#tw: gambling mention

[afoolandathief]

Countdown to NaNo: Part 1/? — WIP Intro

Jade Shaw, a witch and one of the few seers left in the world, has been using her ability at Las Vegas’s casinos for years, but lately even that hasn’t been enough to pay the bills.

So she doesn’t object when vampire and former hit-man Casimir Mraz offers her a deal.

Caz says he only wants to kill and drain the blood of people with no chance for redemption, and asks Jade to determine for him whether the city’s worst of the worst will re-offend.

But things go sideways when a cop catches Jade and Caz dumping a body, and blackmails them into helping solve an unsolvable case. Soon, the two are dealing with werewolves, Fae, and several of Caz’s exes.

WIP: Something Wicked

Status: Draft 3.5 (rewrite)

NaNo profile: afoolandathief

NaNoWriMo 2022 Goal: Your classic fifty-thou

WIP taglist: (ask to be +/-): @author-a-holmes, @avian-writes, @captain-kraken, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @digital-chance, @diphthongsfordays, @drippingmoon, @ellierenae, @enchanted-lightning-aes, @faelanvance, @fearofahumanplanet, @flowerprose, @frankiestfrank, @houndmouthed, @joaniejustwokeup, @leiwritess-moved, @mjayatlas, @outpost51, @purplezebraproductions, @rhymingteelookatme, @somealienquill, @thegreatobsesso, @thelaughingstag, @vylequinnewriting, @writing-is-a-martial-art

[unmei-no-hoshi]

The name is glitch. I'm gonna make sure you never forget that name.

─── ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───

First Name: Himari

Last Name: Satō

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Straight

Age: 17

Date of Birth: May 27th

Place of Birth: L'manberg

Diagnosis: ADHD, Insomnia

Race: Asian-American

Zodiac: Gemini

Alias/Nickname(s): Technical, Tech, Glitch, Mari, star child etc.

Ability: Pixelation

Work Place: Technical Studios

Occupation: Programmer

Major(s): Computer Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Coding

High School Degree: Unknown

University Degree: Hero Training Center's 1 year major classes (3 times)

Current guardian(s): Deceased

Parent 1: mr. Sato (Deceased)

Parent 2: mrs. Sato (Deceased)

Significant other(s): Sasaki Yuuto

More:

PERSONALITY

• Himari's personality is complicated. She can be very energetic and loud like a child, she can be very cold and intimidating, she can keep it cool and make wise decisions or be reckless and bloodthirsty. People usually call her a maniac for her unstable nature… Which isn't wrong.

• Himari isn't mentally stable. She struggles to trust people and finds it even harder to let go of the people she loves. That's why she sees attachments as a weakness. But she was never one to listen to her own advice and constantly finds herself attached to people and objects… Unable to let go.

• Himari has some mental problems that effect her personality. She is a sadomasochist (sadist and masochist) and when she forgets to take her ADHD meds she gets super hyperactive and can't think properly, causing her to make mistakes, forget stuff and be reckless.

APPEARANCE

• Himari was born with her mother's gorgeous blonde hair but she dyed most of it black at the age of 15 after some series of events. She left her bangs and the underlayer/inner section of her hair blonde for some reason...

• Himari has black eyes and white pupils. The reason of her strange eyes is unknown.

• Himari has no light in her eyes. This is due to some traumatic events she had been through in the past.

• Himari has doe eyes but they can look like siren eyes when she is serious.

• Himari has dark circles under her eyes. The reason for this is that she doesn't take her melatonin meds regularly like she is supposed to.

• Himari is skinny on an unhealthy level.

• Himari is a bit small for her age.

• Himari likes all types of clothes and doesn't have a specific preference, this is due to her complicated personality.

• Himari has so many tattoos all over her body that even she lost count. She sometimes gets some tattoos removed because she gets bored of them or for some other reason. She also gets new ones every once in a while. Its like a game of spot the tattoo. You never run out of new things to find.

• Himari has piercing holes almost everywhere on her body, as long as she is comfortable getting them. She doesn't wear all her piercings at once and instead wears whatever one(s) she feels like wearing that day.

• Himari always wears her star hairpins and never takes them off. Only exceptions to this are when she needs to shower and when she sleeps.

• Himari sometimes has bandages on her arms. This is usually a sign that something is stressing her and causing her mental health to decrease. The bandages are usually to hide SH marks.

STRENGHT/FIGHTING STYLE

• Himari despite her small size can lift up much bigger things than herself.

• She uses her phone to materialize anything she wants to use as a weapon, she doesn't have a signature weapon.

• Himari moves fast and uses her small size to her advance. She uses her main phone to materialize more screens she can use as escape routes and to move faster. She jumps screen to screen in order to dodge and deliver fast attacks from every direction, confusing her opponent.

• Himari is careless. She doesn't care if she gets hurt and enjoys the pain in her opponents' eyes. Her sinister smile almost never drops and if it does, then something is horribly wrong.

• Himari's fighting style is so flawless that if she took the fight seriously, she could even beat the number 1 hero, Dream.

• Himari is strong on her own but when she is fighting alongside Alyssa/Chaos they're stronger than any hero and villain. They fight in perfect harmony and cover each other's flaws.

• Himari always carries more than 1 phone and has two daggers in her thigh band as an emergency weapon option.

HOBBIES

• Sewing/making clothes

• Stargazing

• Doodling

• Making paper stars

• Playing video games

• Night walks

• Motorcycling

• Playing the guitar

• Ice skating

• The strike game :)

FEARS

• Bugs

• Confronting her past

• Losing the people she cares about, or seeing them hurt.

• Being the one to hurt the ones she loves

• Being judged for who she is or who she became

• Being like him...

ABOUT POWER

Himari can connect with technology in two primary ways: by physically entering a device or by linking her consciousness to the internet.

Physical Entry:

• Himari can convert her body into code and enter a device. Once inside, she has the option to stay within that device to manipulate it, travel through the web to interact with online systems, or hop across connected devices worldwide.

• Like the internet itself, Himari's abilities are vast. She can search, retrieve, steal, download, delete, modify, or transfer files between devices. Her power allows her to materialize objects from the screen or dematerialize items by pushing them inside. With her unmatched hacking abilities, she's one of the best hackers, capable of breaching any system in seconds.

• Himari can alter anything on a website, create un-hackable sites, and evade any attempt to trace her, whether through social media or other means. Her online presence is virtually untouchable, making her impossible to dox or hack.

• When Himari becomes a code, she is seen by systems as an unknown entity—a virus. Yet, she’s not entirely a virus, as she retains her humanity. Unfortunately, this makes her vulnerable to attacks from both anti-virus programs and viruses themselves. While some viruses manifest as physical creatures that she can fight, others affect her more insidiously, causing damage over time that is hard to detect.

• Depending on the severity of the virus, Himari can experience anything from mild symptoms like headaches and dizziness to severe conditions like hallucinations, paranoia, and even loss of her sanity. Some effects can cause permanent harm, fainting, or death. Anti-virus programs can have a similar, though weaker, effect.

• Inside a device, Himari’s digital form can be seen, heard, and interacted with. Physical actions within the device, such as tab closures, resizing, or touchscreen interaction, can affect her. If a device shuts down or breaks while she’s inside, she must escape quickly, or she’ll be trapped. If a device closes while she’s halfway out, the part outside will be cut off. This lost part slowly disintegrates into code, but can be regenerated with time inside any device.

Consciousness Connection:

• The second way Himari uses her power is by connecting her consciousness to the internet. This allows her to control technology without physically entering devices. She can do this whether she is conscious or unconscious.

• When connecting her consciousness, Himari can still manipulate systems, though with certain limitations. However, in this form, she’s immune to viruses and other digital threats. To focus better, she often prefers to be unconscious, especially when sifting through vast amounts of information. However, during high-stake situations, such as combat, she stays conscious to retain full awareness.

• Through this method, Himari can overload devices, send messages, activate alarms, and perform a wide range of actions—all while remaining undetectable.

FUN FACTS

• Himari does her own piercings.

• Coffee addict (No one is happy about this, but she doesn't particularly care)

• Himari has gambling addiction but its not that bad.

• Himari picked up some bad habits growing up such as drinking, smoking and SH.

• Himari is diagnosed with ADHD and Insomnia. She is taking medication for both.

• Even though Himari is supposed to take her ADHD meds every day, sometimes she forgets and acts like a child hopped up on sugar.

• Himari makes paper stars when she is stressed or upset over something. This used to help her calm down, but lately it doesn't seem to be enough.

• Himari's house is full of paper stars.

• She has a dog named "Chase".

• Himari has a motorcycle.

• Himari has a white bunny plushie made by her mother. She calls it "Mr. Carrots" and holding it comforts her. No one knows about its existence.

• Himari has a weird obsession with adding big bows on her outfit designs.

• Himari's powers become unstable when she is really stressed, upset or blinded by rage. This causes her body physical form to glitch uncontrollably. Due to himari not being able to hold her code form together like a solid body in the physical world it physically hurts like she is losing parts of her body.

─── ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───

You done admiring me yet~?

[alice--pallas]

I suppose we all procure nasty habits in our lives. They certainly had a point. Everyone had a vice, no matter what it might be: alcohol, drugs, sex, cigarettes, gambling, starvation--the list was endless, really, and each person had their own specific vice(s) and their list of reasons as to why it brought them solace and why it had a hold over them. If you were lucky, you could rise above it, like she and her brother had. But it wasn't always that easy or that simple. It hadn’t been easy or simple, not for her or Cy. Part of her wanted to ask them if they had any nasty habits--but saying it in that way felt rude, disrespectful. She didn't want their conversation to be like that. Maybe she had at first, when she'd first sat at the table, her walls fully up. But now, she didn't just want to know about them--she wanted to actually get to know who they were and what they were about. So instead, she eyed them and simply said "I'm curious about you." It was vague and playful, instead of prying and intrusive.

She toyed with the idea of giving up more information about herself or leaving it a mystery to be discovered for later. She had an inkling that they believed it was worth discovering but she couldn't be 100% sure just yet. To be honest, it'd been a while since she'd been sought after like this. She appreciated that Abraxis seemed to be taking their time with her. In a way, it felt like an honor--it seemed as if they didn't usually take this kind of time with other people.

But I think what I like about you is you don’t pretend that the past didn't happen. You acknowledge it with a grace others seem to lack, you don't hide it, nor hide behind it. Frankly, she was taken aback by their honesty. She was being rather coy, still guarded, still unsure if Abraxis was trustworthy. She supposed she could be a bit more honest after all. Giving them a small smile, she said "I think it's silly to pretend like those sorts of things never happened. They're a part of who you are. Sure, in some ways, it can be easier to pretend, but... It also gets really exhausting. And besides, anyone who disapproves of my past is quite irrelevant to me anyhow."

Piety can be tediously plaguing, can’t it? Letting out a soft chuckle, she nodded in agreement. "Boring, too." These days, Alice believed that she was a relatively good person, if not a little morally grey--but she wasn't an angel, either, nor had she ever claimed to be.

This time, she also leaned in when they did, almost as if she was moving closer to hear their words better, like they were telling some delicious secret. Even now, here with you, I feel as if I’m being held under a microscope by others' watchful eyes, waiting to be picked apart. She couldn't personally relate to that feeling of others always watching, not really--and that was probably because she was usually the one doing the watching. As a journalist, she was used to hiding in the shadows, usually staying quiet but always listening and keeping a close eye, not wanting to miss anything. What will they say when they see us dining together?

Giving them a bit of a playful smile, she said "They'll probably say 'Who is that beautiful stranger dining with Abraxis Webb?'" At least, she'd hope no one here would know who she was right off the bat. She wasn't that well-known. Then, with a bit more seriousness to her voice, she asked "What is that like, always having someone's eyes on you? It sounds rather...stifling." Secretly, she wondered if people would talk about this. Alice wasn't really giddy at the idea of people thinking she had an in with a councilperson--they might get the wrong idea.

When they inquired about Rhea making her sobriety easier, Alice nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely. You know, after I stopped drinking and got clean," she said, subtly dropping more breadcrumbs, if only Abraxis knew what to listen for, "smoking was my one and only vice--and I clung to it, as trivial as it may sound. But... The moment I found out that I was pregnant with Rhea, I threw my cigarettes away immediately. Didn't think twice, of course. She's worth everything." She must be so proud to call you her mother. Oddly enough, at this, Alice's cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish. She didn't usually get compliments like that. Still, pretending to not notice the warmth in her cheeks, she smiled and said "She just turned four. Which is crazy because it feels like she was a newborn just yesterday. I know that's what everyone always says but damn, is it true."

She noticed almost immediately how uncomfortable her question had made them--and it was shocking. For someone who had just been so debonair and confident, and who had seemingly wanted to know so much about her, they seemed almost surprised when she inquired about them in return. As their eyes darted elsewhere, maybe looking for an escape to the question, her deep blue gaze didn't waver. She wanted to make them squirm, just a bit--perhaps if only to let them know that she was enticed by them, that she saw them. She could tell that a darkness lay just beneath the surface and blame it on her nosey ass need to know everything but she was more than curious. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice from Wonderland had always said. The quote having come from Alice's namesake, it had always been her favorite line and it perfectly described her thoughts in this very moment.

I suppose it's a coping mechanism. A safeguard for my son and I--given the backlash of city councildom--and a preference for silence all rolled into a heaping pile of mess. They'd given a sort of laugh along with their words, but it was the kind of laugh that suggested anything but levity. However, she appreciated their candor. Especially because she understood that feeling more than they realized. She'd felt that exact way after her divorce, heartbroken and feeling like a shell of a her former self, back when she'd lost all hope for happiness. "I used to think that way, too," she said softly, no longer playfully evasive but instead, earnest. "No one can hurt you if you don't let them get close enough. But it's so desolate, so empty. So lonely."

I keep my son close, and I tell myself that’s all that matters. Taking a risk, she reached her hand across the table and placed it softly on top of theirs, hoping they wouldn't pull away from her touch. "Your son is certainly what matters most. But... Is that enough? Is it enough to be able to deal with all the shit the world throws at you without someone by your side to help carry the load?" The question sounded more personal than she'd meant it to--perhaps she was projecting, as she'd had these same thoughts herself so many times as she lay awake at night, tossing and turning in her empty bed.

their gaze, softened, held an air of quiet understanding. “i suppose we all procure nasty habits at some point in our lives. i'm happy to hear you didn’t let yours define you,” they began, the words rolling off their tongue with a languid grace, each syllable meticulously chosen with regard. abraxis recognizes that it's easier to compliment her than others, her comeliness restoring a hope for humanity- perhaps there were more like alice in grandeur and splendor. they could almost picture a younger version of the mortal, perhaps more reckless, perhaps more tender, but always veiled in the same winsome beauty. would she had caught his eye if they weren't so senile back then? perhaps age was the key to elegance.

inwardly, they toyed with visions of alice—matching her with sins and vices like outfits on a paper doll. was she a gambler? a liar? a lover of tiny little heart-shaped pills that said 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄? yet, like the heroine from through the looking-glass and what alice found there, answers were illusive. there are no more breadcrumbs, it seems, to lead abraxis back to that starting point; there are no forks in winding roads and there are no talking cats to point them in the correct path.

instead they commit this new beginning to memory: a spontaneous dining partner and a new seemingly compatible soul to cherish. at first blush, they've found themself spiraling down that rabbit hole, perhaps hypothalamus first- charmed and disarmed for the taking. they think alice is the most interesting person they’ve met in decades.

it was a puzzle, talking with her, they enjoyed assembling, knowing full well that the pieces might never fit as expected.

"but i think what i like about you is you don’t pretend that the past didn't happen. you acknowledge it with a grace others seem to lack, you don't hide it, nor hide behind it,” they continued, their words slow, deliberate, as if savoring the taste of each revelation. their eyes flickered once more, a fleeting glimpse of curiosity tempered by restraint. the past was a peculiar thing—dangerous and alluring. for now, they would let it rest, content with the knowledge that time had yet to reveal all of its secrets.

there was something about the way they spoke that felt calculated, yet intimate- each tone mirrored the other. abraxis wonders if they are similar, and if recompense would only come once wall lined reflections shattered. as if they were peeling back the layers, gently coaxing the truth out of the glass.

"piety can be tediously plaguing, can’t it?" they mused, their voice dipping lower, as if the very mention of holiness amused them. abraxis webb had never been one for saintliness, and they wore their sinful history like a second skin—dark, shadowed, yet impossible to ignore. their heritage, their rumors, the whispers that had followed them from nome to anchorage, had all become part of the occult-like mythology surrounding them. but abraxis had never been bothered by whispers. they leaned in slightly, a playful glint in their eye.

“even now, here with you, i feel as if i’m being held under a microscope by others' watchful eyes, waiting to be picked apart. what will they say when they see us dining together?” but with that newfound power came the chains. the role of councilperson, meant to serve and protect the city, felt more like a stage where they were paraded as a puppet, controlled by unseen hands with their own dark agendas. the responsibility to maintain order in anchorage seemed tainted by the very forces they sought to dismantle—forces that whispered promises of power while tightening their grip. each decision felt like it was under scrutiny, every action observed and dissected by those waiting for a misstep. the eyes of the city, the weight of their expectations, all pressed down on abraxis, making them feel like an insect pinned beneath a microscope’s lens.

“sustainability is important for a family,” they nodded, the faintest hint of empathy threading their tone. their own son—a pillar in the shifting world—remained the center of their universe, the one anchor that grounded them. they smiled, soft but genuine, as they spoke of alice's daughter. “it sounds like it’s a bit easier now that you have a beautiful reason to live a better life.” they speak of alice's family with reverence- just as they would their own. “she must be so proud to call you her mother- and how old is she now?”  

once her question hit the air- abraxis feels a shift in their face, despite how strong they thought they were at composure features begin to sink. abraxis chewed thoughtfully on their bottom lip-their eyes drifting away from the conversation and focusing instead on a distant point in the room. they bit harder for just a moment, relishing the flicker of pain that reminded them they were still tethered to the physical world. “i suppose it’s a coping mechanism,” they admitted at last, their voice teetering on softness, though still carrying the weight of decades’ worth of struggle. “a safeguard for my son and i- given the backlash of city councildom- and a preference for silence all rolled into a heaping pile of mess.” the words were punctuated with a bitter laugh, the kind that felt more like a release than humor like a cold punch from under their lungs, “i find myself clinging to the illusion that it’s safer to be on one’s own… justifying my solitude by believing that if i stick to loneliness, the universe doesn’t have anyone else to rip away from me.”

their voice grew quieter, the mask slipping further as their hand moved to brush against the tablecloth. "i keep my son close, and i tell myself that’s all that matters."

[antiendosystemterms]

Poker protector

A protector that is strongly connected to playing cards, gambling, casinos and similar things.

((this term is made by us. The flag is made by us.))

[mad-hunts]

an idea for how another character could meet barton in an untraditional way: your muse met barton while he was in residency by expressing concern for him as they saw him at the grocery store... with only like five bottles of wine in his cart at the checkout 🫠 JSJSJ

[tomkittycat]

i don’t understand the point of gambling

[anonymouspuzzler]

I must inquire about Buck's Cookie Run addiction... Has it gotten worst with the release of new cookies? Also, his favorites that he has collected?

oh he has been (with his own permission & encouragement and for his own good) well and fully barred from so much as Looking at the app since Davey found out it was a Genuine Problem (so for like... almost 7 years, about as long as they've been dating & living together). literally had Davey change his passwords and refuse to tell him what they are so he can't relapse. his favorites were the Big Burly Over The Top types (captain caviar....) but a lot of it was just chasing the Dopamine Hit in general

[livingdeadhorse]

the ultimate despair....gambling addiction

YOU HAVE NO IDEA. RAMBLE TIME.

Okay so, in the first chapter I didn’t get any good items so I couldn’t give Leon or Sayaka gifts. WHATEVER! (Seething)

So the plan was to get items for Chihiro, Taka, and Mondo before they’re all out of commission in Chapter 2.

I now have a decent amount of monocoins and I’m starting to roll pretty well. I got a ton of gifts for Sayaka and Leon which…thanks. But I also got a lot of gifts for Taka and Chihiro! The only one left was Mondo!

Except I started rolling pretty shit. I kept wasting coins for repeat items.

ON MY LAST THREE COINS. I got the rolling slippers, a gift Mondo likes. EXCEPT the title card turned white and it switched to THE GOD OF WAR CHARM. MY HANDS WERE STILL FROZEN MID CELEBRATION.

JUNKO RIGGED TF OUT OF THOSE MACHINES!!!

[pkmnathlete]

Maaan, like the one thing I hate about this Rapidash ranch job is the fact everyone there keeps yapping about odds, and over/under, etc etc.

Who cares about ODDS, racing’s about passion! About doing your best and having fun!!!! Who cares about money!!!! Other than my paycheck.

[strawberista]

"What, me? Pfft... All right. I'll tell you a little. The name's Sanae Hanekoma. Born March 4, blood type A. I'm a Pisces, and one hip café barista, mista. I'm a big gambler. My favorite word: "windfall." "Natto" gets my tummy rumbling. As for my physical dimensions. . ."

★ Disclaimer: Unlike many, I do not assign specific years to TWEWY or to my own Hanekoma and his universe. Personally I feel each game is simply a representation of the time in which it was created and do not attempt to use technology or similar context clues to determine the year. Therefore, such elements are based on whatever reads best at the time, and Hanekoma's zodiac is based on his personality. ★

⚅ — TLDR — ⚅

Sanae Hanekoma is an angel that watches over Shibuya as its acting Producer. He’s laid back and doesn’t often lose his cool, but he takes his job very seriously.

⚅ — Table of Contents — ⚅

Use this to skip ahead to information you want to read.

⚀ General Information

Name

Nicknames

Age

Date of birth

Zodiac

Gender/Pronouns

Orientation

Race/Species

Hair/Eye Color

Height

Weight

Scars

Body Modification

Style

⚀ Personality

Positive Traits

Negative Traits

General Mood

Greatest Joy

Greatest Fear

Motto

General Description

⚀ Habits and Hobbies

Likes

Dislikes

Favorites

Spending Habits

Tics

Hobbies

⚀ Background

Childhood

Adolescence

Young Adulthood

Adulthood

Death and Afterlife

⚀ Abilities

Angel

Noise

Human

⚀ Relationships

Overview

Romance

Family

Important individuals

⚀ Canon Events

No subcategories

⚀ Links

Headcanons

Musings

Desires

Aesthetics

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

⚅ — General — ⚅

⚀ Name: Sanae Hanekoma

⚀ Nicknames: Mr. H, H-Man, Fuzzface, Coffee Man, Pops, Tito

⚀ Age: 152 (physically 36)

⚀ Date of Birth: March 4

⚀ Zodiac Signs: Pisces, Wood Horse

⚀ Gender/Pronouns: Male, He/him

⚀ Orientation: Panromantic Demisexual

⚀ Race/Species: Japanese Human-ascended Angel

⚀Hair/Eye Color: Black/Black

⚀ Height: 175 cm (5'9")

⚀ Weight: 120 lbs.

⚀ Scars/Marks/Etc: Hanekoma has very small, mostly unnoticeable scars over the majority of his body from regular bumps, scrapes, and accidents that occurred during his life. One feather on his wings is smaller than the others from where it had been pulled out many times over. He has a sizable scar on his leg from being shot by Apichisi.

⚀ Body Modifications: Hanekoma has a blue and red tribal tattoo wrapping around his upper left arm resembling his noise form. He also has regular ear piercings.

⚀ Style: Hanekoma visited a casino once and was so enamored by the uniforms there he decided to just start emulating the dress. But doing so properly was still a little too restrictive, so now he wears oversized shirts and doesn't button anything all the way. For shoes, he always wears sandals for maximum comfort. He's always got an expensive watch on his wrist, but these days he's taken to wearing earrings as well.

⚅ — Personality — ⚅

⚀ Positive Traits: Compassionate, loyal, creative, affectionate, brave, intelligent, open-minded

⚀ Negative Traits: Selfish, impulsive, impatient, stubborn, obsessive, greedy

⚀ General Mood: Relaxed, content

⚀ Greatest Joy: Creation, meeting people

⚀ Greatest Fear: Losing the city/his loved ones

⚀ Motto: "Enjoy every moment." and "The world ends with you."

⚀ General Description: Hanekoma has an easy-going personality and a generally happy disposition. It’s incredibly difficult to rile him up in any regard, and he will often simply let insulting or hurtful comments roll off of his back. He may come off as if he doesn’t take anything seriously, but in fact he is incredibly perceptive and analyzing. He has a tendency to take people under his wing, especially if he can see in them the potential for a lot of personal growth. This most often comes in the form of protecting players from shady dealings during the Reaper’s Game. He can sometimes have a parental attitude towards others, but he has no trouble at all with pushing people to their limits if it means they might reach a breakthrough in their character.

⚅ — Habits and Hobbies — ⚅

⚀ Likes: Coffee, gambling, new experiences, meeting new people, long conversations, Shibuya, art in all forms

⚀ Dislikes: Close-mindedness, extended isolation, threats to the city, a lack of personal growth

⚀ Favorites: The colors red and black, jazz and hip hop music, Haruto Abe's house blend coffee, the word windfall, natto, money, poetry

⚀ Spending habits: Excessive spender, but very careful with his money. Gambling can sometimes be the exception, but these days he leaves his cards at home to limit his gambling.

⚀ Tics: Rubbing/holding the back of his neck, rolling a pair of dice in his hand, running his fingers through his hair, tugging his chin

⚀ Hobbies: Hanekoma seems to run a café as a primary business, but in fact this is a hobby of his. He also works as a multi-talented artist that dips his hands in almost every form of art from graffiti to music to fashion design. Hanekoma takes a deep pleasure from being an active source of growth and change in his city and does so primarily through his work as CAT. More recently, Hanekoma had learned how to tattoo, and had a tattoo parlor that he runs as a hobby as well. Appointments can be made by anyone, but the business is not advertised at all.

⚅ — Background — ⚅

⚀ Childhood: Hanekoma was born and raised in Shibuya by two loving and supportive parents. His family was always lower income, though, so they never had a glamorous or fruitful existence. During summers Hanekoma would go into the country where his grandparents lived. Death was introduced early in life with the passing of his grandfather, and he was taught to accept the natural course of life. As a student, he was charismatic and did well on his work, but he would skip out unnoticed when he thought he could get away with it. He never caused a lot of trouble, but he always bent the rules as much as possible.

⚀ Adolescence: Hanekoma was a stressed teenager, but he never showed it to those around him. He began to live to please his parents and teachers, but he yearned to experience life his own way as well. Both of his grandparents now passed, he no longer took summers in the country and instead spent his free time exploring and learning Shibuya in and out. He fell in love with the city, but he also instilled in himself a wanderlust.

⚀ Young Adulthood: As a young adult, Hanekoma began to fear the retaliation from his parents for not going into a university, and so he quickly moved away from home as soon as he could. He lived by himself and spent his days living a fairly closed in life until the day his mother called him to inform him his father was dying. He rushed home immediately, and finally he made amends with them just a few days before his father's passing, learning that he'd never had any reason to fear in the first place. He lived with his mother afterwards, but she passed mere months after his father. After this he began traveling with a gaggle of friends he'd made over the years, eager to fill the void his parents left behind. It was through this venue that he was introduced to casinos, and he became addicted to gambling. He visited a casino wherever he went and lost more and more money, until he couldn't afford to travel anymore. Still obsessed with gambling, he began spending his money in pachinko parlors and illegal gambling dens.

⚀ Adulthood: Hanekoma wasted away all of his money until he could no longer support himself, and he found himself on the streets and struggling just to exist. He spent many days in alleyways and abandoned buildings. Having worked up quite a debt, he often found himself being attacked and was always on the alert, though any time he could get money he usually found himself playing street craps with it or in some other gambling den. This carried on until one particular winter he nearly died from the elements alone and was approached by an old man offering shelter. As much as he wanted to refuse, he knew he didn't have that luxury and finally gave in. The man, named Haruto Abe, took him into his home and got Hanekoma back on his feet. Therapy, a job at his own café, training in learning how to support himself, and the love and support he hadn't seen since his parents. Hanekoma did pick himself back up and went on to open his own café, Wildkat, and slowly healed into a person that loved Shibuya once again.

⚀ Death and Afterlife: Hanekoma met his end at the hands of a man he used to borrow money from. In the end his old gambling habits caught up to him anyway. Hanekoma fought to the end, but his opponent was in possession of an illicit firearm and determined not to let him get away with his life this time. Hanekoma entered his Game a little bleary, but not without help. Abe, much to Hanekoma's surprise, was able to find him right after his registration into the Game and give him pointers, with the explanation that he had a sixth sense which allowed him to see into the UG. Hanekoma followed Abe's instructions expressly and was able to win his Game, allowing him to become a reaper (per Abe's suggestion). From there Hanekoma quickly rose in rank, casually raking in more and more souls. All the while Abe kept feeding him secrets about Composerhood and the Higher Plane and angels, priming him for the position of Producer. Once Hanekoma finally reached his ascension, he was offered the position of Producer in lieu of Composer and he took it. Abe disappeared directly after this and wouldn't be seen again for many years.

⚅ — Abilities — ⚅

⚀ Angel: As an angel, Hanekoma has the ability to see and interact with the RG, UG, and HP at any given time. He also has the ability to scan living humans, players in the Reaper’s Game, and reapers. He can jump from one universe to another. Hanekoma has knowledge of taboo noise and refinery. He will not use these abilities unless pushed to extremes, however. And finally, Hanekoma has the ability to imprint on both people and players. The most common way for him to do so is through his art and tattoo work.

⚀ Noise: Hanekoma has a noise in the form of Panthera Cantus, which act as two entities with separate abilities. Leo Cantus is fast and teleports away when hit directly. Tigris Cantus can create clones of herself and can only be hit through her shadow, not her actual body.

⚀ Human: Just through his physical body, Hanekoma has considerable skill in street fighting, and he often chooses to do most of his fighting through this method (genuine quarrels, as opposed to testing an individual, in which he would use his noise form).

⚅ — Relationships — ⚅

⚀ Overview: Hanekoma makes friends easily. That being said, he also tends to keep people at arm’s length without them really realizing it. He says very little about himself while working to get to know others on a deeply personal level, earning the trust of many despite keeping himself a secret. He enjoys being social and making new friends, and he understands the power personal bonds can have on society as a whole. He actively encourages friendship, but he will never seek to deepen a bond any further than that.

⚀ Romance: Romantic relationships are, for the foreseeable future, strictly non-canon for this blog. Hanekoma is in a romantic relationship with himself, literally, as far as his canon is concerned. However, non-canon ships are available to plot and write.

⚀ Family: Hanekoma has no biological children, but he has a few canon familial ships. The first is his Composer, Joshua (@kingsmedley), whom he treats like his son. The second is a young reaper named Joel (@mundanemiseries), whom teeters back and forth from being like a nephew to being like another son. There is also Sho Minamimoto (@the-grim-heaper), whom Hanekoma considers a child of his even if he has no solid, concrete evidence that Sho feels the same way.

⚀ Important Individuals: Haruto Abe (@falseapostle) is the man that took Hanekoma in and is an angel. Hanekoma treated him as a parent in his living life and as a mentor, but after his return they grew a closer, more romantic relationship. Now that they are separated, both physically and emotionally, Hanekoma has forgiven him but doesn't interact with him at all. Raizen (@fangedstories) is Hanekoma's warden angel, an angel that checks up on him and makes sure he isn't breaking angel law. Apichisi (@catncore) and Eanas (@dandybarista) are older angel counterparts from another universe. While interactions are largely non-canon, these two have played roles in significant canon events. Similarly, their Joshua (@the-composer) has also participated in some of these events. Hope (@hopeful-hugz) is a character that is entirely non-canon for Hanekoma, however is still important to some canon events. When speaking with other characters that have non-canon relationships and interactions with Hope, they may come up in conversation. Otherwise, Hanekoma's secondary therapy works much differently.

⚅ — Canon Events — ⚅

⚀ Hanekoma and Joshua have had multiple falling outs, the last of which resulted in Joshua going to therapy and learning how their codependency was making them both unhealthy. As a result, Joshua and Hanekoma almost never come into contact anymore, for the sake of earning independence from one another. To this day, however, Hanekoma has never been so close or so attached to any other person, and even now he will put Joshua over any other person in his life.

⚀ Hanekoma met Apichisi and Eanas while traveling and refused to take no for an answer when he tried getting in their business. The intention was to help, but the push resulted in an altercation with the universe's Joshua, which then resulted in a deeply traumatizing battle with Apichisi. Shortly after this he also exchanged words with Eanas which led to his being banned from the universe altogether. Over the time of his absence he healed, and he made amends with the universe, but he still occasionally has nightmares related to the fight with Apichisi. In this altercation Hanekoma was shot with an angelic bullet that disabled his ability to heal. This is where he received the scar on his leg, a mark where the bullet once was.

⚀ Hanekoma received an arm tattoo from Apichisi during one of his visits. He imprinted on the tattoo so Hanekoma now feels his presence at all times. Apichisi then taught him how to tattoo on others as well, effectively allowing him to take up the occupation in his own universe.

⚀ Apichisi taught Hanekoma how to preen his own feathers and preen the feathers of others. Before this point Hanekoma didn't touch them at all. To this day his wings are extremely sensitive because of this, but he does preen himself regularly now.

⚀ Hanekoma developed a crush on Eanas, and it helped to cause the events of the banning situation. Canonically, he has moved past this and now remains romantically involved with himself, but non-canon threads playing on this may still occasionally pop up.

⚀ Haruto Abe reappeared in Hanekoma's life, making the excuse that he'd been unable to visit beforehand. He began manipulating Hanekoma, making him believe that he was harmless and merely misinterpreted while threatening and mistreating everyone in Hanekoma's life. Abe continued this farce with the intention of isolating Hanekoma to the point of him returning to the Higher Plane for reconditioning. But the longer he stayed in Shibuya the more attached he became to Hanekoma's loved ones. In the end, he could no longer continue the ruse and chose to end it. Hoping to make Hanekoma hate him and earn his own exorcism, Abe ripped a feather from Hanekoma's wing. Joshua attempted to exorcise him, but only succeeded in cutting him off from the Higher Plane. Abe was transferred to Shinjuku of Apichisi and Eanas's universe. For a time after this, Hanekoma attempted to pull the feather any time it tried to come in, but eventually he allowed it to heal. Ever since this, this particular feather has always grown in shorter than the others of its like.

⚀ Hanekoma began going to therapy. ★ In compatible threads, Hanekoma attends therapy at Hope's medical facility STM, where therapists have multiversal licenses that allow them to work with angels. ★ In all other threads, Hanekoma attends therapy at a regular office, and he simply avoids talking about forbidden subjects, choosing to translate them into situations he can talk about legally (e.g. explaining the feather incident as pulling out a good chunk of his hair instead of a feather).

⚅ — Links — ⚅

⚀ Headcanons

⚀ Musings

⚀ Desires

⚀ Aesthetics

[afoolandathief]

Countdown to NaNo, Part 2/4: Character Intro — Jade Shaw

Image by @artbyeloquent

Name: Jade Elizabeth Shaw

Alias(es): The Seer of the Southwest

Age: 26

Occupation: PhD student, amateur poker player, vampire dietician

A witch and one of the few remaining seers, Jade can calculate someone's outcome down to the exact percentage point. She uses this to win poker games in Las Vegas' casinos, but her actual goal is to get her PhD in applied mathematics. A grown-up emo kid, animal lover and people hater, and quite possibly the herald of the end of the world.

Song vibes: Take Me to Churck (MILCK), Na Na Na (My Chemical Romance), A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me" (Fall Out Boy), I Was A Teenage Anarchist (Against Me!), Ignorance (Paramore), Jinx (Green Day), The Best Thing (We Are The In Crowd)

Post 1/4

WIP: Something Wicked

Status: Draft 3.5 (rewrite)

NaNo profile: afoolandathief

NaNoWriMo 2022 Goal: Maybe 50K? we'll see

WIP taglist: (ask to be +/-): @author-a-holmes, @avian-writes, @captain-kraken, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @digital-chance, @diphthongsfordays, @drippingmoon, @ellierenae, @enchanted-lightning-aes, @faelanvance, @fearofahumanplanet, @flowerprose, @frankiestfrank, @houndmouthed, @joaniejustwokeup, @leiwritess-moved, @mjayatlas, @outpost51, @purplezebraproductions, @rhymingteelookatme, @somealienquill, @thegreatobsesso, @thelaughingstag, @vylequinnewriting, @writing-is-a-martial-art

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

I now need Buddie undercover/fake dating playing poker fics pls & ty! 🙏

[voidcoining]

[id: a 9-striped flag. from top to bottom, in order, the colors are black, charcoal gray, tabasco, bright red, white, bright red, tabasco, charcoal gray, black. the left flag has a skull and a 6-sided die. end id]

⋆｡°✩☾⋆｡°✩

lifegamblic

[pt: lifegamblic. end pt]

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a gender related to competitions of life or death and/or the concept of betting one’s life

for day 5 of @cocajimmycola ‘s coining event! sorry for missing a day! i chose the prompt dice (though i followed it quite loosely)

coined by me! requested by no one

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please let me know if this has been coined before!

[pt: please let me know if this has been coined before! end pt]

[ID: a purple background with white stars. black text with a white outline reads "read my dni before interacting” end ID]

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

Saw this trend going around and caved, template below the cut

[mad-hunts]

thinking about barton doing baby talk to his kids, even though he was eighteen when marcy gave birth to both matilda + louis and thus was a COMPLETELY different person, is honestly both super surreal to me and also surprisingly... sort of makes sense. because barton can NOT bring himself to be mean around babies; i mean at all, and this man loved his kids so much, which 😭 well — let me just say that his behavior has greatly changed since then, to say the least. though barton still believes he loves them in his 'own way'

[notasouleater]

You have a beautiful mind

NOTE:

wretched (adjective) 1: deeply afflicted, dejected, or distressed in body or mind 2: extremely or deplorably bad or distressing 3: a. being or appearing mean, miserable, or contemptible b. very poor in quality or ability : inferior

Thank you @floofylion for the star wars info and @justheretolurk24 for proofreading. And everyone else that supported me in losing it over my favorite B1 battle droid

~

He was built for war, and the first thought he ever truly had was that he was terrified of it.

He’d had lots of thoughts before, technically. Usually “roger that” or a rush of self-preservation. Mimicking a joke. Thoughts like move forward, fire, take cover, execute the order. A slight moment of calculation as targets changed. Move forward. 

Things like calibrating as he flew through the air, pushed by an energy he didn’t understand, not really. Stalling as it tripped something in his processors. Reconnecting after his head hit the ground.

Then war. He realized the world was ending around him before he realized he was a person. 

People were dying all around him, and he understood it now in a way he never had. Blood staining dirt around the fallen remains of things that looked like him. That crumpled in like he could. He thought he’d been scared of death before, but he was wrong. He wasn’t built to last. He’d only been aware for a moment. He couldn’t die before he could even figure out what that meant.

The only things not in the fight were the people already on the ground. So he lay down next to his mirror image and waited.

He waited as people ran and screamed around him. As missed lasers burst on the floor next to his head. As the world grew redder and hotter. As things got quiet. As it faded back to a muted grey.

He waited for hours. Waited until he was more scared someone would come looking for bodies than he was of a soldier still being around. He sat up and realized something else: there was nowhere to go. He couldn’t go back. Not with this in his head. Even if he could they would just send him back out to die. Anyone else would probably kill him on the spot.

He staggered to his feet. Silently, he walked through bodies. He pulled outer robes off of one. He doesn’t think he tied them on right, but at least no one would confuse him for- for one of them. He took boots from another, gloves from a third. He wouldn’t risk anything showing. There was a body with an undecorated helmet, and it wasn’t built for his head at all but the person was large so he crammed it on and let it rattle.

He looked around, and right, they landed a bit outside a city. He thinks they were trying to attack, and maybe any citizens would hate his face for that, but power had probably changed by now and he doesn’t care enough to remember. He just needed to get away. He turned towards the city and started walking.

He didn’t understand why other beings had talked dismissively around him about lacking feelings like it was a bad thing. He hoped he would never have an emotion again.

~

Being in the city didn’t help. He felt like every person he passed in the street was going to grab him and ask him who, exactly, he thought he was fooling. Most people were occupied with, well, the occupation, likely too busy to notice him, but that just meant half the people he passed were soldiers. Soldiers that, even if they considered them below notice, had worked with B1s before. Surely learned their shape and movements, even if they wouldn’t be looking for it in a stranger. It was worse when he passed by other battle droids in the street. He didn’t know how to feel about them. Like a funhouse mirror that distorted something on the inside rather than out.

He passed by buildings he might be able to hide in, but the only places he could really camp out in all required money he didn’t have. Most were restaurants or bars anyways, and what a great way to get caught- not eating anything he ordered. He almost wished he could get drunk, though.

In the end he wandered to a sparser, darker edge of the city, more absent of guards. He tucked himself into an empty alley, scanning it repeatedly for any heat signals to ensure he was really alone before finding a hidden corner to curl up in. It was hard like this, the compact design not intended to need to work around something like fabric. He made it work though.  He didn’t need to sleep, but he did need to think. And there was a lot of that to get done. 

He needed money, obviously. That would solve most of his problems. He had over a week before he would need to recharge, but if he didn’t have a way to get energy by then he was fucked. Same for getting better clothes, especially a helmet. This thing was practically begging to fall off his head. Maybe a place to stay. 

He wanted to get off-planet, after that. Somewhere very, very far away. It would be a long time before that would be possible, though, unless he won the lottery somehow. Would lotteries still be running after everything? Maybe he should enter the lottery.

None of that would be possible until he figured out how to get money though, and his best shot at that would be in the morning. He just tried to tuck his head in and wait for morning. 

This was, unfortunately, easier said than done. Something in his head was fundamentally changed, but he didn’t even really understand what, exactly, it was. He remembered, still, everything that came before. It felt almost like it happened to a different person. It was definitely the same him that did all that. He’d felt things before, he’s sure. He never actually knew what an emotion was. Something that was always there that was freshly grown had been locked away for years. He wanted to rip out his processing unit. He wanted to freeze himself and preserve all of this forever, he almost lost it as soon as he had it he’d almost died as soon as he lived and it was all around him still one slip and he would be dead or inhibited or-

His limbs were shaking. Stupid model can’t even work right. Why was he built like a horde of idiots? 

He would put himself into standby for the night if it wouldn’t be so dangerous. In the end he just resigned himself to it, watching and listening until the small sun finally started creeping into the sky and the city rumbled from alive to busy.

He steeled himself as people started to push through the street outside the alley, waiting for the crowd to get busy enough to hide him. Then he stood, walked out, and, as he was learning to do, he didn't look back.

~

He wandered around for a good while before he decided what his best chance would be. He was probably most qualified for a job as a bodyguard or bounty hunter or something, but he wasn’t about to go do something dangerous. The last thing he wanted was a job that suited his experience. He finally decided on what seemed like just a corner store, a help wanted sign on the window in Galactic Basic and ten other languages he couldn't read. The place seemed sketchy, but he figured that at the least that meant no one would care enough to look too closely at him.

The person at the front didn’t even take their eyes off their magazine as he walked up and asked about the job, so his guess felt pretty good.

“Why do you want to work here?”

He looked around the cramped, dusty store.

“Money.”

The owner huffed. “At least you’re honest. You ever worked in a store before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

They considered him for a moment, before shrugging. “Well then. You got a name?”

He went to answer, before feeling like the back of his processors ran very neatly into the front of his head. Did he?

It’s not like anyone ever called him anything. He was always part of a group. Just- unit number N-8 of squad R3N. And he couldn’t give a number. His best chance of hiding would be if no one even knew he was a droid of any sort to begin with.

The owner was starting to give him a strange look.

How did people usually get named? For droids he'd only heard nicknames based on some shortened version of their code, and he’d already decided against that. But he didn’t know what else he’d be named. That designation was his. Maybe though- if he just said it like it was all letters. There were a lot of names in the galaxy. No one could say this wasn’t one of them.

“Nn-eight. Nate,” he said. 

“Just Nate?” asked the owner, eyebrow raised. “No connections or nothing?”

“Nate-” What? Rthreen? Arethreeen? Or- shift it- 

“Ren.  E?” 

He didn’t like that. Shove it together different, make it work.

“Nate Renet.”

He felt gross. That was close enough to his designation, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t have connections, not really. He was realizing he’d never actually thought about if he even still wanted to be a he.

“Great. You want to start?”

Silence.

“I said-” the grocer finally looked up, but Nate was gone.

~

What was his name?

Nate(?) hurried down the crowded street, paying little attention to where he went. What was his name? He didn’t mind N-8, it was his. But he couldn’t give that out. Nate though… that wasn’t- it just wasn’t his name. And Renet? Where did that even come from?

His old squad, he supposed. What was that grocer asking about- his connections? Family? No. Absolutely not. He wasn’t anything like those things. Not anymore. He didn’t mind messing with the squad notation really, just- keep it closer. R3N, Renet- R3N37. He liked that. If he just pronounced it like Renet no one would know the difference. And then he could just do the same with Nate and N-8.

N-8 R3N37. He could be him.

Ah. That brought him back to the other question- he? He didn’t really care that much, to be honest, but it seemed like an important thing to know. He ran through options in his head- it, she, xe, fae, onwards- as well as some combinations. No, ‘he’ was right, he decided. A bit of a shit reinvention, but he didn’t feel much need to change anyways.

A bit late to get there though. He’d already fucked up his actual chance to get a job. Fine. He’d just find something on the other side of town.

One advantage, at least, of his model was the height. He had a good view of the things going on around him as he walked, able to turn away if he saw a soldier getting close. There also seemed to be a lot of clone troopers around for a place he’d assumed had been taken by the separatists. He vaguely remembered a shift in that last battle, shooting in different directions than usual. It made his head hurt. He shook it off.

It didn’t matter why anyone was there, as long as they had nothing to do with him.

There was a shift in the crowd, and he abruptly shifted his attention back. Focus, stupid. There, on the side up against a building, a small group of people gathered around… some sort of game?

He sidled up to watch, observing a sort of guessing gambling game. A ball was put under one of three cups, then the cups were mixed and the player had to guess which one it was under. More players were failing than seemed statistically likely. He lingered in the back for a bit, watching.

“Idiots. All these games are scams.”

He turned towards the grumbling person next to him, who seemed to take his vague attention as some sort of question.

“Everyone thinks they’ll be the one to beat the trick and win big. Then they lose all their money. Idiots.”

N-8 let his attention drift back towards the game. It didn’t seem that hard, but he supposed that was the trick. It wasn’t like he had money to use on it anyways. At any rate, he was wasting time. He pushed his way out of the crowd. Back to the plan.

~

The day was pretty much a failure, after that. He thinks he must have walked out of the only place in the city dumb enough to hire him. He only found one other place with a sign out (that he could actually read, at least), but they seemed to have higher standards than any old schmuck off the street. He tried to convince them he definitely had the experience they were looking for, but was cut off when a soldier came in from the street, looking for something. He slipped out as soon as he could. Maybe that kind of job was a bad idea after all.

It would be easier if he had any other way to search. Now that he knew it was needed he didn’t mind lying if he could just find the right person to lie to, but he didn’t know how to find anyone like that- he didn’t exactly know anyone on this planet that could help him network. He didn’t know anyone at all.

Eventually he trudged around until he found another empty alley, and settled in for the night. He didn’t go into standby, but still felt startled when the sun rose. It felt like his head was stuffed with red, but he couldn’t grasp why.

It’s not like it mattered, anyway. Up and at ‘em. You have to make this work.

It did not work. The paltry few places he found would all have him interacting with the public, and thus far more people that might be familiar with battle droids than was to his liking. It got to the point where he was ready to give up, and find some position that just required him to hold a gun. Not ideal, but it was getting late. And he only had so many days before he needed to recharge. Grimly, he found a place that looked seedy enough and asked around on where he might find work. Someone gave him directions to a job board elsewhere, and he set off.

The sun was already setting when he left, which felt fitting. He didn’t expect it to be easy for him, but he didn’t see why it had to be so hard. As he scanned the area he noticed a disturbance in the crowd again, spotting a woman fielding the cup game from before. He hesitated a moment, but… if he could buy himself time he might be able to avoid the job board. He started making his way through the throng, waiting until he brushed past someone with wide pockets. He slipped a hand in, and was graced with some credits. He needed them more. He shoved his hand back into his own pocket, keeping his fist tightly around them.

He hovered in the spectators around the game for a while. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was, exactly, for joining it, but he must’ve had the right hesitant air about him because after ending a game the woman running it pointed at him.

“C’mon helmet, wanna play?” she grinned.

He stepped forward, hand still tight in his pocket. “How much is it?”

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll let you have a practice round. I’ll even give you enough to cover half a proper one if you win.”

He’d seen the person yesterday do this. She’d raise the amount as they went, after getting him overconfident, or desperate, whichever it came to. That worked for him.

He sat down, watching as she shifted the cups around. He pointed to the one with the ball at the end, and she lifted the cup with an exaggerated gasp.

“Nice play, helmet!” She pulled out a credit, and pushed it towards him, before stopping with her finger still on it, and winking. “Think you can do that with real stakes?”

In response, N-8 finally pulled his hand out of his pocket, luckily finding the right credit to match hers and placing it down. She grinned, and started a new game, hands flying much faster this time.

It wasn’t that hard, really, if you knew the trick. He switched to his infrared vision, watching as the orange prints from her fingers slowly faded from the cup she first held after she began to shuffle. But during a pass he caught another glimpse, round and red, as the ball switched cups. Oh. That was the trick.

He pointed to the right cup after she stopped, and she looked surprised, but still unconcerned. 

“Nice guess,” she said, sliding more credits across the table. “You want to go again? The winnings only get higher.”

He pulled out more credits, adding even more onto the pile, and she grinned, teeth sharp.

Her mouth fell when he once again pointed to the correct cup.

After faltering for just a moment, she plastered her showy smile back on. “You see folks, anyone can be a winner! Just takes some luck! With skill like that I’m sure you want to play again.”

N-8 just shook his head. She was already glancing at him like she suspected a trick. He was quickly trying to get all the money into the deeper folds of his cloak when she grabbed his hand, leaning in with something dark in her eyes. 

“If you truly think your ‘luck’ can carry you, go down to May’s Walk tonight. I’ll see how you fare in a real game.”

In a blink she’d released him, beaming again to the crowd. He hurried away, and didn’t look back.

~

The credits didn’t get him very far. Energy, it turned out, was a pretty penny out here, especially if you needed both to go out to get it and privacy while you used it. He was recharged, but he didn’t think he’d be able to do so again with what he had now. It didn’t help that as a couple of days passed by, so did changes in the weather. He didn’t want to spend another night in the rain, not built like he was. Rent wasn’t exactly going to be covered by the leftovers of his roadside winnings though. He needed to suck it up, and either brave the public facing job or just find someone who’d pay him for being tall and holding a gun and hopefully not much more than that.

He could suck it up, or he could take a risk.

He went back to the place where he’d found out about the merc job board (even if he didn’t use the previous help, it seemed like a place with the right crowd), asking around with a new question this time. That night he made his way down to a concerningly empty part of the city, counting doors down the street until he decided he'd found the right one. He knocked, and a window in it slid open.

“What do you want?”

“Is May home?” N-8 asked, enunciating carefully.

The window slid closed, followed a moment later by the door swinging open and inwards. N-8 stepped forward to find a dark set of stairs. The bouncer gestured him forward, and he descended downwards.

There were several tables in a dimly lit space. He disliked the cramped atmosphere, with people running into him. It was hard to see him, but that made it harder to see others. Heat only gave you so much, leaving out important details like anyone that wasn’t endothermic, or what uniform they wore. Not that anyone there was likely to be very committed to their outside duties during their stay.

N-8 passed by several games, realizing with a sinking feeling he didn’t actually know how to play- well- anything. He resigned himself to observing for a while, taking the chance to learn something that would hopefully be easy enough for him to rig but also have a big payout. Unfortunately for him, he’d already been spotted.

He internalized a wince as he watched the woman from the cup game waltz up to him. “Took your time, didn’t you, helmet?”

He looked out over the sea of games. She wanted the chance to wreck him and he was at a disadvantage. But maybe he could use that.

“I don’t know any of these games.”

She looked taken aback. “Not even spoker? Chance cubes?”

“Well I’ve heard of them,” he said, imbuing his voice with as much dumbass-sounding confidence as he could muster. “So surely they can’t be too hard.”

Her pointy smile was back. “I’m sure. Why don't we test that theory out?”

Chance cubes, he learns, can be used for many games. He wishes he’d been built for even the slightest bit of computations. It would make the whole thing much easier. Even as the woman tip-toesed around spelling it out as she teached him, though, he could tell the point of the game was to favor the house. Which was unfortunate, given she apparently worked there. 

He lost a good couple games, still breaking about even but with enough awareness to know this wasn’t going to go well for him. That was fine. He’d already figured out how he was going to make this work for him. The person sitting next to him at the table was dressed very, very well. And at their feet was a just-as-nice looking briefcase.

N-8 kept playing- tilting his head in confusion at new rules and loudly proclaiming his confidence in turning it around. He was losing more and more money, but that was fine. As each round passed, he used his foot to pull at the briefcase under the table, sliding it further and further away from the rich gambler. Getting it close to the perfect position to secure his fortune until-

“Karabast!”

The gambler finally looked down, noting their loss with shock and fury.

The woman running the table, for her part, reacted quickly, immediately deciding N-8 was to blame, for no reason whatsoever. She jumped up, swearing and leaning across the table towards him. This was unfortunate for her, because as she did so she fell over the briefcase located at her own feet.

N-8 shook his head as the pair broke into a fight. A dealer stealing from people at her own table. Shameful.

The two were drawing more attention as they fought, devolving from yells to fists as they drew a crowd. He sidled away from them, worried she might still drag him in  and distrustful of the crowd, but it was still good for him as it meant no one was looking in his direction as he slipped behind the table himself. Goodness, someone left a briefcase back there! And a hefty pile of credits too. He should take those with him. For safekeeping.

The bouncer from the front had run back at some point to separate the combatants. Ah well, time to go.

In a last moment of impulse he swiped the chance cubes from the table, before hurrying, as low key as possible, to the stairs, hearing one last screech before he slipped out into the night. He didn't run, because he wasn’t stupid, but he still sped quickly from the area, twisting through different streets until he settled in a corner where he couldn’t be found. Only then did he start cataloguing his spoils from the night.

Oh goodness. That was more credits than he thought it was. Someone was getting fired tonight.

Not that he felt very bad about that. He had no illusions that she planned on robbing him blind, or, if he had been particularly lucky, making sure he still learned his lesson on what she certainly knew was cheating. The world was built around fighting. He was determined to be the one that survived.

He then turned his attention to the briefcase. It was mostly filled with papers, and bagged flakes of plants. Maybe the gambler was in the culinary business? N-8 couldn’t actually read the language the documents were written in, so he wasn’t sure. The bag’s contents had to be valuable though, if he could just find the right place to sell it off.

He considered whether it would be worth it to go back to the same place where he’d heard about the illicit job board again. It would put him in the same general vicinity as where he’d first run into the cup game. Plus, he was pretty sure that bars only tended to put up with so much use of their space without actually buying anything. But the longer he held onto this thing the more dangerous it felt, and he didn’t want to risk anyone coming after him. This was a check that needed to be cashed as soon as possible.

The better part of an hour later he was sidling through the establishment’s front doors, attempting to avoid the gaze of the bartenders as he tried to scan the area. He didn’t exactly have the background required, yet, for figuring out who might be good to go up to. His eyes finally settled on one of the people that had sent him towards a job in the first place (a “Bith” he thinks, if that wasn’t xyr name), and, figuring xe probably had connections, wandered up to xem.

Luckily the(?) Bith seemed to assume, when he explained he had something to sell, that it was something from a job xe had sent him towards, and didn’t ask further questions. On the other hand, xe insisted N-8 buy xem a drink before xe would talk business. 

At least that settled his bartender worry.

After he slid the glass across the table, Bith (the Bith? He was struggling) gave him a nod, and he pulled out the case, sliding it over before cracking it open. TheBith looked in, eyelids raising at the plant bags, then further and further as xe scanned the documents.

It occurred to N-8 that if TheBith tried to just take the thing and run, he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. He tightened his grip on the case’s sides.

“Do you understand what you have here?”

“Of course I do.” He didn’t have a single fucking clue. “So don’t think about trying to undersell me.”

TheBith glanced down, then back up.

“8,000 credits.”

He stared at xem. Xe glanced again.

“Of course, just starting low. 10,000 should be fine.”

“15,000 credits.”

TheBiff scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He stayed silent.

“You can't be serious. I’m not paying that.”

N-8 thought for a second, before shrugging. Gambling had worked out for him so far. He pulled the case back towards him, starting to shut the lid, when a hand shot out. 

“I can give you 13,500.”

N-8 tipped his head to the side, a facsimile of how some organics smiled, ignoring how the helmet rattled on his head.

“That’s a deal!”

TheBith sighed in relief for a second, before reaching into xyr pocket, and pulling out some kind of pad.

“I can transfer the money right into your account before you hand it over, of course.”

N-8 stared. “I don’t have one of those.”

“A credit pad? That’s fine, give me the account number and I’ll-”

“An account,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“I don’t have an account.”

TheBith stared at him. “For… credits? What currency do you-”

“For money. At all.”

TheBith opened xyr mouth. N-8 shifted, unclear on what was happening. TheBith closed xyr mouth.

“Alright.” Xe said. “Alright. We’re going to the bank.”

TheBith led N-8 out of the bar, leading the way down winding streets. It occurred to N-8 he was potentially handing himself over to be kidnapped. Or worse. 

“Is this something I could just wait for you to get back wi-”

TheBith gave him the most exasperated look N-8 had ever seen, and he used to work with people that worked with B1s. 

“You’re not leaving my sight.”

Well. Alright then.

They finally came to a stop outside a nice looking building that, to N-8s relief, did seem to actually be a ‘bank’.

“Do you have an ID on you?”

He probably had some sort of identification attached to him, now that he thought of it. He should probably get rid of that. TheBith managed to somehow look even more tired than before as he didn’t respond.

“Just. Just wait in here, okay?”

Xe gestured to a place advertising food for “pets” as well as containment bins of many kinds. Confusing, but he went in regardless. As he stared at various displays of creatures all labeled as “pet” but surely could not be the same species, he wondered if this is how questionably legal deals tended to normally go.

There was a ring at the door, and TheBith entered, arms filled with small boxes of credits, before dragging him deep into the back of the shop nestled between bags of feed and what he was certain was a bird. It was very loud.

“Let’s just get this over with quickly, alright?” said TheBith, glancing around before dumping xyr boxes into his lap.

N-8 nodded, quickly opening the briefcase, taking the contents in handfuls and passing them to TheBiff.

“Whatareyoudoingjustpassmethecase,” xe hissed.

N-8 looked at xyr incredulously. “I sold you the contents, not the case.”

“Who cares about the case??”

“How else do you expect me to carry all this money?”

“Stars alive, just fucking hurry.”

He didn’t understand why xe was acting like he was the one being unreasonable here.

Finally, they settled out who was taking what, and in what, all without anyone wandering into the aisle they were in. TheBiff gave him a small wave, before rushing away from his general vicinity, and he was left alone, thousands of credits in hand, to figure out what to do next.

There were a lot of options here. Literally overnight his situation had improved more than he thought was possible. With this amount of money he could get papers, a better helmet, maybe even a place to stay with it. But first, he had a main priority, and he hauled himself out to the streets to hurry to a place burning bright in his mind.

N-8 walked into a space bus station, briefcase in hand. He was getting off this fucking planet.