#Thirsty Affiliate

[selling-words]

Powering Your Affiliate Endeavors with WordPress: A Comprehensive Guide

For those wishing to monetize their internet presence, affiliate marketing has evolved into a popular and profitable industry.

For those wishing to monetize their internet presence, affiliate marketing has evolved into a popular and profitable industry. A dependable and versatile platform is required to manage and optimize affiliate campaigns successfully. WordPress, a popular content management system (CMS), provides a solid choice for easily powering your affiliate ventures. In this article, we’ll look at how WordPress…

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shalt Not Kill - Chapter 8

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.

Warnings: none for this chapter other then talks of religion

So sorry it’s taken me so long to get this out haha I’ve been so busy over the last couple weeks but tonight jet lag has been a bitch so I decided to use the time to finish this chapter off 🤣 I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!!

Tags: @Ima1986 @hayleylatour @reyadawn @thatchickwiththecamera @calleyx13 @english-fucker @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsword @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran @flowery-mess

If you wish to be added to the tag list then let me know!!

Chapter Index Here

MASTERLIST

The world around you seemed very fuzzy, like a dream, almost but it was very much real.

The pain in your head was awful, you tried to open your eyes and was met by a dim light around the room coming from above your head, although it was dim, it still hurt your eyes the moment they opened.

You let your head fall back onto the pillow you were lying on, the room already feeling like it was spinning and making your stomach twist uncomfortably.

The sound of a door opening made you try to turn your head again and a blurry silhouette came towards you, that was the last thing you remember before you slipped back into the darkness again.

••••

Once again you stirred awake, your body feeling heavy and weak, the pain still lingered in your head and your mouth was incredibly dry.

You looked around the room, your eye sight more adjusted then before and you saw you were in a fairly big room, the walls were a dark grey and there was a small window up very high on the wall, allowing sunlight to come into the room, it appeared you were in a basement somewhere. The bed you were on appeared very clean, like the sheets had been freshly made not long ago. A tall chest of drawers was to your right. There wasn’t much else in the room but two doors, one you assumed lead to a toilet and the other was your way out of here.

Trying to push the nauseous feeling away, you sat yourself up slowly. Your head still feeling very foggy.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind the door in front of you, when the door opened you were greeted by Noah’s tall figure carrying a tray in his hand.

“Ahh welcome back angel, I was starting to think you’d never wake up”

You backed yourself up in the bed when he walked over and sat down next to you, you could see bottles of water and a sandwich on a plate on the tray.

“Ho..how long was I out?”

You coughed and tried to cleared your throat as your voice was raspy and your throat was dry.

Noah offered you a bottle of water which you just stared at.

“It’s not laced with anything, look, not even been opened”

You studied the cap and saw it appeared to be untouched but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t possible.

Noah smirked at you and opened the bottle to take a sip himself.

“Happy now? You must be thirsty. And you’ve been out for nearly 2 days now”

You took the water from his hands and started to drink, water had never tasted so good.

“Easy, you haven’t had anything in days, don’t want to bring it straight back up”

You stopped chugging the water and stared at him.

“Why do you care? You’re going to kill me right? What difference does it make?”

Noah let out a small chuckle and went to touch your leg which you swiftly moved away.

“I have no intention of killing you angel, why would I do that when you intrigue me far too much”

You looked away from his intense gaze, his words not bringing you any comfort.

“Why Noah?…the whole time it was you…just why?”

“I have many reasons why, but I’m sure you’ve figured some of them out by now detective. I’ve never met anyone who’s just as intelligent as I am, someone who is on my level. There was no way any of those idiots at the station would ever have got as far as they did in the case if it wasn’t for you”

You looked back at him, seeing him looking almost sincere.

“It was all a game to you wasn’t it?”

“No. I genuinely do like you angel, that was never a lie or a game…my messages to you may have been however”

You didn’t miss the sinister smirk as he recalled all the times he’s text you off an unknown number.

“A burner phone I assume? One that clearly couldn’t be traced”

“They had no chance to tracing it back to me, as I said, none of them would have got this far without you. You see what they don’t, you tried to get into the same mindset to figure out every clue, every killing and you were right every time. It’s truly very impressive”

You felt the need to laugh, “so what now? You just keep me locked here….where ever here is?”

Noah put the tray with the sandwich on your lap and gestured for you to take it, the growling in your stomach wouldn’t let you turn it down so you picked it up and started to slowly eat.

“You’re in a safe location, they won’t be able to find you if that’s what you’re thinking and you won’t be able to get out of here. The walls are soundproof and the only way out of through that door which is locked, even if it wasn’t, I would soon find you. I intend to keep you here until I see fit so don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you…not yet anyway”

Noah appeared to be very relaxed in front of you, it was almost like nothing was wrong and you were just two friends having a conversation like you always did, the feeling was very bitter sweet.

“Why did…”

Your words got lost in your throat as soon as you started talking.

“Why did I?”

You looked down at the half eaten sandwich in your hands as you felt a true wave of sadness wash over you.

“Why did you play with my feelings…and sleep with me? Why would you do that?”

You felt Noah’s fingers underneath your chin as he pushed your face up to look at him.

“I already told you, that wasn’t a game. I really do like you, I never lied about that”

You stared into his dark eyes and for a moment you let yourself go back, days before, when everything was normal.

“I just…can’t believe you…a psychopathic killer isn’t capable of such emotions”

Noah laughed quietly and you felt his breath on your lips as he moved in closer.

“Oh even you know that’s not completely true detective, we are capable of many emotions, even if it’s not how you perceive them to be”

“And what about how I perceive your actions detective”

You couldn’t resist using his nickname back at him, the sick irony of it all almost made you laugh.

“Come on now, you know for a fact that the victims weren’t innocent people, I’ve done the world a favour by ridding them of those hypocritical liars”

“No matter what they did in their past or present, you’re not god! You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies!”

Noah smiled and you felt his hand grip your chin harder as he leant forward to press his lips onto yours.

“Don’t I? I’ve already told you before angel, the worst thing in this world is religion. And I’m simply sending a message that god can be dethroned”

You tried to move away from him slightly, the kiss and his words sending chills down your spine.

“You’re insane” Noah smiled at your words.

“We’ll find out detective, my message to the world isn’t finished yet”

“What about ‘thou shalt not kill’ you don’t practice what you preach?”

He leant in towards you closer again, his hands now resting on the mattress either side of your body, almost like he was trapping you in.

“That commandment is always translated wrong, it should read ‘thou shalt not commit murder’” Noah then stood up tall, the smirk on his face still ever present. “Killing can be such a righteous act”

You pushed the sandwich away and sat up more in the bed, the dizziness still there in your temples.

“You think what you’ve done is righteous?”

He walked closer to the door, signalling he was making his leave soon.

“What I’ve done is proved that people are not what they seem, you and me are living proof of that”

“What do you mean?”

“We are the last two commandments angel, do you not see it?” Noah paced slowly as he talked. “‘Thou shalt not have no other god before me’ and ‘thou shalt not kill’ it’s very poetic I think”

You scrunched your face up at his words as you tried to understand what he meant.

“I don’t understand?”

“Oh you will angel, all in due time”

With that, Noah turned and walked out of door, the sound of it locking ringing in your ears and his words making your head hurt even more.

Chapter 9

[mggsv]

Interrogation

afab!vamp reader x sam winchester (18+) slight dean!

summary: Sam’s taking his interrogation time with you seriously, while Dean watches how helpless you are in his arms.

warnings: reader is cuffed, choking, mentions of blood, spanking, trigger warming for sl*t wrist, choking

* for better context this is consensual between them, i apologize!!

“I need a name, now.”

“I..I don’t have one. I told you- fuck- I’m not affiliated with any other vampires. Hah..it wasn’t me.”

Sam’s big hand held your small cuffed wrist together while his thick cock buried itself deep within you. Your eyes watered while he plowed into you, each thrust just as hard as the others. You bit into your lip, your fangs out and thirsty. They’ve kept you for two days, constantly fucking into that slut of a hole of yours. Your ass was in the air right at the edge of the bed. You had nothing to hold onto, just his trust which you know you didn’t have. After all, they’re Winchester’s, and you’re a vampire. Everyone knew what happened when the two collided. “Fuck- Sam…mph..”

“Sam!“ you gasp. He forces you down, your face hitting the pillow beneath you. He pulls out, hand slapping your ass. “I need a name.” He grumbles. Your cunt throbbed from the loss of his cock. How it filled you so well… His thumb grazed over that sweet sensitive nub of yours, your legs shaking from the sensation. His hand comes down again, even harder- making you gasp and shut your eyes for just a second. You adjust your head best you can, staring right into the eyes of Dean Winchester. He sipped his small class of whiskey while he stared back at you. Pure disgust in his eyes, but his hard cock said differently. He gets up, leather boots steady against the floor- you could hear it better than he could.

That’s when you smelled it- blood. Most importantly, blood from a winchester. You whimpered, back arching as your fangs sharpened. Your mouth opened as Dean neared you, your sex clenching around the air. “Please-“ you gasp, Dean’s hand coming up to your neck and squeezing. “Please what?” he grumbles.

“Please..sir.” You stared right into his eyes, they’d be the last eyes you’ll ever look in, assuming your position. He could kill you, he will, kill you..

“Drink.” Was all he replied with, the fresh shot of whiskey fanning your face. Sam’s strong arm came round your head, his wrist was slit and his blood dripped down onto your chest. You held your tongue out, catching the fulfilling droplets. You felt your world open- your heart bursting. Your legs shook as the flavor- the opportunity, the chance..drinking from a Winchester all the while he fucked you. Dean’s hand tightened its grip around your neck. “A name. Now. Who’s killing all those people damnit-“

“Riley.” You moaned, Sam’s thick cock slipping back into you. “That’s- Thats all i know i swear.” A smirk rose on Deans lip, Sam’s wrist coming up to your mouth. Your drank from him while he plowed you from behind. Your eyes watered, your cunt feeling full and overstimulated. You were full everywhere. Still, Dean’s hand held its placement around your neck, his cup of whiskey raising to his lips. “Well, i think you know more than that.”

[matan4il]

Mileapo are having another nice touristic day around Paris, and their IG stories contain hints of each other...

Mile posted this Piaget watch, when Apo is affiliated with this brand:

It's green, Mile's fave color, and matches all the green Piaget watches that Apo posted on Sep 13 and 16, kind of subtly confirming who all those pics were for...

Meanwhile, Apo posted this pic of Mile with Jared Leto at the BOF 500 gala on Sep 30, and he added music from Jared's band, Thirsty Seconds to Mars. There are plenty of pics taken at the event of Jared with Mileapo, but nah. Since Mile was probably excited as a musician even more than as an actor to meet Jared, this update is all about Mile, celebrating him on Apo's IG.

And then Mile posted this pic of a green toy car:

A second later he added a pic of it with clear-rimmed glasses placed on top of it:

Who wears glasses like that?

OH! An Indonesian gay blogger seems to have spotted Mile at a Paris cafe... Gift is there as well, but based on everything they've all posted, Apo is likely there, even if he happens to be in the bathroom or ordering another cup of coffee (or three) when the blogger who was waiting to get into a restaurant happened to spot Mile.

And just as a bonus, here's another moment from the live they did yesterday, during their romantic night stroll to the Louvre museum. This is Mileapo watching the moon together:

(for more of my Mileapo/Kinnporsche posts, click here)

[mariacallous]

On May 16, the gaming and entertainment news site Dexerto tweeted an image from the forthcoming game Assassin’s Creed Shadows featuring one of its protagonists, the Black samurai Yasuke, in a fighting pose. Across scores of replies, some voiced optimism, others fatigue with Assassin’s Creed’s now 14-game-long run, and a very vocal few expressed frustration and anger that a Black person was at the center of the narrative.

“Gonna pass on the DEI games,” wrote one blue-check X user, referencing the acronym for diversity, equity, and inclusion. “Why Wokeism?” asked another. Comments full of racist and sexist language filled the thread.

A more articulate undercurrent of these reactionaries, across many online forums, had a more specific set of complaints. Some alleged the race of the real Yasuke was never known, others that he wasn’t a samurai but a retainer, and another claimed he was never in combat.

These were all fairly elaborate conclusions to draw about a guy from 1581 who’s been depicted as a samurai in Japanese media many times, including in the 2017 video game Nioh and Samurai Warriors 5 in 2021, as well as his own animated series on Netflix.

They also may have been the last bit of armchair history we got on Yasuke if the conversation hadn’t been sustained by a set of accounts looking to build yet another front in the online culture war, fueling what some have been calling Gamergate 2.0. Whereas the Gamergate of 2014 focused on trying to drown out feminist voices, and the voices of women of color, in gaming culture, this second incarnation seems focused on pushing back against diversity in games of all kinds. Yasuke just stepped in their path.

The resurgence of the Gamergate moniker came earlier this year in reaction to the work of Sweet Baby. Staff at the small consultancy received a wave of harassment this spring stemming from misinformation and conspiracy theories claiming the company was a BlackRock-backed outfit trying to force diversity into games. (It’s not affiliated with BlackRock and merely advises on characters and storylines.) As the controversy around Assassin’s Creed Shadows intensified, several posts mentioned Sweet Baby, even though company CEO Kim Belair says the firm didn’t work on the game.

“I think it just comes with the post-Gamergate (late-Gamergate?) territory,” Belair wrote in an email to WIRED. “To a certain kind of person, largely trolls, we're synonymous with their idea of ‘wokeness in games’ or a vague idea of ‘DEI,’ but it's ultimately reflective of the overall misinformation that fuels this campaign.”

Gamergate was not the first harassment campaign conceived in the bowels of 4chan and its affiliate websites, but it was perhaps their crowning achievement. The attacks against developers Zoë Quinn and Brianna Wu and media critic Anita Sarkeesian, among others, ranged from doxing to rape and death threats. Its tenets and tactics eventually proved valuable in bringing people into the burgeoning alt-right movement. Even Pizzagate and QAnon can, in some ways, be traced back to what was happening with gamers online in 2014.

“Gamergate was a recruiting ground, a pipeline to leverage the loneliness, discontentment, and alienation of young men—often white young men—into alt-right politics, extremist misogyny, and outright white supremacy and Nazism,” Thirsty Suitors narrative lead Meghna Jayanth told WIRED.

If the early days of social media incubated a cultural cold war, Gamergate turned it hot. Frustrated that they were no longer the sole demographic being catered to, Gamergaters saw “the growing visibility of women, not to mention their incomprehensible insistence that games cater to their perspectives as well, as an unwelcome intrusion in a space that does not belong to them,” Laura Hudson wrote in WIRED at the time. As a result, they wanted more than debate, they wanted blood—and nothing really stopped them from going after it.

Ten years later, aggrieved gamers are focusing on other forms of diversity and inclusion, which is how Assassin’s Creed Shadows’ Yasuke has become the latest point of contention.

While only so much can be truly known when it comes to history, accounts suggest Yasuke (the real one, not the video game character) was a man presumed to be from west Africa who served the Italian missionary Alessandro Valignano. He accompanied Valignano to Japan where he served Oda Nobunaga at the daimyo’s demand. Yasuke was presented with the trappings of a samurai: a house, servants, a sword. He would go on to be with Nobunaga, or near him, at the time of his death, before seeking his heir Nobutada and joining him in battling those responsible for Nobunga’s death, though unsuccessfully.

While Yasuke’s history is fascinating and mysterious, much of the fuss over him has concerned whether he was officially a samurai, a depiction that has shown up in media several times in and outside of Japan. Some insist that he may have instead been a retainer, page, squire, or sword-bearer. Others decrying his inclusion in Shadows said he looked gay.

“There is no easy way to separate the many threads of what we are seeing within the Yasuke backlash,” says Paula Curtis, a postdoctoral fellow at UCLA’s Terasaki Center for Japanese Studies. “There are legitimate complaints about the developers’ decisions regarding representation and historical engagement … There are also many discriminatory responses to the game that have been anti-Black, misogynistic, and politically motivated.” It’s important to note, Curtis adds, that Shadows’ fans and commentators, and the issues they’re raising, aren’t uniform.

When Japanese historian Yu Hirayama tweeted there was “no doubt” as to Yasuke’s samurai status, he was treated to a tirade of abusive replies in English, including one claiming he brought “dishonor to [his] family and Japanese history.”

Amid the backlash to Yasuke’s inclusion in the game—and specifically to his role as a samurai—Ubisoft, the game’s developer, issued a statement saying that while the company “extensively collaborated with external consultants, historians, researchers, and internal teams at Ubisoft Japan” on the game, “some elements in our promotional materials have caused concern within the Japanese community.”

Without saying specifically which aspects caused concern, the company added that it was taking this “constructive criticism” into account as it prepared for the game’s November launch, and apologized. (Ubisoft did not respond to a request for comment on this story.)

Jayanth believes the apology was a case of misplaced appeasement.

“The alt-right's fundamental drive is hatred of the ‘other,’” she says. “Even if we cleansed our games of women, non-white people, queer people—which is their ask, and one we absolutely should not give in to—they would turn to insufficiently ‘masculine’ depictions of white men. This movement exists only in opposition to some polluting ‘other,’ an enemy that must be manufactured if a real enemy cannot be found.”

Revisionist approaches to history have seen a rise in recent years, especially in the interest of enshrining an idealist sense of a traditionalist past as an ahistorically conservative utopia.

“You see this in the false assertion of a purely white Middle Ages or the denial of war atrocities in World War II,” Curtis says. “Bad-faith actors may cherry-pick historical sources in order to craft specific narratives, completely ignore sources that do not support their views, or appropriate historical symbols as rallying cries to their causes.”

The proponents of Gamergate 2.0 have veiled their scorn for Assassin’s Creed Shadows’ inclusion of Yasuke within concerns for historical accuracy. Much Like the Gamergaters of old, who insisted they were defending ethics in gaming journalism and not harassing women they felt needed to be put in their place.

Gamergate then, and Gamergate now, are both ultimately about the sensitivities around who saw representation and how, made disproportionately important by how disempowered and alienated modern people feel. As games have made room for a wider array of characters, the gamers at the center of the backlash have seen this progress as a form of persecution. Games are changing, and as much as those upset over Yasuke’s inclusion in Shadows want to push back, they may not be able to stop that.

“It's certainly been strange to see us tied to a ton of games we've never worked on simply because people perceive ‘wokeness’ or progressive ideas in them,” Sweet Baby’s Belair says, “but maybe it's indicative of a greater truth that Gamergaters miss: No external consultancy is forcing studios to make their products more diverse or more progressive. The change, whatever you think of it, is coming from inside the house.”

[shroudcryptid]

10 million Prompt Fills

@tanoraqui asked:

Write about your WoL bonding with the flying pig they got from the boba tea thing!

-

They were gathering stares, but the Warrior let the gazes simply flow past and away. Enough of them had tinges of envy that they felt decently sure to not be violating some unspoken taboo in the unique city.

Beside them, the porxie of mysterious origins oinks again, leaning into their hand scritching its ears. It was polite enough in its use of the large straw; its thirsty drinking would barely require a single disposable napkin to clean the table afterwards. 

tanoraqui asked:

Write a few sentences about your favorite ffxiv anime man with long white hair! Write about him doing swordy stuff, or eating breakfast!

-

“Call it a guilty conscience.” The Warrior says, mercilessly sliding another tall, cloud-like pancake onto Themis’s plate. His eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t pull the plate away, only look like someone has dropped a new toy into his hands to tease apart. 

“And you are aware I do not need to consume to survive, yes?”

“Yeah.” 

"Mm. The cream fits these well."

tanoraqui asked:

Final prompt, a gift for a friend: write about @ostentenacity’s blorbo, Thancerd(?)! Fuck him up, she likes him fucked up.

(@ostentenacity)

-

“If you’re referring to the business with the Ultima Weapon, then you must understand - I-I wasn’t myself-“ Thancred’s mouth serves him as best it can under the circumstances, the words speaking themselves distantly, without his direction. 

There’s a rising crackle in his ears. The distant sound of the Praetorium burning around him, metal screeching as it’s torn, drowning out dying screams. 

And then there’s a voice, cutting through the smog. Indistinct, indignant. Minfilia’s voice. 

Thancred blinks, suddenly very aware of the two Brass Blades leaning towards him. And promptly decks the closer one in the face. 

@scriberat

o/ azim steppe shepherd insert, whistling her doggos to surround magnai with sheep

-

The massive man crosses his arms heavily. The intent was undoubtedly to look imposing, but to the shepherd, it looked sulky. 

And, unfortunately, cute. She wanted to pinch his cheeks, watch him flush and turn away. 

“I will not ask you again, outlander. Name your affiliation. You cannot have wandered this far into the realm of Azim without aid. And the sun stands for no insult.”

She opens her mouth, but not to reply. Instead, a shepherd’s whistle pierces the air. 

Whatever the man intended to say next, it’s lost in a yelp as the herd of previously peacefully grazing sheep behind him are spooked into action as one by an overlooked, four legged creature. In the face of such a stampede, his legs, and the back of his knees specifically, are yet another obstacle to bounce off of in their rush. 

Magnai of the Oronir hits the ground hard, and by the time he staggers to his feet, the herd, the creatures, and the woman, are disappearing off into the horizon. 

@bunkahi:

Yaana with min height female Au Ra. Though she tries to act happy and strong on the outside for Neyuni, Yaana is crumbling after the return of her sister. WoL gives her a comforting hug, resulting in a surprised and vulnerable Yaana purring against them.

-

Yaana’s ears flick back and down, her tail giving a sharp lash as her new friend circles arms around her, pulling her close with that effortless, monstrous strength. She’s… she’s warm, her brain usefully supplies. Putting off heat like the electric blankets they used to be able to afford. Soft as one too. And… comforting. Safe, somehow. 

She sags forward, cheek rubbing against the other woman’s horn. Nuzzles her cheek along its satisfying roughness, as a long missed rumble starts up in her chest. 

@shadowentei

gently places erenway in ur pocket...

-

“They’re our children!” Dumplingway says, eyes wide. “I need to bring them back and show my family...! Here, hold one, his name is Erenway now-!” Before Erenville can protest, he’s leaning into his personal space, close enough for Erenville to feel his warmth in the cooling evening. Dumplingway messes with his pocket, and retreats without seeing Erenville’s massive blush. 

It’s a good half minute before Erenville cools enough to realize there’s now a small, fuzzy black rabbit poking its head out of his pocket. When he reaches down to hold it, it snuffles lightly against his finger. 

[neo-axe-oc-thoughts]

𓆟 COD OC - Guppy 𓆟

Quick note Guppy is an COD AU OC, xyr AU is a mix of Black Ops (I, II and Cold War) and the Rebooted Modern Warfare (I, II, III). I'll make a separate post about the universe timeline, and what is/isn't canon.

General

Name : Harlow Rayner

Nickname(s) : Guppy

Age : 26

Birthday : Feb 9th 1997

Nationality : Australian

Language(s) : English, Auslan

Blood Type : A- (A NEG)

Disability : Autism

Gender : Queer

Sexuality : Grey AroAce

Pronouns : xe/xem/xyrs | ze/zir | they/them

Affiliations : Cryptologic Systems Op Navy, Aus Intelligence Corps Army

Rank : Intelligence Analyst

Callsign : Prophet 0-1

Affiliations

Cryptographer "Bell"

Agent Alex Mason

Special Agent Frank Woods

Lieutenant Commander David Mason

Station Chief Laswell

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Captain John Price

Relationships

Sibling : Isaac Rayner , younger brother - Alive, minimal contact

Father : Charlie Rayner - Alive, no contact

Mother : Evelyn Rayner - Alive, no contact

Bell their Zizi, (uncle/aunt not biologically related)

Appearance

Hair Colour : Dark Auburn Brown

Hair Style : Man bun, wavy/curly hair

Eye Colour : Brown Dravite

Height : 166cm / 5' 5" ft

Build : average

Beauty Marks : Light freckles across bridge of nose, moles scattered across body, stretch marks mainly on hips, upper thighs and upper arms

Scars : top surgery, chip missing from right ear

Tattoos : 3 Gill like tattoos across sides of ribcage, jelly fish wrapped across mid right bicep, two guppies on inner top of zir left forearm, wave band on right leg, a coral piece from left hip down thigh, circuit inspired tattoo from left collar bone to top left shoulder blade.

Face Claim : Erika Lindner

Voice Claim : Soren (GOG) /Rai Thistlethwayte (Thirsty Merc) /Kaoru Kurita (Wonder Egg Priority)

Personality and Negative Traits

Guppy comes across as strange or awkward to neurotypical individuals, and mostly gets along better with other neurodivergent people.

Guppy is very hard working, if the project is important they are unwilling to stop working even if it means ignoring xyrs body's needs.

Dependable : When it comes to those xe trusts, Guppy is incredibly trustworthy and reliable. A steady presence in their life, who would do absolutely anything to make them feel safe.

Intuitive : but often second guesses zirself, and ends up ignoring xyr intuition.

Has a habit of isolating themselves away from others, as well as repressing zir emotions often bottling them up since they struggle to express xem in a way that makes sense to others.

Overly empathetic as a response to zir being parentified during childhood.

Stubborn : Often unwilling to do things that go against what xe believes or what those xe trust has taught them.

Virtues and Vices : self-reliance, stubbornness, obsessive (wont stop until something is done), caution, dependability, Intuition, Tenacity, Impatience, Ingenuity.

Skills and Abilities

Basic Combat Training

Special Skills : Analyst, Cryptography, coding, hacking and intel gathering.

Favourites

Colour : dusty orange

Food : chicken parmi

Drink : Mocha

Flower : Purple Phlox subulata

Trivia

Guppy is right-handed, but working towards being ambidextrous.

Zir listens to music sung in other languages or metal to focus, annoying whoever they share a workspace with.

Has a more dark sense of humor, but hates that that sort of stuff makes xem almost laugh.

Spent most of zir spare time with Bell, and has picked up a couple Russian words and their knowledge on cryptography.

Surprisingly xe is a good cook and baker, spending time learning different recipes especially ones that Bell remembers enjoying from their childhood.

AN : I'm going to be making xyr backstory a separate post, since it's still a work in progress. I might post a small bit about Guppy's current concept/idea for their place in the story.

I also took inspiration from @/kaitaiga and @/sleepyconfusedpotato COD OC posts. Which is the second time I've taken inspiration from Sleepy, first time being my COD MW age head canon post.

[nerdanel01]

I’m dumb, what does BioWare mean by stone cold fox?

Not dumb at all! “Silver fox” is just a term typically used to describe a sexy older man with grey/white hair.

I think the “stone cold” bit is just a slang term for “very much”? (BioWare/John Epler keeps saying how kind he is so I doubt it means cold in the personality sense!)

That being said, I believe the “stone cold silver fox” comment actually came from the panel moderator (who I don’t think is officially affiliated with BioWare?) so I wouldn’t read into it TOO much. I think they were just being thirsty like the rest of us haha

[yellowmagicalgirl]

On one hand, there's a current deal for DriveThruRPG/DM's Guild creators in which we get 12% royalties if you purchase through the affiliate link instead of the usual 8%. On the other hand, the purpose of the current sale is to get you to buy a game I'd rather not advertise due to recent controversies. Instead, I'll advertise some indie games that I'd like to play one day using their premade banners:

Thirsty Sword Lesbians! It's a PbtA game set up similarly to MASKS, and is rather setting-neutral compared to all the other PbtA games I've seen. Do note that the focus is more on being thirsty lesbians (or at least, queer people desperate for connection) than about swords considering how easily they can be reflavored. (IDK what the other two are about.)

I really wanna play Girl by Moonlight one day, and I love how it's one of the few magical girl TTRPG's I've seen that has both Madoka-style rules and Sailor Moon.-style rules, as opposed to insisting on one or the other. There's also rules for two other genres in there (mecha and magical realism).

And I'd also like to play the regular Blades in the Dark game one day as well. I wonder if my friend ever got that game she was gonna invite me to off the ground...

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Winter, 2019 - San Diego, California

Chapter 4 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: It's been a week since the accident. A week since you collapsed, a week since you saw the man who could be your soulmate fall from the heavens in a jet he shouldn't have been in at all. And you can't help but blame yourself. The should haves, would haves and could haves crowd your brain until there isn't anything else in it. Until, that is, you wake up one morning to find what looks to be all of the journalists in San Diego parked out in your front lawn. That's when you discover that Hawk had given interviews across the city dragging your name through the mud. You can't even open your windows without them hounding you. So you trust your welfare to your best friends, your family. And pray that Bradley Bradshaw wakes up soon. If only because you're not sure how much of this you can take. Meanwhile, Rooster's in heaven. He's got his mom and dad nearby, he's never hungry, thirsty or tired, but as time passes, he can't help wondering about his soulmate. Is she alright? Is she safe? She's not hurting too badly because of his stupid actions, right? One chance vision from the universe shows him what he didn't know he needed. Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish. This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. Warnings: Female!Reader Word Count: 3142 A/N: Here's Chapter 4 of YAMS! This is where the shit hits the fan, quite literally for Tinkerbell and Rooster! Hawk makes a second appearance, and if you all hated him when you first saw him, you haven't seen anything yet! As always, your reblogs and comments make me so happy! Feel free to drop me an ask if you want to chat about this chapter or any of my other works! AO3:Cross-posted Here! My Masterlist Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Tinkerbell

You feel rather like you're walking around in a haze after the accident. You live so close to base and have so many friends that are Navy or affiliated with the Navy that it feels a lot like the entire world is talking about what happened. The rumors and wondering comments follow you around. You can't even walk into the commissary anymore without hearing some new theory about what happened.

Jake and Javy do their best to shield you from the speculation, but you can't hide from yourself. Your brain may be telling you that it wasn't your fault that Bradley crashed, but your heart, your soul, is telling you differently. Your actions resulted in your soulmate being in a hospital bed, unconscious and unknowing right now. You could have done something more to disable his jet. You could've had the maintenance crew remove the master ignition switch. You could've. You could've. You could've. It's eating you alive. Since you're on medical suspension for a month, you don't even have the distraction of work anymore.

You have one week of relative quiet. Then you wake up one morning to your phone blowing up. Everyone you know who has your phone number seems to be texting you the same link. You're half awake, sleep clouding your eyes even as you fumble for your ringing phone and answer the phone call.

It's an awfully insistent voice asking you why you put Bradley in the hospital. You ignore it and hang up. The words don't penetrate your sleepy brain until a few seconds later, when you jolt up from your comfy spot in bed. You've gotten over sixty unread messages and fourteen voicemails in the past three hours. Most of the voicemails are from Jake and when you open the first of the many articles in your inbox, it's an interview.

You're going to murder Lieutenant Junior Grade George Taylor, the cocky little shit soon to be formerly known as Hawk. He's spoken to what seems to be every news outlet in San Diego and given them a tell-all expose about how you're a nosy, jealous bitch who hated Lieutenant Bradshaw from the moment she saw him and wanted him gone.

No wonder your phone has been ringing off the hook. Everybody wants to stick their mics into your face and get the true story. How could you tell them it was your soulmate's fault when he isn't even awake to corroborate your story? You don't even know if he is your soulmate, for goodness's sake. Not definitively, at least. 

You can't even draw back your curtains, because when you try, you are nearly blinded by the entire troupe of reporters camping out on your front lawn. No wonder Jake sounds frantic when you finally pick up the phone when he calls next.

"Hey darling." He sounds worried, like he's been pacing back and forth on the hot tarmac for hours. "What happened? Are you okay? Did you see my messages?"

"I saw, Jake. I was asleep. If you forget, I'm on medical leave for the next three weeks." Your voice is weak as you burrow back under your sheets. "I saw your messages, Jake. I'm dreaming, right?"

"I wish you were, Tinky-tink." You can hear the pain in Jake's voice as a tear drips unbidden down your cheek. "Hawk's been swanning around on base. He's been talking shit all day. Javy's already punched him in the nose hard enough to cause a nosebleed. Thankfully Cyclone and Warlock weren't nearby or my darling would've ended up with a formal reprimand by now."

You have to smile, even if it's half-hearted, because it's so like Jake and Javy to have your back, even at the risk of their own careers.

"You guys have to toe the line, though, Jake. This may very well be the end of my career, but it's not going to be the end of yours." Your voice is filled with so much regret. So much pain and sorrow. "I'm not going to drag you and Javy down with me."

"Baby, who said you're dragging us down with you? We're your family, remember?" He sounds so genuinely distressed for you.

"I know, Jake. And I love you. I love Javy. But you can't punch Hawk out every time you see him on base. But you can smuggle me out of my house and hug me for a good long while later today?" You feel extra small in that moment, the flashes of light from the lenses on the other side of your curtain still burning after-images into your retinas.

"The paparazzi are all over, huh?" You can hear the furrow in Jake's brow as he asks you that question.

"I feel kinda like Marilyn Monroe. I have after-images burned into my retinas from the flashes on all the pictures they got of me in my frumpy, old, US Navy t-shirt a few minutes ago." You can just barely hear the rage in Jake's voice as he calls out to Javy and the other Daggers. 

"Hey, sweetheart." It's Javy's smooth, deep voice that you hear on the phone all of a sudden. "Jakey's flipping his shit, I dunno if you can hear him, baby, but we're really worried about you. Let me see if I can get Mav to let Jake and I out early. We'll roll up in the lifted truck with the blacked out windows, y’know, the one I kept telling Jake was a ridiculous purchase, and get you to our place. You know what Jake can drive like when he gets motivated."

You have to chuckle at that, a little. Jake normally drives like a perfectly respectable person. But when he's angry or worried, he's got a lead foot. You've definitely been holding onto the passenger "Oh Shit!" handles a few times as Jake drives.

"Pack your bags, baby. You're coming to stay with us until the paparazzi back off. All I know is that if I see that little ass wipe ever again, he'll be wishing that the worst thing he gets is a broken nose." Your chuckle is watery and sniffly at his words.

"Thank you, Javy. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. If you hear tires screeching on pavement, know that sound means that Jake and I are rolling up to break you out of jail." 

The phone goes dead soon after and it takes everything you have to not start hyperventilating on the spot. You could probably handle Hawk's interview alone, but now with reporters camping out on your front lawn and hounding your every move, it's only a matter of time before some other corrupt person lets it spill that Bradley Bradshaw might be your soulmate. With no knowledge of his prognosis, it's likely that you're going to get a court martial, then be dishonorably discharged, and finally imprisoned. Who'd ever take your word over Hawk's? There are still Admirals who believe that a woman's place is in the home, after all.

Everything you've ever worked for will have turned into dust in moments. All because of one action, one reaction, really. If he weren’t so badly hurt already, you’d hate Bradley Bradshaw for what he's done to ruin your life. But you can’t hate him. You couldn’t hate him if you tried. Now that you know he’s yours, that he’s linked to you in a way nobody else will ever be, ever can be, you can catalog all of the things you’ve ever felt about him. The instant jolt of attraction you’d felt that first night, the need to have his body pressed up against yours as he crooned sweet nothings to you? That must’ve been your bond asserting itself for the first time. Your giddy feelings after the AMDO inspection are just further proof. 

You pack bag after bag as you go over every memory you have with Bradley Bradshaw. In truth, he’s always in the periphery of your memories of your time at North Island, always in the shadows, lurking at the outskirts. You know it’s not his relationship with his team, because they love him. You have to be the reason why he’d become so nervous all of a sudden. Could he have sensed the nascent bond between the two of you? But that doesn’t explain the horrible things Bradley had said about you. You’ve gone over that night over and over in your mind, but it’s standing in your sun drenched bedroom that you finally realize why. Jake had come oh-so protectively up to you after the crowd had nearly crushed you, after Bradley had saved you. He’d smothered you in his embrace and his cloying older-brotherly love and had scarcely left your side the remainder of the night.

Could Bradley have thought that Jake was your soulmate? Jake?! The very man who is so in love with his own soul that he never even lets Javy get his own beer? Ever? The man who'd called you after Javy went into G-Loc and was in the hospital for the night, crying because he'd nearly lost the most important person in his life? That Jake? It’s a ludicrous thought to you, but a conceivable one. And you can’t even disabuse Bradley Bradshaw of the notion. Not when he’s lying in a hospital bed deep in a coma.

It’s that thought which swarms in your mind as you sit in your silent, dark living room waiting for Jake and Javy to come ‘break you out of jail’ as Javy had called it. You’re paralyzed by it, in truth. How? How can you fix this? How? The more you think about the situation you’ve found yourself in, the less you think you’ve found a solution. You’re curled into a ball on the sofa, staring blankly at the television you’re not sure when you turned on, when the door opens. You’re blasted with an onslaught of noise in the short while it’s opened.

“Hi, Tink.” You blink unseeingly at the voices. These are people you can trust, you know you can, but you can’t make yourself respond. All of your feelings have clogged up your throat, muting your voice until you’re caught in the riptide-current of everything that’s happened to you.

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get you out of here, huh?” You just nod, allowing Javy to put your shoes on your feet and wrap you in a big hoodie, drawing the hood over your face before propping a pair of sunglasses on your nose.

The sound is worse the minute you set foot outside of the door. The flashes are blindingly bright even through the dark lenses on your face, and if it weren’t for how Jake and Javy sandwich you between them, both of them still in their khakis, you’d have broken in the couple of dozen steps it takes to get into Jake’s lifted truck with the blacked out windows. The reporters are shouting questions to you so insistently that you can hear them even once you’re safely ensconced in the backseat with Javy. For several long moments, they turn their hounding on Jake as he carts your bags to the tailgate in a couple of quick trips. It’s barely ten minutes later that Jake takes off down the road. But it’s in the quiet of the cab that you break down.

It’s an acute despair that’s got hold of your heart, tears slipping down your cheeks in big globs at the pain you’re feeling all over again. It’s not enough that you had to watch your soulmate crash, that you can’t know how he is doing. No, now you have to face the entire world lambasting you for something that you didn’t do. This soulmate thing didn’t come with instructions. If the gods had been a little more specific, could you have avoided all of this? Why didn’t your life come with some kind of instruction booklet? Would it have saved all of this heartache? You honestly don’t know and you’re sure you never will.

Javy’s an angel throughout it, holding you tight against his chest and letting you cry until your tears peter out. You can’t hear anything for a long while, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the big palm cradling your head or if it’s just that the beating of your heart is drowning out everything else. 

“How’s she doing, darling?” You’re struck dumb, your mind moving far too fast to put your thoughts to words.

“I dunno, Jake.” The rumble of Javy’s voice in his chest feels like home. “She cried for a long time, and now Tink’s just lying against my chest limply.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help her more, Javy.” It sounds like Jake’s choked up. Why? It’s not like you’re anything special.

“What else could we do? We got that little prick under investigation. And I punched him square in the nose. Everything else is up to Bradshaw. And we’ll take care of our girl as long as we have to. She may not believe that she did the right thing at this very moment, but we’ll help her. It’s the least we can do.” Javy sounds so sure of his ability to help you. But what if you’re past saving? It’s not like Hawk will ever change his tune.

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it’s enough? This is Tink, Javy. Our Tink. We wouldn’t have each other without her.” You’ve never heard Jake like this.

“It’ll be okay, darling. You and me, we’ll take care of our Tink as long as we have to.” 

You must fall asleep after that conversation because the next thing you know is the feeling of cool blankets over your exhausted body and a soft pillow under your heavy head. Somebody has laid your cell phone down on the nightstand and your bags are in a corner. You feel weighed down and groggy, like you’ve been sleeping for far too long and yet are still completely exhausted. You have to force yourself to walk down the stairs of Jake and Javy’s house, though you can’t quite give up the comfort of the blanket they’d draped over you. Your socked feet whisper softly against the shining wood floors, and the stealth it provides leads to you seeing something which warms your nearly broken heart.

There are takeout boxes on the counter and two half filled glasses of wine nearby.  Soft music spills from the speaker on the counter and Jake and Javy are swaying gently to the beat. As you creep closer to the kitchen, you can hear the lyrics. If you know Jake correctly, it sounds like Tim McGraw’s My Best Friend. Jake’s mouthing the words gently, Javy’s head against the crook of his neck and his hand over Jake’s heart. Both of their eyes are closed and they look completely at peace with each other. Their love for each other speaks volumes. They seem so at ease with each other, like they belong here in each other's arms. 

In this cozy ranch style kitchen, all of your problems seem miles away. If you close your eyes and let the music wash over you, you would almost think you’re in your own kitchen, dancing barefoot in somebody’s arms. There’s a dog underfoot and even though the two of you nearly fall, it feels right. When you open your eyes, you half expect yourself to be there in your kitchen, to see Bradley looking down on you. But nothing’s changed. You’re still lost and alone. Adrift in stormy seas without a life raft or life jacket. But in the warm yellow light, you let yourself hope, just a little. You have Jake, and you have Javy. Maybe they’re enough?

Rooster

In the who-knows-how-long since he’s been stuck in limbo with his mom and dad, Bradley’s filled them in on everything they’ve missed in his life. He’s been yelled at and squished by both his parents and he feels more settled than he has been in a long, long time. From what his parents have told him, he’s not dead, not completely. There’s something tethering him to his life, something more than just his bruised, broken, battered body in a coma. 

If he stops concentrating on what it is, just a little, Bradley sometimes thinks he sees a string, shooting out from his heart and extending out, farther than he could possibly see. It’s crimson, the color bright against the pale nothingness he’s in, and god he wishes he could see who it points to. But more than anything, he wishes he’d just not decided to get into a broken jet and fly. It’s the biggest regret of his not-quite-life, not-quite-death, and he wishes more than anything that he could apologize to his soulmate.

But he can't. Not until he wakes up. It's impossible to know how many days he's been stuck in this liminal space too, the days punctuated by his mom and dad appearing and disappearing in golden motes of light, leaving him in solitude at times. It must be nice, Bradley's sure, to know you've lived a life well, to know your soulmate is waiting for you on the other side of a golden bridge waiting for you.

That's the first time he sees her, his soul. She's standing in a kitchen, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, the only parts of her visible are her sock-clad feet and her head. There's music playing, some country tune Bradley couldn't name if he tried. Her eyes are welling with tears as she watches two men dance. One is pale-skinned and blond haired, the other deeply tanned with close-cropped inky black curls. They're wrapped around each other, love dripping from every motion. Bradley knows exactly whose face it is, Tinkerbell, just as well as he knows the blond's face. It's a face he would have argued he's seen too many times since the Uranium Mission. Fucking Jake Seresin. But why's he dancing with somebody else? Shouldn't he be dancing with Tinkerbell? She’s in the room after all. How could he cheat on a girl like her? More's the question, why's he seeing Seresin and Tinkerbell instead of his soulmate?

But before Bradley can get or manipulate the visions to show him something else, he's left with only his thoughts. Those thoughts keep focusing on Tinkerbell standing in the kitchen. She’d looked so sad, so lonely. Oh god, is this when she found out Jake was cheating on her? He can’t help wishing he were there so he could hug her and kiss her tears away.  Which is ridiculous, right? But he does promise that the next time he sees Bagman, the two of them are going to have words. Nobody gets to treat their soulmate like that, not on his watch.

Taglist:

🛩️ @roosters-girl 🛩️ @infamous-reindeer 🛩️ @caitsymichelle13 🛩️ @mattyskies 🛩️ @cosmic-psychickitty 🛩️ @mygyn 🛩️ @julesclues 🛩️ @greenbaby12 🛩️ @bubblegumbeautyqueen 🛩️ @briseisgone 🛩️ @soulmates8 🛩️ @meganlpie 

🛩️ @daphne-turner 🛩️ @captain-fandomwriter58

🛩️ @caidi-paris 🛩️@mazzbarnes 🛩️ @thedroneranger

🛩️@super-btstrash-posts 🛩️@eli2447 🛩️@chaoticassidy 🛩️ @kmc1989 🛩️ @faithiegirl01 🛩️@mayhemmanaged 

🛩️@desert-fern🛩️ @cassiemitchell 🛩️ @dakotakazansky 

🛩️ @cherrycola27 🛩️@roosterforme 🛩️@beccaanne814 🛩️

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[icedmatchatae]

Hello! Welcome to the Matchalist🍵 where you can read the stories and sip the tea I share with you all. More drinks of choice—ranging from teaspresso shots and lattes—are being developed, so they will be revealed soon!!

Please note that I created these fanfics myself. I do inform if I’ve been inspired by and if stories are based on movies, songs, ideas, etc. Almost all of my stories are rated mature. If you’re under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Stories are written purely for creative purposes. Main OC/Readers are presented as afab! as it’s coming from my perspective and what I affiliate with. Physical descriptions and appearance of OC/Reader are left vague to leave creativity up to the readers’ minds. If descriptions are applied, it pertains to the plot. BTS are written as fictional characters. In no way, shape or form, are they like this in real life. I do not own HYBE or Bangtan themselves. Feedback (even constructive criticism) and comments are always welcome!

All rights reserved for ©️ icedmatchatae 2023 (｡●́‿●̀｡) Please do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or steal any of my work. Stories are only on here and AO3.

「ONE SHOTS」

⋙ Cien Años (a, f)

Hanahaki AU A sad story of two best friends who loved each other for different reasons.

TBA…

TBA…

TBA…

「ONE SHOTS」

⋙ Best Lover (f, s)

Secret Established Relationship AU, PWP Though hiding a relationship had its struggles, you and Jimin made it work. Which meant learning about each other, knowing the way you both function, understanding flaws…and teaching Jimin how to be the best lover he can be for you.

「SERIES」

⋙ No Kisses (a, f, s)

Football AU, Enemies to Lovers, Frienemies with Benefits It’s championship week! The most anticipated week of the school year; however, leading up to the events, you and your council must collaborate with the football team to promote school spirit and pride. Unfortunately, you’re forced to work with your number one enemy, Football team captain and fuck boy, Kim Taehyung, known for having a mysterious “no kisses” rule.

⋙ Glimpse of Us (a, f, s)

Idol AU, Ex-Childhood Best Friends BTS’s V has been living a lavished and successful lifestyle, but underneath all of that, Kim Taehyung is far from the perfect image the media and fans made him out to be. All he wants is to relive the feelings of happiness and purpose in his life, but how can he when he left behind those memories years ago? The same memories, he hopes to see a glimpse of.

「ONE SHOTS」

⋙ Good for Me (f, s)

Bad Boy AU, PWP You went home for the weekend, leaving a pissed-off and bruised-up Taehyung dry and devastated. So what does he do?—follow you home. Insane? Probs, but you’re always good for him so why not?

「ONE SHOTS」

⋙ Please Teach Me? (s)

Supernatural AU You’re a succubus who doesn’t know a thing or two on luring men, and it doesn’t help that your first task in training is to get the most egotistical fuck boy in the human realm in bed, Beta Tau Sigma president Jeon Jungkook.

↳ Please Love Me! (Sequel to Please Teach Me?) (f, s)

Supernatural AU, Friends with Benefits By thirsty popular demand, I present to you a small sequel to Please Teach Me? Your succubus self has been going back and forth to the human realm to be…friends with benefits??? With your first task, Jeon Jungkook. Though you only see it as him, finding the good in his humanity, and helping you with your training, Jungkook suddenly thinks otherwise. Yet, he’s in denial.

Updated: March 2023

All rights reserved for ©️ icedmatchatae (｡●́‿●̀｡)

[bungou-stray-dogs-archive]

Ryunosuke Akutagawa card - Radiant Banquet

Leader skill - Cool, collected celebration Increases Azure atk & hp 40% Doubles beatdown gauge fill rate Active skill - ... Let's not get too excited Increases atk 80% for 2 turns Inflicts venom on all enemies for 2 turns Sub-skill 1 - Sweets? I don't need any Activates when a Port Mafia character is in the team Reduces Emerald enemy dmg by 110 for 1 turn (135 at lv.5) Sub-skill 2 - I'm not used to this sort of atmosphere... but it's not unpleasant Activates when 85 total Azure orbs are cleared (77 at lv.5) Reduces skill cooldown by 1 turn Memo Dressed in an outfit of red and black, Akutagawa Ryunosuke participates in the banquet. Though one may never catch the man smiling, it seems nevertheless he is enjoying himself. As he rather exasperatedly accepts a glass from his subordinate Higuchi, he quietly celebrates the occasion. Quotes "These clothes have a ridiculous amount of ornamentation on them... Is that standard for events like this?" "I don't understand why this banquet is happening, but I can't refuse an invitation from the boss." "What is it, Higuchi? No, I'm not that thirsty, but..." Affiliation: Port Mafia Azure affinity Atk: 1526 (Max) | 183 (Base) Hp: 8938 (Max) | 959 (Base) Special type

He's available from the Radiant Banquet scout (EN & JP)

[vivulapom]

II - Soriss-Eleven Exclusive Super Interview Series

agh i love her sm you have no idea. also i will be using the tag "seraverse" for any related projects in this universe for the future! unless i randomly decide to change it in which posts will be updated :3

Disclaimer: Soriss-Eleven is an independent journalism agency, and is not affiliated with, legally or otherwise, any interviewees.

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

INTERVIEWER: “---kay, um.. state your identity and abilities, please.” [The camera focuses in on a young woman with tan skin and curly blonde hair. She's wearing a baggy white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.]

PERENNIAL: “Okay, ummm.. my name is Perennial. I.. I don't have a secret identity or anything. It's just me. And.. I'm immortal.”

INT: “How do your powers work, exactly?”

PERENNIAL: “Well, I.. can't be killed. Period. I guess technically, I regenerate faster than can be sensed, but even if you instantly vaporized every atom in my body, I'd still be back the next second later.”

INT: “So no secondary power? And does it hurt? Do you still feel pain?”

PERENNIAL: “Well, I can't feel the regeneration. But the getting injured part.. yeah, it fucking hurts. Be a lot easier if I couldn't feel pain. I've been.. you know, drenched in lava, cut into a bazillion pieces, so on and so forth. I save a lot of people from burning buildings, though.”

INT: “Do you like your power?”

PERENNIAL: “Oh. Uh.. wow.”

INT: “What? Did I do something wrong?”

PERENNIAL: “No, it's just.. nobody's asked if I like my power before.”

INT: “Oh. Well, do you?”

PERENNIAL: “It's.. complicated. I don't know. I mean, sure, it's nice not having to worry about death, except I still do, because my friends aren't immortal. It's nice being able to survive anything, except for when it hurts. I think I’d have nightmares if I could sleep.”

INT: “If you could sleep?”

PERENNIAL: “Yeah. It's.. it feels like I'm missing out on a huge part of the human experience, you know? I'm always perfectly awake and energized and whole. I know people who would kill for that sort of thing. But.. I've never been tired, or hungry, or thirsty, or in need of a haircut, or sick, or.. yeah. I can't wear a costume because clothes aren't immortal and they'd just get destroyed.”

INT: “If you could choose your power, would you choose differently?”

PERENNIAL: “Yes! Goddess, yes. Don't get me wrong --- my power is.. well, I can do things nobody else can do. But I wish I could do something cool, like.. summon lightning, or fly, or push stuff around with my mind. Immortality is just.. it's strong, but it's not.. it's not interesting.”

INT: “Okay. Then.. what does being a super mean to you?”

PERENNIAL: “That's.. complicated. Sort of. I mean, I think it's about.. being unique. Nobody else in the world is like you, but that comes with the downside of how nobody else in the world is like you. To be a super is.. to be unique, is to be lonely.”

INT: “.. You know, that's a very interesting perspective.”

PERENNIAL: “Is it? I'm sure we've all felt it at some point.” She shrugs. “Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of similarities. But not really for me. I don't really do anything, is the issue. My powers aren't something I get to activate or apply. They're just.. there. A fundamental part of who I am. That's it.”

INT: “Do you have any words to anyone who might be watching? Anyone trying to find their place in the world?”

PERENNIAL: “Not really.” She laughs. “I mean, I don't know. I still haven't found my place in the world, I guess. Everything feels just a little bit off. But.. I guess I just have to keep going. It's not like I have any other choice.”

INT: “Thank you so much for your time.” [Perennial stands up.] “If you'd like, we can---" [The video ends.]

[satohqbanana]

PRINCESS - Who is in charge, and how do they determine who is next?

WAR - When was the last war? Who started it and who won?

Sowwy for the late reply! And thank you for this very lovely ask game.

I am answering Princess for all the major locations in present-day Orbis.

PRINCESS:

In Kaleidopolis, the position of head spellcaster is voted for by a council of mage leaders chosen by local mages and their international affiliates. Kaleidopolis also has a separate mayor who is in charge of general public affairs and concerns. Unlike the head spellcaster, the mayor is appointed by their god, the Heartwood Tree, from a list of candidates submitted by the populace. Both the mayor and the head spellcaster are legally of more or less equal standing.

The Prismatic Kingdom is ruled by monarchs. The throne of the next ruler is given to a legal descendant, whether blood-related or adopted, of the ruler and their spouses. This also means that an old ruler can pass the throne to a grandchild or even a great-grandchild. A crown heir can be appointed early on, as they will be given sufficient preparations for their role later in life, but this practice is often looked down upon by nobility, as historically, crown heirs often choose to abandon their post later in life.

The Emerald Kingdom is fronted by monarchs who serve as symbolic figureheads, but is backed and dictated by the doctrines of its clergy and its alchemists. The real rulers are chosen via popularity contests veiled as democracy, then dictates what the monarchs should do next. The figureheads can get replaced like dolls, as the clergy has an arsenal of contacts and orphans to train puppets from. (The public is not supposed to know that last bit.)

The Platinum Fort is led by its General, its smartest, bravest, and mightiest warrior. Candidates to this role must willfully volunteer and be assessed through three tests of smarts, bravery, and might. The previous General's closest allies and confidantes serve as the judges for these tests.

The Iridescent Islands with its elders and the Damasqus Network with its clan dons operate similarly - seniority is authority. While only fellow elders can oust other elders, dons can be challenged by anyone with a perceived substantial amount supporters.

The Aurum Hills hold different laws, which are mostly shaped by how its inhabitants are affected by which side of the hill they are living in. Citizens hold personal rule books that they can add or remove from, depending on what the last huddle with fellow citizens had gone. Representatives from different sides of the hill speak for their fellows, but are not necessarily leaders. The real authorities in this nation is the gods and the lands.

Merchants run the Mirage Dunes, and whoever runs the most stable businesses gets to have a say on the affairs of their tribes. This does not always mean that the richest families are authority; their businesses must be active, paying workers well, and forecast as stable for at least the next decade, which are taken as clear signs of a supportive network and influence.

WAR:

I have not thought of a war between that of Luishreya's rise to power way way before any of my other Arcanium stories occur and the Emerald Kingdom's beef with the Platinum Fort in the present time, but let me answer for both of these ones!

The Endless Wars is a series of wars that occurred one after another for decades. It was spurred on by the rising tension between different nations, including Luishreya's homeland. The one who actually started it was the kingdom of the War King, her eventual husband, who was simply thirsty for drama and the weapons trade. By cleverly manipulating different sides of the war and recruiting betrayed talents such as Luishreya's group, they triumphed over the other nations. As for what caused the tension in the first place, I've yet to figure it out.

The Emerald Kingdom started the whole beef with the Platinum Fort due to differences over their stances on alchemy and magic. It's a rather petty thing, but representatives on each side kept the snowball rolling. Currently, they are at a stalemate, with the Platinum Fort at a disadvantage.

[delta-ghouls]

Hey, Delta here. Terzo's multighoul. They/He pronouns, or else I might bite and it's not the kind you'd like. Played bass, rhythm guitar, and occasionally lead as well. You can find me in the office, and sometimes the infirmary or library. If you need any help with your element, you can come by.

You may specify if you want to talk to my partner. Pebble 🪨 sometimes comes onto here to answer my asks, says he's too lazy to make his own account despite being on his phone a lot.

Asks are open, feel free to say hi. Mild nsfw is okay, since I know some of you are thirsty.

//more information below

lore stuff:

pins on the board

//character is my own interpretation, not affiliated with ghost nor the ghoul. account owner is 18+ and uses any pronouns.

[scrumpledorph-writes]

Koben's First Date (She's 35)

Arrived at the agreed upon meeting point at 18:55 hours: five minutes to perform a reconnaissance before the date begins. Three suns casting a long set of shadows and a dangerous ambient temperature for anything not covered by them. Single story bar, wrought out of sun baked clay, outer walls a solid imperial meter thick. Would diffuse a whole platoon of blaster rifle fire.

Still a dingy rathole at the edge of town, but it’s what my date picked out. I’ve only been staying here two weeks so it’s not like I know anywhere nicer. I’ve done breach and clears on scummier places, so just coming here to relax should be easy!

Wearing my best suit of armor, picked out my most flattering helmet, and polished the outfit well enough to blind anyone who points a glowrod at me. I look good, I feel good: I can do this. Just walk through that front door and-

There’s half a dozen blaster pistols pointed at me. ‘What the hell’s a trooper doing here?!’ one of them’s asking. I figured the purple stripes and the mismatched helmet would be a flagrant enough violation of Imperial Dress Armor Maintenance Protocol to get the point across that I’m no longer officially Empire affiliated, but some people just don’t read their manuals I suppose.

My hands are by my side, I’m playing it cool. Don’t kill six people before sitting down, that’s coming on too strong.

‘Oh, uhh, don’t mind me! Just here on a date, was gonna sit down in that empty booth and-’

A blaster pistol pokes me in the side as I walk by. Killing one or two of these guys will probably get the point across, that’s a justifiable use of force in a naval court. I take a survey of the room: angles, positions, battery grades. Their guns are barely stronger than stunners, I could take at least three solid hits before the heat sinks start to fail – it’d ruin the polish though.

Okay just break this guy’s arm and use him as a shield to get the point across. Here. We.

‘Hey Buckethead, you got credits?’ The bartender! He seems amenable; this place is a hole in the wall so losing these scumbags would probably put him out of business. Turn to look at him, nod slowly, reach for my credit pouch even more so.

‘Good. You thirsty?’ Nod again. I scheduled this date to align precisely with my dietary schedule, so I plan to have one and a half glasses of water and a nutritionally complete meal. Ample spending for a single patron.

‘Then whoever shoots you pays your tab.’ The blasters recede back into cloaks and shoddy holsters. Sit down at the booth without further incident, good progress so far. Don’t remember any of my old squad-mates mentioning shootouts in their date stories. Face the door so I can keep an eye out for her.

She’s a few minutes late. Within acceptable standard deviation, not worth a reprimand. Even if it was I’d let it slide, because standing in the front doorway she’s just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Coral pink skin draped over legs built like tree trunks – waging a war of attrition against a pair of work pants eligible for veteran’s benefits, and winning it by the look of the tears. Cushion around the midsection: serving double duty as protection and a calorie reserve for long bouts of physical labour. Arms poking out of a sleeveless, tastefully sun bleached off white work shirt that look like they could heft up a laser cannon. Years of desert dust had taken up the venerable work of sculpting her a strong, hardy jawline that could come out the other end of a brawl with no more than a bruise. All this topped off with a half dozen shoulder length Nautolan head tentacles.

I didn’t even know women could look like that – they definitely can’t while adhering to Imperial Diet and Dress Guidelines – but I’m glad she does. Her deep black eyes are on me. I’m glad to be wearing a helmet, just now noticing my jaw dropped while I was looking her up and down.

They’re off me again. She’s looking around the bar. Oh shit, right, I’m in full armor. Wave her down. She’s pointing at herself incredulously. Nod, but don’t nod so hard I look desperate. Alright that worked. I never got sent on information gathering missions, so I don’t have any training for how to seduce a woman, but all the guys used to say just be yourself and act natural.

‘H-hi’ Terrible. Cracked, warbling voice, trembling like a schoolchild. Clear your throat, pretend this is a debrief with a particularly informal officer, and try again.

‘Hey! Brayli, right?’ ‘Yeah, you’re Koben?’ That husky drawl is just about making my knees buckle, really glad I decided to meet her sitting down. Her voice is bouncing around in my helmet like a concussion grenade bounces shockwaves around a cockpit.

‘Do you mind if I take this thing off?’ Point at the helmet to make sure she doesn’t think you’re some kind of exhibitionist freak. She’s nodding, good. Don’t put it on the table that’s weird and intimidating. The seat next to you is good, that’s normal, put it there.

She’s smirking now, oh no why’s she doing that, she’s making fun of me, now that there’s nothing keeping her from reading my face it’s written on me like a bounty poster how nervous I am.

‘Not sure why you bother wearing that, cute thing like you.’ Oh, I understand now, she’s forward. Really forward. Can’t keep the nervous laughter inside, but she seems to be liking it. Adrenal responses involve an up front surge and level off with time, take the conversation somewhere less stimulating and circle back around for another pass later.

‘I kept it this way by wearing the thing – an old squad-mate of mine took his off and took a blaster shot, looked like someone had smashed a tomato with a hammer.’ Why. Why did you say that. That’s weird, nobody knows what a smashed tomato looks like and nobody wants to know that it looks a lot like a blown open face.

Wait no never mind she’s laughing I’m doing great – mental note maybe this woman is dangerous – laugh too so you don’t look like a commando droid with synthskin draped over it. We’re having idle conversation, it’s progressing naturally. Keep talking.

‘That outfit looks practical, what do you need it for?’ She’s looking down at it, now back to me. ‘Speeder mechanic. I would’ve wore some nicer clothes, but I don’t own any.’ Another little laugh. She laughs a lot, it’s really pretty. I’d ask her to spend the rest of the night just laughing at nothing but that’s weird so I won’t. I’m already laughing too, I didn’t even need to remember.

‘Yeah I know what you mean. My closet’s this and a subcycle’s worth of identical underarmor.’ Too far, you were doing great but you were riding a thin line and now she knows you live like a soldier who has nothing else to offer – no wait another laugh she’s fine you’re fine it’s fine everything’s fine.

‘Well, it’s a very nice suit of armor. Maybe you can let me take a closer look some time.’ I’m pretty sure that was flirty, don’t be standoffish and professional about this. ‘You can take a look now!’ I’ll show her my gauntlet: it’s the smallest piece which makes people think it’s the least important but actually an incredible degree of engineering goes into all the microservos: nobody ever thinks unpowered armor needs microservos because you can move it just with your hands, but actually they’re there to subtly compensate for recoil. Normal Stormtrooper armor doesn’t have it, and in test environments where Purge and Storm troopers swapped armor it was found to reduce deviation by up to five degrees and increase hit probability by as much as fifteen percent. Why am I bothering to remember this; she’s a civilian speeder mechanic she doesn’t care about any of this.

She’s running her fingers along my hand. I know I’m not feeling her body heat because the suit is weather proofed, but it feels like she’s leaving lingering embers trailing along my skin. But not searing it like how the inquisition sears flesh with their lightsabers to torture dissidents, it’s more like the gentle warmth of a blaster barrel after a just slightly too long burst. It’s nice.

Her mouth furrows into a frown for the first time of the night. Why, what’s wrong, what’d I do, can she tell everything that these gauntlets have ever done? Is she a secret jedi? Does she feel them around her windpipe crushing the life out of her and her son is beating on the leg of my armor for me to stop but he’s so weak and I’m so much stronger and then there’s a crack and she falls limp and I walk away, leaving a scar that won’t ever heal in her son’s heart until he joins a resistance cell and I end up shooting him stone dead in the street?

‘It looks like this microservo’s a little out of tune.’

Oh. Well that’s fine. ‘Maybe you could tune it up for me some time?’ I didn’t even think that one through, but she’s smiling about it, so I guess we have something in common. She’s letting my hand rest on top of hers after giving it a complete once over. I know I should probably pull it back, but this is nice. Just a few more seconds. One. Two. Three. No more, it’s time to move on to something else.

‘So, what’re you doing for work now that the Empire finally let you go?’ Don’t correct her by saying I deserted. There’s a lot of things not to have said tonight, and I’m already safely past most of them, but don’t say that one specifically the most. Followup thing not to say: don’t tell her I’m a bounty killer. Definitely don’t mention that I’m specifically a bounty killer and not a bounty hunter because there’s an active bounty out on me and the only work I could get was the illegal version. Don’t lie to her, because that’s almost as bad as all those other things, but stretch the truth until it ends up somewhere respectable.

‘Freelance security work. Protecting transports and merchant caravans.’ Not a lie! Sometimes I end up guarding a dummy caravan as bait until the target shows up. She looks impressed. I’m out of things I can reasonably say, how do I follow this up. Drinks!

Yeah, get drinks, showcase my poison honed constitution, that’ll be really impressive! My inquisitor used to microdose me on common toxins to build up a resistance to ambushes and subterfuge. Whatever watered down swill a place like this can offer will be easy!

Speaking of, it’s been a long day. This place serve anything strong?’ Another little chuckle. I’m starting to savor every one of them. ‘Hey Glixnee, get us a couple snakebites.’ Oh, the mess hall used to serve those. Not really what I’d call strong, but out here I guess something recognizable is as good as I can hope for. The bartender is making the drinks and he’s bringing us the drinks and the drinks are here and this is the single most revolting substance that has ever entered my digestive system.

Poisons are usually engineered to be subtle, but this is just making no secret of how awful it is. She’s sipping at it with no trouble like it’s a glass of water. I think if I try that I’ll throw up. All of it, right now. It feels like molten slag going down, but it’s gone. Now I can dilute it over the night. She’s laughing again.

‘Wow, hope you’ve got a synth liver.’ My body feels like it’s unspooling, but my limbs still move so I guess I’m fine. ‘Whaddyu meen?’ That didn’t come out right. Try again, still wrong. She’s laughing the hardest she has all night. I’d chug a gallon of this expired swill if it kept making her laugh harder.

‘You know you just downed a glass of snake venom, right? You’re supposed to sip on it over the night, let it attack you in small waves and fight it off for a light buzz. It takes three hours to drink one dose safely without an enhanced toxin filter.’ I’m sliding down the bench. The lights just got a lot brighter and her voice is so loud now, she’s talking so slowly too. My mouth tastes like I licked the ashes out of the barrel of my blaster rifle, but other than that I feel gooooood. ‘Ooooh. Yaaaay.’

I’m having a great time halfway to the floor, giggling and drooling and now I can’t move my face any more so I guess I’m gonna rest in a pool of it for a little bit. She’s saying something to the bartender but my ears are ringing like one of the guys pranked me with a flashbang so I don’t really know what it is they’re saying. Oh now she’s picking me up, she’s giving me a hug, hooray! Oh she’s holding my mouth open, are we having a kiss now?

The bartender’s coming over, when’d he join our date? Get him out of here, I wanna flail my arms at him to get him out of here but they don’t wanna move for me, little treacherous bastards. He’s pouring something down my throat and it tastes even worse than the venom somehow and he’s carrying me away. Goodbye everybody at the bar! I want to wave but my arms are still mutinying so a little happy wheeze will do.

I’m kicking my legs and having fun with the ride and now I’m in a bathroom stall. I don’t really need to use the bathroom and now my tummy’s turning itself inside out and I’m purging the toxins from my system, coughing and retching as it burns even worse on the way up than it did on the way down.

The world’s coming back into focus and I’m mostly over whatever the hell that was but still reeling from the exertion, only dimly aware he’s talking to me. I’m looking up at him, and he’s laughing, but obviously at me and not with me like Brayli does. ‘Gotta admit I don’t see folks try that one too often. Wanted to look tough for your date?’

I’m being reprimanded, a role I’m a lot more familiar with. He’s talking again now that I’ve managed an embarrassed nod. ‘Well you put on a great show. I’ll go tell ‘em to settle down before you come back out, but hell: I’m not even gonna charge you for this.’ His apron has a lot more pockets than I expected, and that ever so slightly glowing blue vial is singing a siren’s song of relief to me right now.

‘I got most of it out, but not enough for it not to kill me, and this is the antidote?’ ‘Good guess. This a hobby of yours or something?’ It’s the least objectionable thing I’ve had to drink tonight, even factoring in the lumps. Splash some cold water on my face, swish my mouth out from the tap, and I’m feeling close enough to fine to go back out. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.

There’s a couple sets of eyes on me right now, but the only ones I care about are hers. They’re locked onto me and I’m not even forcing the little smile I can feel forming. ‘Hey. Guess a snakebite’s a little different around here than an Imperial canteen.’ We’re laughing it off together. It’s been a very nice change of pace to be laughed with instead of at.

‘Holy shit she’s got flesh and blood after all! Here I was thinking you’d found the last commando droid abandoned on the assembly line and dressed it up in a layer of synthskin so you could pretend anyone liked you!’

I could kill him, easily. He’s obviously drunk, so his reflexes are shot, and he’s a gangly little son of a bitch anyway. One of those chitinous species’ that don’t give in gradually to force, I’d get a nice satisfying crunch all at once. Put the helmet on so he can’t even hope for a glass to the face to save him, snuff the life out of his stupid compound eyes, reveal that I’m nothing more than a cold blooded killer, scar her for life. Forget it.

She’s giving me another smile, but this one’s forced. I had to study the way faces contort once during counterspy training and this one’s fake. Without another word she’s up, and then he’s down. One good right hook to the side of the head and – holy hell it bounced off the counter! Normally when you knock someone out cold they just slump over like a sack of meat and go through oxygen deprivation and die, but he might not even get the chance. By the Emperor I think I just swallowed my tongue. No, still feel it. Definitely made me jump in my seat a little, which even a proton torpedo across the view screen doesn’t make me do any more. I was infatuated before, but now I’m in love.

I’m still staring as she sits down, but now I’m worried that she’s mistaking how attracted I am for concern, or worse: judgment. Clear my throat, blink, put my face back on right. ‘Relax, his bug juice coagulates quickly. He’ll be fine.’ I’ll take her word for it. Not quite sure if I’m disappointed, but the swirling torrent of toxin hangover and flustered lust are definitely calling for some fresh air.

‘Hey, if it’s alright, do you maybe want to get out of here?’ ‘Please.’ We’re up, the helmet’s back on, my credit purse is a little heavier – my last job could only pay me in thousands so the barkeep had to break change – and we’re outside. I never thought I’d want to fill my lungs with this dry, dusty air but my head’s already starting to empty out.

‘Well, I should call a speeder. I had a great time though, if you wanted to swap comm frequencies I’d love to keep in touch.’ Unreserved, unabashed, not desperate, not apologetic, no promises to do better. I didn’t even know talking to someone could be like this. She’s giggling. It’s fine, she giggles a lot. I’m not in trouble.

‘I can give you a lift.’ She’s pointing at a land speeder. At least, the rough silhouette of a land speeder. More like a cobbled together pile of parts that failed routine inspection. Any requisition officer would scrap it, maybe even have it melted down and recast to be on the safe side, but if she’s a mechanic then I’m sure it runs. Can’t exactly say it looks out of place around here.

We’re in the speeder together. It’s cramped. Her thighs are laying siege to the unyielding plate of my suit. There’s no room for me to put it if I were to take it off. This suit’s the one thing that’s never failed or betrayed me over the years, but I’m half tempted to dump it out the side just so it could be my skin she’s pressed up against. I’ll settle for putting my helmet on the floor.

My place is a long way out of town. Little whitewashed clay hut in the middle of nowhere, an inconspicuous blip not worth paying any attention to. Suits my needs perfectly, but it’s a long trip. I always take a speeder halfway then march for half an hour just so there’s nobody who could trace my location.

We’re stopped. ‘Engine trouble?’ She’s shaking her head and pointing over my shoulder. ‘Just wanted to take in the sunset for a few minutes.’ Oh wow, that’s worth stopping for. The three suns look beautiful over the dunes; their usual oppressive hues are fading into a cool pink. Glittering and sparkling and reflected a million million fold over the sand. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Her weight just shifted onto me. The speeder is on the ground, so no danger of capsizing. I’ve seen other troopers use this maneuver before: put my arm around her shoulder. We’re sitting silently, just watching the suns disappear over the horizon. It’s nice.

The minutes pass, and the suns retreat with them. I’m looking into those fathomless black eyes of hers, completely devoid of texture and depth. I’d love to be lost in them forever. The speeder starts up more easily than the first time, and we’re off across the dunes again.

I can’t invite her in, she can’t even get line of sight to my place. Damn it! I clear my throat at the crest of a dune. Good enough visibility, I can find my way back home. ‘You can let me out here. I like the exercise.’ Not the whole truth, but not a stretch either: I always appreciated long marches.

Getting out is a modest challenge with the speeder still running, but I can manage. She’s waving me off, I’m returning the gesture. ‘Not quite the night I was expecting, but one I wouldn’t mind following up on. Call me tomorrow?’ I’m nodding, we’re both waving, she’s driving off, I’m walking alone with my helmet under my shoulder and a chill creeping across my face. Those last two solve each other.

Lots of time to think on the march. Think about what I am, think about what I used to be. Child slave, orphan, Naval Academy star pupil. Storm trooper, Purge trooper, assassin. Deserter, bounty killer. Happy. I was happy tonight. Maybe a little of those other things, but mostly that. I hope I can be happy again soon.