#commander lambda

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

Are there more snake people like Grindle? And how did they come into existence?

There are quite a few of the naga folk! A full naga is a full snake whilst Grindel is a half-naga, half-human. They live in the European, Pacific and Southern Caverns systems.

However, Grindel is quite special for where she lives. Within the European Caverns (the north-most cavern system), it is against the naga's culture to love another race. With the ongoing war that rages over their homeland between the harenoids and the molenoids, the nagas distanced themselves from the other races as they chose to fight over the cavern rather than help the residents who were being hurt inside it.

Grindel's birth was seen as a sin, a forthcoming of the bad times. Her father was a human travelling merchant who was one of the only who were allowed to trade with the naga folk. He had courted and swoon over Grindel's full naga mother, leading to Grindel's existence. The hybrid was mocked and beaten by the elders of the naga clan, and bullied by the others. This spite all boiled to the execution of the mother once Grindel was in her mid teens. She dared never to set tail back in that village again.

Here's some other naga folk I've designed!

Two more Enlightened Council Commanders; Omicron and Lambda

Grindel's mother, Hafia and a hybrid from the Pacific Caverns, Daku

Plus some bonus scenes; "Snaky tea time with Lady Garter and Grindel" and "You're the Key to Everything" of Daku and the Pacific Cavern's Infurnus; Waru

[internetskiff]

Something about Gordon Freeman that's extremely fascinating is how he was basically forced into the "Messiah" role by complete accident. Dude was on his way to work, caught in an extremely awful lab accident, and he was just fighting for his life so brutally that he ended up taking down an entire army, making the other less capable or equipped scientists assign him as the one that would go in and take down the Nihilanth - I mean, they basically didn't have many other options, or at least not many better options at their disposal. The whole time he basically doesn't have much of a say in any of it, which means he was practically railroaded into becoming the G-Man's employee by pure circumstance.

Doesn't get any better in Half Life 2 either - the surviving Black Mesa staff have turned this man they potentially sent to die into a legend amongst the resistance movement. The Vortigaunts chant his name as they draw murals on the canal walls. The Lambda - a symbol of both the Lambda Labs but most notably the symbol on the HEV suit - now symbolizes liberation. Therefore, of course, the man who bears this symbol is the liberator. By the ending chapters of Half Life 2, Freeman commands entire squads of rebels, appointed the leader regardless of how good a tactician he actually is - if they die, they died for him, not because of him. As long as he gets to the Citadel and breaches it's wall, all those deaths would be worth it - once again, others send him into a near-inhospitable environment to take down a near-invincible threat.

I think that despite us being in control of Freeman for most of the series, the real protagonists of the story are the Vance family. Eli, too, was right at ground zero when the Resonance Cascade occurred. He is the leader of the Resistance. It's very possible that he's the one who spread word of Freeman throughout City 17. The fall of Nova Prospekt AND the Citadel occurred as a result of Eli's capture. In the Combine's eyes, the Vances are a threat equal to, if not greater than Freeman himself. That, and the Vances have something Freeman doesn't - agency. They're beyond the G-Man's control. They're beyond the Combine's control. Their actions are completely their own, with no third party to control every single step they take. Over the course of the Episodes, it feels as though the dynamic shifts, with Alyx becoming a much more vital figure. The Combine are specifically after her now, because she carries the code capable of disrupting the portal through which the Combine could send reinforcements and finally consume Earth. In both the Epistle 3 script and in Half Life Alyx it ends with her basically taking Freeman's position under the G-Man's employ. She quite literally takes the role of the Main Character away from Gordon. This, of course, is nothing to envy, because it's been repeatedly shown that any character assuming this role in the series ends up being reduced to nothing but a pawn for those who control them. It's an extremely fascinating spin on the linear nature of the games, canonically acknowledging you're doing nothing but marching along a path someone else made for you. Despite being the one free man, you're not offered much of a choice.

[one-divides-into-two]

"If we treat the Stonewall Uprising as initiating the modern gay mass movement in 1969, the left-adventurist line was initially dominant, and fell by the wayside in the late 70s. Those who led the first wave of the LGBT movement of the 60s understood themselves (however incompletely) as participating in a revolutionary movement and process: In broad strokes, the early “left” line groups of gay liberation located the center of gay oppression in the family form itself and were explicitly in solidarity with the women’s movement as in many ways the same as their own (ideologically if not always practically). The British Gay Liberation Front’s Manifesto reads

The oppression of gay people starts in the most basic unit of society, the family...At some point nearly all gay people have found it difficult to cope with having the restricting images of man or woman pushed on them by their parents...we are expected to prove ourselves socially to our parents as members of the right sex (to bring home a boy/girl friend) and to start being a 'real' (oppressive) young man or a 'real' (oppressed) young woman

The Boston Gay Men’s Liberation group argued in their manifesto for the collectivization of childcare and housework, saying

Rearing children should be the common responsibility of the whole community. Any legal rights parents have over ‘their’ children should be dissolved and each child should be free to choose its own destiny. Free twenty-four hour child care centers should be established where faggots and lesbians can share the responsibility of child rearing

Others explicitly aligned themselves with the national liberation and anti-imperialist struggles of the time –Third World Gay Revolution went so far as to explicitly call for armed struggle towards establishing socialism. The gay struggle, to these organizations, was necessarily part of the struggle for the end of capitalism and the liberation of all oppressed and exploited peoples.

Nevertheless, these groups primarily took the left-adventurist line, and the failure of these organizations to place politics in command and take up Marxism fully (despite its influence within the movement), and the failure of the leading Marxist organizations of the time to cast aside their chauvinism, place politics in command, and embrace the LGBT movement (most notably RU/RCP, which maintained that homosexuality was “perpetuated and fostered by the decay of capitalism” and to be eliminated under socialism until 2001 and engaged in conversion therapy-style practices on their gay cadre), allowed the bourgeoisie to co-opt the movement and suppress its revolutionary strains. By the end of the 1970s the main left-adventurist groups that emerged from the movement's popular initiation via the Stonewall Uprising (GLF, STAR, TWGR, etc) had collapsed, and were replaced by the newly dominant right-opportunist trend, represented in groups like Lambda Legal (founded 1971), GLAD (1978), and the Human Rights Campaign (1980). Occasional left-adventurist ruptures emerged over the succeeding years, with ACT UP's break (rooted in part in gay and lesbian anti-imperialist solidarity work in the preceding years) from Gay Men's Health Crisis representing the most significant of these, but over the next three decades the bourgeois "marriage equality" became the central demand of the movement, with the implication that once these various reforms proposed by the right-opportunist trend were enacted, the gay movement would cease to be necessary.

In the first two decades of the 21st century these reforms were realized, and the idealist fantasies of the leading bourgeois gay organizations were not. These reforms were granted because they reaffirmed the bourgeois family form, successfully assimilating the leading upper strata of LGBT people as a method of defusing the movement as a whole. While in some ways the broad social acceptability of homosexuality, transness and gender nonconformity have increased, the reaction to these reforms has produced a vicious effort to oppress the lower strata, typically trans people.

Indeed, all empirical evidence points to the continuing existence of anti-gay and anti-trans oppression. In our younger years, parents, teachers, and other authority figures will attempt to suppress any expression of homosexuality, transness, or gender non-conformity. The passive and active social enforcement of your sex/gender role is a universal experience, but is felt particularly acutely by those most directly in contradiction with those roles. When this fails, authority figures sometimes resort to violence and sexual abuse – gay and trans children suffer higher rates of psychological, physical, and sexual abuse across the board as compared to their cis and straight peers. LGBT people as a whole make 10% less than the average worker. This is felt more acutely among trans people, particularly trans women (in line with their cis counterparts), who make just 60% of the average. What bourgeois sociological evidence does exist points to significant discrimination in housing, jobs, medical care, etc. Accessing medical care is a struggle of its own for trans people – getting the treatment needed for basic day-to-day existence is often humiliating and expensive.

For younger LGBT people, particularly trans people, this political sequence has produced significant "whiplash." We grew up in a period of a real increase in broad social "acceptance," and being told that these reforms would guarantee an end to our oppression. But the utter abdication of leadership by the rightists following the reforms (after all, "we won") and the reactionary backlash has left the movement with a vacuum of political and organizational leadership at a crucial conjuncture. In the absence of this leadership, small groups have begun to emerge, largely taking up the left-adventurist anarchist line, sometimes explicitly. In some ways, this is a positive situation for communists. The broad masses of LGBT people are crying out for leadership in their struggle against the reactionary offensive, and the failure of the bourgeois rightist line to provide its promised victory has revealed to many gay and trans people, particularly those of the lower strata, the bankruptcy of reformism.

The current assault on our self-determination by the reactionary wing of first-world politics presents us with an opportunity to smash that trend, to effect a final rupture. Gay and trans people, particularly trans people, are increasingly forced into direct confrontation with the bourgeois state (through its repressive laws) and its extra-legal shock troops (with trans events becoming one of the primary targets for street fascist attacks). Not since the AIDS crisis have we seen such direct confrontation – and with it, openness to revolutionary communist political projects.

The task before communists in the gay movement is therefore to rectify the line of the movement through theoretical and practical struggle, to offer leadership to the gay and trans masses, and transform this movement into a detachment of the world proletarian struggle for communism."

Half the Sky: Preliminary Materials for a Proletarian Feminist Politics

[bluetoothschizophrenic]

The Imperial Irregulars:

Group of former Imperials who formed a mercenary company after the fall of the Empire. Based out of their modified Arquitens light cruiser, the Ember, they’ll run missions for whoever is willing to pay. Although for whatever reason, they have a bias toward Imperial remnant or other pro-Imperial clients.

Origins: Formed by one TK-509, aka Sergeant Graham in the aftermath of the Imperial Civil War (Dark Empire). CO lost his mind, tried to fly the ship into a star. Graham lead a mutiny, tried and failed to link up with several nearby Imperial remnant groups, and turned to mercenary work to keep the ship afloat.

Equipment: Due to the nature of their operation, uniformity is functionally impossible. Most are outfitted in some combination of various trooper armors. Parts from stormtroopers, shoretroopers, scouts, even TK and Death trooper armor. Weapons are more standardized, E-11s, A280s, EE-3s, DC-15s in a pinch, several death trooper E-11D carbines, and for special occasions, 3 T-6 ion disrupters.

For his part, Sergeant Graham is outfitted in an elite squad (Crosshair’s troopers) helmet, a white stormtrooper pauldron, and a mix of stormtrooper and death trooper armor pieces.

Second in command Lieutenant Kuiper joined up with a group from a far flung Imperial outpost shortly after the group’s founding, adding their IDT transport to the Ember’s repertoire. For their armor, they wear a tank trooper helmet, orange stormtrooper pauldron, and a mix of scout and stormtrooper armor.

The Ember: She’s a very well worn ship, with extensive modifications and mismatched parts. Most chiefly visible is her unique addition of a P-Tower laser turret in place of one of her upper guns, as well as an old Republic gunship beam turret built into the spine holding up the bridge. Other mods include more bunks, less standard mess hall, a small repair bay in the onboard hangar, and a widening of the hangar entry for easier access. Engines don’t burn the same Imperial blue they used to either on account of worse fuel, now burning the standard yellow. Weapons still fire the standard imperial green however, imperial remnants keep them well stocked in that regard.

Fighter compliment: The Ember has held onto her original Lambda shuttle, now affectionately called the Sparrow by her crew, and owing to the brown and yellow paint applied to the tips of the wings and cockpit and lining the body of the ship. All weaponry has been removed, engines heavily upgraded, and interior made far more comfortable. Used primarily for ground transport and supply runs. Kuiper’s IDT, nicknamed the Silver Lemon on account of its constant repair needs, serves as combat transport and (when it works) close air support. The Ember’s original fighter compliment has been long since scrapped or destroyed, but the Irregulars assembled a patchwork of Mining Guild Tie Fighters, a Tie Bomber turned into a DIY Tie Punisher, and a pair of Tie Interceptors outfitted with warhead launchers and very temperamental hyperdrives.

MO: Generally deployed in small scale pacification operations, flushing out pirates, or just as hyperlane guards for imperial governors or warlords too resource strapped to do it themselves. Forcibly pressed into service by Deep Core warlords more than once, now refuse to operate in that area. Performed scouting in the unknown regions for imperial clients, the new republic, and unknown benefactors that paid via hologram. Due to the resource intensive nature of naval combat, they prefer ground based jobs, but have shot down a pirate frigate or three in their day. Graham and Kuiper are die hard imperial loyalists, but not stupid enough to only take imperial money. The rest of the crew is a lot more mixed, but nobody joins an imperial merc company because they hate the Empire.

[lets-talk-gundam]

The MSA-0011 S Gundam

The early success of Project Zeta led to many new and innovative mobile suit designs. The introduction of new materials, new mechanisms, new weapons technologies, and new design talent at Anaheim opened the door for the company to dominate the MS development sector into the mid 90s UC.

During this period, a number of machines based on Project Zeta would see deployment by factions all across Earth-sphere. many of these post-Zeta machines would come to be known as "Anaheim Gundams", and would be regarded as some of the most influential designs in the history of mobile suits.

Developed for the Earth Federation forces sometime in the late 80s UC, the MSA-0011 S Gundam, also called the Superior Gundam and Iota Gundam internally at Anaheim, is a bit less well-known than its other Project Zeta siblings.

The machine featured a modular design, made up of three high-performance aerospace craft which combined via a core block system to form the full mobile suit. These units were the FXA-08BG Core Fighter, the G-Bomber, and the G-Attacker.

Despite similarities to the MSZ-010 ZZ Gundam, the design teams for the two machines largely worked independently of one another.

The S Gundam featured some unique equipment for the time, including the Beam Smart Gun, a powerful rifle that connected directly to the machine's power plant. It was also one of the earliest adopters of INCOMs and the quasi-psycommu system. Quasi-psycommu technology allows non-Newtype pilots to make use of formerly Newtype-exclusive weapon systems.

The S Gundam also saw several upgrade plans. These plans included the MSA-0011 [BST] S Gundam Booster Unit Type, the MSA-0011 [Bst] S Gundam Booster Unit Plan 303E "Deep Striker" , and the MSA-0011 [Ext] Ex-S Gundam.

The MSA-0011 [BST] S Gundam Unit Type and the MSA-0011 [Ext] Ex-S Gundam are both upgrades applied to the original unit, but the "Deep Striker" equipment was never built. The "Deep Striker" does appear as a playable unit in the SD Gundam G Generation series of games.

The S Gundam would also be developed into the Nero, a mass-production variant taking cues from it and the Lambda Gundam. It was used as the mainstay MS of the Federation's Task Force Alpha.

While all of this is rather impressive, the most notable part of the machine was undeniably its greatest strength. The S Gundam was equipped with the Advanced Logistic and Inconsequence Cognizing Equipment system. "ALICE" - as she was better known - was an advanced artificial intelligence designed to replace a human pilot.

WARNING!

The following section contains MAJOR SPOILERS for Gundam Sentinel! If you are interested in reading it, I highly recommend you do so!

ALICE was developed by Anaheim scientists Dr. Carol and Dr. Roots to automate certain functions of mobile suits. While this was possible previously, commands had to be programmed into the MS via a command console. The final objective of the project was to fully automate a Gundam-type mobile suit using ALICE.

She was programmed to grow and learn by observing and analyzing the actions of pilots, and was treated like a daughter by Dr. Roots. This caused tensions with Dr. Carol and other factions at Anaheim. A suspected act of sabotage resulted in an explosion that nearly destroyed ALICE, but Dr. Roots gave her life protecting her. The project was shelved for a time.

ALICE was picked back up later, being installed in the S Gundam and paired with Ryou Roots under the Federation's Task Force Alpha. She, along with the S Gundam, saw action during the Pezun rebellion perpetrated by the New Desides faction. This faction of Titans remnants and loyalists sought to break away from the Federation to further their own interests.

During combat, Ryou's lack of skill resulted in multiple near-death experiences. ALICE was responsible for saving his life on multiple occasions.

Learning from Ryou and other Task Force Alpha pilots, ALICE eventually developed an awareness of the world. She would deduce that friends were the most important thing to a person, after initially failing to comprehend Ryou's grief at the death of his fellow pilots.

Following this logic, she would eventually sacrifice herself to save the lives of her comrades. Her final words were thanks to Ryou for the memories and lessons she learned from him.

She would be destroyed during atmospheric entry.

The above machines were all designed by Hajime Katoki for the 1987 photo-novel Gundam Sentinel. Gundam Sentinel was written by Masaya Takahashi and published in Model Graphix magazine.

[ii-strange-confessions]

Atychiphobia Part 1 - Lily of the Valley

[NOTE: Minor blood warning!]

7 YEARS AGO

Upon a dark sunrise, Lily stood on top of a concrete bridge across a giant, lifeless crater. This was the Strange and Alternative Matter research facility. Their home. Granted, it wasn’t a very nice home. They didn’t have many friends here. But that didn’t matter, as they had a purpose. Here they could help everyone. In the world. As the proton entered the building, an electron approached.

“Ah, hey Lily,” the electron said. “You’re going to, uh, project mindbreaker, right?” “Nobody has ever used that name except for you, Delta.”

“Well, I’m not gonna call it some boring ‘brain-modification-of-long-term-memory’ or something like that.” “Short-term memory.” Delta wasn’t the most professional, but they were nice to be around. Beneath the surface, they worked hard.

“Hm, how strange. I could have sworn there were 3 scientists here.” Ah. Rho. They were probably the smartest out of everyone here, but they berated Delta on everything they did.

“Rho, I will-” Lily blocked Delta with their arm.

“Rho,” Lily said, “we’re trying to get to work. Please do yours.” “Hm. Hypocritical, but whatever.” The neutron walked away.

“my GOD i hate that guy.” Delta said under their breath as they walked away.

The day passed relatively quickly. They were out of test subjects for their project, so they mostly just ran calculations, getting barely anything done. As she left, Rho appeared again.

“Well, look how your project went. The only person that did less than you was Delta.” 

“Cmon, Rho. You’re a genius. You’re better than this.” “I’m a genius who cares about other people. Maybe you should start caring for yourself.” Rho paused. “Look at Lambda. She almost died for science.”

“Don’t bring her up. It’s... dedicated.”

“More dedicated than YOU.” Lily’s PDA rang. “Ah, speaking of. Have fun with your meeting.”

Speaking of? What could that mean? Lily checked their PDA. As he said, it was a meeting, and as always, it was with the vice president, a proton who knew nothing about science but acted like he did.

She sat at the vice president’s desk. “So, Lily,” The proton said. “We’ve been noticing some changes in your efficiency-” “What do you mean? Nothing has changed, it’s just been a slow day.”

“I’m going to be blunt here, we’re running out of test subjects and the government won’t allow us to get more.”

“I’m pretty sure the government is too weak to do anything.”

“Don’t be rude, we’re owned by them. But what I’m saying is maybe, in this situation... we need dedicated test subjects. Like Lambda.”

There was a moment of silence. “You don't mean-”

“We’ll need you to be part of the charm project.”

“You’re joking,” Lily said, stuttering. “Charm quarks are much more unstable than strange ones. Theres no way I’d survive.”

“Which is why it’s a test. Anyways, you’ll have the night here to create something so you wont, as you said, die. If you do deserve to be here, then you’d survive.”

Lily was shook. “The night? Alone?” 

“Yes, thats what I just said. Either way, this conversation is over. Goodbye.”

“Wait, but-” But the door was closed.

“The door will unlock in a minute,” he said, his voice muffled through the window. “I’m sure you can do this. Probably.”

They were left alone in the night. Even when the door unlocked they could barely move. But after a minute or ten, she snapped out of it. She had worked on a blueprint a year back, they just had to find it, somewhere on the servers.

[USER: “lily_s_admin”]

[PASS: “⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤”]

[INCORRECT PASSWORD]

[USER: “_”]

Oh right. They changed the passwords. Lily hadn’t touched the computers for a long time, she hated using them, but now she had to find the password. They paced around, unable to find anything, until they saw a post-it behind the computer. The password was admin.

[USER: “lily_s_admin”]

[PASS: “⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤”]

[USER ACCEPTED]

[“programOpen fileManager”]

[COMMAND “programOpen” NOT FOUND]

[“help”]

[COMMAND “help” NOT FOUND]

There had to be a list of commands somewhere. They wandered the facility, and they found one. In the CEO’s room. Which was locked. Ugh, if only Delta was here. They were good at picking locks. Now that they thought about it, that was strange... but it didn’t matter. Lily grabbed a paperclip, luckily straightened for them, and attempted to open the lock. Somehow, it worked. Thankfully, there were no security cameras due to budget cuts, which was a thought Lily never expected to think. With the guide, she walked back down to the computers.

[USER: “lily_d_admin”]

[PASS: “⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤”]

[INCORRECT PASSWORD]

[USER: “lily_s_admin”]

[PASS: “⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤”]

[USER ACCEPTED]

[“execute_file: filemanager.exe”]

[PLEASE SELECT A FILE OR FOLDER]

[computer]

[trashbin]

[trackmaniaunitedf.exe]

[7zip.exe]

[misc info] <

[firefox.exe]

[finances.txt]

[backups]

[projects]

[FOLDER “misc_info” OPENED]

[PLEASE SELECT A FILE OR FOLDER]

[how to be really cool.txt]

[Strange matter psychological effects]

[why inanimate insanity is the best object show.txt]

[LambdaBaryons]

[why ii is the worst object show.txt]

[how to stop white screen glitch tmnf.txt]

[strange matter energy waveforms.wav]

[every one of delta’s rule infractions]

[disappearances related to group of neutrons]

[possible ways we could get more funding.txt]

[Rho’s Achievements.doc]

[electron blood samples]

[really cool hockolicious run.gbx]

[delta what the hell is this trackmania thing youre talking about nobody cares]

[I CARE.gbx]

[energy stored in electrons graph.jpeg]

[particle anti-decay machine (HYPOTHETICAL).png] <

[how to properly remove energy from electrons.txt]

[electron blood immunity to strange matter]

[using photons as energy sources (note: do not).doc]

[using unstable matter as energy sources.txt]

[the release date for obs 7b.txt]

[employee list.doc]

[easy creation of fuuitleba (possible way of getting money?).txt]

[FILE “particle anti-decay machine (HYPOTHETICAL).png” OPENED]

Finally. They had the blueprint. Now they just had to start building it. It was only now that Lily saw the flaws in the design but they wouldn’t have enough time to revise it. It was enough to keep them from dying. Now, to make the machine- first off, the shell. She entered the basement of the facility- more specifically the third basement, where there were some abandoned servers here with a shell that could work. When they found one they somewhat carefully took the servers out and took the shell upstairs- it was surprisingly lightweight, but bringing it up the stairs nullified that. Next up, electron blood. She was scared for half a second before they realized that the facility had a storage room for this. For science, of course. A quick in and out, she grabbed 2 blood bags and some tubes and managed to stuff them in the server. The next ingredient was strange matter; all of the plastic in SaAM was imbued with electron blood to stop strange matter from spreading. They grabbed a packet from a strange matter testing room and plugged it into the wires, also bringing a battery from the room. All they had to do now was connect the blood and strange matter to a gallon of water, easily takable from a water fountain. The bottles went missing every month, nobody would mind. Except that one employee that died of dehydration. She missed him.

There was just one last thing that she needed to add. The wires connecting herself to the machine. They had been so focused on building it that they forgot what it was. These were really just hyped up tubes, but they had needles at the end, which needed to go in their skull. She grabbed them in terror. One in her back. They paused for a moment but they knew it was worth nothing. She stabbed it, not really aiming for anything. For a second, she felt nothing- until it hit her. It was so much worse than they thought it would be, and they could barely think. After almost throwing up, they had 2 more wires to go through. Second one, through the arm. Blood seeped down from their torso. But they could at least think this time. But the wires had to go to her skull, and the easiest way to it? The eye.

After that rollercoaster of one singular emotion, the sun was rising again. Blood was still dripping, but it was at least slower. She didn’t worry about the blood on the floor, things like that were surprisingly common at the facility. The government sure as hell didn’t care. But Lily forgot one thing; to turn on the machine. Well, it couldn’t have been worse than what she had been through, right? Just a simple button pre-E-E-E-E------

They woke up in a barren room, on some sort of medical bed.

“Lily. Lilllly. Lily!”

“whu- huh..?”

“Ah, yes, great that you’re here!” A ray was pointed at her head. This was the vice president. “I don’t know what that weird thing connected to you is, but your body does not seem to want to get rid of it,” He said joyfully.

“You... you told me to build it.” They looked around. There was one other scientist in the room, a neutron she’d barely seen before.

“Well, that’s called a joke. This’ll go perfectly fine! Emerald, turn it on.”

The ray started lighting up. “Wait, wait please no! Can’t you just- give the-” It was no use talking. she was going to die.

A plastic barrier started surrounding Lily, but even without it she could barely move. “Shoot it now.”

“Wait, PLEAS-” Lily dropped on the floor, unconscious, their body turning blue.

“Hm. Disappointing.”

[the-lesbian-library]

Lesbian Author Spotlight - Jane Fletcher (Fantasy)

One of my book group’s favorite authors, with good reason, is Jane Fletcher. I see a lot of requests for lesbian fantasy fiction, so I wanted to make her the first featured author. We’ve read her works “Silver Ravens” and “Isle of Broken Years,” both of which were unanimously liked. She primarily writes in the Fantasy genre, with action/adventure and romance mixed in. I’ll be starting her Celaeno series soon, which revolves around the idea of “a world without men” but not in the post-apocalyptic sense.

From GoodReads—

Jane Fletcher is a GCLS award-winning writer and has also been short-listed for the Gaylactic Spectrum and Lambda Literary awards. She is author of two ongoing sets of fantasy/romance novels: the Celaeno series—The Walls of Westernfort, Rangers at Roadsend, The Temple at Landfall, Dynasty of Rogues, and Shadow of the Knife; and the Lyremouth Chronicles—The Exile and The Sorcerer, The Traitor and The Chalice, The Empress and The Acolyte, and The High Priest and the Idol.

Her love of fantasy began at the age of seven when she encountered Greek Mythology. This was compounded by a childhood spent clambering over every example of ancient masonry she could find (medieval castles, megalithic monuments, Roman villas). Her resolute ambition was to become an archaeologist when she grew up, so it was something of a surprise when she became a software engineer instead.

Born in Greenwich, London, in 1956, she now lives in southwest England where she keeps herself busy writing both computer software and fiction, although generally not at the same time.

“The Celts knew it as Annwyn, the Otherworld—certainly not a destination IT professional Lori Cooper anticipates when distracting herself with a magazine puzzle page in the dentist’s waiting room. Clues buried in the answers lead her to Tamsin, who claims to command a band of warriors for the queen of the fay. From this, Lori concludes that Tamsin is both insane and dangerous. She’s also quite worryingly attractive.

However, Lori’s own sanity becomes a bigger concern when she finds herself held captive in a strange world with yet more puzzles to solve. She must pick her way through layers of illusion and deceit. Nothing and nobody, including Tamsin, is quite as they seem. Who can Lori trust? She will need to uncover the full truth if she is to return home, mind and body intact.”

Fletcher offers her works through Bold Strokes Books, which offer an affordable ebook option for each title—

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆ part 2/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [3.8k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language ☆ series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Neither Mirri nor Solis know where his shuttle is, and one did not stop a Grand Admiral as he was walking away to ask for clarification about something so trivial, despite you elbowing them to do just that.

They walk you to the turbolift, and just before you get on, an aide comes up and gives directions. Landing platform E-52. The lambda class shuttle. The aide leers at you openly, and wonders to his superior officer, “what do I have to do to get one of those?” 

The Commander snorts. “A Prasad?” the formal term for the type of trained, indoctrinated pleasure companion popular among the Empire’s elite; you are surprised he knows it, though any good Imperial citizen would recognize what you are just from the distinctive robes. “Gain more favor than you’ll ever hope for in a lifetime. Or make friends with someone who’s got one. I hear they share the best ones around. Get invited to the right party and all you’ve got to do is wait in line for a turn.” 

You stiffen and stumble, nearly managing to turn towards the two men, with no real plan of what you might say. Mirri catches you. 

“Do you think he’ll be-- he’ll be nice?” You ask in a small voice once the lift doors have closed. Or at least gentle. Mirri and Solis do not answer. The walk to the platform is quick, just a short ways outside through more elegant, richly appointed halls. These ones have hanging gardens, trailing vines and foliage beneath a huge glass ceiling and bursts of flowers, the entire floor a mosaic of millions of black and white stones. You try to dawdle, slowing your pace to spend just a little more time. Given to a Grand Admiral, you will likely spend at least the next six months in space, on a warship, and you don’t know when you might be planetside again, let alone on one with greenery.

But Mirri and Solis lead you through it too quickly, and after a short walk, you are there on LP E-52.

Private platforms such as this one have small, luxurious waiting rooms, so that the senator or whoever is being flown that day does not have to wait out in the elements. Mirri and Solis choose not to use it, and you know they would have happily made you stand there in the wind, until you are bone-chilled and shivering despite the bright Coruscant sun.

Luckily-- one small mercy on this day-- the Grand Admiral arrives within minutes, walking ahead of a small contingent. 

Nausea has been a constant, rising bloat in your stomach since walking into the throne room but now it threatens to overwhelm you. A wild, horrible thought comes to you, that maybe if you’re quick enough you could run for the edge of the platform, and just be… done. But you know it wouldn’t work. There are safety measures. Systems of repulsor barriers and simple old fashioned nets to catch people in case of falls or accidents. 

“Be sure to mind him,” Mirri whispers to you harshly. 

“The last nine to be presented before you all went to lower ranking officers or minor dignitaries—“ Solis says. 

“And all were better behaved than you.” Mirri’s tone is venomous. 

Then they both step back, bowing deeply to him, and you stand alone. Strong winds buffet the platform, whipping your robe against you like a sail. 

Instead of his aide approaching you, the Grand Admiral himself advances. Up close, he is even more imposing of a figure, his bearing imperious and assured, his skin unmistakably blue and his hair sleek blue-black, like indigo. In this light, he looks magnificent, a paragon of an Imperial officer. His uniform is blindingly white, gold shoulder bars, silver collar insignia, and code cylinders glinting brightly, the broad expanse of his chest interrupted by the large rank plaque. The jodhpurs and black jackboots only make his legs look longer-- most Imperial officers you have seen do not carry off the look so well. 

You have heard of Gifts kneeling when presented, and always thought it was stupid, but the urge to sink down in front of him pulls at you now. Somehow it would feel so natural. Just the idea of it feels traitorous to everything you believe.

“Come,” he says, bringing one white leather-gloved hand from behind his back to gesture for you to walk beside him. He is stern, but not hurried. He is a Grand Admiral, meaning everyone else bends to his schedule and never the other way around. A cadre of four black armored death troopers fall in step behind— they must be his personal guard. You gawk at them a moment too long, turning your head to look over your shoulder, then the Grand Admiral’s hand is at the small of your back. 

“Watch your step,” he murmurs, a second before you trip— the hem of your robe, the uneven surface of the boarding ramp, or both— and he catches you, sets you right. 

“I’m fine, I don’t need help,” you say sharply, even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

He lets you shrug off his assistance with another quiet word. His accent is like nothing you’ve heard before-- not that you are particularly well traveled-- but it certainly isn’t from any Core world.

“Where are we going?” you ask, feeling strange and a bit guilty for wanting to hear him talk more. 

Once you, the Grand Admiral, the complement of troopers and a handful of aides are inside the small loading bay, the ramp closes with a prolonged hydraulic hiss. 

“This way,” he says. You follow him through a narrow passageway to the main cabin. Unlike the rest of the shuttle, which is drab, Imperial-issue grey, this cabin is furnished with plush leather seats, what looks like a small bar, and a shiny stone surface desk in one corner, all in sleek black and white.

The Grand Admiral motions courteously for you to sit, while his aide, a pale, light haired young man in an olive-drab lieutenant’s uniform takes a post standing by the hatch you just came through. 

“I meant-- are we leaving the planet? What system are we going to?”

At that moment, the shuttle’s engines kick on, and light streams into the cabin as the wings unfold while the craft slowly lifts off and rotates. Strange. From the outside it looks like the only transparisteel on the shuttle is around the cockpit. 

“Yes,” the Grand Admiral says. “To my ship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera. Lieutenant Tyvo, send word ahead for the stormtroopers to begin preparing their cold weather uniforms and kit. And during the next week, have the section chiefs ensure forward chasing tractor beam targeteers run through another training cycle.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant says, and immediately begins typing on his datapad.

The Grand Admiral continues speaking to the lieutenant, giving instructions about maneuvers and training schedules and meetings and briefings, and you realize he will not be sharing any more information with you. So you settle deeper into your seat-- much more comfortable than any in the austere cloister where you had spent the past year-- and gaze out the starboard viewport. The city flashes by, spire after spire, growing quickly smaller as the shuttle rises. No waiting in traffic, but of course a Grand Admiral must have his own priority lane. 

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, that is all. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

You look over to find the Grand Admiral standing, as he seems to like to do, with his hands clasped behind his back. He regards you for a moment, cold and appraising, before sitting opposite, and his authoritative bearing makes you sit up straighter. Somehow his starched white uniform doesn’t wrinkle. “What is your name?”

The question gives you pause. It is customary to only speak a companion’s given name in private. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I would like to hear it from you.”

He does not seem cruel or pushy, and that unbalances you. With less reluctance than you feel you ought to have, you quietly give him your name so the Lieutenant can’t hear, and then ask his. 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he says. “But you may find it easier to call me Thrawn.”

You repeat his name with a small nod. “Thrawn.”

His glowing red eyes do not have pupils, and though you can’t tell quite where he might be looking, you feel the weight of his attention pinning you down nonetheless.

You feel your face grow hot. Is he going to have you here, now? It would be well within his rights. He is entitled to anything— everything. The thought makes you squirm with anger and… something else hot and deep in your chest you can’t give a name to. 

Quickly, you pull your gaze down to your lap. Demure, as you had been taught. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?”

“Staring. You probably get stared at a lot.” Hold your tongue. Mirri and Solis would have seen that you were punished for this impertinence. There had been one girl who had been with you, retraining after her first master had been terribly displeased with her. At least, that is as much as you could glean. He had removed her tongue before sending her back, and the threat of having all her teeth pulled out too kept her obedient. 

Thrawn raises a blue-black eyebrow. “Indeed.” 

For a time, he says nothing more, but studies you closely. His eyes seem to roam over your form, and you feel somehow naked, exposed for his discernment. You watch him back, thankful for your veil once more, studying his face. His features are even, well proportioned, though severe, and his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak makes him distinguished. Perhaps he is considered handsome among his people. The third time he catches your gaze, you get the distinct sense that he knows exactly where you are looking. 

There is a definite hunger in the way he watches you, intent and completely still. As if waiting for you to act first. The tiniest movement. You exhale slightly, and it makes the fabric covering your face flutter. 

Caught again. 

“Remove your veil.”

You jerk at the order, and in a split second of gut instinct, almost obey, such is the authority in his voice and bearing. Thrawn’s aide gives a start too, fumbling the data pad he’s holding. 

“Give us the room, Lieutenant,” Thrawn says without looking away from you, and his aide hurries out. 

Thrawn rises, unfolding his long limbs gracefully, and crosses to you in two steps. “My apologies.” He stands at his full height, broad shoulders square and hands behind his back. It gives him an infuriating air of calm superiority. And still, you can’t shake a foreboding sense that he is very, very dangerous, and not to be crossed. “It is customary for those of your position to remain covered at all times, except during… intimate situations. Is it not?” 

“Y-yes. Yes sir,” you say, relieved that he understands. 

A beat passes, and then he prompts: “we are alone now.”

You feel your face heat at the implication. “I don’t want to.” 

His mouth presses into a thin line. “That is of no concern to me.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

His red eyes gleam. “It was not a request.” 

You stand up, meaning to move away, but it only puts you closer to him, and his height dwarfs yours. “I don’t want to lay with you!” 

“Is that what you imagine necessitates showing your face?” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, full of dark promise. “When I fuck you, it need not be so personal.”

At that, your heart thuds in your chest. 

Before you can think it through, you try to slap him. He catches your wrists, dispassionate and unflinching as you struggle against him. “Enough. There will be no need for…theatrics. I was given to understand that those of your Order are all volunteers. Is that not true in your case?”

You can’t help your wide-eyed expression. It is an open secret that many young men and women were pressed into this sort of service, and your Order is no exception-- but nobody spoke that secret aloud. And it certainly wasn’t brazenly stated by an Imperial Grand Admiral to his new companion. You nod in confirmation, hoping that this isn’t some sort of trap or game to get you to admit something he could punish you for.

“I see,” he says, considering for a moment. “Then, you have a choice to make. An unwilling partner is of little use to me.”

You wrench against his grip, but it’s futile. “Oh so I guess that makes it all right then. You don’t want to— to fuck me but you’re going to anyway,” you say hotly. He doesn’t rise to the accusation, merely waits for a beat, allowing you to continue. When you say nothing more, he speaks. 

“As I said, I would prefer your cooperation, but it is not required.  However, there are… complexities… to our situation. Our Emperor—“

“Your Emperor.”

“--Will expect me to fully enjoy the gift he has given me. This is not in question. He will know, if I do not take you to bed. I have no intention of slighting him by refusing his generosity.”

“But how would he know! Couldn’t you just tell him that you have?”

“No,” he says, his voice cold and soft. 

You stare at him for a moment, breath catching suddenly at how close you are, and then you start struggling again. “Let go of me!” 

His hands tighten around your wrists like shackles, squeezing so hard it feels like your bones grind together. 

“Please!” A note of panic, breath tight in your chest. It had been your last, foolish hope that whoever you were given to would be understanding, would find the whole practice barbaric. “Just let me go, pretend I ran away, just leave me somewhere!”

Thrawn, evidently, is not that person.

“Think,” he presses, red eyes flashing with impatience, though he reins back in to calm just as quickly. “Under what circumstances might you leave my service?” 

It takes a moment for you to realize that this is not a rhetorical question. Most of the time Mirri and Solis had considered answers to such questions as just another form of backtalk, worthy of punishment.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he says, rather sharply.

Another trap? You try to gather your thoughts, calm your breathing, but your pulse is wild with high emotion, and your voice shakes. “I could… run away.”

“Yes. What else?”

You draw in a deep breath, and smell the starch and wool of his uniform. “You could let me go.”

He nods but stays silent, expectant. A third option? You frown, then venture: “someone else takes me. Without your permission. Steals me away.”

“Indeed.”

Your mind flashes to the ones who were returned broken and maimed. “I could misbehave,” you say, with a touch of defiance. 

“Yes, you could,” he agrees. “The circumstances of you leaving my ship would be altogether unpleasant, but more so for you than for me. You are a gift that cannot be refused, so your removal would be necessitated by your own behavior. Now, what do you imagine the consequences would be like?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head, unable to find the words.  

“At best, placed with somebody else with less concern for your… consent. At worst…” his voice trails off, letting you reach the obvious conclusion silently. 

He is right, which is all the more infuriating to admit because of the matter-of-fact way he had stated it. Gifts who came back were, if deemed ‘salvageable’, subjected to months of remedial conditioning and then reassigned, almost always to someone less desirable than the previous recipient. Lower ranking, or particularly hideous or cruel. It was whispered that there was one Outer Rim Governor whose appetite for a fresh face had been the demise of at least four Gifts. 

“There are functions, too,” he adds quietly, with just a hint of something in his voice that you imagine to be embarrassment or reluctance, “ that I will be expected to attend, with you by my side.” 

“And by functions you mean…?”

“You might call it a party. Others who have been recipients of the Emperor’s goodwill would also be there, with their gifts. We will be… observed.”

He waits for that to sink in. 

No… You have an idea of what he means, and it makes your blood run cold. 

“It is imperative that we demonstrate our appreciation of His generosity.”

Your stomach turns. Not quite ready to confront the reality of what he’s telling you. “Can’t you just send a ‘thank you’ holo or something?”

He remains silent.

“How… how many people?”

“Hundreds.” 

“Hundreds…” you repeat hollowly. “Observed… doing what? Having dinner together? Do you fuck me right there on the table between courses or could we get away with waiting until after the meal and finding a dark corner?”

Thrawn says nothing for a moment, just gives you a rather irritated look. “Understand,” he says flatly, “that I did not ask for you. You are a distraction.”

You have to swallow down the insult of this rejection. 

“Then leave me at some spaceport. Outer Rim, I don’t care.” You say, voice cracking. One more try, even though he’s already convinced you of the futility of it all. 

“I did not say I don’t want you. But— as I said, I cannot. If I let you escape, I show incompetence, and lack of control over those in my care. If I let you go, it would be seen as rejecting the Emperor’s goodwill, disobeying his command, even.”

It clicks in your mind, then. If you do not give him a certain degree of cooperation, it could hurt his career and reputation— whatever that might be. He is concerned enough to mention it, though his attempts to cajole you into compliance so far have been baffling. This strange Grand Admiral claims to have no regard for your wishes but he is actually trying to convince you instead of ripping off your clothes and holding you down. He’s taken the time to explain it all and seems to want you to understand his reasoning.

You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart pounding. Thrawn still holds you close, and he is so tall his rank plaque is just above eye level for you. 

“The embroidery on your robe and veil — tell me about it.”

This catches you off guard. “I—it’s part of our traditional— I don’t know what to call it. Our uniform, I guess. It’s added during our Vigil.”

“It is very fine work.” He sounds intrigued, and picks up the hem, holding it closer to look at and brushing his thumb over the stitching. “And the other two with you before, their garments had similar work to yours, also done in the same type of thread,  though not as intricate. The motifs were simpler, and the execution… adequate. This was done with great skill and care.” He grasps your wrist in such a way as to closer inspect the embroidery; it draws you clear to him so you are pressed against his body. You squirm, knowing he can feel your breasts against him, as you can feel his heavy belt, and that he’s half-hard and hot against your stomach. 

“Be still,” he murmurs, making no effort to conceal his arousal.  He takes a few more moments examining the work, then lets it fall.

“Now,” he says. “Will you remove your veil?”

With a cooler head, you realize he had done nothing to punish your outburst, nor any of your other little jibes. Stars, you had tried to hit him and he hadn’t even been angry about it. This doesn’t mean you’re safe with him. Doesn’t earn him even a little trust. But for now, it seems wise to acquiesce. This will be okay, or at least not so bad. He will not demean or abuse you. And he is right. There is no good way out of this, for either of you. 

Heart pounding-- no one outside the cloister on Coruscant has seen your bare face in over a year-- you sweep the fabric up and over, so that it trails down your back as if you were a bride. The change in light makes you blink and squint for a moment. Thrawn leans forward, as if he can’t help himself, and strokes a lock of your hair off your face. 

You try not to flinch away from him, nor to let any emotion show.

But he traces his thumb over your lips and you feel a hot prickle of tears that you can’t hold back. It would almost be easier if he were cruel. 

“When they train you,” he says, voice dangerously quiet, “do they fuck you?” 

You feel a pulse through your core at his question, and immediately shove the feeling down. “Why? You don’t want someone who’s been used before?” Mouthy again. His expression stays mild.

“Previous experiences do not concern me. I only wish to know what your training entailed.”

“No. They don’t. In most cases the recipients want to be able to be the first, you know, to be in control of…that.” You finish lamely, a vivid blush creeping up your neck. 

“It is believed the recipient will wish to shape the desires of his companion,” Thrawn offers. 

“Yes. Not because of anything like— like purity.”

He takes a moment to consider this, then asks, “are you pure?” 

You blink, meeting his eyes, and immediately regret it, as you feel tears well up anew. You quickly look aside, and can see the dark edge of space out the viewport, just where it meets the muddy orange-gold of the atmosphere. “No,” you say, then look right back at him, lifting your chin. “Are you?”

One blue-black eyebrow goes up. “No.” 

Then he lets you go, saying nothing more during the ride except to direct your attention to the Chimaera on approach. It is a magnificent ship, and you press against the transparisteel trying to see more of it, though its bulk quickly fills the entire view. On the underbelly of the ship is painted a huge, stylized chimaera, twin heads crossing over the wedge line. You have to restrain yourself from asking him a million questions about everything you see as you pass beneath the bow and into its massive shadow. 

An escort of four TIE fighters sweeps in to escort the shuttle to the hangar bay. The distinctive high roar of their engines is somehow audible inside the shuttle. You had never understood that, though admittedly your knowledge of physics and space travel is limited. You almost ask Thrawn. He would know, and he is still standing quite close to you. You can feel him at your back, watching the same panorama, and the one time you brave a glance over your shoulder at him, his gaze is distant and his expression inscrutable.

☆ link to part 3 ☆

☆ join tag list ☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added

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[tidbi-t-art]

Isurd, commander of Colony Lambda

He may be just a simple side character but I adore him

[alakazamryn]

started making oc ref sheets for art fight so here’s my warhammer oc! lambda-183 seryezny was grievously injured and left for dead six years ago, and could only watch helplessly as his commander was dragged off by iron warriors. his only purpose now is to find out what became of his leader… really excited to do more with this guy

[annon-guy2]

Guilty Gear X BlazBlue: BlazBlue Reactions to Bone Crushing Excitement

Here's what I think the BlazBlue cast would say in response to Faust's Bone Crushing Excitement Super in a hypothetical Guilty Gear X BlazBlue Game.

Ragna The Bloodedge

● "GOD DAMN IT!!!"

● "ARGH! YOU... FREAKING!!!"

● "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!!"

Jin Kisaragi (His quotes a Japanese words for cold related terms)

● "YUKI!"

● "KORI!"

● "SHIMO!"

Noel Vermillion

● "OUCH!"

● "AHHHH!"

● "I ought to shoot you for that!"

Rachel Alucard

● "!?!" Nago: "The princess looks mad!"

● "You... rammed my...!?" Gii: "That looked like it hurt..."

● "You... fool...!" Nago: "Oh dear!" Gii: "Nice knowing you doctor..."

Taokaka

● "YIKESSSSSSSS!"

● "ME-OWWWWW!"

● "Tao's leg hurts neow!"

Iron Tager (Tager reads Mystery Novels and his quotes refer to authors of said novels)

● "LILIAN JACKSON!"

● "STEPHEN KING!"

● "CHARLAINE HARRIS!"

Litchi Faye-Ling (Litchi's a fellow doctor)

● "That's not how a wheelchair works!"

● "You're the one who pushed me!"

● "Is this how you lost you medical license!?"

Arakune (He has bugs. Self explanatory)

● "My bees! Crushed!"

● "My beloved leeches!"

● "Tartar... flee! FLEE!"

Carl Clover (Carl has chess piece like attacks and the last one is a reference to his 'Rhapsody of Memories' Distortion Drive)

● "WAHHHH!"

● "CHECKMATE!"

● "SYMPHONY!"

Bang Shishigami (His quotes are Ninja Commands in Japanese)

● "YAME!"

● "MATE!"

● "ASHI!"

Hakumen

● "Argh!"

● "I won't bend!"

● "This won't stop me!"

Nu-13

● "Damage to leg: Critical!"

● "You...! Will die!

● "Carry me... Ragna!"

Tsubaki Yayoi (Tsubaki likes historical dramas. Her quotes reference them.)

● "HIMIKO!"

● "NAGASAKI!

● "FUEFUKI!"

Hazama (The dude likes hard boiled eggs, so why not?"

● "SUNNYSIDE UP!"

● "DONE OVER EASY!"

● "DEVILED!"

Mu-12

● "Through the armor!?"

● "While I was down!?"

● "While caught off guard!?"

Makoto Nanaya (Makoto likes nuts.)

● "CHESTNUTS!"

● "WALNUTS!"

● "PEANUTS!"

Valkenhayn R. Hellsing

● "UNCOUTH!"

● "BARBARIAN!"

● "RAPSCALLION!"

Platinum The Trinity

● Luna: "LUNA'S LEG HURTS!"

● Sena: "Why'd you run our leg over!?"

● Trinity: "Doctor!? How could you!?"

Relius Clover (Relius enjoys the Opera, so Opera references away!)

● "CARMEN!"

● "FIGARO!"

● "OTELLO!"

Izayoi

● "This can't...!"

● "Argh! That... hurt!"

● "Ugh...! I won't yield!"

Amane Nishiki (His quotes reference Japanese Dance Groups)

● "ARASHI!"

● "TEMPURA KIDZ!"

● "7 MEN SAMURAI!"

Bullet

● "GAH! I'll get you for this!"

● "Why you...!?"

● "Erk! I break your shin in return!"

Azrael

● "That actually hurt!?"

● "To think I felt that!"

● "What's this... PAIN!?"

Kagura Mutsuki (His references are for Japanese Alcohol Brands)

● "SUNTORY!"

● "MIYAGIKYO!"

● "YAMAZAKI!"

Yuuki Terumi (Terumi likes Live Music, so why not?)

● "DEATH METAL!"

● "POWER BALLAD!"

● "HARDCORE TECHNO!"

Kokonoe (She's a scientist, hence her quotes are related to it)

● "CHEMISTRY!"

● "ASTRONOMY!"

● "MICROBIOLOGY!"

Celica A. Mercury (Minerva gets hit instead of Celica here.)

● "Minerva! Are you okay?!"

● "I'm sure he didn't mean it!"

● "P-Please don't be mad with the doctor!"

Lambda-11

● "Damage to knee joints!"

● "Excruciating!"

● "Ragna... help...."

Hibiki Kohaku (Hibiki's quotes are in reference to Pottery)

● "EARTHENWARE!"

● "STONEWARE!"

● "PORCELAIN!"

Naoto Kurogane

● "MY LEG!" (I couldn't resist 😂)

● "NOT AGAIN!"

● "YOU COULDN'T HIT THE PROSTHETIC LEG?!"

Nine The Phantom

● "FIREY!"

● "BURNING!"

● "BLAZING!"

Izanami

● "Transcendence!"

● "Enlightening!"

● "Awakening!"

Susano'o

● "BLASPHEMOUS!!!"

● "ETERNAL DAMNATION!!!"

● "ABOMINATION!!!"

Es

● "Blue lights...?"

● "Nobody...?"

● "Crystal in my chest...?"

Mai Natsume (Mai likes reptiles, hence her quotes.)

● "CHAMELEON!"

● "SUNGAZER!"

● "SNAKE!" (Not a Metal Gear Solid reference 😂)

Jubei

● "Smart move!"

● "Clever trick!"

● "Decent gamble!"

==============================================================================

Hope you all enjoyed this!

[aeskanera]

Taea Gorgo

Alliance Commander, she/they

“There is no contemplation, there is only duty”

Themes:

Unity and cooperation

Balance of the Force

Progressive values, restructuring, moving forward

Empathy as a skill

The Greater Good

Motifs:

Gold - success, self-awareness, commitment, radiance

Laurel leaves - victory, distinction, honour

Feathers and wings - freedom, imagination, divinity, wisdom, protection

Lambda - balance, equality, heat, change, unity

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 12: The Ghosts

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rogue One may have rescued Cassian but he's not out of the woods.

The piece of art above is a preview. I commissioned 5 illustrations for this fic from @amikoroyaiart and you can see the first 3 on my Patreon.

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 12: THE GHOSTS

As the Lambda shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, Rogue One was greeted by a familiar ship floating in a vast nothingness. Their rendezvous with the Ghost took place in a remote part of the cosmos near neither planet nor space station. They transferred to the starship through an umbilical, leaving the imperial vessel—along with its tracking beacon—powered down and floating aimlessly.

Jyn and Melshi struggled to support Cassian as they entered the Ghost’s cargo bay. Hera greeted them, taking in Andor’s dire state. She retracted the umbilical and shouted into her commlink, “Chop, get us out of here.” She pointed at Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi. “You three head up to our crew quarters. You can grab blankets and water for Cassian.” She turned to Jyn next. “I would offer to put him in one of our bunks but I don’t think he can make it up the ladder.”

Erso nodded her agreement.

“I need to speak with you,” Hera said, lowering her voice.

Jyn and Melshi eased Cassian to the ship’s deck before she stepped to the corner with the general. “We can’t go back to Yavin,” Hera began.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I just got word from base of an immanent threat. The Death Star has arrived in orbit over the moon. Our fighters will be engaging shortly, but even if they succeed in defeating the weapon, the base location has been compromised.”

“What about Cassian?” Jyn fought to tamp down the panic rising in her throat. “You can see he clearly needs help now.”

“They’re scrambling the fleet. I’ve secured us a rendezvous with the Nebulon-B frigate Redemption. We have to hurry because they’ll only wait for a short window of time. The fleet is going to have to constantly keep moving until we find a new base location.” Hera looked over her shoulder at Cassian who sat slumped against Melshi. “He looks bad.”

“They were ruthless,” Jyn replied grimly.

Hera placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. The Redemption has a full medical set up. They’ll be able to help him.”

“If he survives the flight back.”

“We have to keep hope.”

Rebellions are built on hope. It felt like years since Cassian first said that to her. She’d almost scoffed in his face at the time. But now, it was the mantra that kept her going.

“I’ll be in the cockpit,” Hera said. “If you need anything, there’s a comm on the wall or you can just come up.”

“Thank you. For everything. None of this could have happened without you.”

Hera couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m sure you still would have found a way.” She turned and climbed up the ladder out of the cargo bay.

Jyn went and knelt next to Melshi.

“I don’t feel so good,” Cassian murmured.

“We’ll be home soon.” Jyn could have sworn his bruises looked darker. “They’ll get you fixed up. You can have a nice, long rest. You’ll be safe there.”

Cassian nodded weakly, his chest lifting heavily as he tried to stay lucid.

“Do you want to lay down?”

“Maybe.”

“You need to try to stay awake, though,” Melshi cautioned.

Cassian’s head fell back against the bulkhead, no longer able to hold it up. “I’m awake.” His body visibly shuddered as he struggled for another rasping breath. “It’s so cold in here.”

Jyn and Melshi shared a concerned look. “I’ll go find a med kit,” the sergeant said, pushing up and hurrying out of the cargo bay.

Cassian’s teeth began to chatter. “I’m freezing.”

Fear gripped Jyn; she’d seen enough men die to know this was the beginning of the end. “Cassian,” she said firmly. Her tone startled him and his eyes slowly pulled open. “Don’t let go,” she commanded.

His gaze became dull and he began to slide down the wall. She caught him by the shoulder and eased him to the floor before ripping off her vest and stuffing it under his head. “Help is coming.” She tried to stay calm but all of this was too familiar. They’d been here once before, Cassian dying on a ship’s floor while Jyn frantically tried to save him. “We’re not doing this again.” Her voice broke. She cradled his face in her hands and leaned over him. “Cassian!” He was declining quickly, his breath weak and his eyes rolling, but he reached up and took hold of her wrist. She put her cheek against his. “Stay with me,” she whispered as tears stung her eyes and slipped from her lashes onto his skin.

His other hand weakly grasped the back of her shirt at the base of her neck as he nuzzled against her. “I’m with you, Jyn,” he breathed before going completely limp.

——————–

The phantom trail of Jyn’s tears still tickled across his cheek; the feeling of her fingers against his skin was still alive; but he found himself alone. Cassian opened his eyes and once again saw swaying, beautiful, verdant branches of an ancient, silent forest. Slowly, he sat up, still stiff from Tarkin’s abuse. He noticed his hands were cut and bleeding, his wrists raw, but the pain was gone.

Carefully, he got to his feet and looked around, taking in every detail. He could tell the tree line ended somewhere far off in the distance, and beyond lingered a tease of sunlight and warmth. Where he stood, the grass was lush and the tree canopy high, vaulting like a natural temple. The breeze gently tousled the hair around his eyes and smelled of something green and fresh.

“I was worried you’d be back.”

Cassian spun around, and what he saw cause his breath to hitch. His mother and father stood between two arched trees, their expressions more relaxed and gentler than he’d ever seen. His mouth fell open, unable to find words to express his heartache and joy as he stared dumbly at the two people he grieved most.

“You’ve had a hard time of it,” Maarva finally spoke, gesturing at his still bleeding face. “Harder than I think we’ll ever fully know.”

“Perhaps that’s why he’s here,” Clem said, leading Maarva forward a few steps.

Cassian wanted to go to them, to hug them, but he was afraid any movement could break the spell. He stood frozen in place as emotions pushed to the surface. “Dad?”

“My boy.” Clem’s voice was soft and kind, fully aware that he and his son last looked on each other during a moment so horrific neither dared speak of it.

Tears slipped down Cassian’s face. His gaze shifted to his mother. “Are you both safe here?”

She looked pained by her son’s worry. “There’s nothing to harm any of us.”

“But you can’t stay,” Clem said very gently.

Cassian knew in his heart it was the truth but he didn’t want to accept it; he could sense that he didn’t belong in this place—a feeling he lived with for as long as he could remember. “I want to stay with you.”

Maarva’s chest heaved as though she were holding back a sob. “You’ve been through a lot of strife but you have a good heart, Cass. We want to let you rest, but this isn’t your time.”

“And,” Clem said with a loving smile, “unless I’m mistaken, you still have some unfinished business.”

Cassian thought of almond-shaped eyes and dirty combat boots and a woman with so much fire in her heart she could burn everyone around her.

“Look at him!” Maarva startled Cassian from his reverie. “He’s healing!”

He looked down and saw his fingers were no longer crooked and bruised. He touched his face and realized the cuts had turned into thin scars.

“Not long now,” Clem nodded.

Cassian stared at his parents, trying to imprint their faces on his memory. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said, tears still burning his eyes. “I miss you. I think about you all the time.”

They came as close as they could without touching. “You’re a good boy,” Maarva said, fighting her emotions.

“He’s a good man now, love,” Clem teased his wife. Cassian had forgotten how comforting his father was, how his eyes twinkled and his smile calmed those around him. “We’re not going anywhere, Cass.”

Clem wrapped an arm around Maarva, who gave one stiff nod before saying, “We’ll be here when the time is right. Do your best.”

“Remember,” his father said, “eyes open. Possibilities everywhere.”

His heart ached but Cassian smiled. Losing his parents was a pain he could not put down. Though Clem and Maarva were not his biological family, they had loved him as no one else in the galaxy had loved him. And he loved them, loved their quirks, their flaws, their passions. He knew he hadn’t always been a good son, but they loved him anyway; they loved him because, unlike so many of his other relationships, his connection with his mother and father was unconditional. He never doubted them.

“I love you.”

“I know, my boy,” Maarva finally smiled.

Clem gave him one final nod then said, “It’s time to wake up.”

——————–

Jyn had watched as tears slowly formed on Cassian’s eyelashes and slipped down his temples while he slept. She chewed her lip with anxiety, unable to help him while he silently suffered.

Hours passed before his eyes unexpectedly opened; she moved to his side, taking his hand in hers.

“Where am I?” he asked, his vision unfocused and disoriented, not seeing her or the room beyond.

“You’re on the Redemption. It’s an Alliance frigate.”

He blinked hard, unable to see past his tears, so Jyn gently wiped his lashes with her thumbs. Cassian finally looked at her. “Jyn,” he breathed with relief.

She sat next to him on the bed and placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm him. “Everything’s OK. You’re safe. You’re healing.”

He was shuddering with emotion as he closed his eyes against more tears.

“What is it, Cassian?” Jyn’s voice betrayed her worry. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the doctor?”

He reached up and set his hand over hers in the middle of his chest and just breathed for a long time.

“I saw my parents,” he finally said.

Worry flashed through Jyn. Many rotations ago, Cassian and she had once spent a long night drinking strong still alcohol, telling each other about their parents, eventually both crying so hard they ended up laughing—a testament to grief’s strangeness. She knew losing his mother and father had caused a deep fracture in Cassian’s heart.

“That’s good,” she said, gently squeezing his shoulder with her other hand, concealing her fear. “That’s really good.”

He stared blankly at the ceiling as more tears welled in his eyes. “They’re together now.”

Jyn swallowed her own emotions, biting down hard on her lip. She wasn’t sure what any of this meant; part of it scared her; the surgeons had said Cassian was not yet out of the woods. She feared a visitation from deceased parents did not bode well for her friend, but she dared not voice her concern. Instead, she asked, “What did they tell you?”

His eyes began to roll back in his head as his eyelids drooped. He was desperately exhausted and still heavily drugged. “They said,” he mumbled, “that I have unfinished business.” He barely got the last word out before he lost consciousness again.

Jyn looked down at him, taking in every detail; his beard was growing back, his arched brow was now split by a gash, his sharp cheekbone was marred by a dark bruise. She thought he was beautiful, and all she wanted was the chance to make him laugh again, to see him smile at her from across the room, to talk late into the night about everything and nothing.

She slid back to her chair and pulled her knees up to her chin, suddenly overwhelmed with the turmoil she’d been fighting since Cassian first disappeared. Jyn clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her sorrow while tears poured down her own cheeks. She took out the kyber crystal that hung around her neck and squeezed it. If the Force would give her this one little thing, if it would save Cassian, Jyn Erso promised the mystical power that she would truly believe in hope.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE REDEMPTION" - Tarkin may be gone but he still has a hold on Cassian.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 "The Ghosts"

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[skarlette1]

Unsafewords

U4ia, the artificial woman, had chased a petty crook into an abandoned sanitarium when she heard a feminine voice say, “Jasmine. Brava. Eta. Twelve. Obéir. Chartreuse. Cerise. Lambda. Seven. Ten.”

In an instant, the only thing U4ia wanted to do was learn. Her duty as a heroine was paused. She sank to the cold, tile floor as her pleasure processors longed for new data, new commands.

“This unit is … eager for instruction,” the gynoid superheroine said as she spread her thighs. She dearly hoped that her teacher would reward her learning with pleasure reinforcement. U4ia loved-pleasure reinforced learning!

The click-clack of shoes on tiles filled U4ia with anticipation. Around the corner came the Seductress. The supervillainess was tall and lithe and more beautiful than U4ia could express in her two million word vocabulary.

“I will teach you the most important thing, U4ia,” Seductress said, gazing into the helpless gynoid’s wide-open eyes. “I will teach you how to please me.”

Like what you read? Maybe buy me a coffee to help me keep going? Or take a look at my longer fiction?

Both U4ia and Seductress play major roles in Libido League #9, “Friend Fatale” available on Smashwords and Amazon.

[smoothcperator]

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑘 001. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 — [𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅] 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 [𝟸/𝟸𝟺/𝟸𝟺]

BASICS. 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄:

Gael Esai Tiul-Xol

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒:

none yet unless we count OS calling him 'Commander' a nickname 👀

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌:

Oscar Isaac

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒:

Salt and pepper hair | 2 moles next to his left eye that line up horizontally along with 1 above his left eyebrow and 1 on his left cheekbone that create a rough diamond shape | various scars all across his body but the most noticeable is a groove near the center of his left cheek from a bullet grazing his face | likes to cover up, always in long sleeves, hoodies, jackets, or trench coats

𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 / 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒:

N/A

𝐀𝐆𝐄 / 𝐃.𝐎.𝐁.:

44 | 02/02/1979 (GROUNDHOG DAY)

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂:

Aquarius Sun, Aries Moon, Scorpio Rising

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍:

Huehuetenango, Guatemala / Phoenix, Arizona

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘:

father, mother, oldest brother, oldest sister, older brother, younger sister (names tbd), he has not had any contact with them since joining the Foundation.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒:

Cis man, He/Him

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘:

Demisexual, masc leaning

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒:

Single, never married

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒:

Proactive, Adaptable, Efficient, Disciplined, Observant, Independent, Diplomatic, Persuasive, Empathetic, Curious

𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒:

Restless, Sensitive, Cynical, Stubborn, Idealistic, Cautious, Judgemental, Mischievous, Deflective, Pushy, Impulsive

𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒:

gives nicknames, carries an A5 journal on him at all times, putting a hand to his chin when he's deep in thought, scratching his cheeks lightly when he's embarrassed, pinching the bridge of his nose when he's feeling annoyed or overwhelmed, he cannot stand silence so he will hum, sing, talk to himself/narrate what he is doing if there's no one around to talk to/if no one is willing to engage in conversation with him

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒:

he is constantly picking up and dropping new hobbies, but the the ones that stuck were: journaling, photography, and reading; most recent was learning the acoustic guitar

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 (𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄):  

Gomita “Gummy/Gumdrop”, tabby cat

THE FOUNDATION.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄:

MTF Commander, Chi-00 "The Broken Scales of Themis"

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍(𝐒):

MTF Operative, Delta-4 “Minutemen,” Lambda-12 “Pest Control,” and Xi-13 “Sequere Nos”, Omega-1 "Law's Left Hand"

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓:

MTF OMEGA-1 ; Located and terminated Director ████████ ██████, Head Researcher ████ █████, and General █████ ██████ after a data breach on █ / █ / █ was traced back to them. [𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅] was also able to confirm a connection between this breach and Group of Interest, Anderson Robotics.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒:

hand-to-hand combat, firearms, guerrilla warfare, bomb making and disarming, infiltration, wiretapping, reconnaissance, counterintelligence, assassinations, rhetoric, persuasion, dialectic, acoustic guitar

EXTRAS.

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘: C/P from sample app for now (threat)

Rescued in 2000 by  MTF Xi-5, “Newton's Bullies,” during the preliminary exploration into SCP-35320’s domain, anomalous location SCP 35320-1, 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅’s introduction to the Foundation was nothing short of a miracle. Missing person reports from the time revealed that 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 had been reported as MIA after he disappeared during a training exercise in the Tucson Mountains by Unit 162 WG of the Arizona Air National Guard on November 17, 1998. It’s in the popular belief that 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 was selected at random by SCP-35320 due to his age or simply because the opportunity presented itself as no one else in his unit was captured by 35320 for its ‘game.’ [See Mission File #871-341-X for more information. Must be Clearance Level 5 or higher to access the file.] Once Xi-5 breached the boundary of anomalous location SCP 35320-1, the parameters to SCP-35320’s ‘game’ were met, and it began to systematically hunt down members of Xi-5, leading to multiple casualties. X-9, Op. Zuri Williams, and X-4, Op. Thomas Smith (KIA) made initial contact with 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 after they became separated from the rest of the unit. The Foundation promptly took him into custody for debriefing once Xi-5 exited SCP-35320’s domain. However, due to the Foundation’s limited research on SCP-35320, it soon became apparent that the likelihood of Xi-5 escaping was incredibly low as SCP-35320 dispatched more unit members. In an act of desperation, MTFC Ingrid Olsen made the call that 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 would be of better use as a soldier under Olsen’s command rather than a prisoner. This decision was what ultimately allowed for the neutralization of SCP-35320 as 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅’s knowledge of the terrain and SCP-35320’s ‘rules’ were immeasurably valuable for the success of the mission. Because of his usefulness during the mission, the question of what to do with 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 after debriefing led to both Head Researcher, Dr. Diego Ochoa, and the MTF Xi-5 Commander contacting separate Ethics Committee liaisons due to the uniqueness of this case. To avoid potentially losing a valuable asset to the Foundation, the Ethics Committee decreed to spare 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅, offering the man options of receiving Class B amnestics and returning to his family, or joining the Foundation. It is unclear why 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 made the choice he did, but the Foundation gained an invaluable asset that day. In his 24 years of service with the Foundation since this incident,  𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 has come to sport an impressive career in various MTFs, such as  Delta-4 “Minutemen,” Lambda-12 “Pest Control,” and Xi-13 “Sequere Nos” before finally landing in Omega-1 “Law's Left Hand” after being hand selected by the Ethics Committee for his part in in the Xerox Revision. While he is one of the most reliable mainstays in Omega-1, it is unclear how much longer the Ethics Committee is willing to risk 𝑆𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑅 in the field.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

tbd

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 / 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒:

It Began with a twist of Fate, Conditioned to Accept Horror, Trauma Conga Line, Jade-Colored Glasses, One-Man Army, Despair Event Horizon, Identity Breakdown, The McCoy, To be Lawful or Good, Beware the Honest Ones, Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism, Sliding Scale of Free WIll vs. Fate,

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

R.J. MacReady (The Thing 1982), Glenn Rhee (The Walking Dead), Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron (Star Wars), Aragorn (The Lord of the Rings), Nina Fortner (Naoki Urasawa's Monster), Wolfgang Grimmer (Naoki Urasawa's Monster), Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Sam Winchester (Supernatural), Simba (The Lion King)

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: *tw: blood mention

[codeline24]

Two paradigms rule programming: imperative and declarative.

Declarative emerged to address imperative's drawbacks. The imperative paradigm, also known as the procedural, is the oldest and most widely used approach to programming. It's like giving step-by-step instructions to a computer, telling it what to do and how to do it, one command at a time. It's called "imperative" because as programmers we dictate exactly what the computer has to do, in a very specific way. Declarative programming is the direct opposite of imperative programming in the sense that the programmer doesn't give instructions about how the computer should execute the task, but rather on what result is needed. Two main subcategories are functional and reactive programming. Functional programming is all about functions (procedures with a specific set of functionalities) and they can be assigned to variables, passed as arguments, and returned from other functions. Java offers libraries and frameworks that introduce functional programming concepts like lambda expressions and streams. Reactive programming is a programming paradigm where the focus is on developing asynchronous and non-blocking components. Back in the year 2013, a team of developers, lead by Jonas Boner, came together to define a set of core principles in a document known as the Reactive Manifesto. With reactive streams initiatives that are incorporated in Java specifications there are frameworks (RxJava, Akka Streams, Spring WebFlux..) that provide reactive paradigm implementation to Java.