#flashingmarkii

With everyone on-board scrambling to secure pocky sticks for a game apparently, Ludger did the next best thing: bake his own box to munch on. Now what to do from there... he hadn't really thought that far ahead. Maybe he'd just sit back, eat his box, and watch people play so he'd know for next time. Sounded good to him--

--Or he'll get a hungry customer instead. Always happens.

💭 - What's a fandom that you used to be invested in previously that you think you could eventually return to?

I used to be in plenty of fandoms, but I think:

Saint Seiya (I had some beef with the fandom in the past, but while some things were my fault and I admit to them, I feel I have changed. I don't think I'm interested in talking to the same people as I did back then. Maybe only a few. It was very cliquey, and there was a lot of drama within the PT-BR and ESP speaking rpc's. I am in the process of reviewing conjugations in Spanish, but there is one person I feel comfortable writing in Spanish with. I'm no native speaker, but I do try because it's one of the major languages in the US and Latin America. I don't think I can rp in Japanese or Korean any time soon. I am not the slightest bit confident in my language writing abilities. I can barely English as it is. And I need to restart German. ;_; )

One Piece (I have a lot of expectations for my OCs in the past; I really feel that if I join back, there isn't enough room to squeeze my OCs in. I really felt like I was on the edge of the fandom. I don't think the D Family is entirely related by blood. They're just a group of survivors of a previous nation. Therefore, they are from different families. However, their will is the same and it is to oppose the Nobles'. Unfortunately, Mira just wants to destroy as much as she can before she dies.)

Final Fantasy XIV (I heard mixed reviews of Dawntrail, and never played, but I like the new setting. It's different, and I enjoy seeing what SE has come up with for Brazil equivalent. It's a nice pace from going to the US. I just wish people would calm down. And I want people to know that not everyone thinks all US citizens are so ethnocentric. Some of us are actually really happy that South America is getting representation. We just hope the South Americans find the rep acceptable. )

It's embarrassing, though Melissa would hate to hear it, that he's as terrified as he is. As powerless—while his hands desperately grip at Melissa's sleeves, he can't help but internally scold himself for such a reaction. It's just a temporary loss of hearing, he shouldn't be this scared—noise-induced hearing loss isn't the worst thing to experience as a result of gunshots—and yet...

"Mel," as he speaks, he finds that it's somehow more terrifying to talk than to be silent when he can't hear himself, "Mel,"

His voice is even as he speaks despite the display that is body. He has been wounded, grievously so, and yet he persists. The dried blood which adorns his uniform seems more of an inconvenience than anything else, he stands tall and unwavering as he places a hand on outer edge of his cockpit.

He understands well that a losing battle might not mean a lost war, and provided he lose his life in the endeavor- it will be with purpose.

"I am not a fair-weather patriot."

The deep baritone rumbles in his throat as he hunches over, his hand slips from the edge of the cockpit. He is now leaning against it with his forearm. He supposed this is a righteous price to pay, he has after all ordered men to their deaths. What leader would he be if he was not willing to offer his life, in place of theirs?

No, that will not do at all. He grits his teeth and pushes off the edge, his head turns to look at her. His face is marred by grease, blood, and sweat.

"I have a duty to uphold, ma'm. I take solace in that. But know my actions are not reckless. Someone must do this job, someone must stall the enemy. If not me, then who?" He winces a bit; he shifts so that he lowers himself into the cockpit. Now that he sits, he feels a bit better. Emerald irises look at her.

"The only thing I have waiting for me, is the satisfaction of a job done." A pause.

"Now will you run diagnostics on me? Or will allow me to leave, unprepared?"

He has his duties. She has hers.

Spending some time relaxing, well, at least downtime, Sado would be in the break room with his two friends, Eric Kohler and Analice Venice, a former Zeon pilot, looking over some of the things they've done in the past to try and figure out a pattern that they might need to address going forward.

They'd been dealing with Zeon Remnants for a while, but they didn't normally have a resupply to worry about with them. The Titans on the otherhand were well supplied and had plenty of mobile suits and manpower, at least in comparison to the AEUG.

"So, so far, nothing that the AEUG doesn't already know. I think they know way more about what the Titans are doing than we do."

"Which leaves the reptiles....which we don't really know too much about either...."

"....I really hope we didn't waste half an hour just to say we don't know anything..."

"....." Sado puts up a finger. "W-well....we know what we DON'T know at least....hopefully?" It was clear that despite their experience in the field, they weren't the best strategists, nor did they have any intelligence network to work with, hence why they joined up with the AEUG in the first place.

Soft kisses are pressed to the head buried in his chest, as if he's trying to make up for all the time he's going to spend away from her after today.

They live a life constantly teetering on an edge, walking on eggshells in fear of being ripped away from each other. Circumstances of many kind keep them apart—and even when they do get the chance to be together, they're seldom actually alone. There's always another face, or two, always watching. Only now, as they wait for the artificial sun to make her appearance in the sky, are they able to find comfort in each other.

Feeling like they're just waiting on another separation is a constant feeling Amuro has come to know well—but there's a difference between anxiety and a premonition, and Amuro is familiar with the overwhelming feelings of both.

When day comes, there will be eyes on them again. Hands. They're lucky to even have this—whether it was afforded to them out of grace, or as a result of sneaking through walls that always seem to be closing in on them. It's a miracle he's even allowed himself to be laid bare in this house, but he's almost grateful that something that is usually so terrifying felt so easy with her.

"I love you," a soft whisper makes its way through the silence, and his chest aches just from hearing the words in his own voice. It feels forbidden to even think about saying such a thing to her between these walls, but it feels even worse to let them be ripped apart come morning without having said it at all.

His gentle fingers card through her hair, his other arm holding onto her as if he'd die the second he let go.