#saga insignia

[gnome-minion]

Tom you're scaring the hoes (yuri)

[gildedmuse]

ZoLaw AUs Nobody Asked For Presents....

Fairy Tale Twist

Part One: Abduction!

[This was inspired by watching the first episode of the anime Heaven Official Blessing with @jhaernyl. However, for the purpose of this ficlette all you need to know is the whole thing is your typical fanfic set up: a bunch of young women are disappearing, so in order to solve the mystery our main male character is forced to go undercover as a shy, virginal bride-to-be in hopes that the sexy bad boy will notice him and carry him off to his liar.]

[You know. The only sensible solution to a rash of kidnappings.]

"Please," the old lady begs, tears running down her face as she falls to her knees in front of the trio. "Even if there is no hope for my Liula, this village can't bear to lose another one of our daughters!"

Zoro scratches behind his ear, apparently unmoved by the old ladies tears, as well as the wet faces of the town folks who have gathered all around. It isn't that he doesn't care - he's sure it's hard to misplace a daughter or whatever, though it does seem to him as if it's at least a little the villager's own fault. Why do they keep sending the girls through the forest is they keep disappearing?

"So they're always taken in the forest?" Saga - Zoro's second best friend and training partner - always knows exactly the right questions to ask. He's just good at that kind of detective thing, the way Marines pretend to be. As a crew of bounty hunters, they may not be the most well known or most feared (they certainly aren't their richest) but between him, Kuina, and Saga, Zoro figures they have all the right talents to work their way up to the top, wherever that might be.

For Saga, Zoro is sure that eventually means becoming a marine or, as his overly dramatic friend would put it, "becoming a sword for justice!" Or that's what he says it if you get enough sake in him, though honestly it doesn't even take one drink to notice the look he gets in his eyes whenever a bunch of men in their clean white uniforms go marching pass. Not even Kuina's mocking their stupid insignia ("why do you want a shirt with a pair of boobs drawn on. I've got the real thing and they're nothing but annoying!" / "For the last time, the insignia is the mighy gull! Not a pair of blue boobies!" / "As someone who has seen plenty of both, trust me, no seagull looks like that..not unless it's had some major work done.") or Zoro pointing out he's never seen a single marine carrying a shuangshou jian, which he thinks is the far better argument. After all, Saga wouldn't want to have to get rid of his beloved sword, would be? It's the one thing he has from his parents....

If there is one person who would understand how important a sword can be, it would be Kuina, but he thought Saga would be next.

"Sounds like instead of worrying about your bridal traditions, you should have worked to make sure these girls could protect themselves," Kuina says, her voice low and steady, but there is an undercurrent of anger there. One Zoro finds adults often miss, due to Kuina's former, almost old fashioned, language and proper samurai etiquette.

Her father always said there was more to being a Kenshi than just holding a sword. Unfortunately, one of the things he believes makes for a Kenshi is....

Kuina stands up, bowing politely to the very same adults she'd just been so angry at. "We will find this pirate who is taking your lost daughters and ensure this does not happen again," she promises, and Kuina promises something it's like you can see the threads binding her, holding her to her word. It makes Zoro sit up straighter, happy to be her rival. "If what these girls want is to be married, they deserve to make that choice without some creep ruining it for them."

Kuina's small, and because of that, most everyone underestimates her. Only to be surprised when the girl they had just been laughing at is suddenly behind them, the sharp white blade of Wado Ichimonji pressed against their kidney, with Tenno Megumi clashing against their own steel, stopping them from being able to make a move. She's a fast, technical fighter and a slow, methodical thinker. She probably knows more about Zoro and Saga then the two boys know about themselves and, honestly, Zoro is alright with that. He doesn't even know where he'd keep all that knowledge, but Kuina seems to do a good

They had only come to this island to pick up some Nobody, Kuro of 1000 Cats or something stupid like that, but they had barely dragged him and his crew of losers to the local Marine base when an older woman, face wrinkled and worn from sadness, had grabbed a hold of Zoro's arm.

These people were desperate, and the small four man marine outpost they have seemed unable ("or unwilling," Kuina had muttered only once Saga was distracted - they didn't need to have that fight again) to help against what seemed to be some knd of curse.

"Qell it's not a curse," Saga decided immediately, the three of them gathering just outside of the town hall were the citizen had plead their case. And as much as Zoro hates being distracted from his goal, his one true dream, he has to admit their pleas were.... heartfelt.

"Hmm," Kuina puts her hand to her chin, her foot digging into her dirt as she stares down, her brain trying to ferment a plan of some kind. At the very least a place to begin. "It seems he only comes out when there is a bridal procession. What should we do?"

There is silence as they all contemplate this impossible task.

"I know!" It's Saga who gets a these first, slapping his fist in his hand, and with his eyes burning so bright, Kuina and Zoro are immediately doubtful. This is going to be one of those ridiculous plans like in all his marine centered manga. As far as Zoro has seen, Marines never actually do any sort of undercover work or whatever. They just stupidly fire bullets at things and hope one hits. But that's not how Saga sees them, not at all.

Saga gives a sharp, proud smile, his support of his own plan entirely unwavering. Zoro assumed they would just stare at him until sanity sunk back in but suddenly, he notices Kuina going all stiff, as if a realization had just hit.

"Not it!"

Zoro stumbles some, not used to the usually calm depth that is his number one rival and best friend moving with such a reckless, her arm flying up as of theyre back at the dojo answering questions. "Hey!" He pushes his shoulder back against her. "What are you-"

"Good point!" Saga says, his intensity still bur ing as usual. "I am also not it."

Zoro looks between his two friends. His two companions. His twisted sworn brother and sister. And the evil grins that were creeping up along their faces.

"I am NOT-"

Kuina leans in so hard, Zoro ends up squashed up against Saga. "Your mouth says no," the older girl teases, sluttering her eyelashes in a way that Zoro didn't understan. Was that supposed to make him do something? "But your eyes - and my blades," she adds that bit with a pat at the swords at her side. "Say yes."

At his other side, Saga gives him an unnaturally bright smile despite the narrowed eyes glare Zoro is giving both kenshi. "You really should try and look happier. It's your wedding day after all!" He teased, nd Zoro can only grumble.

He did call not it last, damnit.

"We will just have to set up a convincing bridal procession then!" Saga pulls back, striking what Zoro feels is an all too excited pose considering the fate they've just sealed for him. "Kuina and I will act as guards, while Zoro gakes place of the bride to be. We'll put the whole thing together and make it look just like a real bridal procession! That's how we will draw this scoundrel out!"

The two npeople only seem mildly confused by the bounty hunter's plan. Zoro isn't sure what the confusion is aboit. He's hardly looking forward to this mess, but he does think Saga and Kuina did an excellent job at setting the trap and as for his part, well, he can only hide one of his three swords under the bridal gown, but with the other two concealed in the carriage in easy reach, he doesn't imagine he'll habe any difficulty grabbing for them in time. The whole plan is actually one of their better thought out schemes, so he isn't sure why the villagers take moment to get on board, but eventually they do. They even lend them materials to help make the ruse undetectable.

"I've got this!" Kuina declares in reference to the dress. She isn't much for fu-fu clothes herself - it's all so much fabric for so little practical coverage, and it always has at least one part that hangs in the weirdest way. However, she's had years of practice learning to make men's clothes for her properly so they aren't baggy and in her way and also wouldn't.... disrespect her father (Zoro knows she would never wish to voice this, but he has also seen her on holy days with his image. Holding it as tight as if he were a long honored ancestor. Looking to the stars as if they would grant her his approval.) Plus, she definitely knew what looked good on girls. Just because she doesn't wear fancy kimono and jewelry and other useless pretty things doesn't mean Kuina can't APPRECIATE what other women look like in such elaborate get ups.

It's the make up where they run into something of an issue.

"Katatsumuri," Saga asks, holding out their den den mushi. Him and the snail wince together as Kuina gets angry enough to break the brush shed be using to try and apply Zoro's lipstick, yelling that it was a subpar tool unworthy of its title and a shame to whoever forged its.... it's.... it's stupid hairs or whatever! Grr!

"Can you play a make up tutorial," Saga requests, sitting cross legged in front of Zoro. Luckily, he is very good at copying moves even from videos. Maybe this is why he appreciates marine uniforms so much, Zor thinks, cause they're all neat and orderly and it feels like you have to keep your make up neat and orderly as well.

So with Zoro looking appropriately alluring ("You're a vision," Saga promises, his breathing just a little too rushed considering they haven't even started on the hard part of the quest just yet. "You almost look decent," Kuina laughs, making sure Katatsumuri takes a picture for future reference) they gather everything else they will need for their little nightie deceit. The procession, the carriage, the spooky nighttime forest that the temple lies in the middle of for some reason no one could adequately explained.

"just sit tight," Kuina whispers from the side of her mouth as they walk deeper and deeper into the darkness. "I'm sure this willl-"

"Kuina!?" Zoro knows he is supposed to be sitting there straight and well behaved, just the way he's practiced with that overly nice girl - the one who kept getting a little bit touchy, like Zoro couldn't figure out how to hold his hands just by LOOKING at her; there is no reason to touch - but at his friend's sudden silence he couldn't help but peak out of the carriage window.

Nothing but wind and leaves and darkness.

"Zoro," Saga growls from the other wise..Zoro turns to try and ask him to go check on Kuina. That's what he should do, rather than break character. Good call. "Keep on guar-"

Silence.

Suddenly there is nothing.. No horses. No Marines pretending to be maid in waiting. No guards. No friends. Just darkness, and a low, soft whisper of the wind. Something dark, something.... stirring.

Zoro licks his lips, that awful taste of the lipstick coming off with it. He reaches for the trap door where his two other swords are stored when -

Click.

The door opens a light storm: the fall of rain, wind sweeping through the trees, dark hair, striking eyes, and such long and slender fingers reaching out for him, not grabbing, but making an offering. Holding his hand out for the supposedly young and virginal bride.

And suddenly Zoro can feel it in his chest. This lightness. This heat.

He fumbles, trying to find the damn torch. Where were his matches? Why is he going for the stupid candle and not his swords? What is wrong with him?

"I can't help but notice," the strange is silhouettes in the darkness, out the moonlight behind him offering any glimpse. But that voice. So dark, like a shadow. Like the way a smooth sake feels sliding down your throat. "You seemed to be in trouble, my little lamb. I hope those ruffians didn't cause you any harm."

As if you didn't send those ruffians, only Zoro's voice is entirely gone. The boy's golden eyes pierce through him like an arrow. Where is his voice? It seems the only part of him that can speak is his heart, and that is beating so loud it filled the entirety of the carriage

It only gets louder when the stranger's lips quirk upward, the water running down his hair, his pale skin, sliding around his lips. Making them shimmer and shine in the low candle light. "What a remarkable beauty. How could anyone wish to hurt such an angel?" His hand is still hanging there, half way between them. Zoro licks his lip subconsciously, the water clinging to the stranger's lower lip making him want....

No! He's meant to focus! He is here on a mission, not some silly game.

Yet the way the stranger smiles does leave his stomach feeling all sorts of silly. Are those his finger tips shaking as he reaches out, gently entrusting his hand to the stranger.

Immediately he is being pulled forward, so close it Zoro can't keep the gasp escaping his lips. He's not used to these shoes, there's far too much of them for starters, and the heels catches on the fabric of his dress and-

As he falls foward, the stranger moves in close and through the low light of the moon and a single candle, those gorgeous golden eyes stare right into Zoro's soul, soft and yet certain as he reaches out, easily pulling Zoro into his arms.

Pressed against the man's chest, Zoro understands why so many of those manga he finds Saga hiding away have girls pressed up to marines just like this. The way his heart beats in Zoro's ear, the protective warmth of his arms....

"Where did-"

"You men seem to have run off," The stranger says, holding him close. The hold is gentle and yet formal, as of purposefully being polite and careful with him. "I believe they were trying to lure the attackers away."

He knows that hadn't been the plan, but he can only stare up at the stranger, his cheeks so warm he thinks of lifting the veil, just to get some fresh air. But surely if he saw him that would give them game away.

"Your physical beauty must only be surpassed by that of your heart, to have such a loyal and fearless guard. I would hate to see their bravery go to waste. I don't have much, certainly not lodging worthy of such a precious gem, but there is a small temple nearby that will offer us shealter. I can keep you safe until your entourage regroups. That is, if you will allow it."

His golden eyes are staring down at our hero, soft and intense all at once, and they leave his tongue feeling equally confused: heavy and light at the same time.

"You have my permission to do with me as you please." Zoro hadn't practiced any sort of script, the plan had been to attack and words had seemed unnecessary. He still isn't sure where such a sentiment even came from! What a silly thing to say! He must look like a gu-

Wait, that isn't the what Zoro is supposed to be concerned about. Why does he even care if he looks like a fool!?

Even as he tries to hide himself against the stranger's chest, he catches a glimpse of that smirk. That horribly cocky, confident turn of his lips that leaves the poor kenshi melting, all the heat not coloring in his face pooling much, much lower.

"I shall take you with me then, beauty-ya, and act as your guide until we can reunite you with your proper assembly."

"Mmm," Zoro mutters, voice high and breathless. Perhaps to ensure the act is believable? "Take me with you, unite with me, yes..."

Just an act, that's all. Right, that's why he's doing this. To go along with the plan.

That's why he puts up no struggle as he suddenly finds himself lifted up into the strangers arms. The man's hat keeps his face mostly hidden, but Zoro is sure to memorize the edges of his cheeks, his lips and chin where rivlets of water drip from his dark skin. The beautiful dark ink that covers the strong arms that have Zoro safely held against his chest.

All for the sake of the mission, Zoro reminds himself, leaning his cheek against the stranger's wet shirt, tucking in closer to his warmth as a blue light suddenly involves the both of them.

"Shambles."

And then the forest is quiet, nothing but an abandoned carriage left behind.

[spilledbeans116]

DBZ: The Princess Saga

Annnnnnnd the first two chapters are published! Thank you so much to all of you who have followed before I even posted my first chapter, I hope you all like it and I appreciate all the support.

You can read the first two chapters on Wattpad here, or continue reading the first chapter of the fic below! I hope to upload on A03 as well soon, I just have to wait for my request to go through :)

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Vegeta x Reader - 2,033 Words - SFW

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A timeline where planet Vegeta was never destroyed. Y/N works alongside Vegeta in the palace as his royal guard and servant.

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    "I hate having to wear shit like this," The prince grumbled, tugging at his wrist cuffs and fidgeting with the golden buttons fixed upon them. His tail swished around in annoyance behind him as he glared at the damned things. He was wearing a cream top, with puffed out sleeves be fit for royalty and the likes. While the sleeves billowed around his muscular arms, the piece encasing his chest was tightly fit; it was very different from his usual attire, but then again this wasn't a normal night. You reached forward and smoothed out his collar, buttoning three of the five buttons leading to his neck.

    "I know you do," you replied, moving away to hand him the dark black button up vest that would be worn over top of the flowing shirt. He snatched it from your hands as he slid it on, rolling his eyes as he waited for you to button it for him. It matched nicely with his black dress shoes and pants, and his tail flicked about one last time before it wrapped around his waist and snaked its way through his belt loops tightly.

    "Don't give me that mocking tone, woman." He growled as he shoved you away. You took this all in stride, as it was your job. "Don't get so close to me either." He was especially grumpy today.

    "My prince, it's my duty to ensure you're ready for events like this as well as to keep you protected during them." You replied calmly. "Standing close to you is something I'm forced to do as your maid and part of your royal guard."

    He grunted at that as you grabbed his cloak off the mannequin and began to walk back over to him. "Please, as if you'd be better at protecting me than I would be at defending myself. I'm at least three times as strong as you."

    You smiled as you clipped on the golden buttons of the cape, both of which displayed his family's insignia, onto his shoulders and affixed the golden chain that connected the two so that it lay across his chest. "Of course that's true, but my purpose is to prevent you from having to waste energy on things that are minuscule in comparison to your power."

    You reached over his shoulders and began to pull the cape out, allowing it to fan behind him. Your breathing must have bothered him as he shoved you away again.

    "Get off me woman, that's too damn close," he growled, turning away from you as the royal blue cape swept out behind him.

    "Of course my prince." You could see the tips of his ears heat up.

    "Stop calling me that." He spat.

    "Yes my prince."

    "Woman, you are testing my patience today."

    "Last time I didn't use honorifics in front of guests, your majesty, you threatened to send me to an uninhabited planet to die."

    He glanced over his shoulder at you again, his brows tightly knit together as he regarded you. "I'd never actually do that to you."

    "Sometimes it's hard to tell, Vegeta." You giggled slightly.

    He did not like the way you called him your prince, but somehow referring to him by his first name bothered him even more right now. The way it rolled off your tongue gave him goosebumps and sent a chill down his spine. "Don't call me that either."

    "As you wish your highness," you bowed and smirked up at him.

    "Think of something else," he growled. "I won't have you mocking me this entire event."

    "Okay Veggie." That one was your favorite.

    His tail bushed up around his waist before he quickly huffed and turned away from you. "You know I hate it when you call me that, knock it off."

    "I could leave you nameless," you giggled a bit more. He then glared at you and you stopped, knowing that you were probably one more name away from getting kicked out of his room. "It's not every night the king hosts a ball in your honor."

    He scoffed, looking himself over in the mirror. "Please, you act like it's a thing of honor. You know I'll be covered in women all night like they're damn fleas."

    "Well sire, that does come with the process of finding a mate," you teased. "Plus I really doubt you're all that unhappy about it."

    "I am." He frowned, turning to look at you again. "I don't need a mate nor do I have time for one. I want to train and get stronger than my father."

    "Well you can still do that, just with a princess at your side. I'll keep my distance tonight so you can-"

    He cut you off before you could finish. "You will not. I need someone to keep me company that isn't trying to get in my pants." He squinted at you, "or maybe you are too." That caused you to laugh and his frown deepened as his brows furrowed. "What, are you saying I'm not attractive?"

    You wiped away the tears forming in your eyes as your laugh echoed around the room. "No no sire, it's just that I'm.. what's the term you use? 'A low-class runt.' I hardly think my opinion matters on things like this."

    He rolled his eyes. "Why are you being so formal tonight?"

    You simply shrugged, "trying to get used to it so I don't look like an idiot in front of high society." You couldn't stop the sigh that escaped from your lips as you spoke.

    You were surprised to see a smile rising to the prince's face. "Don't worry, you'll do that anyway!" He doubled over and held his stomach as he started to laugh hysterically.

    "Geez thanks Veggie, you truly honor me." You crossed your arms as he smirked.

    "Don't call me that. Also there's the attitude I'm used to."

    "Yeah, the key word there is YOU'RE used to. If I slip up and call you a dumbass in front of anyone else I'll lose my job. Hell, I'll lose my head."

    "I wouldn't let that happen to you." Your eyes met for a moment before you sheepishly looked away. His face was as serious as you had seen it in awhile; you'd be lying if you said his words didn't make your heart flutter a bit.

    You shook your head slightly to clear it, stepping over towards his large bed and replied, "awww does his highness care about me? A low class warrior?"

    "Absolutely not! It would just take too long to train another maid to do your job."

    You began to tidy up his bed, which he had been lounging in all day after his morning training session. He despised Kakarot, but you knew that he was the only one on Planet Vegeta, other than the King, who rivaled the prince. You could care less, as you quite enjoyed him and his brother's company. It was nice to be able to have friends in the barracks; it made palace life a little less lonely. You knew they'd both be at the first part of the matchmaking ceremony tonight as well, more than likely working as guards for the higher ups.

    "Don't forget to fluff my pillows how I like," Vegeta said, crossing his arms and smirking. He enjoyed watching you clean while he didn't even have to lift a finger; he found it amusing. He also just enjoyed being able to look at you and your silly mannerisms, like how your tail kinked up when you got annoyed or how you made sure to follow his every direction carefully, as agitated as you may get with his orders.

    "Don't forget to fluff my pillows," you grumbled under your breath, mocking him.

    "What was that?" He growled.

    "I said to go brush your teeth, or do I have to do that for you as well?" You looked up to find him staring at you, a mischievous light seemed to gleam in his eyes and moments later you were brushing his teeth for him in the bathroom. Gods he was a pain.

    Afterwards you quickly washed your hands and dried them on the towel by the sink, once again stepping into the Prince's room. Room? The damn thing was the size of your parents house. He had a massive bed befit with white sheets and a royal blue quilt, a couch, a tv, a massive closet the size of your servants quarters, a coffee table and even a damned small fountain built into the floor in front of the doors to the balcony.

    "Are you wearing that?" The prince asked, motioning to your outfit. You wore a simple dark blue one piece jumpsuit, with your white armor over the top of it and white gloves on your hands that matched your boots. It corresponded with the prince's typical attire, separating you from the rest of the palace servants. It wasn't as heavily armored as the clothing Raditz and Kakarot had to wear at all times, but it was enough protection in case anyone ever dared to try and harm the prince and you had to fight them off.

    "Actually no, I have a dress I need to change into but I was more worried about getting you cleaned up."

    Vegeta's expression was hard to read for a moment before it went back to his typical annoyed look. "A dress? Seriously? Since when do you want to look nice?" You shrugged in response.

    "King's orders. He wants everyone looking nice for this."

    "He doesn't have you all wear dresses to our normal banquets."

    "Well sire, this isn't a normal banquet and I won't be running food to you today or serving you wine, so proper attire is required."

    "I thought I said to knock it off with the fancy talk, and you'll absolutely still be my servant." He was like an annoying dog; All he did was bark orders and never shut up.

    "And I thought I told you I value my life," You said, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. He swatted your hand away in annoyance.

    "Don't touch me. Now go get changed so we can get this over with."

    You smirked. "You do realize this is a four day event, right?"

    "It's a WHAT?" He growled, clenching his fists at his sides.

    "Yeah," you giggled, lifting your hand to count the events on your fingers. "Tonight is the meet and greet 'keeping up appearances' bull shit dance, tomorrow is the feast, the next day is where they fight for your honor and the final day is where you announce your mate."

    "I feel like a damn circus performer! Who the hell came up with this?" He growled.

    "Your ancestors," You replied casually, rolling your eyes.

    "Fuck them," he spat. "And you better not be all over Kakarot again tonight. I shouldn't have to call for you to get your attention."

    "He's my friend, and you hardly let me see him enough as is with your constant complaining."

    "You don't need friends."

    "I'm not a stone hearted loner like you." You replied with a smirk. You grabbed your dress from its folded spot on the coffee table and stood at attention, waiting for the prince to release you.

    "Why are you looking at me like that," he asked, once again fidgeting with his cufflinks and mumbling under his breath about them.

    You cleared your throat and held out the folded pile of fabric in your hands. Servants weren't allowed to ask to go somewhere, you had to be sent. While usually he couldn't care less about what you did, you wanted to get as much practice in as you could before the ball to prevent a slip up.

    Vegeta's face flushed when he realized you were asking to leave and go change. "You damned woman, go already! Hell, just use my bathroom, it'll be faster."

    "Thank you my prince," You said, bowing and giving him a wink. His face flushed more.

    "For the final time, don't call me that!" He yelled as you laughed and ran through the bathroom door, locking it behind you with a click.

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Updating this like a million years later but hey! If you like what you’ve read here (and this is only the starting point), then I have good news for you! The princess saga is 100% completed and ready for you to read here on ao3 and here on wattpad. Thanks so much for the support, and I hope you like what comes next!!! :)

[the-stasis-pod]

Ramblings, #1

Three terabytes... three fucking terabytes... that's how much storage I need - approximately - for part of my project.

OK, for the record, let's give a bit of context here.

For the past year, I've been working on a set of over 8,600 profile pictures.

So far, I have almost 80 source assets, plus almost 600 base assets

At 8192x8192px resolution, each asset image is approx. 257MB.

So far, the source and base assets are complete; next, I have to manage the filesystem and calculate how much space I will need for the intermediate assets and the final product.

It's entirely possible I may need more than 3TB of storage; I certainly need more than 2TB!

I have yet to run calculations, but I might need 12TB total.

Why do I have such an expensive hobby?!

Anyway, all the pictures will follow the same basic idea of a circular insignia inspired by the logo for the old Marathon video games (currently available free on Steam, by the way, but that's neither here nor there) with a Forerunner Promethean glyph like the ones from Halo (specifically, the Reclaimer Saga comprising Halo 4 and Halo 5: Guardians). 38 glyphs, 38 roundels, 6 basic designs.

Hoo boy.

Wish me luck.

[latabernadevalkstari]

20 años de Pokémon Emerald

Parece mentira que hayan transcurrido 2 décadas de Pokémon Emerald, lanzado oficialmente el 16 de septiembre del 2004 en Japon. Le tengo un aprecio increíble a este juego, no solamente por ser un versión más que complementaria, más bien definitiva de la aventura que nos propone Hoenn, si no también por ser el título RPG al cual le he dedicado más horas, un total de 368 horas si mal no recuerdo.

Este post no pretende ser un panfleto descriptivo de las características del título, realmente solo quiero expresar un poco lo que significa para mí 20 años de existencia de este juego.

Emerald es mi titulo preferido de la Saga, llegó a mi en una época bastante particular, ya en la secundaria, entre Panda, Panic at the Disco y la adolescencia. Fue mi primer contacto directo a los RPG y sin duda fue la chispa que encendió mi gusto por dicho género y a pesar de que con el tiempo, entendi que Emerald es un juego simple en mecánicas e historia, mi gusto por el no es debido a eso, es el resultado de como me hacia sentir jugarlo.

Si hoy día volver a jugar Emerald me hace sentir nostálgico, en su momento me llegue a sentir aventurero. Descubriendo cada secreto o curiosidad de Hoenn, cada PKMN, que como nota personal, los diseño de esa generación me parecen geniales en todo sentido, entendiendo que recolectar las 8 medallas no era nada comparado con el reto del Battle Frontier y que decir del Lore de losa tres legendarios insignias de l generación.

Pokemon Emerald cumple 20 años y no ha envejecido nada mal, sigue siendo disfrutable, entretenido y ameno de jugar, por eso al menos una vez al año inicio una partida, porque quizas es como dicen: "Siempre volvemos a donde fuimos felices"

[toribookworm22]

Find The Word (×2)

Thank you @the-stray-storyteller & @oh-no-another-idea

No pressure tagging: @sam-glade @writeintrees @illyriashade56 @writernopal & leaving my open tag!

Your words are: SUBDUE, FATE, TOLD, & BELIEVE.

My words were: reminiscence, bloodshed, pout, twisted, and canines & lavender, lift, love, and late. Excerpt origin labelled under each piece. Hidden under the cut.

Reminiscence Reminiscent

<low buzzing starts up>

<a beep reminiscent of an old computer chimes>

TECH Please wait. Powering up.

<buzzing intensifies>

<silence then three sharp clicks>

TECH Welcome to Supplemental Education, program courtesy of StormWatcher Prep. Please insert credentials.

- StormWatcher Podcast Episode

Bloodshed Blood

Someone pulled me up and I didn’t even have the strength to fight Edward’s embrace. He was shaking and there was blood staining his jumpsuit, but he was warm and strong and even though I didn’t take it, I could feel the electricity buzzing under his skin like a lullaby.

- Animatronic Saga

Pout(s)

"Nooo," I groan. "Five more minutes."

"That's what you said last time. And then we were an hour late and I think Lu almost disowned us." He rolls over, forcing me to pull away but not tossing my arm off yet. "She might not let me be her maid of honor if we keep this up," he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip for emphasis.

I lean in to kiss it. "Screw Lu. You can be my maid of honor."

- Animatronic Saga Short Story

Twisted

But neither my twin nor my baby brother could see me, because they no longer had seeing eyes. Instead, orbs of pure blackness filled their eye sockets and if they saw anything at all, it was surely as vile and twisted as what I saw.

I always woke up as their cold hands latched onto my arms.

- Animatronic Saga Short Story

Canines

“It’ll be a good day when Insignia’s gone from this world and the next forever.”

Her smile was wide enough to show her canines, bared and sparkling and ready for their prey. “On that, we can agree.”

- Animatronic Saga

Lavender

What should’ve been a laugh echoed from inside the cell and we both turned to look at the faded lavender of a woman leaning deliriously on the glass. “I should’ve known.”

- Animatronic Saga

Lift(ing)

“Don’t worry. These rooms have seen worse.”

While I don’t like the sound of that, nor the nonchalance with which he says it, I’m stopped from arguing by his hands gripping at my hips and lifting me off the counter. “Whoa!”

He chuckles and sets me onto my one good leg. “Don’t get pissy. Not everyone can be average height, now can we?”

- Secondary Series

Love

No one tells you that love is beautiful but that is what makes it so dangerous. No one tells you that love is thorned and daggered. No one tells you that love destroys you.

- Animatronic Saga

Late

“You never asked why I was late.”

And I didn’t. I won’t.

Because I don’t want to know.

“Can’t be late if there’s not a plan,” I say instead, my voice biting when I don’t mean it.

- Secondary Series

[vibrantbirdy]

Pursuit: A Ben Solo Star Wars Story - Chapter 8

Title: Pursuit Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi, Action/Adventure, Romance Setting: Post The Rise of Skywalker (Ben Solo lives!) Chapter: 8/? Main Character: Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) Warnings: Moderate combat violence; adventure peril; minor angst; antagonist has a line which could be understood as a very brief, veiled reference to potential sexual threat (there is never any sexual violence in my writing) Main Pairings: Ben Solo x OC Pinned Post: Please find all completed chapters of Pursuit here. Author's Note: Lots of lightsaber content and special guests in this chapter! :) Extra Notes: Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first.

Summary: Three years after surviving events on the planet Exegol, Ben Solo is carving out a solitary life for himself in the New Republic against the backdrop of reconstruction. His pursuance of quiet redemption is interrupted when a new threat to the Galaxy emerges from an old and terrifying enemy. With the help of new friends and unlikely allies, Ben must set out into Wild Space to defeat the darkness rising and put his own demons to rest once and for all.

Read: Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6 (18+); Chapter 7

Chapter Eight (Word Count: 3775)

Ada had expected the Star Destroyer to be swarming with Stormtroopers. And it was. But not in the way she'd thought. She and Ben had stepped cautiously out of their dilapidated, stolen TIE fighter with little other option, her with blaster in hand, he with the emitter of his lightsaber in his. But instead of a flurry of hostile activity, they had been met by a wall of still, silent Troopers stretching as far back into the Destroyer's cavernous hanger as they could see. There were hundreds of them.

At the very front of the endless rows of immobile figures in white armour stood a line of ten or so Troopers, clad in uniforms Ada had never seen before. They were bedecked in menacing black armour with red visors and shoulder guards, and bore an insignia unfamiliar to Ada. It was a black circle with a vertical line through it and two horizontal red stripes superimposed on top.

The silence in the hanger was eerie, but it was soon broken by the sound of strident footsteps growing ever closer. Three figures stalked through the motionless sea of Troopers and leading at the front, was the man from all Tallah's nightmares. And Ada's own.

Endo Seris, the Grand Inquisitor. He was even taller than she remembered, black cloak billowing out behind him as he took long, assured strides, covering the significant distance down the huge hanger towards them as if it were a trifling stroll. Walking two paces behind either side of him and swathed in similarly dark robes, were a man and a woman.

The woman was tall with an angular face, her short black hair shaven at the sides of her head, feline features twisted into an apparently permanent expression of barely constrained rage. The other man was short, much shorter than both Seris and the woman, but he was heavy-set, muscular, and broad, almost impossibly so.

All three Inquisitors carried in their gloved hands, a lightsaber emitter with the same strange, circular grip Ada had seen Seris wielding that night back home on Bakura. As they emerged from the mass of sentinel Stormtroopers, each ignited their double-bladed weapon, creating a surreal red glow of advancing, thrumming energy.

Ada, chilled to the bone by the sight, suddenly felt the reassuring warmth that she'd grown to associate with Ben being near. He was standing very close to her, his large, comforting presence towering over her, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and he met her gaze, a tinge of remorse in his open, beautiful face.

She knew he felt guilty for the situation they found themselves in and she wished she had the time to explain to him that she wouldn't have done anything differently. There were so many things she wanted to say to him.

“Ben,” as all she found she could say, and it came out so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“I know.”

He gave her that crooked smirk she'd grown to love and a wink so subtle that only she was able to see it. As he stepped out towards the waiting Inquisitors, his lightsaber burst into life. He twirled the weapon once, twice in his hand before raising it and widening his stance ready for battle.

The was a tense moment when each warrior remained perfectly immobile, four coiled springs of adrenaline waiting to explode into deadly action.

Seris moved first and Ben to meet him without hesitation. The two tall men collided in a dazzling flash of blue and red, just as Tallah had described to Ada from her dream. The stocky male Inquisitor followed soon after, forcing Ben to break away and give ground to Seris so that he could block the powerful incoming strike.

The woman Inquisitor who had been circling the fight like a predator waiting to pounce finally moved in and when she did so, it was she who worried Ada the most. She was a quick and acrobatic fighter who struck with seemingly unnatural precision. Ben moved up a gear and had to adapt when she entered the fray, at times needing to substitute the powerful, long saber swings natural to his own fighting style for quick, sharp fencing jabs and parries in their place.

Ada had seen Ben in battle before on Jaturra, but this was something entirely different. Facing three opponents with skill that rivalled his own, he fought with an almost unhinged ferocity. The nature of the Inquisitors' double bladed sabers, meant Ben had to parry and block furiously and with astonishing quickness. More than once, Ada saw him forced to leap over a scorching blade. His face was set in a fierce grimace and his wild eyes blazed with an intensity that was frightening.

As she watched, Ada suddenly understood, really understood, that the skirmish on Jaturra had been sport for Ben. This was survival.

Ada had raised her weapon when the Seris had first charged at Ben. Now it seemed impotent and useless in her hand. She had no idea what she planned to do with it. The combatants were moving so fast that, despite her skill, there was nothing she could conceivably do without risk of hitting Ben in the process. Besides, if she started firing off shots, who knew what the battalion of Stormtroopers would do. The cold realisation that she couldn't interfere settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She lowered her blaster.

As her mind passed over the multitude of Troopers, Ada realised something else. This was all for show. At any moment, Seris could simply order his Inquisitors to disengage and for the masses to take aim and win the fight that way. And even if Ben did manage to defeat three Inquisitors, what then? Could they take on hundreds of Stormtroopers with a lightsaber and a single blaster with no way off the damn ship? This was a rigged game.

In the midst of parrying an overhead strike from Seris, Ben found himself facing a head-on assault from the heavy-set Inquisitor. Out of options, he stuck out his free hand and Ada staggered slightly as the energy of his Force blast reverberated through the floor. Seris disengaged, losing his footing slightly, and Ada saw the woman Inquisitor stumble out of the corner of her eye, interrupted in her advance.

But it was the assailing stocky Inquisitor who bore the brunt of Ben's power, and he went flying backwards into the air, crashing violently through the stationary Stormtroopers like game pieces on a Dejarik board.

Blinded by rage, the Inquisitor staggered to his feet pushing hapless Troopers off him and out of his way as he barrelled back towards Ben with surprising speed, dual bladed saber lightsaber held aloft.

It was a mistake. His comrades knew it and they intuitively stepped out of the fray to avoid the hulking man's wild charge. As he reached Ben, the taller man sidestepped the uncoordinated assault easily, swooping impossibly low under the Inquisitor's raised arm. In one swift movement Ben reversed the grip on his saber with a swing of the hilt in his hand and plunged it, almost casually, straight through the man's back as he blundered past his target.

Ada watched as the life left the man's eyes, his face, at first etched with an expression of pure shock, slowly relaxing. It was a brutal thing to witness, and even though she knew Ben had no choice, the ease with which he had dispatched the man sent a chill up her spine.

Ben did not do the Inquisitor the discourtesy of dragging the blade back through his lifeless body. Instead he disengaged the blade, then reignited it when it was free of its quarry. The huge man's body dropped heavily to the floor and a blanket of heavy silence descended upon the hanger.

Then, to Ada's amazement, Seris laughed. He actually laughed. An exuberant bark which echoed through the hanger like a crack of thunder. His eyes were alight with what Ada could only recognise as exhilaration. But there was no mirth in the female Inquisitor's face. It was contorted in a mask of raw hatred, eyes flicking wildly between Ben and her fallen comrade.

The two remaining Inquisitors circled Ben. He twirled the hilt of his saber in challenge, and Ada thought she actually saw him snarl like and animal. It was not long before the woman Inquisitor launched herself wildly at him. Fuelled by rage, she unleashed a flurry of swift, unpredictable blows.

Unlike her dead counterpart, the woman's anger made her stronger and quicker and she advanced like a force of nature. Ben moved backwards at speed, fending off her furious attacks while also having to deflect and avoid powerful strikes from Seris. His window of opportunity to land offensive blows seemed to be narrowing. This was unsustainable, even for him.

Suddenly, the woman landed a strike, red blade skimming Ben's flank and leaving a searing slash in his side just above his right hip bone. A cry stuck in his throat as, unbalanced, he grabbed at his wound and lost his footing momentarily. He regained his stance in seconds but it was already too late. The woman's red blade was glowing hot underneath his chin, a satisfied sneer sitting triumphant on her beautiful, terrifying face.

“Yield,” she hissed.

Ben hesitated. Ada studied his face as he assessed the situation. She recognised that look. He was weighing up his options, desperate to avoid the disaster of surrender. But with the heat of the saber at his throat and Seris advancing with his own weapon outstretched, Ben finally relented and deactivated his own lightsaber. The blue blade disappeared with a hiss and the emitter dropped from his hand and onto the polished floor with a clatter that rang through the hanger like a death knell.

The woman kept her saber trained on him as Seris snapped his fingers. A pair of Troopers in the black uniforms, approached either side of Ben, taking an arm each and restraining him roughly. Ada saw him wince and his torso fold slightly as the Trooper on his right jostled his new wound.

Once Ben was secured, the Grand Inquisitor lowered his own weapon and spoke.

“Kylo Ren.” ***************************************************

Ben felt Ada's shock tear through the Force like a bolt of lightning. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her gaze flick uncertainly towards him, her eyes shimmering with hurt and betrayal. His heart plummeted.

“I was there on Exegol, you know,” Seris said, his tone level but with a shard of ice through it, “amid the glory of the Sith Eternal. I saw it happen. I saw you help that girl murder our true Emperor.”

Seris chuckled humourlessly.

“Snoke and Palpatine. It's not often a man gets away with regicide twice in his life, let alone twice in as many years.”

“Traitor,” the female Inquisitor hissed, and she spat towards Ben's feet.

Ben sensed some of Ada's resolve return at Seris' words, but the undercurrent of her confusion and anger simmered a constant oscillation in the Force. It tore at his conscience. Guilt and shame ripped through him, an anguish worse than the pain in his wounded side.

“So this is Vader's heir,” Seris scoffed, eyes scanning Ben up and down as if searching for a glimpse of the mighty Sith warrior.

“The apple appears to have fallen so very far from the tree. Look at you. The very image of defeat.”

“We'll see,” Ben seethed and he heard the ghost of Kylo Ren as he spoke.

The Purge Troopers - for although Ben had only heard of them in stories of the old Inquisitorious Order, he was convinced this was what they were - tightened their grip on him.

Seris only rolled his eyes and the Grand Inquisitor turned his attention to Ada.

“And who is this?”

He opened his hand and Ada's blaster was torn from her. He threw it aside carelessly and then used the Force to drag her towards him across the floor. She stumbled as she fought against the motion, attempting bravely but fruitlessly to resist.

“If you touch her, I'll kill you,” Ben spat, struggling vehemently against the Purge Troopers.

It was Ren's voice, he realised, so strained it was almost a whisper and laced with deadly venom.

Ben didn't care. He meant it. Seris ignored the threat completely.

“Ah!” Seris exclaimed with an odd joviality when Ada was mere inches from his face, hovering and paralysed, held in an invisible energy field.

Recognition dawned in his expression and he chuckled as if at a joke during a dinner party. He turned to the woman Inquisitor almost conversationally.

“This is the woman who shot me in the back on Bakura, Second Sister.”

“Brave little thing, Grand Inquisitor,” Second Sister crooned in a strange, high pitched drawl.

“Indeed,” Seris agreed and trained his dead eyed gaze back to Ada, “Your girl would make a very a good student. Where is she now?”

Ada held her silence and Seris appraised her in a way Ben hated. He could feel the disgust and fear coursing within her, but that ever constant spark of fiery determination he'd come to love about her held steady. She didn't flinch. She kept her chin tilted upwards in defiance, holding Seris's gaze, her green eyes flaring like kyber as if she intended to burn her way through the Inquisitor's dead, grey orbs.

“No matter,” Seris reached out and ran a gloved finger slowly down Ada's cheek, allowing his fingers to tangle in a strand of her red hair, “Maybe later we can get better acquainted and we'll discuss it then, hmm?”

Rage and fear ascending, Ben reached deep into the Force, delving into all the dark places he'd avoided for so long. But Seris must have felt the rising threat because before Ben could act, the Grand Inquisitor nodded curtly towards the Purge Troopers restraining him.

One Trooper unleashed a brutal punch to Ben's wounded side and he dropped to one knee with a grunt, his connection to the Force severing in an instant as agony tore through his body, blossoming outwards from the tender point of impact.

Then, the butt of a blaster whipped across his face. He felt his lip split, his mouth suddenly filled with the warm taste of metal. Before the pain could register, a heavy blow landed to the back of his neck and the world blinked out into darkness.

***********************************************

Two men sat cross-legged on the floor of a bright, liminal space that was seemingly endless. Their forms shimmered with a strange blue light. One was a young man in his early twenties, the other a little older, perhaps nearing forty.

They were examining another man with raven hair who lay in an unconscious heap on the ground before them.

“I think he's taller than you,” quipped the older man conversationally, head cocked to one side.

His voice was refined and confident, full of good humour, and his pronunciation clipped and proper.

“Oh really?” Came the reply, full of convivial mock offence.

“Yes. And the beard is rather fetching too,” the older man twirled his own sandy blonde moustache as he said this, and turned to his young companion with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“You never could grow a proper one and not for lack of trying as I seem to recall.”

The younger man let out a loud and raucous burst of deep laughter which resonated throughout the barrier-less space.

Then, he was suddenly serious and he looked down at his hands as if searching for the right words to say next. Uncertainty lined his handsome young face, piercing blue eyes betraying a multitude of worries.

“Obi-wan, I don't know what to say to him. I'm not sure I'm the best one to give him this speech. His obsession with Vader...it ruined him. I ruined him.”

“He has come so far on his journey since then, old friend. I can't foresee his turning back now. He's teetering on the edge of losing his way but he just needs a little push back onto the right track. That's all.”

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi turned to face the young man and continued.

“Anakin. He needs hope my old friend. You are the only one who could possibly understand what he has been through.”

Kenobi laid a comforting hand on his old apprentice's shoulder.

“Your grandson needs you.”

**************************************************** “Wake up, Ben,” a deep, youthful voice said, interrupting perhaps the soundest sleep Ben had experienced in years.

“I am up,” he mumbled into the ground, feeling like a teenager again.

When he finally did lift his head and open his eyes, he saw that he was in a boundless white space. It was almost blindingly bright. He realised the pain in his side was gone. Was he dead?

Ben pushed himself up to a sitting position and noticed a tall man pacing casually in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. He was younger than Ben, perhaps in his early twenties. An unruly mop of golden hair framed his handsome face and a faint scar, uncannily familiar to the one Rey had given Ben on Starkiller Base tracked vertically downward over his right eye from his brow to his cheek. The man wore the robes of a Jedi and a lightsaber was clipped to his belt.

“Who are you?”

“You know me,” the man said with a cocky albeit warm smile, coming to a stop directly in front of Ben.

“No,” Ben argued, but he was intrigued.

There was something familiar about him, somewhere in the fringes of Ben's mind.

Ben started to rise but realised he was exhausted. Determining that this man didn't appear to pose any threat, he dropped back down to the ground where he sat, long legs crossed like a child.

The young man observed him sadly and sighed.

“Maybe you just don't recognise me.”

Without warning, a dark shroud descended upon them and the stranger disappeared into the blackness. In his place, another figure emerged, at first almost indistinguishable from the shadows. Then, the huge, hulking spectre was suddenly illuminated in the crimson red glow of a lightsaber.

Its body was entombed in heavy black armour, machinery blinking red and green on its chest, sustaining an artificial life force. The head was encased in a soulless obsidian helm, the mockery of a face. The sound of steady, mechanical breathing that was both relentless and eerie filled the otherwise silent space.

Darth Vader.

Ben's hands scrabbled around his waist in a futile attempt to discover his lightsaber at his belt. It wasn't there. Instead, he scrambled backwards in the dark. It was one of the few times in his life he'd ever felt true, unfettered fear. The physical reaction was overwhelming. Every hair on his body was standing on end as his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

Faced with the reality of Vader, Ben suddenly realised how insignificant Kylo Ren's mere dalliance with the Dark Side seemed in comparison to the power, the rage, the torment of this creature. This was a vision of Vader in his prime and he exuded the very essence of Darkness.

“Grandfather.”

As soon Ben spoke the word, the darkness surrounding them dissipated, and the young man whom he now knew must be his mother's father, Anakin Skywalker, returned in a flash of white light.

Skywalker looked weary, as if the the effort of sustaining such a terrible visage had sapped him of his youthful vitality. He sat down opposite Ben and fixed him with a piercing stare.

“Ben,” Skywalker said, his voice thick with emotion, “You managed what I never could. You saved yourself before it was too late.”

“You're wrong,” Ben snapped angrily, “It was already too late. And I didn't save me. Rey did. If she hadn't stopped me, I would've burned my way through this whole Galaxy.”

The words poured from him as if he was expelling his very soul like water from dam.

“You don't know...the things I did to be...” he continued, his hands widened in a searching gesture “...to live up to your legacy, to prove I could be a new Vader.”

“But you've proven something else," Skywalker retorted, "That there is a path back to the Light for those who have fallen into the Darkness. That there is hope, Ben. Real hope. You have a second chance at life. You don't know how close you are to realising it.”

“What do I need to do?” Ben asked, the reluctant vestiges of hope suddenly stirring somewhere deep within him.

“Trust in the Force. Trust in your friends. You do have them.”

Anakin Skywalker stood up and extended a gloved hand. Ben took it and the two men stood facing each other as equals for the first time.

“Huh,” Skywalker mused as he studied his grandson intently, “That's annoying. Obi-Wan was right.”

Ben frowned in confusion and then realised Skywalker was talking about his namesake. Ben Kenobi, the man his parents had named him in honour of.

“What about?”

“You are taller than me.”

Anakin Skywalker grinned widely and, taking his grandson's face in his hands, rested his forehead against Ben's own.

“Now. Wake. The. Kriff. Up.”

************************************************* Ben came to with a sharp gasp and immediately wished that he'd stayed out cold.

The pain in his wounded side was excruciating, exacerbated by the fact that his arms were stretched above his head, a hand bound to either corner of a metal pole that was suspended from the ceiling. His feet just barely grazed the black polished floor.

Ben risked a glance down at his injury. He'd been stripped to the waist and could see that the lightsaber, as expected, had cauterized the wound on impact. It looked like someone had clumsily sealed it with bacta spray anyway.

He was standing on a raised, stepped platform in the middle of a dark, circular room. A handful of silent Stormtroopers stood sentinel around him. There was no sign of the Purge Troopers, nor Seris or the Second Sister.

Ada. He closed his eyes and tried to reach through the Force to find her. She seemed close. A cellblock nearby maybe? Wherever she was, he'd failed her miserably. He allowed the outline of her emotions wash over him. She was frightened, angry, confused, but most of all, she was determined to get out of this place. Ben allowed himself to breath a small sigh of relief - she was unharmed.

Then, he did the only thing he could do. He waited.

[karaokulta]

🚀🎮 ¡Desplegando el arsenal en Marketing y Branding en el Gaming! 🎮🚀 En el campo de batalla digital donde todos somos tan gamers como marketers, la industria del videojuego se pinta de estrategias tan innovadoras... ¡que podrían competir en habilidad con el más legendario de los speedrunners! 🎨 *Branding: Más que un logo, una aventura épica.* Imagínate el branding como ese compañero de quest infalible: - Crea universos donde cada detalle cuenta. ¿Qué sería de Mario sin su icónico bigote o Link sin su gorro verde? - Es la narrativa que nos invita a vivir y *sentir* la experiencia, no solo a jugarla. ¿Acaso no sentimos que somos parte de la Rebelión cada vez que vemos el emblema de Star Wars? 📊 *Marketing: La estrategia detrás de la conquista.* Aquí es donde se planifica la invasión... digo, la difusión: - Conoce tu audiencia como a tu clan gaming. ¿En qué mundo virtual pasan sus noches en vela? Analiza su lenguaje, sus hábitos, *conéctate.* - Incentiva la participación de la comunidad. Hoy, los jugadores no solo consumen; crean, opinan, *influyen*. 👥 *Construye Comunidades, No Solo Clientes.* - Cada jugador quiere sentirse como el héroe en su historia personal. Personaliza la experiencia. - Haz que el botín valga la pena. Exclusividad, acceso anticipado, contenido detrás de cámaras... ¡Haz que el loot sea irresistible! 🌟 *Innovación y Tendencias: Mantén tus sensores encendidos.* - Realidad aumentada, realidad virtual, IA... Lo ‘sci-fi’ es el pan de cada día. - La estética retro está de vuelta. Lo viejo es nuevo otra vez, un ciclo más conocido que el respawn en un combate intenso. 🕹️ *Gamificación en la estrategia de Marketing: El juego dentro del juego.* - Cada logro, cada insignia virtual, fomenta una adicción saludable al progreso y la exclusividad. - Recompensas, desafíos, tablas de clasificación... Si se siente como un juego, *engancha*. Para concluir, recuerden: en este universo paralelo del marketing y branding en la industria del videojuego, el mapa del tesoro está en entender que cada jugador es el protagonista de su propia saga. ¡Y tú decides cómo quieres que sea narrada su aventura! ¿Qué estrategia estrella agregarían a esta odisea del marketing videojueguil? ¿Alguna experiencia épica que contar? Invoco a los valientes para que compartan sus comentarios, preguntas o, ¡por qué no! etiqueten a aquel camarada de batallas digitales que disfrutaría unirse a esta campaña. 🌟👾 #MarketingDigital #Branding #Videojuegos #Gaming #CommunityBuilding #Innovación #Gamificación #MarketingdeVideojuegos #EstrategiaDigital #UserExperience #UX #Creatividad

[xasha777]

In the smoldering remnants of a forest scorched by the unforgiving inferno of war, stood Lieutenant Elara Solokov. Her uniform, though tattered, bore the marks of her valor—a fusion of historical insignia with the subtle integration of advanced technology indicative of the era she fought in. A holographic emblem of Eriopis connexa—her division's symbol, representing both resilience and their role in ecological warfare—gleamed on her shoulder.

The year was 2247, and Earth was embroiled in what would be known as the Green Wars, fought over the remaining sanctuaries of natural resources. Elara was a warrior of the Terran Coalition's BioGuard, an elite force specialized in protecting these havens using biologically engineered solutions.

The Coalition's enemy, the Syndicate, had deployed a genetically modified pathogen to obliterate the forest, Earth's last reservoir of untainted genetic biodiversity. Elara’s squad was equipped with Eriopis connexa, a bioengineered beetle with extraordinary capabilities, able to detoxify and restore the flora ravaged by the pathogen.

As the enemy advanced, Elara and her team released swarms of the beetles, which worked tirelessly, dismantling the deadly microorganisms at a molecular level. But the Syndicate wasn't done. They unleashed their latest weapon: nanodrones, designed to mimic and hunt Eriopis connexa.

Elara’s eyes, enhanced by cybernetic implants, scanned the horizon. She saw past the natural light spectrum, identifying the enemy drones camouflaged against the fiery backdrop. Raising her arm, she initiated a coded pulse from her wrist device. The beetles, in response, emitted a counter-frequency that disrupted the drones' sensors, creating an electronic symphony of war.

As the battle raged, it became more than a fight for territory—it was a testament to the resilience of life and the lengths to which humanity would go to preserve it. Elara, standing firm with her beetles turning the tide of destruction into one of rebirth, knew this was only the beginning. The forest, a phoenix rising from ashes, whispered of a future where war would give way to restoration.

This was Earth's last stand, and Lieutenant Elara Solokov, alongside her tiny winged allies, was ready to defend it until the skies were clear and the ground teemed with life once more. The saga of the BioGuard was etched into history, a chronicle of those who fought not just with guns and steel, but with the very essence of life itself.

[hillslicensing-blog]

The Soul of the Ride: Unfolding the best leather biker vest Story

New Post has been published on https://ashipwreckinthesand.com/the-soul-of-the-ride-unfolding-the-best-leather-biker-vest-story/

The Soul of the Ride: Unfolding the best leather biker vest Story

Motorcyclists revere the motorbike vest for its symbolism of freedom and revolt. This clothing transcends functionality to convey personal expression and honor the road warrior. Each biker vest tells a story of free highways, fraternity, and adventure.

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The biker vest is essential due to its design and functionality. Pockets and compartments let riders carry tools and technology, keeping road essentials close at hand. Reflective components and built-in armor blend with the vest’s appearance to provide protection without sacrificing flair. Practicality and style are carefully balanced in the vest, expressing the rider’s uniqueness and motorcycling’s demands.

The rider’s need for the optimum fit emphasizes the motorbike vest. Fitting vests improve comfort and put protective elements in the best place. Riders lean into curves and extend across handlebars, so the fit must allow them. The vest can be adjusted using laces or side straps to fit all riders.

The motorbike vest market offers many options, each promising to be the rider’s next loyal partner. Quality, style, and function must match, requiring buyer intelligence and attention. The rider’s ideals, style, and motorcycle trip are reflected in this transactional but personal procedure.

Motorbike vest upkeep is as important as its mileage. Leather vests need frequent conditioning to maintain their beauty and integrity. However, textile vests need special cleaning methods to stay functional and attractive. This care keeps the vest a devoted friend across seasons and stories.

The biker vest’s story shows that it’s more than just clothes. It represents the rider’s trip, honors their experiences, and protects them from the elements. It expresses uniqueness and riding community affiliation. The rider’s dedication to their lifestyle and relationships with the road and other travelers are shown in their vest selection, customization, and care.

The biker vest represents heritage, creativity, and personal expression in motorcycling’s big tapestry. It captures the ride’s independence, friendship, and tireless quest of the horizon. Selecting a vest is more than just a matter of style or function; it’s a reflection of the rider’s soul, ready for the journey ahead.

Embracing the Road: Motorbike Vest Saga

The motorbike vest is a cultural icon and personal expression in riding gear. Riders are drawn to this simple garment because it tells a story of identity, ancestry, and the wide road. The vest is a mark of freedom and a cape of adventure for motorcyclists who live for the thrill of the journey.

Materials are crucial when picking a motorbike vest since they reveal the rider’s tastes and the stories they want to tell. Leather vests evoke the raw endurance and timeless style of road warriors of the past. Leather vests’ patina records miles, weather, and adventures, making each one distinctive.

Conversely, textile vests have changed biker attire. These versatile vests meet current riders’ needs with better ventilation, weather resistance, and ease of maintenance. Textiles combine performance and style for a varied motorcycle enthusiast audience.

Motorbike vests are more than just clothing—they express the rider’s identity. More than decorations, patches, colors, and emblems represent allegiance, personal accomplishments, and bike community spirit. Each vest part tells the rider’s story, capturing their beliefs, experiences, and friendships on and off the road.

Motorbike vests blend function and style. The vest’s practical features, like extensive pocket space, customizable fits, and safety features like fluorescent stripes and built-in armor, meet riders’ demands without sacrificing style. This vest’s practicality and style emphasize its role as a travel companion, providing comfort, protection, and a sense of belonging.

The rider’s travels and goals shape their search for the right motorbike vest. The vest must fit comfortably and allow for active riding movements. Adjustable features fit the rider’s form and optimize protection aspects. This precise fit improves riding and strengthens the rider-vest bond.

Experience quality, elegance, and functionality as you explore the market for motorbike vests. The search is an identity investigation to locate a vest that matches the rider’s spirit and enhances their two-wheeled trip. The selection process is a rite of passage for riders, marking their dedication to their passion and role in the enthusiast community.

The stories of a leather or cloth biker vest are honored by its care. Proper care keeps the vest’s look and longevity and improves the rider’s affinity with this beloved motorcycle accessory. The vest records the rider’s miles and experiences through care and use.

The motorbike vest symbolizes the rider’s journey, freedom, and road bonds in motorcycling’s grand narrative. A bit of the rider’s soul is sewn into their clothing, ready for adventures. Choosing, personalizing, and caring for the vest symbolizes motorcycle culture and riders’ tenacity.

The biker vest is more than just a functional and stylish accessory; it’s a living document of the road traveled, physically and spiritually. Riders’ vests collect stories and symbolism as they traverse geographies and life. It’s unique but speaks to all road warriors. Each customization, from rally patches to club badges, adds a fuller story of personal and collective achievement, making the vest a unique memento of the rider’s journey.

The biker vest symbolizes the motorcycling community’s resilience, freedom, and unwavering desire for adventure. The vest unifies motorcyclists across cultures to honor the love of the ride. It’s more than protective gear or a way to carry essentials—it’s a badge of honor and respect for biker ideals and traditions. New riders inherit this tradition, adding their chapters to the biker vest’s saga and ensuring its position in riders’ wardrobes and hearts.

[gnome-minion]

Its ooc but i had to draw it once the idea came to mind

[saberlightaus]

Learn More About The Mandalorian Darksaber Replica 

Within the expansive realm of the Star Wars galaxy, only a handful of artifacts carry the same allure and importance as the Dark-Saber. This singular armament, distinguished by its obsidian blade and Mandalorian lineage, embodies resilience, integrity, and heritage. With the Mandalorian saga gaining traction, enthusiasts now possess the chance to obtain their own Mandalorian Dark-Saber replica. But what advantages does ownership of such a revered artifact offer?

Mandalorian Darksaber Replicas: An Overview

At its core, owning a replica of the Mandalorian DarkSaber empowers enthusiasts to immerse themselves further into the intricate lore and values of Mandalore. These recreations meticulously capture the distinct aesthetics of the Dark-Saber, from its sleek grip to its striking black blade. Whether proudly showcased or utilized in cosplay, the Dark-Saber replica serves as a tangible tether to Mandalorian legacy.

Furthermore, the Mandalorian DarkSaber replicas signify fortitude and persistence. As a weapon brandished by Mandalorian warriors through the ages, the Dark Saber embodies the indomitable spirit of its people. Whether displayed or engaged in sparring sessions, owning a Dark-Saber replica enables fans to embody the fierce determination and warrior principles of Mandalorian culture.

Additionally, Mandalorian DarkSaber replicas offer aficionados the opportunity for self-expression and innovation. With customizable features available, enthusiasts can personalize their replica to reflect beloved characters or feature unique designs. Whether adorned with Mandalorian insignia or crafted engravings, each Dark-Saber replica becomes a distinct work of art.

Engaging with Mandalorian enthusiast groups or participating in conventions allows fans to connect with like-minded individuals and share their zeal for the Star Wars universe. Whether discussing Mandalorian lore or participating in friendly matches, the Dark-Saber replica serves as a catalyst for forming enduring connections.

Mandalorian DarkSaber replicas offer aficionados a plethora of benefits, from immersing themselves in Mandalorian lore to expressing creativity and connecting with fellow enthusiasts. With their rich history, captivating design, and cultural significance, Dark-Saber replicas stand as a testament to the enduring legacy of Star Wars. Whether proudly displayed or wielded with reverence, Mandalorian Dark-Saber replicas enable fans to embrace the strength, tradition, and ethos of Mandalore.

[bizzna-pop]

The Popcorn Renaissance: Crafting Culinary Wonders

Popcorn, a beloved snack that has accompanied many a movie night and gathering, is undergoing a magnificent transformation. This transformation transcends its traditional butter-and-salt guise, propelling it into the limelight of DIY flavor innovations. Now a pivotal attraction at gatherings, a gourmet popcorn bar invites guests to a festival of tastes, offering a palette of flavors that promise to enchant. The initiation of a popcorn enterprise is remarkably accessible and low in effort, marking a venture into an uncharted territory of taste exploration. This guide will navigate the ways in which theaters and restaurants are pioneering the popcorn renaissance, introducing inventive seasonings that forge indelible moments of gustatory delight.

A Flavor Odyssey: Beyond Conventional Boundaries

The narrative of popcorn is being rewritten, liberating it from the shackles of traditional flavorings to celebrate an era of boundless creativity. Theaters and dining establishments are at the vanguard of this flavor odyssey, presenting a spectrum of DIY popcorn flavors that appeal to an array of taste buds. From the deep, savory essences to lusciously sweet inventions and the audacity of novel concoctions, the exploration of popcorn seasoning is infinite, powered by the flames of culinary ingenuity.

Gourmet Popcorn: An Exquisite Snack Experience

In an age where uniqueness and quality are treasures, upscale theaters and chic restaurants have embraced gourmet popcorn seasonings as their insignia. These establishments are committed to transcending the ordinary snacking affair with exceptional popcorn varieties that offer an epicurean journey. The opulence of truffle-infused popcorn, the aromatic embrace of rosemary and Parmesan, or the sophisticated duet of balsamic glaze and sea salt are revolutionizing the popcorn experience, elevating it to the pinnacle of gastronomic pleasure.

Signature Blends: Flavor as a Brand Essence

Popcorn transcends its role as a snack, becoming a medium through which culinary art and brand essence are expressed. The crafting of signature popcorn flavors allows venues to distinguish themselves, offering an unparalleled experience that sets them apart in the bustling marketplace. Whether through exclusive spice mixes, bespoke caramel blends, or curated cheese selections, these unique popcorn flavors are etched into the memory of patrons, becoming synonymous with the establishment’s identity.

Customizable Popcorn Experiences: A Symphony of Flavors

The introduction of interactive DIY popcorn bars is a groundbreaking concept that personalizes the snacking saga. These stations empower patrons to tailor their popcorn with a wide array of toppings and flavors, from the exotic to the sweet and the savory. This customizability not only deeply engages customers but also transforms popcorn into a tailored, sensory journey.

Dessert Popcorn: Confections Transformed

Popcorn is boldly venturing into the realm of confection, offering dessert-inspired variants that captivate the sweet-hearted. Theaters and restaurants are now serving popcorn that mirrors beloved desserts, providing a delectable alternative for those craving sweetness. From the allure of caramel apple to the decadence of chocolate-covered strawberry and the comfort of cinnamon roll-flavored popcorn, these creations satisfy the sweet tooth in an unforgettable manner.

Uncharted Flavor Pairings: A Culinary Adventure

The essence of modern popcorn seasoning lies in the courage to pair the unexpected, crafting flavor combinations that thrill and surprise. The fusion of chili lime with coconut, the sweet whispers of truffle with honey, or the boldness of sriracha with maple, invite the palate on an adventurous journey, marking each bite with discovery.

Global Inspirations: A World of Flavors

In an ode to global diversity, theaters and restaurants are weaving international flavors into their popcorn creations. These worldly inspirations, from the aromatic to the regional and the whimsical, enrich the popcorn selection with depth and flair, inviting a celebration of global cuisine in every kernel.

Wellness-Inspired Options: Savoring Health

Catering to the growing preference for health-conscious choices, select venues are innovating with popcorn seasonings that combine pleasure with wellness. Choices enhanced with nutritional yeast, turmeric, and herbal infusions offer a healthful twist on the classic snack, proving that popcorn can be both a delight to the senses and a boon to well-being.

Conclusion

The DIY popcorn flavor revolution, embraced by theaters and restaurants, is offering patrons a unique and unparalleled snacking adventure. From gourmet creations to global inspirations, the extensive variety of popcorn flavors reflects the evolving palates and preferences of today’s gastronomes. Bizznapop, at the forefront of the popcorn revolution, provides a comprehensive selection of popcorn mixes, equipment, and raw materials across South India, ready to elevate your next cinema or dining experience into a culinary exploration. Dive into the popcorn renaissance with us, and discover a world where flavor knows no bounds.

[yogeshblogs]

Qutub Minar: Unveiling the Majesty of Delhi's Timeless Icon

The panoramic expanse of Delhi, the capital city of India, is interspersed with architectural marvels that epitomize its rich historical tapestry. Among these landmarks, Qutub Minar stands tall as an iconic monument that embodies the grandeur, resilience, and cultural synthesis that define the heritage of Delhi. This UNESCO World Heritage Site, steeped in centuries of history and architectural magnificence, beckons travelers and enthusiasts of art and culture to embark on a captivating voyage through time. In this essay, we embark on an enlightening odyssey to unravel the enigmatic allure and profound aegis of Qutub Minar, delving into its historical significance, architectural nuances, and the enduring legacy that endears it to connoisseurs of heritage and heritage alike.

A Chronicle of History: Unveiling the Temporal Reverence

Qutub Minar, an exemplar of Indo-Islamic architecture, stands as a resplendent testament to the triumphs, tribulations, and transitions that have shaped the historical trajectory of Delhi. Its origins, rooted in the 12th century during the reign of the Delhi Sultanate, resonate with the resonant echoes of dynastic legacies, cultural confluences, and the resplendence of Mughal craftsmanship. The monument, originally conceptualized as a commemorative insignia of Islamic victory and cultural assimilation, has evolved over the centuries to embody the transformative epochs of Delhi's history, mirroring the ascendancy of empires and the transitions of architectural paradigms. Qutub Minar, with its venerable bears, soaring height, and ornate embellishments, serves as a veritable epitome of the city's historical continuum, entwining the strands of bygone eras into a resplendent showcase of temporal reverence.

Architectural Splendor: A Monolith of Artistry and Formidable Grandeur

The architectural edifice of Qutub Minar stands as a towering marvel of artistry, engineering finesse, and cultural amalgamation that captivates visitors with its resplendent form and intricate detailing. The monument, constructed predominantly of red sandstone intermingled with marble, reflects the fusion of Persian, Indian, and Islamic architectural influences, yielding a seamless synthesis of diverse artistic traditions. The resplendent facade of Qutub Minar, adorned with intricate floral motifs, calligraphic inscriptions, and geometric patterns, bears testimony to the consummate craftsmanship and attention to detail that endow the monument with an aura of timeless magnificence. The minar, soaring to a height of approximately 73 meters, is sheathed in a spiral staircase with 379 steps, enabling visitors to ascend its hallowed ramparts and partake in the panoramic vistas that stretch across the historical landscape of Delhi.

The complex of Qutub Minar, embellished with verdant gardens, iconic edifices such as the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, the Alai Darwaza, and the Iron Pillar of Delhi, exemplifies the valor of Mughal architecture, enshrining within its confines a quintessential ensemble that narrates the saga of confluence, conquest, and cultural transcendence. The architectural melange encompasses ornate calligraphy, filigree carvings, and decorative elements that embody the artistic paradigms of the Mughal epoch, transmuting the complex into an immersive tapestry of aesthetic, spiritual, and historical eloquence.

Historical Significance: An Odyssey Through Dynastic Legacies

The historical significance of Qutub Minar resounds with the chime of dynastic legacies, architectural ascendancy, and the transformative vicissitudes that have defined the course of Delhi's history. Commissioned by Qutb-ud-Din Aibak, the founder of the Delhi Sultanate and the first Islamic ruler of Delhi, the construction of the minar was emblematic of his triumph over the Hindu Rajput dynasty, signifying the advent of Islamic dominion in Northern India. The subsequent expansions and embellishments carried out by subsequent rulers, such as Iltutmish and Firoz Shah Tughlaq, served to embellish the complex with architectural opulence and cultural resonance, imprinting upon it the imprimatur of successive dynastic legacies. As such, Qutub Minar stands not merely as a monumental colossus but as a living testament to the temporal continuum of Delhi's dynastic transitions, architectural finesse, and cultural confluences that have shaped its identity.

Cultural Extrapolation: A Symbol of Syncretism and Artistic Eminence

Qutub Minar, beyond its architectural grandeur and historical significance, serves as an emblem of cultural syncretism, artistic eminence, and spiritual symbolism that permeates the collective ethos of Delhi. The intricate calligraphy adorning the monument enunciates passages from the Quran, infusing the edifice with profundity of religious and intellectual reverence. Its proximity to the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, an erstwhile Hindu temple repurposed into a grand mosque, imparts a poignant testimony to the synthesis of diverse religious motifs and architectural heritages, yielding an edifice that resonates with the harmonic convergence of cultural diversity and spiritual sagacity. The towering edifice of Qutub Minar, with its inherent connotation as a symbol of Islamic victory, transmutes into an emblem of cultural assimilation, artistic refinement, and the enduring legacy of syncretic harmonies that permeate the historical milieu of Delhi.

Contemporary Reverberations: A Conduit of Artistic Inspiration and Historical Enrichment

Qutub Minar, imbued with centuries of historical resonance and architectural grandeur, serves as a perennial source of artistic inspiration, historical enrichment, and contemplative introspection for visitors and scholars alike. The monument's enduring presence transcends its historical provenance, resonating with contemporary artists, architects, and historians as an exemplar of architectural finesse, cultural resonance, and the timeless allure of Delhi's historical heritage. Visitors, drawn to the monument from across the globe, are enraptured by the palpable sense of antiquity, cultural confluence, and architectural opulence woven into the fabric of Qutub Minar, wherein each hallowed edifice becomes a testament to the enduring legacy of Delhi's historical continuum.

Preservation and Recognition: Safeguarding a Monumental Legacy

The conservation and safeguarding of Qutub Minar stand as imperatives that seek to uphold its monumental legacy, historical resonance, and architectural splendor for posterity. Various initiatives undertaken by governmental and non-governmental organizations have endeavored to preserve the structural integrity, aesthetic opulence, and historical significance of the Qutub Minar complex, thereby fostering a continuum of cultural stewardship and heritage valorization. The monument's inscription as a UNESCO World Heritage Site underscores its global significance, impelling the collective efforts of conservationists, historians, and stakeholders to ensure the perpetual safeguarding of its illustrious heritage.

Epilogue: Embracing the Temporal Tapestry of Qutub Minar

In summation, Qutub Minar ensconces within its towering embrace the multitudinous facets of historical reverberation, architectural grandeur, cultural syncretism, and the timeless allure that endears it to the echelons of timeless architectural marvels. From its inception as a symbol of Islamic ascendancy to its contemporary resonance as a beacon of historical enrichment and cultural atemporality, Qutub Minar embodies the veritable essence of Delhi's historical tapestry. The monument's architectural finesse, temporal resonance, and cultural amalgamation emanate a transcendent allure, inviting travelers, scholars, and enthusiasts on an enlightening odyssey that unravels the enigmatic vistas of bygone epochs and artistic refinement. Qutub Minar, with its towering edifice, intricate detailing, and historical provenance, stands as a testament to the enduring majesty of Delhi's architectural heritage, enfolding within its precincts the resplendent echoes of temporal splendor and cultural convergence.   If you are live in jodhpur and you want to visit Delhi then, let me recommend you the best taxi service in jodhpur named as jodhpur cab service. Jodhpur Cab Service provides there customer best services by their chauffeur.

[omenindia]

Gamer Identity with OMEN: Flaunting Your Fandom in Style

In the vast expanse of the gaming cosmos, an emerging star shines brilliantly: Gaming Merchandise. It's not merely about virtual victories and in-game accolades; it's about brandishing your gaming fervor for the world to see. As gaming cements its stature in global culture, OMEN delves deep into the ascent of gaming-centric merchandise and the vibrant mosaic of pride it crafts for aficionados globally.

Emblems of Allegiance: Flaunting Your Gaming Chronicles

From the emblematic insignias of renowned game universes to the indelible one- liners of digital protagonists, gaming merchandise empowers enthusiasts to transpose their virtual conquests into tangible reality. Be it tees, jackets, beanies, or more - each item becomes a tangible testament to virtual odysseys, tribulations surmounted, and realms traversed.

Memorabilia: Chronicles Set in Stone

Beyond clothing lies a realm of cherished keepsakes. Statuettes, art prints, trinkets, and even exclusive gaming gear transform into palpable chronicles of a gamer's digital voyage. These aren't mere items, but narratives, reminiscences, and emblems of unwavering dedication.

The Euphoria of Elusivity: The Chase for Limited Editions

In today's era of distinction, exclusive merchandise releases are akin to grand galas.

Gaming connoisseurs ardently await that bespoke gaming rig or the illustrious edition of their beloved game, vying to secure a fragment of gaming folklore.

A Commercial Juggernaut: The Skyrocketing Merch Trajectory

The tidal wave of gaming merchandise isn't merely a cultural evolution; it's a fiscal marvel. With the gaming fraternity eager to splurge on genuine, premium merchandise, industry giants and developers have awakened to its immense potential, paving the way for inventive collaborations, alliances, and expansive merchandise portfolios.

OMEN's Blueprint in the Merch Epoch

For OMEN, gaming merchandise transcends being mere commodities; they are the continuum of the gaming narrative. They empower our tribe to voice their zeal, bond over shared passions, and extol their digital adventures in the tangible realm.

For those perennially hunting for that next coveted gaming relic or novices curating their inaugural collection, OMEN stands steadfast—applauding, pioneering, and ensuring every merchandise piece echoes the grandeur of the sagas they epitomize.

Adorn, radiate, and proclaim your gaming essence to the cosmos. With OMEN, each merchandise artifact is not just a possession; it's a proclamation of identity.

[toribookworm22]

Find The Word (×2)

Thank you @the-stray-storyteller & @talesofsorrowandofruin

No pressure tagging: @hghrules @kellshaw @rubywrite @jaimistoryteller & my open tag!

Your words are: PEACE, HERO, & SAMPLE.

My words were: punch, fell, snore, black, sacrifice, search, several, and suspicious. All excerpts from the Animatronic Saga universe. Hidden under the cut.

Punch

The training room was empty, which wasn’t strange seeing as it was the crack of dawn. One of Edge’s punching bags was already pulled down, so I immediately wrapped my hands and set to work. Sweat rolled to my lips and I let the taste of salt keep me going. Punch after punch after punch. Expelling very through from my head worked for about 15 minutes.

3 days ago, I had turned 15.

I had felt nothing.

Nothing.

Fell

Edward carries the two things of soup and tucks the throwaway cups under his arm. Not that I was going to take the doting parent role, but it still strikes me as funny the ease with which Edward fell into it. And the man cooks up a mean meal, so, bonus.

Snore(s)

My eyes opened to the bright light of the infirmary but not the Escapade. A heart monitor kept time that someone’s snores were ignoring. Tapping echoed to a different tune, somehow both distinct and unknowable. But without further ado, I opened my eyes.

Black

I see fire and smell smoke and am suddenly choking on black water and it’s not even up to me when I hit undo. The message returns to my inbox.

Sender: A

Subject: Still Hate You.

⤷ 1 attachment

Sacrifice(s)

Yes, reprogramming is Insignia’s goal, but a goal cannot be reached without sacrifices. Programming is a delicate thing and we have discovered that reprogramming usually compromises an automaton’s control of its ability.

Search

So when we got back to where Lu had set up her Revlo base, I got back to my search. There were too many Insignia facilities out there. But somewhere, inside one of them or buried beneath or burned to ash, was my mom. And I was going to find her.

Several

After several nightmares and wakings, I decided to risk walking the ship. If my mind was never going to be at ease again, I might as well have given it a reason not to be.

Suspicious

Living on the streets… You never stayed in one place long enough for someone to become suspicious of your age.