#i do not have a license to operate this weapon

[darkopsiian]

Thumbnail art for recent Flamethrower video, as well as custom intro dream art I made.

[noahsresources]

DETAILS ABOUT OCS !

send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about a writer's oc! many of these are taken from my munday asks meme, because i thought it would be fun to make a version for characters too! the prompts are categorized by emoji type and given descriptions in case anyone can't see the symbols. can be used for roleplayers and any general writers alike! for roleplayers, these can also be used for your interpretations of canon characters if you so desire as well!

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒. 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)? 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? ✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? 🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies? 💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)? 🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)? 🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities? 🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒. 🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits? 🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming? 🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? 🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise? 🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use? 🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday? 🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets? 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? 🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal? 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school? 🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening? 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒. ❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits? 💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them? 🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends? 💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any? 💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside? 💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world? 💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? 🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒. 🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? 🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)? 🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🍦 SOFT ICE CREAM — what is/are your oc's favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer? 🥯 BAGEL — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast? 🥪 SANDWICH — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch? 🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner? 🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? 😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved? 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? 🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? 🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy? 🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions? 😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool? 😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bungou stray dogs except the Agency never get a Special Abilities Buisness License.

For whatever reason they never get the license that every special ability organisation needs to have to operate.

But they still operate anyway and frankly no ones going to stop them. What are the police going to do? Arrest them? Take them to court?

No one in their right mind wants to debate Ranpo on a regular day, nevermind in front of a judge.

The fact the police wouldn't want to shut down the Agency anyway. Because their whole thing is taking cases the police can't solve.

The local gangs of Yokohama are terrified of the Agency. Mori and the Port Mafia will continue to feud them but not destroy them because Tripartite Framework.

The Agency just becomes the embodiment of "we're glad their on our side." All the weapons they have for being the "ARMED Detective Agency" are all illegal.

Everytime Kunikida pulls out a gun or a grenade everyone just looks the other way.

Makes the beginning of the Guild arc fucking hilarious because Fitzgerald comes to the Agency to get their licence. Talking about how important it is to have one.

And Fukuzawa just sips his tea like "oh we don't have one."

Fitzgerald is completely caught off guard, because their goes his plan because not even Alcott could predict this.

Naomi is trying not to laugh and Fukuzawa smiles to himself all innocent like. "I can't say how to acquire one. But I do know a local neighbourhood physician who has one, maybe give him a call."

[such-expensive-mistakes]

halfa!Steph AU (part 1)

I'm still working on the Superpham AU but I couldn't stop thinking about this idea.

-----

Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she could be a hero. And then she died. She died slowly and painfully and steeped in guilt over having accidentally set off a gang war that destroyed the city. It's a neat little story about hubris and knowing your place and why Batman is always right.

Except she didn't. Die, that is. She flatlined on the operating table and Leslie faked her death. And when that girl came back, she put on a costume again and became the third Batgirl. It's a heartwarming story about stubbornness and learning to rely on others and proving Batman wrong.

The truth, Stephanie thinks, is somewhere in between.

When she talks about having died, people treat as— not as a joke, the pain is still too raw for that, but as an exaggeration. Dramatic license.

Sometimes Steph thinks that's all it is.  But she feels like she died.  She dreams about it sometimes.  Not just Black Mask, although he does haunt far too many of her dreams, but something else.  Something in-between.

It's probably just the trauma.  That's what Leslie says, when Stephanie finally asks her.

Stephanie doesn't ask Leslie about her newfound strength, or about how sharp her senses have become.  

You can't go through something like Stephanie did and come out unchanged.  That's what Babs says, and she would know.  Steph doesn't think they're thinking about the same kind of changes, though.

-----

Stephanie lands on a rooftop and looks down at the white van parked below.  It's not a particularly notable vehicle, except for the occupants.  

"What are they doing?" Steph asks.

"I don't know."  Babs sounds frustrated, and no wonder.  There aren't many people who can keep Oracle out of their systems, and Steph wouldn't have judged these guys to be among their ranks.  "I'll keep trying to get through their firewalls, but I'm flying blind here.  Keep an eye on them, but be careful."

"You know me," Steph says.  "Careful is my middle name."

Babs doesn't even bother to muster up a sarcastic response to that, which is how Steph knows she's preoccupied.

These guys have been running all over Gotham for the past few weeks.  They're dressed in immaculate white suits and carrying unfamiliar weapons, and they seem to be taking some kind of readings on unfamiliar instruments.  None of that is a crime, but it's suspicious, and Oracle's inability to find out any more about them is even more suspicious.

And that means they're officially Steph's problem.

The men are doing the same thing they've been doing the last few times Steph has watched them.  It's not particularly exciting.  

"Batgirl," Oracle says.

"Please tell me there's a robbery or something that needs my attention," Steph replies.  "These guys are so boring."

"Sorry.  Do you think you can get one of their gadgets for me?  I want a better look."

"Can do, boss."  

Stephanie carefully climbs down to street level, staying out of sight.  She's gotten a lot sneakier since her not-death.  She tells herself it's all of her training and practice, finally paying off, but regardless of the cause, the guys in white have no chance of spotting her.  

They're standing near the front of the van, arguing about something.

"The apparition was spotted here last night," one says.

"That doesn't mean it's going to return!" another responds. 

Sounds like they're looking for something in particular.  Which Steph and Babs had already guessed, but it's nice to have confirmation.

Steph slips toward the back of the van, which is wide open.  Not smart, especially in Gotham, but she's got a feeling these guys aren't from Gotham.  

The inside of their van reminds her of a sci-fi movie; everything is blindingly white and chrome, with glowing green accents.  And lots and lots of those weapons.  Whoever they are, they clearly have a nice sized budget.

Steph grabs one of the guns and a handheld instrument like the one the guys outside are waving around, but as soon as she does, all the instruments the guys in front of the van are holding start going wild.  

"There it is!" one of them yells.  They all start shooting at her, which is how Steph learns that they're using some kind of fancy laser guns.  Because regular guns just aren't space age enough for these guys.

That's Steph's cue to get out.  She grapples back to the rooftop, just barely avoiding getting hit by the laser guns.

It’s easy enough to lose them from the rooftops.  At Oracle’s direction, she makes her way back to Firewall.  She tugs her mask off and hands the stolen tech over to Babs.

“The’re looking for something,” she says.  “An apparition.”

Babs hums in acknowledgment.  “Hopefully these will have some answers.”  She switches on the— scanner?  Steph’s pretty sure that’s its function, anyway.  It starts beeping wildly.

Steph jumps back, startled.  The beeping stops.

“Well,” Babs says.  “I think we have an idea what they were looking for.”

[vexwerewolf]

Hi Vex,

I had a mech idea/concept that I really want to flesh out but I'm not exactly sure how to best build it. The idea came from a conversation I had with my group about the Mecha genre vs the Sailor Moon/Magical Girl genre. And I thought, 'what if they kissed worked together?' So I decided to try and build a Magical Girl themed Mech.

So far, I am considering using Manticore as a base frame because I am really tempted to call it Sailor RA and do the whole "In the name of RA, I will CASTIGATE you!" thing. Other than that I'm thinking about maybe a Controller type build and/or maybe focusing on the really weird/paracausal abilities? Do you have any ideas for this kind of build?

Thank you!!!

Since we're doing Sailor Moon Magical Girl stuff, have you considered that instead of using the Manticore, you could use the Lycan, a Manticore altframe from the upcoming Operation Winter Scar module?

-- HORUS Lycan @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] HORUS Manticore 2, IPS-N Nelson 2, IPS-N Blackbeard 2 [ CORE BONUSES ] Overpower Caliber, Gyges Frame [ TALENTS ] Executioner 3, Nuclear Cavalier 3, Walking Armory 3 [ STATS ] HULL:4 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:2 STRUCTURE:4 HP:21 ARMOR:2 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:8 REPAIR:5 TECH ATK:+1 LIMITED:+1 SPD:4 EVA:8 EDEF:10 SENSE:8 SAVE:13 [ WEAPONS ] Integrated: Shock Claws Integrated: Fuel Rod Gun FLEX MOUNT: Thermal Rifle HEAVY MOUNT: Nanocarbon Sword (Thermal Charge) // Overpower Caliber [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, Beckoner, Smite, Armament Redundancy

I call this one ECLIPSING BINARY SUPERGIANT PRISM POWER MAKEUP.

So the Lycan's basic conceit is that it's a two state system. You start combat with your normal stats as listed above, and a dormant superheavy weapon called the Shock Claws that cannot be used.

It has Slag Carapace just like the Manticore, giving it resistance to Energy and Burn damage. However, it replaces the Manticore's Unstable System, Charged Exoskeleton and CASTIGATE THE ENEMIES OF THE GODHEAD traits with two new ones. Interference Field causes nearby enemies to take Difficulty on attacks that don't target the Lycan, and Power Flux, which causes enemies to potentially become Impaired and Slowed if you take heat.

Your mech plays mostly like a normal Manticore for the first part of the fight. However, at any time, you may activate your core power, GO LOUD, which as a full action causes your mech to violently shed its outer plating. You lose Slag Carapace and Interference Field, your base Armor becomes 0 and your base speed becomes 6. You may then immediately move your speed and attack an enemy with your Shock Claws.

That's not all, however: you can charge up your Shock Claws by watching your allies get hurt.

If your friends take Structure damage before you GO LOUD, it charges up your Shock Claws. They initially deal 3d6+6 AP Energy damage (Overkill) in Threat 1 (although Gyges Frame already bumps that up to Threat 2) and cause another nearby enemy to take 1d6 AP Energy damage. If you see an ally take Structure damage, that goes up to Threat 2 (Threat 3 with Gyges). If you see an ally take Structure damage a second time, the damage increases to 4d6+6 AP Energy (Overkill) and the number of enemies who get struck by secondary damage increases to 2.

If an ally is destroyed in your line of sight before you GO LOUD, your Shock Claws instantly charge to full power, no matter what state they were in before.

This is a little bit more Super Saiyan than Sailor Moon, but you do get to go through a whole transformation/power up sequence and smite your enemies because they were mean to your friends.

[spocktheestallion]

why joel was right to save ellie bc i have a lot of opinions and by god i’m gonna share em

so since the show has premiered i’ve seen this debate flare up again and a lot of people saying joel “robbed the world of a cure” when he saved ellie but lets be real, the fireflies were never gonna make that cure.

first off in the original game the hospital and operating room were FILTHY. and yes in the remaster they retconned it to be clean but that just seems silly to me. the fireflies had so little infrastructure that they were wiped out by ONE angry old man in a single night, where are they getting hospital cleaning crews? where are they getting the supplies to properly and i mean PROPERLY sanitize a working OR? more importantly WHO were the medical staff? what were their qualifications? to pull off what they wanted they would’ve needed a team of brilliant scientists specializing in different specific fields and i doubt any of them had been to med school recently. the outbreak was over 20 years old by that point, and medicine is a continually evolving field. those licenses were EXPIRED and even if they had experience during the pandemic it likely would’ve been in field medicine, which is not the same as epidemiology or neuroscience or any of the things they would’ve needed specializing in to get a cure. also the fact that they were saying “we’re gonna make a vaccine!” was another red flag, bc fungal infections aren’t even treated w vaccines. it just goes to show they didn’t know what they were doing. they were just reckless and desperate and ellie would’ve died needlessly.

secondly killing ellie especially right off the bat would make NO sense. what if they find out later on they need a live subject or more samples or whatever? well too late your only subject is dead. why wouldn’t they do blood tests? imaging? or if the cordyceps is only in the brain you can still do a biopsy without killing the person. again, these people didn’t know what they were doing. they were grasping at straws and even if they had gone through with their original plan they probably wouldn’t have been able to synthesize a cure anyway. the sample would’ve expired or been contaminated in the dirty hospital or they would’ve fucked up their sample through ignorance. the whole rushing straight to pulling ellie’s brain out was ridiculous. they would’ve killed a kid needlessly without a second thought.

which brings me to my next point. the fireflies aren’t exactly cut and dry good guys either. i may be reaching w this and i need to rewatch the premiere episode to confirm this but they don’t seem all that picky about their targets and civilians seem to get caught up in them a little too easy. the fireflies aren’t super concerned about human life if it gets in the way of their cause, i mean they were recruiting young kids and giving them weapons just like fedra did. there’s a reason tommy left them high and dry. they’re extremists and they don’t care who they hurt or exploit so long as it serves their cause. they aren’t philanthropists and they FOR SURE would not have been giving out that cure out of the goodness of their hearts. they would’ve gatekept it to themselves and they absolutely would’ve used it as a recruiting tool or political bargaining chip.

but more importantly even in the very unlikely situation they COULD make a successful cure AND mass produce it AND move it cross country which they clearly don’t have the resources for, there’s no way fedra would’ve let them get away with it. their fascist control is all justified in the name of preventing infection, if the disease is no longer a threat that’s a massive blow to fedra’s power. they might’ve been chasing around fireflies for setting off a few car bombs or whatever but if you think fedra isn’t going full extermination mode if they find out the fireflies have a cure you’re kidding yourself. and we’ve clearly established the fireflies would be crushed if they had fedras full attention given that they were pretty much eradicated by one guy in a single night.

and if we’ve learned anything from our own covid pandemic, it’s that if you want to effectively immunize a whole population it needs to be WIDESPREAD. you can’t just treat a few people and call it a day, EVERYONE needs to take the cure or the disease is going to survive and mutate until it can come back in a treatment-resistant variant again and again and again. and after a 20 year outbreak the kind of infrastructure you need to make that happens is gone. it just doesn’t exist anymore. fedra is probably the only group with the level of organization and infrastructure anywhere CLOSE to being able to achieve that kind of feat and i doubt even they could, and even if they could they wouldn’t.

so the fireflies were NEVER gonna be able to make a cure in the first place, they were NEVER gonna be able to mass produce and distribute it, they were NEVER going to be handing it out to anyone they weren’t tight with, and even if they had been well equipped philanthropists who could make a cure and were actually giving it out freely fedra would’ve crushed them immediately.

and i’ve also seen people argue that either way it should’ve been ellie’s choice but i disagree. ellie was a traumatized CHILD with severe survivors guilt. she was not mature enough or in the right headspace to make that kind of decision. JOEL was the closest thing to a legal guardian she had, and it was HIS responsibility to protect her until she was old enough to make decisions like that for herself AND HE DID. a kid should not be allowed to make that choice even if they want to because they’re a KID. also the fireflies weren’t gonna let joel live anyway, i’m pretty sure they were planning to kill him even if he complied.

and ultimately it’s not like joel was considering all this when he made his choice, he saved ellie because he LOVED her. like i’m sure he picked up on some red flags and knew things were sketch and realized the fireflies would probably fail and she’d die for nothing but more than anything he went back bc that was HIS BABY and he wasn’t letting desperate assholes sacrifice her for their cause. “save who you can save” remember? maybe you can’t single handedly change the world or make some miracle cure but you can do what you can for the people you love and maybe that’s enough. maybe you can never make the world go back to the way it was and maybe you SHOULDN’T but you can take it as it is one step at a time and you can do it with the family you’ve made. i think that’s a much better takeaway and i don’t like how the “joel was selfish and did the objectively bad and wrong thing” narrative in tlou2 minimizes that.

[mamadarama]

Off topic from previous ask but you ever look at how ridiculour Madara's stats are? You telling me this guy is born and he's just physically gifted strong? Tall? Buff? Okay whatever... Next you know he can play multiple instruments and it's the least you expect of him. Him playing a cello??? Violin??? Okay he can't get any more ridiculous right— he's fluent in multiple languages, English only being one of them. You're telling me this guy likely knows my mother tongue because our language is just somewhat up there in the list of languages japanese people learn. You're telling me he'll take me anywhere and boom he goes "yeah I speak the local language I can read this Chinese menu for you. Italian? Piece of cake. Norwegian? Ahh a little hard but (speaks fluently)". And then you learn about his multiple seacraft and aircraft licenses like my man can drive a MILITARY HELICOPTER?.??????? A BOAT???? YOU'RE 20 WHEN DID YOU HAVE THE TIME TO DO THIS???? (Then again I haven't been able to access his older stories so there might be a mention where he was just taught to as a kid of the Yakuza whatever. And you remember this man, out of all things, is an IDOL. He's a solo one too and a fairly decent one at that, enough to hate being compared to because he's skilled. HOW DOES HE HAVE THE TIME FOR THIS. YOU'RE NOT EVEN 20. Okay he might be barely 20 now BUT STILL.??? HE'S RIDICULOUS. DONT GET ME STARTED ON BEING A SUCCESSOR OF ONE OF THE 5 ECCENTRICS REI MOTHERFUCKING SAKUMA... He's... An explosive...

- Madara yume anon 🍀

OK SO HERES THE THING WITH THAT. obviously hes a swiss army knife of a man, jack of all trades, etc that much is clear. but its fully his choice to be this way. some stuff is coincidental of course, like his body type is just like that (although he does still work out) and some of his skills he learned as a necessity of being kanatas caretaker/bodyguard (martial arts probably, smuggling magazines for kanata to read), and traveling alone as much as he does, being fluent in multiple languages is not optional. but then theres stuff like operating heavy machinery.... and fighting with weapons... and basically everything else. why would he need any of that? well thing is, he hates himself. his self worth is entirely reliant on his ability to be useful to other people .

when you have a long term relationship with someone, especially if it spans a part of both your childhoods, you grow into each other like a skin graft. if one person is cut away from the other because theyre unable to be there for some reason, the place they occupied will eventually heal over.... and when they come back, there will no longer be a place for them. theyre replaced by new skin, or something like that. like, when madara was exiled and forced away from kanata, he eventually met chiaki, who filled every role madara used to fill (including the one in his family— i believe chiaki and madaras mother are on good terms but dont quote me on that i dont remember where i got it from) and when he managed to get back to japan, he was superfluous, which is a fate worse than death to him. so he learns how to do anything and everything, hoping that at some point one of his skills will be useful to someone and hell have a reason to live again.

tldr; madara knows how to do so much on purpose because the more things he can do, the more opportunities there are for being able to help people. and the more obscure skills he knows, the more irreplaceable he becomes, safeguarding him from becoming unneeded in his friends lives despite his constant absence .

as for the successor thing we still dont really know what rei means by that, cuz according to ritsu madara has been coming over their house for "successor business" for years, even before the war (i think) so it very well could have absolutely nothing to do with idol stuff . maybe its just an excuse to have crazy gay sex idk lol

[cassiefromhell]

Clairvoyant: Visions (pt. 2)

Nanami Kento x International Sorcerer!Clairvoyant!Reader

Prologue (heavily encouraged to read this first.)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mention of blood/gore (brief descriptions), very short sexual cues, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS you MUST be finished with season 2 please & ty

a/n: requests are always open, submit shit, im bored <3

“Nanamin,” Yuji calls, finding his teacher standing in the back of the assembly hall, his face pale. “What does this mean?”

“It means we’re getting a visitor,” Nanami frowns, hands tensed at his sides. 

“Then why is everyone so worried?”

“Because,” Gojo joins in, grinning, having appeared out of nowhere. “Everyone here is a worrywart. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Did you not receive the code?” Nanami raises a brow. “The damned Reaper Repeller is coming. The kids don’t deserve to be lied to.”

“…What’s the Reaper Repeller?” Yuji tilts his head to the side. “Some weapon?”

“I met her a couple times,” Gojo’s smile widens. “She’s pretty damn cool. She’s part of the International Squad and can see the future, so when she shows up it either means that our superiors deemed that a mission needed an extra hand, or that she saw something and is coming to change what she saw. Last time, she saw that I was gonna make a building fall or something, so she gave me a certain set of rules, like what to not do. No buildings fell, so she’s pretty legit.”

“That was an 18C18 code,” Nanami grumbles. “That didn’t even require an assembly. This is an 18J18.”

“…What’s that one, again?” Gojo gives a sheepish smile.

“I’m so lost,” Yuji mumbles, looking between the two. “18?”

Megumi walks up, followed by Nobara, and joins the conversation. “This is a J?”

Nanami nods.

“How do you break down the codes?” Nobara adds.

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The eighteens are for R and R, due to her nickname. The letter in the middle represents what she saw. For example, she showed up to Canada a few months ago on a code 18A18, which meant a battle would cause some sort of dispute that would stir trouble. B means she saw a civilian or two die. C means she saw mass civilian death. And so on, until J. It’s the maximum letter.”

“And?” Nobara pushes, raising a brow. 

“It means she saw something very bad, and everyone has been gathered to be told who is set to die.”

Stepping off the jet, you haul your suitcase behind you, and are immediately greeted by two men. You know them both — you studied the entire Japanese Sorcerer database on your way here.

Kiyotaka Ijichi, clad in a suit with a grimace on his face.

Masamichi Yaga, principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High and teacher to one of the students you watched die.

“We would welcome you, but we know you aren’t here with good news,” Yaga says with a sigh, straightening his uniform. “Please, follow us. Ijichi will take your bags.

The pilot of your jet is already helping Mila unload the twenty-three suitcases you brought, all full to the brim with weapons and necessary training items you handpicked to make sure you turn the gate of Shibuya.

“My associate will get them,” you gesture to Mila, who is currently hooking all of the bags onto her extra limbs, leaning back a little from the weight. You grip the handle of your singular personal suitcase.

The two men nod, not bothering to even try arguing with you. Why would they, when you’ve come with death biting your heels?

You slip sunglasses off of your forehead and over your eyes, following them as you approach three cars, sleek and black with a subtle Jujutsu symbol on the back license plate. 

It’s a short car ride over, one in which you and Mila sit silently in the back of a limo, while Yaga tries to ask you questions. Nobody gets a private briefing, that’s just how you operate. You avoid all his inquiries with vague comments, crossing your legs and sipping a glass of sparkling water. International sorcerers are known for kind of being hardasses anyway, so 

You pull up to the school in no time, and Yaga escorts you and Mila through the building, down hallways and around corners. Eventually, he stops outside a large set of double doors and turns to face you.

“This is the assembly hall. All of Japan’s sorcerers are gathered behind these doors,” he gestures to the entrance. “Please remember that we have children in there.”

“I know,” you whisper. “One of them dies.”

Yaga goes very still, and you walk past him, opening the doors and immediately finding yourself on a slightly elevated platform.

A massive crowd of dark blue uniforms stands before you, all falling quiet at your entry.

You step forward, approaching a podium. Mila has her spider limbs tucked away, as to not appear threatening. She hands you a stack of papers, and you gather them, placing them on the podium as you lean forward to speak onto the microphone.

“Good Evening, sorcerers. My name is (Y/n). I won’t stretch this meeting to be longer than needed. My technique is Clairvoyance, and I am here because I have seen the future of a battle here in Japan. It will take place in Shibuya, on October 31st.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, but you clear your throat to recapture their full attention.

“I do not want you to be afraid. My visions can be changed. Without me, there will be sorcerer death, irrevocable damage, and the snuffing out of thousands of lives, including civilians. But I am here to help. To do so effectively, I will call forward the names of the affected. I will save your lives. Stop you from losing limbs. Prevent disaster. Do not be afraid.”

The room goes deadly silent.

“Nanami Kento.”

And just like that, the crowd erupts once more.

A man in the back of the crowd — the blond that you saw burnt and ultimately exploded — nods to the pink-haired boy at his side and starts making his way through the crowd.

With a sharp raising of my hand, the crowd goes silent once more, as Nanami passes soldiers who give him solemn nods.

“Kugisaki Nobara.”

You continue calling names, until you have at least a dozen sorcerers in front of you. Too many are children. There are managers, too, and other people in suits. 

Your eyes skim the crowd, then fall back to your paper, which has crumpled in your grip. You call the last name, knowing what reaction you’ll get.

“Gojo Satoru.”

The crowd erupts, the room filling shouts and surprised cries and confused discussion.

The Untouchable.

You take a steadying breath at the rowdiness and gesture towards a private briefing room to your left, raising your voice to a shout.

“I will now ask for those who have been called to follow my associate here into a separate room. You all will be privately briefed. The rest of you… you will get the minimum details from your superiors.”

With that, you step back from the podium, and even more of the gathered sorcerers start shouting, demanding more details. You ignore them — you have to. Mila guides the called ones into a side room, just as you approach a small group of superiors and give them the very basics: there will be a city cratering, and the start of many bad, bad situations. You inform them that you will be making ideal teams for the mission, which you will release in a few days’ time.

With dragging feet, you force yourself to walk to the side room, where all of the ill-fated sorcerers are.

So far, at least.

Dealing with the future is a tricky business. Changing one thing, even so simple as this meeting, will cause different futures, which you will see and have to adapt to. 

You swing open the door, and find everyone already sitting at a long, oval table.

“I’m sure you’re all not happy to be here,” you take a corner of the room to stand in, crossing your arms and attempting to look as non threatening as possible. “Unfortunately, this meeting is necessary. I’ll call you each one by one into a private space, to be told what will happen without intervention. From there, we’ll talk about options—”

“(Y/n),” Gojo interrupts, leaning back in his chair like this is all just a game. “You know me. I don’t really need to be here, do I?”

“You do.”

“What’s gonna happen, I get a scratch? Lose a limb? Shoko will fix all of that,” he drawls, putting his hands behind his head.

“Gojo, you’re going to be sealed in a box, and then a shit ton of people are going to die or be injured trying to save your ass,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “You need to be here.”

No more arguments come.

You step forward, softening your expression, and your eyes land on the blond man, sans goggles — Nanami Kento. He’s handsome, even if in the back of your mind you still see that burned half of him. You decide he’ll be the first.

“Kento, right?” You drop the formalities — which you’re happy to do anyway, since you usually struggle with those when you’re in Japan. “Please, come with me.”

His jaw tenses as his eyes flick over you, and then he stands. You escort him into a small private room, closing the door behind you. There’s three comfortable chairs and a little coffee table, which has tissues and a pitcher of water with glasses on it. Comfort items, because people often cry.

Kento sits in one chair, and you take the one across from him. He’s exactly as you imagined in your vision. Tall, muscular, with a sharp jaw to match. He smells like vanilla and cedar. Except this time, the putrid scent of burning flesh is left out. He’s so… lovely.

“Lay it on me,” he clasps his hands together in his lap, after pulling his goggles off. 

You chew your bottom lip. You usually don’t have issues with this part of the process; the bluntness is part of your job. But something about this man is putting you off, making your mind stagger behind your duty. Typically, there’s a sniffling/worried/sobbing/angry person in front of you. But Kento? He’s so… ready for this. Not upset at all.

“You would die a hero,” you whisper.

Then you blink, realizing what you said. There’s no need for comfort here. Excessive sweetening of the truth is just counterproductive. And yet, something in you is screaming at you not to stop.

“In your current fate, a curse burns half of your body. And yet, you still fight. On death’s door, you would be noble. A good mentor for your students. One they would miss dearly,” a tear pricks at the edge of your eye. “The curse by the name of Mahito is the one to finish you off. But we will stop that path. You will live, that I can be sure of. I’m sure your future has already changed, just because this conversation is setting the base for the weeks of prevention training to come.”

If anything is going through his head, he doesn’t show it. “Does your technique show you when the future changes?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “In a way. My technique has a mind of it’s own. I can typically foresee imminent death a few moments before it happens, but I can also get mass visions like I got of Shibuya. If I need something more specific, like to see if your future changes, I would have to touch you, and then see what my technique gives… me…”

You trail off as he holds out his hand, eyes focused with intent. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

You nod, slowly sliding your hand against his—

“Oh my gods, that’s a lot of roses,” your jaw drops, eyes widening at the sight before you. 

Your bed is littered with roses. The floor is covered in its petals. It’s beautiful, and the scent fills your nose with a loveliness like no other.

“You deserve every last one,” Kento grins, coming up behind you and kissing the nape of your neck. His arms slide around your waist. “For honoring me in being my wife.”

“Wife,” you giggle, tossing your head back to gaze up at him. “I’m never gonna get used to that. Mrs. Nanami,” your tone becomes sing-songy as you admire your engagement ring.

“Always and forever, my love,” he leans down, claiming your mouth with his. His thumbs rub against your hips, then move inwards, moving up and down the seam of your jeans crotch, as you feel him against your ass—

You pull your hand away quickly, blinking as you snap back to reality. You look to his hand, then to his face, but all you can see are his lips, those lips that kisses you better than you’ve ever been kissed in that vision—

“What did you see?” He asks, leaning forward. “What did you see?”

You open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Well…” you start, chewing your lip. “…You live past Shibuya, that I’m certain of.”

Relief crosses his face, and he relaxes, all as your heart pounds harder.

You glance down at your left hand, the hand that now feels too light without a diamond on it. Then you glance back up to him, and even though his expression gives nothing away, you know from that vision that something else is brewing in that beautiful, beautiful head of his.

Because this man? Nanami Kento?

He’ll be your husband.

taggies: @vxmethyst @techs-ass @gasp-a-homo @doubtsanduncertainties (me when tumblr isn't showing you as a user when tagging: ) @vee-ai

want to be tagged on the next part? comment and ask!

[howlingday]

As Ironwood is leaving after giving the order to arrest team RWBY the door opens to reveal a VERY angry Vulkan who overheard everything, the Primarch of the Sakamanders decides to declare the general unfit for duty and take command of the entire atlas military.

General James Ironwood, headmaster of Atlas Academy and general of the Atlas military, glanced over his shoulder to the rebellious team he had taken into his care. The four girls had shown great promise since their arrival, and even now, he felt his near-instant graduation to licensed huntresses was no mistake. However, they had betrayed his trust, and the trust of the people of Atlas by allying themselves with the rogue element known as the Happy Huntresses.

"We won't let you take us!" Ruby Rose said as he passed his Ace Operatives, the elite of his elite specialists.

"I know." The door opened and he stepped through, ready to lock it behind him and fully enact his martial law. It was a difficult choice, but one that had to be-

"And just where do you think you're going?"

All the blood drained in the general's face as he was suddenly stopped by a wall of green ceramite as a voice as angry as a volcano spoke down to him. Looking up, he shivered at the sight of red eyes peering down with righteous fury into his very being. What else would one feel when on the receiving end of a primarch's ire?

"General Ironwood, I have heard many tales about your steadfast adherence to order," pushing Ironwood back into his office, everyone in the room gave the two a wide berth as the massive man began shouting at the formerly tallest one, "and I will admit, I feel a sense of nostalgia. You remind me of my brother, Dorn. But even he would see the folly in your decision to enact martial law!"

"Y... You don't understand, sir!" General Ironwood shouted back, surprising everyone that the mountain of a man not only outsized the general, but also outranked him! "Our kingdom is under siege of a terror most ancient and foul! A monster who intends to destroy all of Remnant!"

"A monster I have seen many a time, General." The primarch huffed. "But not once was imprisoning your people ever the answer to any of these crises."

"The enemy is in our homes, sir!" General Ironwood shouted still. "They have killed our people, have taken hold of our relics, and these girls have betrayed us all!"

His eyes passed over the girls standing ready with their weapons. The largest of them held her fists up to defend herself, likely in a fisticuffs manner that would likely be similar to his brothers Russ or Johnston. The one next to her held a crouched stance, as if ready to strike with agility, not dissimilar to his brothers Corax or even the vile Curze. On the far end of the group was a girl who held an elegant pose that he couldn't help but compare to his insidious brother Fulgrim. Last, but leading the group was the smallest of the four, but held the largest weapon that reminded him of his brother Mortarion, but her eyes seemed kinder, even with anger and fear pouring from them. He couldn't really compare them to any of his brothers, but instead of the children of Nocturne. It brough a smile to his face, however brief it may have been held.

"Is this true?" He asked. "Have you betrayed us?"

"No." The small leader replied with a steady heart. "We didn't."

The giant was quiet for a moment, then turned to the general. "Remove your martial law."

"But sir, if Salem-"

"Remove your martial law." His voice was more firm, and his eyes more focused. With a shaking hand, Ironwood removed the martial law from his scroll. The small leader took hold of her scroll and began conversing with someone on the other end. This must have been their rudimentary vox system. "Now, general..."

General Ironwood gulped.

"Let us discuss this problem proper." He then smiled. "I'm sure my sons would love to provide you aid."

[kitkatopinions]

Out of curiosity since we know that hunters are basically a sub group of law enforcement. Is there possible any way the show could've avoid the copagenda?

If not how would you rewrite hunters without being associated with cops?

Fantasy law enforcement is a little bit like fantasy royalty. There's a certain suspension of disbelief when it comes to fantasy worlds that they're not just going to operate with the exact same rules that our world does. This is different than things set in our actual world, like say NCIS or Brooklyn 99, that are actually portraying members of our real world police system. You can root for a fictional king without losing your good people points, and that doesn't mean that you're on board with the irl monarchy. You can root for fictional law enforcement without actually supporting real life police.

However, I'm of the opinion that especially with law enforcement, people have to be very careful if they're going to make fantasy equivalents because it very easily can get into copaganda territory if the law enforcement is too close to ours, used in the same ways, is proven to be corrupt and yet still celebrated, things like that. In RWBY "Hunters" (or, "huntsman and huntresses" cause I guess in universe they don't have inclusive terms for things,) are kind of used without much explanation for what they're supposed to actually do until season seven when the kids actually become hunters. At first it seems like Hunters are really just monster hunters, but we also see the kids training to fight humans (Pyrrha Vs CRDL, Vytal Tournament.) And no one acts like it's different or not what hunters do when Ruby fights bad guys like Roman or Cinder in the first couple seasons. But at that point, I didn't have (much) of a problem with the concept still. Then in V4 and V5, we started to get this picture of Hunters as essentially hired hands, protecting small towns outside the kingdoms from Grimm on top of their jobs within the cities protecting people from Grimm. There was still the knowledge that Hunters fought people too (Qrow tries to recruit hunters to help fight Salem's faction in Mistral,) but the job still seemed at that point to be more focused on the monster-hunting aspect, with the rest of it being special circumstances. Cool. It was easy to assume that Hunters were very different from the 'cops' we had seen in Vale chasing Sun. (Side note but even then, RWBY was still already in copaganda territory in V5 when Blake and Sun called the cops on the White Fang in V5 and I don't care about the in-universe necessity, I care about the fact that the writers chose to make up everything to get the characters there.)

But then in V7, the first we really see of Hunters at work and getting assignments and our main characters on the field officially, and they're pulling out their badges and arresting people and acting like authorities to the citizens and demanding entry into houses by pointing weapons at peoples faces and are basically just extreme versions of police except they believed they shouldn't have accountability. And I know that people are going to say that Atlas just does things differently because Ironwood is the headmaster and the head of the military, but A. it's very hard to say that definitively when we've gotten so little info on how licensed Hunters actually operate in canon, and B. It doesn't even matter, because the end result is that our main characters were licensed Hunters in Atlas, within that system and saw no problem. This on top of the fact that we've seen both corruption (Dee and Dudley, Leo, Ironwood, Qrow's mysterious Hunter friends,) and bigotry (Cardin, Weiss, Yang and Coco if we're being honest,) in the ranks of Hunters... It doesn't paint a flattering picture at all. Even then, I wouldn't be upset if this kind of thing was challenged and deconstructed within the show. But instead, the Hunters are looked at as superior to Atlas military (despite, you know, the fact that they're essentially the same thing,) the mains confidently flash their badges and proclaim themselves as Hunters with pride, and in V9, they essentially define what a Huntsman and Huntress IS by saying that they're good people who help others who can't help themselves or something, and then profess that their job is their identity and therefore they're good people. I mean, come on! We literally see Cardin harassing Faunus classmates and blackmailing others and he was on track to get licensed as a badge-carrying law enforcement officer that presumably can arrest people and muscle their ways into peoples houses, and the mains knowing that still define the job itself as something inherently good that good people do? Blake defines it as something good that good people do?!?! On top of all that, there's this general idea in the show (and from the fifteen or so chapters of Before the Dawn I read, the books too) that what actually makes Hunters good is the lack of accountability, which is a very bad messaging to give to your 'basically cops' that arrest people and point their weapons in peoples faces, especially in the 2020s.

So yeah, the show itself had a chance to make the Hunters distinctly other from cops and not full on corrupt, which in a fantasy world I would say is good enough. If the Hunters were just monster hunters with Ozpin's shadow war fighting Salem's people behind the scenes, I think that would be a good way around it. But even if they wanted to lean more on politics and takedowns of people like Jacques in the Atlas arc, they could've had our mains either just be adjacent to that as part of the shadow war, but not as licensed badge-carrying law enforcement officers themselves arresting people. Along with some other changes like not having Sun and Blake call the cops on the White Fang and not have the White Fang this big bad terrorist group either, that would make it so that I'm fine with it.

Personally, I would've gone the route of making the Hunters just monster hunters while Oz also has this shadow war going on, and the Hunter Academies are regulated by the government. And instead of having the Atlas hunters just basically cops under the military, I would've had the Atlas military and the Hunters be much more separate, with (not evil) James running both, but in different ways, and eventually have him fired from his position with the military and have somebody else more corrupt come in or something. I haven't made many plans to the Atlas arc for my own personal rewrite ideas yet, but I think that could work.

I would go the route of trying to make the Hunter Academies less corrupt and more separated from police, but I know other people are going the route of leaning into the problems and then having them acknowledged and dealt with instead, and that's a good option too. But yeah, the way the RWBY writers decided to go is just cops and copaganda by a different name. They might as well have just had the mains become cops in V7 and then profess that their identity is being cops and cops are perfect, because it's basically the same result imo.

[the-rogue-that-goes-stab]

Wow, I looked at the player content coming in the new Lancer module (Operation Winter Scar) and it's amazing.

Despite my grievances with my Gilgamesh overflow, I think its unique limited weapons are really clean and it's simplicity allows it to basically act as an Everest+. Also the legion nexus is amazing (I love summoning support bees after firing my big fuck off bee cannon).

In specific, Gilgamesh is a simple mech. It loves limited systems. It loves chewing through them for tasty tasty free accuracy. It also gets an extra limited charge. Again, Gilgamesh is just Everest+, having the ability to equip any limited system or weapon and go hog wild. Even more similar to Everest, its passive allows it to skirt around using its repair points on health or armor by allowing it to restore itself in a fight or do so for free in a rest.

I love the Lycan, the new Manticore alt frame, I think it provides a good risk and reward play style that works really, really well with a lich that can kind of just be ignored if desired (either by immediately popping armor off for a rushing fight or by choosing to stay tanky for the sake of self and other pilots). As a side note, I think players can really go nuts for flavoring their Lycan's transformation (I can already think of how cool a snake-esc Lycan peeling itself to reveal an arcing kraken).

Oh also its 3 speed while shelled means nothing when it can use Beckoner to swap with a target 8 spaces away.

hehe, we love a 3d6+6 (or 4d6+6 if you wait long enough) AP weapon with accurate and not heat cost so you can spam Executioner cleave attacks all willy nilly.

Amber Phantom, the new Metalmark alt, is also really cool because it adds a further strategic element to strikers by making its player focus on and manipulate turn orders for cheese. The ability to cause a double player turn allows for some real combo potential. Just imagine movement manipulation on the Amber Phantom like Beckoner or Feros Lash right before an ally uses an aoe attack against the sudden clump.

I thinks its a whee bit simple but has incentives for strategy so no mindless unga bunga. Definitely a good mech for someone who wants to mess with big braining lancer but can't be bothered to use a Lich properly or really intricate combos that controllers like Minotaur or Hydra are capable of at peak bullshit.

For the last alt frame, the Kutuzov, the reverse of my Gilgamesh situation. In April I thought of a funny: "hey what if I used Calendula to drop a Blinkshield on some fool and run away" Turns out that Intangible is included in BS's "any action or effect", who could have guessed. But that still gave me the idea of using Napoleon's systems on an Intangible mech so I made the Massena (will post eventually).

Regardless of the fact my players now have a fucked Napoleon license, the Kutuzov is an amazing mech that I couldn't criticize for existing. I personally think it is unfortunately just better than Napoleon. So how Kutuzov works is its a more of a support spin of Napoleon that trades raw defense for support capabilities. It also trades Napoleon's extremely funny but kinda weak core power into a less funny but good efficient core power that allows you to full protect a teammate from an enemy and vice versa. Unironically just the default frame if you want to maximize Napoleon's worth as a teammate without having to rely on a powerful gimmick once or twice a mission that really only works to make a enemy shoot your teammate instead of you.

In conclusion, YIPPEEEEEE MORE LANCER CONTENT. I'm so happy Lancer has basically free DLC oh and if you want to get the art for these mechs, y'all are literally on the website where you can go see the artist (be free and go to theogm-art)

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER THREE

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: things don’t go as planned on hosnian prime.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR* canon-typical violence and injuries, shady people making shady deals, the killing of bad guys, mentions of death, grief, longing, yearning, blood, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit in space, yeah?) if I missed anything let me know

a/n: dude the joel miller/tlou brain rot is still going hardcore but I put DATES ON THIS STORY FOR A REASON (we’ll see how well I stick to them but I digress…)

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works/chapters, follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

“Absolutely not.”

You have to stifle the urge to roll your eyes at Luthen. You had a feeling it would go this way, but with Cassian agreeing to go with you, you hoped it would be different.

“We’ve traded with Jaar Tharen before, Luthen,” you say, pulling up the file on your holo-pad and sliding it across the table to him. “Chances are he’ll have something the Rebellion can use as well.”

“Hosnian Prime is in the Interior,” Luthen replies, hitting a button on the panel, pulling up a galaxy map. He pokes a finger at the Core Worlds. “That’s the heart of the Empire. I won’t chance the both of you for a scrap of information we may not even need.”

“And setting up shop on Coruscant wasn’t taking a chance?”

Luthen balks, a retort caught on his tongue.

“Vel told me,” you say, planting your palms on the table. “I know about the Senator too.”

“Vel,” Luthen mutters, looking away from you.

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, your voice stern. Cassian puts a hand on your arm, but you shrug it off. “I told you, when you first found me. Yes, I will help the Rebellion. I will fight the Empire with every single fibre of my being. But he is all I have left, Luthen. My last brother. The last of my family.”

If looks could kill, the glare Luthen levels you with would have stopped your heart on the spot. “If this goes bad, it’s on you.” Then his eyes shift to Cassian. “Both of you.”

Cassian gives a nod, and you take the holo-pad back, closing the screen.

“Take the U-Wing. And one of the astromechs.”

You say nothing, and turn on your heel, stalking from the room, Cassian close behind. “You don’t have to do this,” you say, clutching your holo-pad to your chest. “I can go myself.”

“Luthen’s right,” he says by way of answer, and you shoot him a glare, “Hosnian Prime is the heart of Imperial Territory. You need me,” he’s grinning, and you can hear it, but something softer seeps into his voice, “to watch your back.”

You’re both quick to pack, collecting weapons and supplies off the Fondor, a few things from the base itself. Standing in front of the U-Wing, you feel a little nervous, but Cassian has an easy grin on his face. “Can you fly it?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies, and climbs aboard without a second glance. You follow quickly, trying to swallow back the nerves that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Much like the Fondor, the U-Wing is cloaked, the system rigged to offer a license for any number of legitimate trade operations at a moment’s notice. You’re not much of a pilot, but you stay with Cassian in the cockpit, hitting buttons when he tells you, taking his orders in stride. 

Before you know it, you’re dropping out of hyperspace and into orbit around Hosnian Prime. Cassian lands the ship on the quieter side of Republic City, a landing pad that looks like it hasn’t been used in ages. As soon as you’ve disembarked, you send your contact confirmation you’ve arrived, and a location is sent in response a moment later.

“This way,” you whisper to Cassian, and you take off through the city. You’ve donned your long coat once more, and Cassian has one to match, both of you with your hoods up. The lightsaber is a heavy weight at your hip. 

You stick to the shadows as you traverse the city, Cassian a half-step behind you. Watching your back, just like he said. The underworld on Hosnian Prime is different from the other Core Worlds, darker, but you keep the same confidence you’ve used in the past, following the directions on your holo-pad to get where you need to go.

It takes you down a dark alley, to a door marked with a symbol you know Jaar Tharen has used before. You knock once, then twice, then once again, and the grate slides open, revealing a pair of bright yellow eyes. “What.”

“I’m here to see Jaar Tharen,” you say quickly, stashing your holo-pad. “We’re expected.”

The grate slams shut, you can hear voices on the other side, and then the door swings inward. A tall Trandoshan, the owner of the yellow eyes, holds the door open, beckons you forward. “Inside.”

It all happens in a moment.

Big hands clamp down on your shoulders, and you try to turn, but you can’t move. You hear Cassian yell, and crane your neck just enough to see him shoved backwards out the door, slammed shut a moment later. Another set of hands, belonging to a Pantoran, dive beneath your coat, reaching for the saber. You try to kick at the Pantoran, but you’re wrenched back, a barrel of a blaster pressed to your temple.

You try and resist, and the Trandoshan tightens his grip, constricting your throat, making black dots dance across your vision. You blink hard, sagging slightly, sucking down oxygen when the grip goes loose again.

Jaar Tharen steps out into view, an unkind grin on his face. “Hello, Shadow.”

Shit. This isn’t good.

+

Cassian’s pushed out the door so hard he stumbles over the doorjamb, sprawls on his back on the pavement, the air bursting from his lungs as he hits the ground. His head hits hard, eyes fluttering shut with the force, and he’s out.

He comes to sometime later, with no idea how much time has passed. He tries to scramble up, lunging for the door, but the movement makes his head spin, heavy metal ringing in his ears. The door thuds loudly as he throws himself against it, trying to get the damned thing to budge, but it’s no use.

Shit.

Now what?

Panic seeps into his gut, and he shakes his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears, shoving a hand through his hair. It’s staring to rain, water puddling on the pavement, dripping loudly against his coat. He can’t hear anything on the other side of the door, there’s no lock he could try and pick, no panel he could try to override. How long was he out? How long have you been inside?

Shit.

He circles the building quickly, trying to find a way inside, but comes up empty. There are no windows, and the rest of the building looks to be some kind of nightclub, not open to the public yet, so he ducks through the tunnel that leads into the club. There are a few people inside, employees preparing for the evening ahead, and he keeps himself pressed to the wall, inching through the dark rooms until he’s closer to the hideout. He presses his ear to the wall, looks for any sign of a second way in.

Keeping his blaster in hand, he continues forward, until he’s beside the bar that runs the length of the far wall. He takes a step, the floor creaks beneath his foot, and a voice reaches his ears, just above the whisper.

“Kitchen,” it calls quietly, and he turns his head to see the source of the voice, a pretty Twi’lek bartender, busying herself with cleaning a glass. “Freezer.” She tilts her head backward, towards a set of double doors, and Cassian nods and whispers back his thanks.

The kitchen is mostly empty as he slips through the double doors, only a large Besalisk standing at the stove, his back to Cassian, too busy with the food sizzling on the grill to notice him. Cassian keeps himself pressed to the wall, slinks towards the heavy white door he hopes is the freezer.

It’s bitingly cold as he slips inside, blaster still glued to his hand. Sure enough, there’s a second door at the back of the freezer, half-obscured by a large hanging piece of what he thinks is Tauntaun. He sidesteps it quickly, reaching for the latch on the door. He lifts the blaster, finger twitching on the trigger as the door swings open. There’s no one on the other side, a different room than the one you’d first walked into.

Slowly, Cassian steps through, sweeping left to right, searching for any sign of you. The freezer door shuts behind him, and he pulls his second blaster out from inside his coat. He pauses, listening, waiting for any indication of which way to go. There are doors along every wall in the room he’s entered, and he pans the room, both blasters raised.

Then he hears it.

A pained shout, just on the edge of a scream. Instantly, he follows the noise, crossing the room to the closed door. He doesn’t hesitate, kicking the door inwards, pulling the trigger at the two Trandoshans standing guard, one which he recognizes as the one who let you inside and shoved Cassian out. They both drop with loud groans, blaster bolts finding homes in the backs of their heads.

There are more in the room, all holding weapons, getting to their feet, but Cassian barely notices. He drops every single one of them, until all that remains is him and the tall man holding you by the arm. Your face is bloody and beaten, worse than when he found you on Arkanis, crimson dripping down your chest. There’s spiked metal along the man’s knuckles, and in his free hand, he holds the saber you’d found, the yellow blade illuminating your face, highlighting the blood smeared on your skin. There’s a burn on your collar, and your shirt is in tatters, the fabric singed.

Your eyes land on him, out of focus from the beating you’ve sustained, but he still sees it on your swollen lips. His name.

“Cassian.”

“Let her go,” he says sternly, the words nearly spit into the space between him and the man he assumes to be Jaar Tharen. “Now.”

“Give me one good reason why I shou—” he starts, but the sentence cuts off as Cassian pulls the trigger once more, hitting him square between the eyes. His body drops, the saber falling from his slackened grip, the blade retracting as it hits the floor. Without Jaar holding you up, you fall too, and Cassian surges forward, grabbing you before you can hit the floor. You grip him surprisingly tightly, his arm slung around your middle, holding you upright. You gasp as your bodies collide, and Cassian can feel the hot blood on your skin sticking to his shirt, soaking the fabric.

“Why do you keep coming back for me?” you ask, your words a little slurred, your voice thick with blood. Your head rolls against his shoulder, hot breath across his neck. He tightens his grip on you, taking as much of your weight as he can. You groan as he pulls you from the room, out the same way he came in. Your coat is gone, and he pauses at the freezer door, shucking off his own and tossing it around your shoulders.

“Did they take your things?” he asks, leaning you against the wall as he wraps you in his coat. “Your blaster, the holo-pad?”

“Smashed it,” you mumble out, your eyes fluttering. “Jaar…the blaster…saber.”

“We need to go back to the ship,” he says, wiping his blood-stained hands on his pant leg. “You look like hell.”

“They know…” you breathe out, reaching forward and fisting your hand in the front of his shirt. “Can’t go back.”

“What did you tell them?” Cassian snaps, fear seeping into his stomach. “Shadow, what did you say?”

Even through the pain, you wince at the nickname. “Only about the ship. Not about the base. More will be waiting at the ship.”

Shit.

He pauses, waits until he’s sure you can stay balanced against the wall, before he doubles back. He searches the bodies quickly, finds your blaster and a few others. He hesitates before picking up the saber again, tucking it into his back pocket before making his way back to you. You haven’t moved, and he fits himself against your side, tugging your arm around his neck. Cassian pushes your blaster back into your hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You nod limply as he hauls your weight against him one more. The freezer feels twice as cold without his coat, and you gasp at the feeling, your eyes going wide as he carries you through, out of the kitchen. You make it to the edge of the bar before your legs give out beneath you, and Cassian grunts, refusing to let you fall.

The Twi’lek that had pointed him towards the freezer reappears, a shocked expression on her face when she sees how bloody you are, nearly dropping the glass in her hands. “You tell nobody what you saw,” he tells her, reaching for a rag on the bar. He tries to wipe the blood from your face, avoiding your injuries, cleaning it from your neck. “You understand me?”

The Twi just nods, filling the glass with water from one of the many taps behind the bar, pushing it into your hands. You nearly sob with thanks, pouring the liquid down your throat so fast it spills down the corners of your mouth, mixing with the blood on your skin. Your eyes are a little brighter when you lower the glass, a wet gasp falling out of you as you lean against Cassian.

“There’s an inn on the other side of the city,” you tell him, thanking the Twi as she fills the glass again. You meet his eyes, surety in your own. “We’ll be safe there.”

Cassian nods, reaching into one of his coat pockets for a stack of credits. He hands them to the Twi, presses them into her hand with meaning. “For your secrecy.”

Fitting himself under your shoulder, he lifts you back onto your shaking legs, leads you out of the club and into the rainy night. You make it a few blocks before your legs give out again, and Cassian half-carries you down another alley. It’s easy enough to find a speeder bike parked outside another club, easier still to hot-wire it, arranging you on the back of the seat before climbing on himself. He’s worried, for a moment, as he shifts the bike into drive and heads onto the main road, but your grip around his middle is tight, your head pressed between his shoulder blades. 

The innkeeper doesn’t question either of your appearances, you still dripping blood, Cassian stained with it, his hair now wet from the rain, his clothes soaked through. Cassian still hands over double the normal rate for a room, the exchange wordless as the man slides a keycard to him, takes the credits, and turns away, a blank expression on his face, as if the whole transaction had never occurred, as if he hadn’t seen either of you.

Cassian almost chuckles. Must be one of Luthen’s.

You nearly pass out in the elevator, and Cassian scoops you up, grunting at the weight of your limp body, wrapped in his soaked coat, the weapons he’d pilfered stuffed into various pockets. He nearly drops you trying to get into the room, but manages, kicking the door shut behind him and heading straight for the fresher, setting you on your feet, still keeping his grip on you. He flicks on the heat before turning back to you, peeling his coat off your shaking shoulders. He lets it drop, turns you towards him, finding a stack of towels and wetting a small one. There’s a knock at the door before he can clean more red from your face, and you just take the towel from him wordlessly.

Blaster at the ready, he approaches the door slowly, carefully. His gut clenches as he hits the panel, metal whooshing open, revealing only a medkit sitting on the floor. He snatches it up quickly, closing the door and locking the panel again.

When he gets back to the bathroom, you almost look like you again. Most of the blood has been cleaned from your face, and now he can see where the injuries really are: a thick cut above your eyebrow, a split in your lower lip, a darkening bruise on your cheek. There’s more at your collar than just the burn, and he can see the remnants of the bandages around your middle, the bacta patch Luthen had used when they found you on Arkanis. You’re wincing, trying to pull your tattered shirt over your head, tears in your eyes.

“Here,” Cassian says quietly, and steps toward you, setting the medkit on the counter. Carefully, he manoeuvres your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. “Let me see.”

You’re silent as he looks you over, your arms crossed over your chest, hands gripping your shivering shoulders. Your knuckles are bloody, a few of them split, and there’s an ugly bruise forming on your side, opposite the bacta patch. He starts with the old bandages, peeling them from you carefully, silently thankful there’s no new damage beneath the bacta patch, but he removes it, replaces it with a new one from the kit.

There’s a small vial of med-nog inside the kit, and you take it wordlessly, snapping it open and tossing the liquid back. Cassian turns methodical, treating your injuries one at a time. He wraps your hands in gauze, cuts thin strips of tape to hold the cut above your eye together while it heals, spreads burn salve over your collarbone.

“Why did he do this to you?” he asks, when he can no longer stifle the question. “He certainly didn’t waste any time.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head; there’s a chance he has a slight concussion, and he grabs his own vial. “I couldn’t have been out that long.”

“I had it coming, apparently,” you reply, and Cassian can hear the strength returning to your voice. You just look…tired, defeated. “Last time I was on Coruscant, I stole from one of Jaar’s partners. He asked Jaar to punish me for it whenever he got the chance.” You rub a hand over your face, avoiding your bruises. “I’ve got shit timing, don’t I?”

“Did he at least give you any information?” Cassian presses, tossing some of the bloody gauze into the garbage. “Anything about your brother?”

“My brother is dead,” you say, the words dropping like bombs into the space between you. Cassian balks, his eyes going wide, and it’s almost as though he can see the hope draining from your eyes, your expression. “He was shot by Rebels on Crait, three weeks ago.” Your hands are still clasped around your shoulders, and they shake harder as a sob rattles out of your throat. “I’m the only one left.”

You collapse forward, and Cassian catches you. He doesn’t have words, gathering you into his arms. He feels your fingers curl in the collar of his shirt, your forehead pressed against his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, but wraps one arm around your shoulders, lets his other hand rest on the back of your head. He just lets you cry, your tears hot on his neck, your breath stuttered as he slowly walks you out of the fresher, towards the empty bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs to you as he reaches down to pull the blankets back, keeping one arm around you as he does it. “Come on.” 

Your eyes are shut as he lays you down on the bed, his hand following your head until it rests on the pillow. Your sobs are quiet, but each one seeps into his chest all the same, threading through him with every moment that passes, taking up residence in his heart.

He leaves you only to finish cleaning the bathroom, strips down, sets his coat and clothes over the heaters to dry. He cleans your blood from the counter, takes the rest of the med-nog vials from the medkit, checks the blasters, wipes them clean with a towel. He checks the door twice, making sure it’s locked. He fills a glass of water and leaves it on the table beside the bed for you. He turns off all the lights except one in the bathroom, a soft blue glow filling the space.

For a moment, he considers sitting vigil at the edge of the bed all night. Making sure nothing else — no one else — comes to call, giving you a sound night of rest. It hasn’t stopped, he realizes, since he found you on Arkanis. This is the first reprieve, the first moment of stillness.

The ache in his head and the weariness in his bones gets the better of him, and, leaving a healthy amount of space between you, Cassian slides into the bed with you. You’re curled on your side, hands clasped under you chin, but as soon as he’s beneath the blankets, your eyes flash open, and one hand extends, searching for him. He catches your gauze-wrapped knuckles, threads his fingers between yours, lets them rest on his sternum. You watch your linked hands rise and fall with his breathing for a moment, before your gaze moves to his face, those big, watery eyes of yours pinning him in place.

“Where are you from?” you ask, the question barely above a whisper.

He keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling above him. “Ferrix.”

Your brow pinches slightly, like you don’t believe him.

“Fest,” he says next, the lie rolling off his tongue. Ferrix isn’t a lie, not really, but he knows what you’re asking, and he’s all too used to shielding his past. The corner of his mouth quirks, and he rolls his head to the side, finding your eyes in the dark. “A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

He watches as your lids drop shut, and after a moment, he rolls onto his side, makes the distance between you a little smaller. He doesn’t let go of your hand, still holding it softly, rubbing his thumb across the back. He waits, listens, watches, for your breathing to even out, for your face to relax into sleep. Only then does he let his own eyes fall shut, and lets sleep swallow him whole.

+

It’s still dark on Hosnian Prime when you wake. Soft blue light filters through the curtains, from the bathroom. You’re in the same position you fell asleep in, curled on your side, your hand wrapped in Cassian’s larger one. His knuckles are still pressed between yours, his thumb twitching against gauze.

He’s closer now, closer than he’d been when you fell asleep; if he inched forward just slightly, his forehead would be pressed to yours. You can feel his warm breath fanning against your neck, and slowly, you pull your hand from his grip, scoot backwards off the bed, doing your best not to disturb him.

The med-nog in the kit must have been more concentrated than Luthen’s flask, because you feel the best you’ve felt in days, despite your appearance. It nearly shocks you as you step into the fresher, closing the door and flicking the main light on. You blink against the brightness, scrubbing a hand over your face. The bruises have faded noticeably, the cut over your brow nearly scarred over.

Cassian did a good job cleaning the blood off of you. The fabric of your bra is slightly stained, and you shrug out of your clothes completely, stepping into the shower and turning the water as hot as it’ll go.

The fresher is filled with steam when you step out again, reaching for towels for your hair and body, half-heartedly drying the former, revelling in the softness as you wipe down the latter. Cassian’s coat and clothes are laid out on the heater, dried from the rain, and you snag his shirt, pulling it over your head, sighing as the warm fabric settles over you. It smells like him, that subtle spiciness invading your senses when you bury your nose in the collar.

You re-bandage yourself, re-wrap your busted knuckles, reapply a bacta patch to your side. You’re inspecting your collar when the door to the fresher slides open, revealing a mostly naked, sleepy version of Cassian.

Your eyes drop first, taking in his bare legs, the tight black briefs, the smattering of hair that trails up his stomach, covers most of his chest. You’ll be the first to admit that your mouth is instantly filled with saliva, and you swallow hard as your gaze moves to his head. His hair is a mess, the rainwater having turned it into a mop of curls atop his head. He pushes a hand through them as he steps inside, grumbling something you can’t make out. He pauses behind you, one hand gripping your bicep, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and you cover his hand with yours. “I didn’t wake you,” you say, your voice quiet, “did I?”

“No,” he says softly, and leans forward slightly, until his chest is pressed to your back. “Bed was empty. Worried.”

“Sorry,” you reply, squeezing his hand. You go to move, but he stops you, his free hand wrapping around your hip, curling in the fabric of his shirt on your torso. “Thank you, Cass,” you murmur, letting your body lean back into his, “for what you did.”

His forehead taps against the back of your head before his head lolls to the side, fitting in the space above your shoulder. “That’s what partners are for.”

“Is that what we are?” you ask, both your hands lowering to the edge of the counter as his hand moves from your arm to your other hip. He holds you between his palms, rough skin against soft, and his face lowers into the curve of your neck. You shiver at the feeling, an icy chill shooting down your spine. “Partners?”

He groans into your ear, the scrape of his beard against your throat making your eyes roll back, head titling against his. “Won’t let anybody hurt you,” he says softly, the words spoken against your skin. “Won’t let anybody touch you.” He pauses, and his hands move, curling around your hips, palms skimming down your thighs. His accent seems thicker when he speaks again. “Only me, yes?”

“Cass,” you say, and he chuckles, dragging his nails up your thighs, hands folded around your waist once more. “I need—”

“Tell me what you need,” he says, one arm adjusting to wrap around your middle instead, other hand moving to your thigh again. He says your name — your real name, not Shadow — and you shiver. “Tell me, and it is yours.”

There’s enough tension in the fresher to set you on fire, and you can’t hold back anymore, no matter how many thoughts swirl through your brain, how complicated this will make things, how you don’t know if you can stomach having something else you could potentially lose.

You push every single thought away, covering his hand with yours, moving it from your thigh, inward. Your other hand lifts to fist in the back of his hair, curls bending around your knuckles, keeping his face pressed into your neck. His hips roll against your ass as you do it, and you can feel how hard he is, prodding against your lower back.

“I just wanna feel good, Cass,” you murmur.

It’s slow, but fast at the same time. He touches you carefully, eyes flashing up to meet yours in the mirror while his hand works between your legs. He draws perfect circles around your clit, your knees threatening to give out from under you, nails biting into his forearm as you tremble.

“Cass, please.” 

There’s little clothing to be shed, his briefs dropped low enough to free him from the fabric, your underwear hooked around your ankle, and then he presses into you. It steals the air from your lungs, something between a whine and a gasp filling the space as he pushes to the hilt, filling you completely. You grip the countertop, his hands both on your hips again, his body drawn back slightly. In the reflection, you can see his eyes trained downward, watching the way he disappears into you, the way your thighs tremble against his when he hits something white-hot inside you.

“Fuck.”

The fresher fills with the sound of skin hitting skin, and his pace is relentless, driving you forward into the counter, yanking you back onto his cock at the same time. He takes a step back, pulling your hips backward, and your back arches as the angle changes, letting him drive deeper into you. He has an iron grip on your waist, but as soon as everything in you starts to tighten, as you can feel that coil twisting, he yanks you upright.

He slides one hand right up his shirt, squeezing at your breast, his mouth at your ear again. His hips don’t stop, and his other hand aims right between your legs, finding your clit like he’s done this a million times. It doesn’t take much more to have you keening in his arms, everything in you turning to stardust as the pleasure explodes through you. He works you through it, hips rocking into your ass before they start to stutter.

“Where?” he growls out, squeezing both arms around you.

“Inside,” you breathe, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair again. “Implant.” A particularly harsh thrust makes you whimper. “Please.”

One more slam inside you, and he’s finding his own bliss, head tucked against your collar, teeth sinking into your neck. You grip his hair tightly, your eyes fluttering shut as warmth spreads through you, making your insides pulse around him.

He breathes heavily into your collar, still holding you tightly, and you let him, aftershocks still making your thighs quake as you both come down.

His dark eyes meet yours in the mirror, and for a moment, you just stare at each other. You have half a mind to turn in his grip, to press your mouth to his, to kiss him until you forget your own name, but the thoughts you’d pushed away have returned, and your eyes are the first to fall, grief crawling up your throat and chasing the last dregs of pleasure away.

The only one left, you said.

A place that doesn’t exist anymore, he said.

Luthen was right; two lives of tragedy. Though you don’t know the depths of Cassian’s just yet, nor he yours. But the thought worms it’s way into your brain as he holds you, the same one that had tried to stop you before.

Can you let yourself have him, knowing full well you might lose him, just like everything else?

+

He takes you back to bed, afterward. After the shakiness has faded from your limbs, when he can finally see straight again, when the feeling of your skin under his hands is a welcome warmth and not blurring every line in his mind with lust and want and need. It had all come to a head so quickly, words he couldn’t stifle anymore falling out of him.

Won’t let anybody hurt you. Truth.

Won’t let anybody touch you. Only me, yes? Another truth.

A truth he’s been wrestling with since he picked you up out of the mud on Arkanis, since you turned those pretty eyes on him and told him that Rebellions are built on hope. You hit him like an explosion, a bright light he couldn’t tear his eyes from. A truth he couldn’t stop himself from acting on any longer, from feeling your warmth from every angle, burying himself in the deepest parts of you. A spark that turned to flame turned to forest fire in the blink of an eye. He knows he could drown in you, if he let himself. He knows he could abandon everything else without another thought, whisk you away somewhere warm and easy and…together.

Cassian knows better than this, and his mind races as he curls against you under the blankets this time, not an inch of space between your bodies as you fit together. There is no ease to this, no simplicity. Not that he’s ever known either feeling. He could lose you just as easily as he found you; the ambush in the alley only proves that further.

Everything you’ve been through, Maarva’s voice murmurs in his mind, a memory pulled to the surface, everything that was taken away from you before you even started. The words are something like a balm as he puts his arms around you, fits his chest to your back, buries his nose in your hair. Perhaps he has been through enough; perhaps you are the recompense.

And if you are, then he has protect you.

PREV | NEXT

[union-combine]

Greetings citizens of the Union and beings from beyond! Welcome to Union News Central, I'm your host Bluglakkag Flublabbak. Hello! This is the recent news!

Following the Armory Bolstering Order, Marshal Vakir requested independent Union industries on Vesrun Prime - Feforyana - and aboard Libertopia to begin production of civilian multitool-weapons which can be used both as weapons of self defence but will mainly be used for industrial and civil purposes.

For instance, the Feforyana-Pattern Bolt Pistol fires self-sealing bolts which could be used aboard starships to quickly patch holes in the hull, or in factories to bolt together machinery. The bolt gun has an adjustable chunk, similar to drill bits, to allow a wide variety of bolt sizes. Naturally, these can also be used by civilians in occupied territories or at home for defence.

Similarly, the Libertopia-Pattern Laspistol fires an adjustable strength laser. Unlike cheap Zangren lasweapons, the Libertopia-Pattern Laspistol is reliable and primarily functions as a civil tool for welding, mining, cutting fabrics, or on its lowest setting, scanning. Just like the Bolt Pistol, this can also be used for defence.

Both multitool-weapons require a license to own, which can be earned with safety and operational training. But don't worry, citizens, once the war is over, production of non-lethal self defence weapons will begin, along with the production of weapons for folks on the frontiers, such as hunting rif-

Ah! I have breaking news! Great news, in fact, citizens! The Battle of Nufef is over and I'm proud to announce it was a victory for PEACE! We go now to the bridge of Task Force Kon'nal over Nufef Prime to hear live from one of the heroes of the battle - Captain Zeren Ah-Thalas!

You're live, Captain.

"Ah! Joyous day, citizens of the Union! Through unity and camaraderie we have won the Battle of Nufef! Together we pulled through a brutal battle, and though many were lost, many yet live because of what we did this day. And we certainly couldn't have done it alone. With our brave allies by our side and with steely determination, we drove back the barbaric Khan Maz'rin. Who, I vow, to make pay for her crimes, not just against the Union and its citizenry, but against her own people too."

Her own people, you say? Whatever do you mean, Captain?

"As if the sight of the vast Khanate flagship wasn't horrific enough, the first thing the Khan did on arrival in the system was fire on her own warriors for supposed weakness. It made me sick to my stomachs..."

How horrible! Her own people? They truly are barbaric...

"Indeed... But let's not dwell on such darkness. Today is a day of revelry, of victory! And we have more battles yet to face. Let's drink and be merry, then take the time we have spare to remember what we're fighting for, both on the front lines and the production lines... For the citizens in occupied territory. For dead the dying. For freedom and liberty. For PEACE and for the Union!"

For the Union! Wow... thank you so much for time, Captain. Before you go, what will you be doing next?

"It's no trouble, Bluglakkag. And I'm afraid I can't share my next assignment for national security, you understand. But I will be out there, keeping you safe"

I understand, Captain. Good luck in your next mission and thank you for your serivce.

That's all we have for now, citizens. Stay tune and stay safe... and remember... Solace in the Union!

[winterandwords]

🗡️ Bridge From Ashes (story summary)

Corruption and cruelty pulse through the veins of an opulent metropolis, where every side is the wrong side and progress is fuelled by exploitation. Too useful for prison and too dangerous for freedom, underworld assassin Rafael Turner is sentenced to serve in a secretive military agency. When a mission to infiltrate a criminal operation drags his past to the surface and someone he thought he’d lost forever unexpectedly returns, how much is Rafe willing to risk to settle old scores and have a chance at a future he’d given up hoping for?

💻 To read online for free, please visit winterandwords.com

✅ GENRE Cyberpunk, neon-noir

📖 AUDIENCE Adult

📝 LENGTH Approx 70k words

👀 VIBE High-rise buildings and low-life scum. Everything hurts, but not enough to feel good. Yes, that’s a gun in my pocket and no, I’m not pleased to see you. If mind control is real, why do I still have to make decisions?

⭐ THE MAIN CHARACTER Rafe Turner is a close-range weapon with a face full of scars. He’s a necessary evil, but all evil is necessary to someone. He knows fear intimately, he wrote the code, and you’re going to tell him the truth whether you want to or not. He’s a hardcore masochist with an addictive personality and a weakness for people with the guts to call him on his shit, not that he’d ever admit it. Anything he’s good at feels like a curse, and the only thing he hates more than the world and everything in it is himself.

💫 THE OTHER GUY Gillen Kane is a god-tier holder of grudges and his trust issues have trust issues. His presence can lower the temperature of a room. Beneath the carefully constructed facade of calm control, he’s extremely fragile and self-protective. Do not disturb; already disturbed. Trauma? What trauma? That’s just who he is. Now shut up and do what you’re told (but please don’t leave).

❗ CONTENT NOTE This book contains themes around human trafficking, as well as exploitation by both criminal and public service organisations. My personal preference is not to linger on details of abuse, so while those events generally occur off-page, I would like readers to be aware that they still form a significant part of the story’s context.

📸 IMAGE CREDIT Original photo by Drew Dizzy Graham on Unsplash, edited under license

[antiquatedsimmer]

Blog is under construction so LETS DO A LEGACY Q&A❤️

While I get everything fixed tho! I wanna do a Simblr Q&A!♥

These Questions can be directed about any of my sims or me! I don't really care since I just want something to do while I get everything cleaned up C:

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒.

💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc’s Alignment?, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?

🗺️MAP — What’s your favorite thing about the current era or location your sims are in?

🧚RACE— What is your Sims Race?

⚔️CLASS— What is your sims Job?

🛡️WEAPON— What is your sims most interesting skill?

🚗 CAR — does your sim have a driver’s license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars?

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your sim like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your sims favorite hobbies?

💍 RING — does your sim have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your sim have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your sim most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

🎻 VIOLIN — does your sim play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your sim have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — What’s your most FAV sim or Sim you have hated the most?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒.

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your sim like? do they listen to music very often?

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your sim that others may not know.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your sim a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your sim swim? do they enjoy swimming?

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — What’s your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your sim know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your sim drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

😇DEITY — Is your sim Religious/ believe in a Deity?

💥Neighborhood Brawl  — What’s your favorite fight/encounter? Does your sim use any weapons?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your Sims sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your sims favorite holiday?

🐶 DOG FACE — does your sim have any pets?

🐈 CAT — does your sim prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

🐷 PIG FACE — what is your sims favorite animal?

🐉 DRAGON — Does your sim having any cultural traditions?

🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your sims favorite subject in school?

🌴 PALM TREE — does your sim have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening?

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your sim born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your sims positive traits?

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your sims neutral/questionable traits?

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your sims negative traits?

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your sim consider the most important to them?

🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your sim tend to prioritize family or friends?

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your sim speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

💚 GREEN HEART — does your sim prefer being inside or outside?

💙 BLUE HEART — does your sim have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world?

💜 PURPLE HEART — Your favorite thing about your current save or Decades gameplay?

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your sim killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone’s heart and/or broken someone’s trust?

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒.

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your sims birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs?

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your sims favorite food(s)?

🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your sims favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)?

🍦 SNACK TIME — Does your sim have a fav snack?

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your sim good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer?

🥯 BAGEL — what does your sims typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast?

🥪 SANDWICH — what does your sims typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch?

🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your sims typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner?

🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your sims favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink?

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your sim prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄.

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your sims career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your sim an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved?

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your sims quirks/mannerisms?

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your sim more logical or emotional?

🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your sim chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy?

🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your sim a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions?

😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your sim prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool?

😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your sim open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge?

😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — Have you ever regretted something your sim has done? (Can be anything! maybe regret a scene you wrote months ago u can't change.)

🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your sim get sick easily?

🤡TOWNIES — Favorite Townie?

💀— Favorite death?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 ���FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your sims immediate family? how many people are in your sims extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 THE PARTY— Introduce your current household and tell us 1 thing about them!

THIS ASK MEME TAKEN FROM HERE♥

[callsignbaphomet]

Still got Loke on the brain so here's a random list of faqs of my good boy. Oracle version.

He's left-handed.

Jelani was the first one to call him Lo and Loki. It was when he was first starting to talk and Loke was a bit difficult to pronounce. At first it was kind of a "low-ee" sound that progressed to Loki and then to Loke but the nicknames stuck ever since.

He's genderqueer and uses he/him and they/them. Either is fine with him.

He's queer. He used to use gay but felt it a bit restrictive and not right for him plus his mom uses queer so he went with queer. Men and male presenting are what he's attracted to.

The woman that birthed him tried to drown him when he was a week old. She took him to a river near the village and submerged him but luckily someone had stopped her. She ran away as they desperately tried to get him to start breathing again. He was fine.

Speaking of that woman, as of 2023 she is still alive and has on numerous occasions tried to approach him. She spoke to Sanaa once and asked if she could talk to him but Sanaa said that was Loke's decision. He wants absolutely NOTHING to do with her. Unfortunately he was told she tried to drown him and that caused a ton of drama and a bit of a trauma.

He bled to death once. He was run through with a bastard sword (I'd explain more but it's spoiler for something I'm currently writing).

His favorite animals are birds, foxes, and dogs.

He's afraid of cats. When he was little he used to feed some birds that hung around the village and one day he saw a cat kill and eat one of the birds.

He had a fiancé when he was 39 years old. He was killed during a raid. What no one except for Sanaa knew was that the fiancé was pregnant (trans) when he died. Obviously it was Loke's. That's a secret his mom's gonna take to her grave.

He has hemophilia, asthma, is far sighted, has seasonal allergies and is V E R Y allergic to tree nuts. Like one bite will either land him in the ER or the morgue.

Because of said hemophilia he will get random bruises anywhere in the body, his mouth will sometimes bleed, may cough blood, might bleed into his joints (apparently that's super painful), and yes, has had blood in his urine. All of these are really rare though.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaates using glasses so mostly sticks to using contacts.

I associate him with foxes (sable) and shiba inus.

The element I associate him with is lightning/thunder.

He's a Nordic berserker.

Speaking of, normally berserkers cannot use magic especially while in berserker mode. The only exception to that rule are the Nyota berserkers which are called arcanist berserkers. Sanaa is one of those specific berserkers. Ever since he was like 5 he wanted to learn to use magic like Sanaa does because he wanted to be just like his mom. Sanaa wasn't sure he would be able to learn what she was trying to teach him but she indulged him nonetheless.

It took years but Loke actually managed to learn how to pull off one of the Nyota's signature moves. Enchanting an arrow and firing it directly into the sky and exploding into hundreds or thousands of shards falling into the battlefield. He was also taught how to summon an element which in his case was lightning. He can have lightning wrapped around himself or a weapon. So far he's the only non-arcanist berserker to ever achieve this.

The man is stubborn as fuck all.

His chosen weapons as a berserker are a two headed axe and a bow and arrows (he chose a bow because his mom uses a bow).

During the early 2000s he and his mom enrolled in the same university to study medicine. They both graduated top of their class and did their residency at the same hospital. However, Sanaa got her license and is currently a doctor back home in Norway. Loke finished everything but went back to Oracle. He has that to fall back on whenever he chooses to retire from Oracle. He puts his medical knowledge to good use in the area of operations (the ao) and out of it tho.

Has adult separation anxiety. Technically speaking so does Jelani (only Angelus knows this but the rest suspect Jelani has it too). Neither can be separated for long periods of time. They start panicking when separated from each other for long periods of time.

His body count (like actual body count, not how many men he's had sex with) is disturbingly high. Disturbingly. High. He's very overprotective of the people he loves and will not hesitate to put two bullets into someone's skull and keep going as if nothing happened.

His favorite fruit is the mango. He really loves mangoes.

Favorite food is pizza.

Knows 13 languages: old Norse, Kiswahili, Xhosa, English, Lule Sámi, Norwegian, German, Icelandic, Faroese, Spanish, Setswana, Somali and Manyika. Basically the same languages Jelani knows.

Has a nicotine addiction and smokes. Not as much as he used to but he does.

Normally when berserkers are in berserker mode their irises tend to have a glow. However, Loke's sclera and irises turn red and no, it ain't normal. [No explanation due to spoilers].

He can sing and I do mean sing really good. He and Abigail often sing together by themselves. Abby loves to sing in front of others but Loke's shy about it. Everyone tells him he has a lovely voice though and he shouldn't feel shy about it.

If you wanna get technical about it Sanaa is his stepmother and Jelani is his half brother but he only ever refers to Sanaa as his mom and Jelani as his brother. He leaves out the step and the half. One of the worst ways you could possibly insult him is by calling Sanaa his stepmom and Jelani his half brother. Do that and you're instantly on his shit list forever, unless it wasn't intentional, just make sure you never do it again. Do it again and the ass kicking that follows will make your ancestors bleed.

He's a highly trained counter-sniper. He's also pretty good with a sniper. Trevor trained him. As it stands he's the second best sniper in all of Oracle.

He's extremely effective with any weapon he gets his hands on, he's also very accurate. If he missed it's because he wanted to.

He's ridiculously fast at drawing and firing weapons.

He's basically a human (no, he's not human, you know what I mean) lie detector. He can accurately tell when someone is lying.

He also makes an excellent double agent.

He's the only one who can tell when Jelani is lying.

According to tradition he was the next in line to be jarl. The position usually falls on the oldest child of the jarl's. However, he isn't one for such matters so he gave his position to Jelani who was, in his honest opinion, better suited for the role as he's proven to be a natural leader.

He is a very, very, very heavy sleeper. You literally have to shake him awake. Also it takes him like mere seconds to fall asleep.

He has 10 alarms on his phone cuz he sure as fuck ain't gonna hear the first 5.

He's super lazy.

He is the first and only non-Nyota to be a Warden.

He's 22 years older than Jelani.

He's the same age as his aunt Fae (Sanaa's sister).

When Jelani was born Loke basically turned into a third parent. It wasn't forced, he loved taking care of and looking after his baby brother. It was practically love at first sight.

He loves both of his parents but he's very attached to his mom.

Has three false right bottom molars. Hammer to the face.

Has two pet pigeons (Anga & Mvua) and a German Shepherd (Lyn).

Hates reading. Please don't make him read, it makes his brain cry.

Hates exercising. Has to be dragged to do it.

His ID number is 00-2144.

His favorite season is fall.

Likes the beach but the beach does not like him. He doesn't tan, he burns.

He kinda stopped physically aging. Sanaa noticed this long ago but isn't sure of what's going on so she's kept it to herself just in case.

After a certain event [can't say due to spoilers] Loke can't actually really die. He might die for a few minutes to an hour depending on the severity of the injury but he'll always come back. The only way he'll permanently die is if Jelani dies. [Again, not explaining bc of spoilers]. He'll scar like normal berserkers do though or lose limbs if not careful. No one is aware of this, not even him or Jelani.

During the "God Virus" story when Jelani loses total control because of the virus Loke sort of lost control. Sort of. [Spoilers. Can't explain yet]

He belongs to Uthorim.

Wants to have kids someday.

Is a hugger. He loves to hug. Unless the person isn't comfortable with it. Is also a cuddler when sleeping.

As a sort of "easter egg" all of Loke's au versions have all au versions of Iain try to kill him or manage to injure him in some way.

Is actually really good with kids. He often babysits for others as well as driving down to New York to babysit for his aunt Fae. Yes, it's a 10 hour drive. No, he doesn't give a fuck.

Sleeps with a shirt on. Just a shirt.

Like his brother he's into metal.