Really?”

“Really. It’s cool that you can do that. It’s awesome that you’re building that up. It’s cool that it’s something we can do to welcome new people in. It’s awesome that you and Xavier are doing that together, and it's amazing that in the midst of the hell that is Imperator and the war we’ve been drafted into, you’re able to hold onto that part of yourself. I’m proud of you.” 

Molly looked down as she kept whisking the honey butter. As she thought about it, it did seem that everyone held to something. Casey and Mark still practiced what parts of their faith they could, with Mark maintaining little hints of hobbies he had and Casey keeping her skirts and her love of cooking. Xavier had his hobbies and music, Echo her fashion sense, Shiloh their refusal to get their hearing surgically repaired even now that the mutations made it possible. Even now, Jonathan, Vergil, and Shiloh were being encouraged to find things that they could have for themselves that Imperator couldn’t challenge, couldn’t force, couldn’t use. She was happy to make the music hers. 

Casey jumped as Mark made a choked noise and a fast gesture, leading to Casey’s knife sliding back and forth rapidly. “Oy vey! All that shit to Molly about how good you are in the kitchen!”

“I got distracted! Phone buzzed.”

Molly smirked. “A true master wouldn’t get distracted.”

“I thought you said you were an only child.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Echo snorted. “You didn’t need much time to start smarting off like a proper little sister, that’s all. Anyway. Casey, who texted and what’d they say?”

“Shiloh and…they’re here.”

“Got it. Uh…Shiloh and Verg are coming up, so I’ll head down and light the charcoal. Once it’s ready then I’ll come back up. Xavier and Jonathan are gonna start grilling once the grill is ready.” 

Molly stood away. “Honey butter look ready?” 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, looks perfect. Uh…we got the potatoes chopped, get them boiling and once they’re boiled can you get them mashed? And get the cornbread out of the oven when the timer goes off.” 

She headed off and Molly started gathering up the potatoes into a pot, filling it with water and setting it on the stove to boil. “Okay, so…”

Shiloh rushed in, already setting another massive pot on the stove to boil for macaroni, and signing. Vergil was signing back, taking up a knife before being casually displaced by Shiloh. They began slashing veggies rapidly for Molly and Vergil to glaze. Echo took her leave to carry down the meat - grabbing Vergil to help her with the process. 

Molly glanced at Mark. “So. What do you think’s gonna happen when the new people get here?”

“I’m taking all that a step at a time,” he confessed. “But I expect we’re gonna get them situated to working with us, like we did with everyone else. Probably easier for them than it was for you, since they’re coming into a big meal and not getting scooped after a massacre.” He winced apologetically. “And easier than it was for Vergil, since they aren’t getting straight up black bagged and we already crossed off Volkov.” 

Even now, having actually stood to battle and killed, it still made her shudder how casually the older Praetorians discussed having killed other humans. How Volkov’s death was always discussed as simply an unpleasant chore rather than anything truly upsetting. 

“I get that.” She said, softly. “I mean - do you have any idea of how or when our next mission will be?”

“No. I know that we have our official ranks, but at a guess that was expedited as a show of good faith by Franklin, not preparation. This war is on the enemy’s timeline, not ours.” 

Molly winced at that reminder. “Okay.” She finished glazing a row of asparagus. “Did we need anything else?”

“Uh….Shuck that corn if you could, then I think I’m gonna wrap it in foil, actually.” 

The timer went off and Mark wrapped his hands in mitts to retrieve it.

***

Vergil

Xavier was scratching small patches of new skin on his arms in ways that indicated Shiloh had had to work on small burns from grilling, and everyone was helping bring out massive heaps of food. Curtis and Leon had been flatly forbidden from being involved in meal prep, but finally sat down at the feast - along with a small group of base staff. A squad of troopers who had been involved in helping smuggle various cooking material onto base, who Curtis had deployed with before the hell of Imperator and who he had vouched for, who were, even now, standing in full battle gear with bayonets fixed as though daring anyone to interfere with the meal. Their pay was in a share of the food.

Vergil, for his part, was in sensory heaven, fully amping his sense of taste with a slowly enhanced control of his powers to savor every bite, heaping his plate high. Every once in a while, Casey would gesture at the fire and make it flare for a bit of light, but for the most part, they were focusing on getting more food out. 

“So, wait, the Collins - they’re gonna be a good place for my sister, right?”

“Yeah. They’re gonna be fine for your sister. Best foster home I ever had.” Echo had asked him now, a few times, and he was happy to assure her. 

Echo smiled, and laughed. “Goddamn. We’re winning today. Given how often shit goes sideways, let’s enjoy it before any higher power notices.” 

Vergil started laughing, and he could hear Curtis and the troopers talking. “Wait, hang on,” one of the soldiers was saying. “The oldest one is seventeen? I knew the Praetorians were young, but jesus.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I knew Imperator was conscripting teenagers. I didn’t know…How old is the little blonde one?”

“Thirteen.”

“Fuck, man. We working for one of those West African warlords these days? Sarge, how long have you known?”

“Since I got forced to train them. They’re good kids.” 

Another man spoke up. “Fuck me, it’s like the Congo thing all over.”

“Nah, it’s worse.” 

“I have kids older than the two youngest.”

“No, Corporal. Your daughter is the same age as the boy who gives the orders to that little outfit, and the girl who manages all their intelligence gathering. Give you an idea?” 

Vergil forced himself to listen into something else as he shoved more cornbread into his mouth. He didn’t want to think about how much easier someone else’s life was. The cornbread that Casey had made was perfect - smooth, sweet, warm, and the honey butter melted over it perfectly. “Casey…this is amazing.”

“Thanks, but actually, Molly made the honey butter.” 

The ribs were spectacular. Sticky, sweet, and spicy. Echo hadn’t been overhyping the sauce she’d made. Nor had they underpaid the bribe. 

Shiloh was talking to Jonathan - and he was proud to say he could finally follow their rapid signing. “Jonathan, damnit, I know it doesn’t hurt, you’re still burned and I want to fix it, hold still.” Jonathan held still as Shiloh put their hands over his arm and froze for a moment, then let go.

Jonathan abruptly hugged Shiloh, picked them up, and put them on a bench, throwing a stack of food in front of them. “Eat. You haven’t all day, any more than I have, and I know healing takes a lot out of you.”

“You’re lucky you’re my brother.”

“That’s why I’m the one who makes you do stuff, yeah. No one else can touch you.” 

Vergil smirked. He’d had that explained to him a few times. Praetorians were “family” - Jonathan and Shiloh were siblings, as much or more than blood could make anyone, and he pitied anything that tried to tell them they weren’t. 

Leon came over. “How’re you doing?”

“Amazing, Leon. This is perfect. Thanks.”

“I honestly didn’t do any of this. This is all Mark and Echo, honestly.” Unspoken for a moment was the dreadful truth everyone knew, that Mark had told everyone, even Vergil. At this point, Leon was well aware of the capricious nature of Imperator and her place in it. “There are several of you that myself and Curtis are going to ask about legal guardianship of, if you want it. Not that it really matters, because you’ll be legal adults before the war ends. But it means that legally, if we can make it happen, we’ll have more latitude to negotiate for you in cover story stuff like school. Plus we can open up bank accounts for you outside Imperator and put money in for college that Imperator can’t touch.” 

“Which ones?”

“You. Molly. Jonathan. Shiloh. Echo.”

“Aren’t Shiloh’s parents still alive?”

Leon gave a wan smile. “Curtis explained to the squad who are about to be deployed as security to Aventine, how Shiloh came to be a Praetorian. I suspect that’s temporary. Accidents happen. Especially in Imperator.” 

“For us?” Vergil was confused.

“After that last battle? Even if someone wasn’t morally disgusted by what happened there, Shiloh saved a lot of people whose life is being able to act effectively and let them remain able. Just being on Shiloh’s good side means something to people now.”

Vergil rolled that over. “Yeah, uh…go for it. So, hey. Question. Do you know anything about the new conscripts? Echo says we’ve got four coming?”

“You know more than I do, please review ‘Stricken and Gideon are doing what they can to lock me out.’”

Vergil winced as Leon stood up. “Enjoy the night. I’m going to go grab a drink with Curtis. Have fun with the others. You guys earned this.” 

Vergil jogged over as Xavier stood up and grabbed Molly, who was already unlimbering her violin.

“PRAETORIANS!” Xavier thundered, his voice shaking the tables with unnatural volume. “We fought the aliens in their own ship, and we kicked their asses! We’re now enjoying the fruits of our victory, and to celebrate, me and Molly put something together, a quick reminder of what we can do with our powers when the war ends.”

Vergil froze. Was Molly already putting on a concert? Already? 

A thrum that started in his bones and slowly picked up to something fast, something that got his blood pumping, only to have Jonathan twirl him out of his seat and get all the Praetorians stomping around. Then Molly twirled her bow and added in, the bow whipping back and forth across the strings and filling the air with more music, music that made the air itself vibrate as Molly amplified it, intertwining the sounds with what Xavier was creating, with their own movements, with everything.

The troopers started to chant, and started joining in. 

Vergil grabbed a case of soda and swigged, twirled by Shiloh. Then by Echo. At one point, Molly, seeming to want to show off, set her violin down and spun herself into a dance with both Casey and Echo and let her power alone keep the echoes of her music flowing through the night until she cut back out, swept up her violin and cut right back into the music without skipping a beat, timing in with her own echoes. Xavier jumped in the dance with Shiloh, first. 

Mark and Casey danced by the fire, Casey flaring the fire behind them, and Mark casually repelling them away from the iron of the grill to give them more distance than would otherwise have been possible on little jumps. 

Vergil stopped, grabbed a little more food, and ran back to the dancing, and one of the troopers pointed. 

Curtis was picking up his sidearm. 

Vergil glanced over and Curtis shook his head. “Couple staff. Not your problem. We’ll tell them you’re not available. Promise.” 

Gideon and Stricken were approaching. Vergil went back to the dance, swinging in time with Casey. Then with Mark.

He saw Mark and Xavier dancing for a moment, then found himself with Jonathan, barely keeping up with the larger boy, who abruptly, seemingly just to show off, took a step back and vaulted the firepit in a backflip. 

Then Vergil began picking up a thrum of rotor blades and turned around.  A helicopter was coming in. 

He pointed out. He could hear Mark swearing. Then Xavier elevated everyone’s voices. “Alright, everyone. Look alive. We got some new siblings to welcome.” 

[lowwasteorbustanut]

My friend and I have been working on sewing my first pair of pants!!

I purchased 100% linen, 100% cotton thread, and a pattern.

The 100% natural fibers are expensive, which I don’t love.

And my first time reading a pattern and sewing pants had been

…

Let’s just say it’s been a learning experiment 🤣

It’s been two 6-7 hour days so far.

First one was cutting out the pieces and learning how to read the pattern. Neither of us has ever followed an actual pattern before.

As I like to say, I’ve only seen by following my heart not a pattern lol

We did manage to get one leg sewn together…until we noticed we sewed the two back leg pieces together. So had to unpick all of THAT!

Then day two was putting the CORRECT leg pieces together. And adding in the pockets, which are a MUST!

First we attached the pockets so they folded OUT, not IN. So had to unpick that. Then we sewed the pieces backwards, had to unpick that.

Then we FINALLY got the pockets sewn in correctly! 💖

And the legs were sewn shut so I tried them on.

And it was a little too tight across the butt. So we marked where I needed more room and cut out a little diamond shape, because the crotch and waist were perfect.

And that’s where we are at now.

Waiting for me to pick apart the butt seam, and add in the diamond. Then it’s hemming the ends of the pants, and finishing the waistband.

The waistband will be elastic, and I’m gonna take some of the scraps to make belt loops. That way the pants will stay up a bit better.

Gods it’s been a trial so far. But the end result will be worth it.

And hopefully future pairs will be much easier to make. And I found some great fabric stores online that have BEAUTIFULLY colored linens, silks, and cottons at a lower price that I can afford.

Of course, to try and minimize my carbon footprint, I want to make one big order. Which is why I wanted to experiment first, with linen from my local Joanne’s. Even though it’s more expensive.

And I want to invest in 100% silk thread as well. Wasn’t available at my Joanne’s, which is why I got the cotton.

[bearpillowmonster]

Bad Batch S2

I figured finish 2 before starting 3. 2 just wasn't appealing to me because I didn't like the first one enough, it seemed like it was littered with too many cameos, some enjoyable but some way too pandering, it felt like it couldn't stand on its own two feet. It wasn't bad overall though so I gave two a shot after some many months and while it sounded appealing with them being treasure hunters, I just couldn't get behind it. S2 is like every good episode has two bad ones but they aren't necessarily in order so you might get 4 bad ones before you get 2 good ones.

People pit Dave Filoni as the master of the franchise now but I'm not necessarily convinced because this was all him, as far as I can tell. Picking a successor to lead Star Wars is like picking a quarterback to win your Super Bowl, while Dave has experience and has produced the most enjoyable bouts (especially having Atla under his belt) he hasn't necessarily been consistent in my opinion. Sometimes I wonder if expanding the Skywalker era is even a good idea in the first place because they're at planning retirement for the clones...with pensions and all that junk. They're trying to solve the veteran problem...in Star Wars. While that digs deep into the lore, it treads close to what I was saying about Andor with it showing us too many unnecessary bits. Don't get me wrong, that was one of the good bits, I feel like the Bad Batch sort of started showing the actual transition of clones to stormtroopers and I really like that idea but it's few and far between a lot of the time.

But it feels like you're out of luck if you don't like a character, Cid for example is pretty unlikable for a lot of people, maybe she's meant to be that way, whatever but we see a good bit of her. Organa? We see him almost every Star Wars series now, I get that he jumped the rebellion but isn't there something about bringing about the remaining scraps of the alliance on Alderaan after its demise to take down the Empire in the first place? Now there's a billion rebels, now there's a billion lost jedi, which I've complained about before but I'll do it again. Again, if it's the point of the series, it makes sense, Jedi Fallen Order did a great job with this because it was the point, to get the list of jedi, attaching a number to that could only make it more tense and I believe at some point, it was George's plan was to have a Vader saga where he hunted these jedi down. All those ideas sound cool but if they show up time and time again in a story unrelated, it just seems like you have a jedi there to have a jedi, like it's some sort of propaganda similar to the ending of the Last Jedi. The best episodes here are ones that don't involve lightsabers. It's all overexposed.

With that said, I dropped S2 until I saw S3 was coming and brought back Asajj. So, their propaganda worked in a way. And really, S2 didn't have as many cameos as I thought it might, in fact, I found myself getting attached to one of the characters. I've always liked the crew ever since I saw them in TCW but I thought about who I would be most sad for if something happened, it's Echo. He just has always stuck out in my mind, Hunter too, but Echo has the story. The others were born that way and grew to be brothers but Echo was an accepted family because of his condition and I just find that so loving. I also really love where they leave this season off, it has a lot of potential for this next season, having Omega sort of visit another side of everything, so I can at least say that while S1 didn't get me hyped for S2, S2 got me hyped for S3.

[the-rat-dad-au-fan-story]

Rat Dad AU - Chapter 3 - The return of the feline - (Part 8)

(Warning:English isn't my first language)

(Chuck goes to a baby crib opens it up, puts the tiny animatronic in there, ties him up with the seat belt and closes the crib.) Chuck: Now this thing woudn't be a promblem. (Then the group goes through the vent and they get out next to a security office.) Gregory: Look a security office! Maybe we can find another Security Badge! (Gregory enters the security office.) Gregory: Ok… where can that bagde be? (Gregory finds a box shaped like Glamrock Freddy head and opens it and finds a Security Badge.) Gregory: Bingo! Hey guys I found a Security Badge! Chuck: That's great Gregory. FW Pizzacam: Chuck? Chuck? Chuck: What is it Pizzacam? FW Pizzacam: Someone is trying to sound a alarm in the area that you guys are in. I'm trying to block the alarm but I don't think I can do this for long. So you guys better move! Chuck: OH! Ok! Comeone guys let's move! (Chuck's group starts to move. They go through a door to the Priza Counter. Walking around they pass a glass dome that shows the Lobby down stairs. And after moving a little more they find…) Gregory: THE FIRE EXIT! (Gregory tries to open the fire exit… but…) Gregory: IT'S LOCKED?!?! Chuck: OH COME ONE! WHY WOULD THEY LOCK A FIRE EXIT!… this can't get any wor- FW Sun: Chuck? Can you hear me? Chuck: Sun? How are things with you guys? Found a exit yet? FW Sun: Well… first the good news we found a Security Badge down here! Chuck: The bad news? FW Sun: … someone raise the main loading dock security… we can't open it. Chuck: Great… the two exits that we found are locked… King: What now? FW Sun: We should all meet up in the Pizza Time Theater and discuss a new plan there. Chuck: Good idea. We meet you guys there. Gregory: Great… now I problaby need to survive… around 5 hours. Munch: Hey… look at the bright side… it could be in a wor- (Then a alarm was set off.) Intercom: Emergency lockdown activated! Munch: … Really… Chuck: COMEONE WE NEED TO LEAVE! (The group then tries to leave the Prize Counter.) Chuck: WAIT! Gregory: What is it?! Chuck: I can hear someone coming! From that way! Munch: But that the way we came from! How are we suppost to leave then? Chuck: I don't know! Gregory: GUYS LOOK A ELEVATOR! Let's can use it to escape! (Then the group enters the elevator. The doors close and they go down. Then Vannesa kicks the door open to the Prize Counter with Roxy and Monty behind her.) Vannesa: Finally got you! You little bra- (Vannesa then hears the elevator going down.) Vannesa: …YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! (Vannesa throws her flashlight into the ground breaking it. We can see that Roxy is suprised by the sudden outburst, while Monty just raises his glasses and looks down at the broken flashligh.) Chuck: … That was close… Gregory: So… where to go now? Chuck: We first need to see where the elevator will takes first. (The elevators moves down to the Lobby… but it doesn't stop. It goes down and down. Until he stops. Chuck group gets out and they find theyselves in a dark area…) King: What is this place? Chuck: I don't know… It looks like a giant storage room. (Then from the darkness a voice can be heard.) ???: Well, well, well, look who it is!

Rat Dad AU - Chapter 3 - The return of the feline - Complete Next Chapter - Chapter 4 - The ghosts of the past.

(Author notes: I actually think this is my weaks chapter yet... Because this part of the game after the Daycare and before being kidnapped by Vannesa is so boring and forgettable!! Side note: I tried to put Eclipse in this story but after many hours the idea was scrapped.)