#the standards are impossible and you don't know the rules

[ms-demeanor]

So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

[icecream4starscream]

Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!”s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And an important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything. Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are.

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's pointless and, as representation, genuinely worthless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them.

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/the-harmful-trope-of-facial-differences-in-film-villains/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

Thanks for actually clicking the readmore

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 interior redesign: Introduction

The Normandy is a sexy sexy spaceship, but the interior we see is defined by game play: corridors are extremely wide so Shepard doesn't get stuck on the scenery, the crew is sparse because animating crew members takes resources and NPCs are also obstacles Shepard could get stuck on, you need larger spaces for camera angles, etc.

I wanted to see if I could redesign the space to fit a crew of 70–90... ...and I got carried away.

This post covers the rules I set myself and the basic process. Each deck will get a separate post (check back for links):

Intro

Loft

Command deck

Crew deck

Engineering deck

Hangar deck

Design rules

Keep major elements in basically the same places. This is the Normandy as she exists in my fic Sunset & Evening Star, and readers shouldn't have to study a floorplan!

Use only space that's 'available' in the game. If we can access it as the player, it's fair game. If it's a mysterious void in-game, I assume it's full of Important Spaceship Parts and the only access is for ship maintenance.

The elevator shaft is vertical. No Willy Wonka/ST turbo lift shit.

*There are inertial dampeners; if there weren't none of this would work. But as an author I like to imagine that any system can be overloaded.

Step one: Align & scale the deck maps

I aligned the deck maps around the elevator, the only element that shows up on every one. Each is shown at a different scale, so I eyeballed their relationship based on furniture, which is the only thing required to have a relatively consistent size. This is a big assumption; game designers resize whatever they need to! Shepard's bed, for instance, has pillows about a meter square. Presumably they needed room to made the pixel dolls have sex. Shepard's bed can therefore not be trusted, and to a lesser extent neither can anything else.

(There are also floor panels that look a lot like standard 4'x8' construction sheet stock, but A) developers can re-size those as needed without the player noticing, and B) If we're still using imperial units to construct spaceships in 2184 I hope the reapers eat us.**)

**...that said, I used a scale of 1px:2ft to draw this. I'm so sorry. I'm American and I've done construction, it's easy for me to visualize. (The scale was two inches to the pixel, if you're curious.)

Step two: Redesign over the existing space

This is where I saw how much I could fit in the space the game design allowed (given my guesses on scale). Y'know, the fun bit that I thought I'd be spending most of my time doing!

(I was so wrong).

Redesign goals

The Alliance refitted the Normandy for an Admiral. Admirals don't captain their own ships, so I needed to account for an Admiral and their staff as well as the captain and crew.

Align bunks fore-aft, so that the most common major inertial vectors* will hit sleeping crew in the least dangerous direction.

Plumbing should be stacked when possible. (I don't know spaceships but I know about plumbing columns. Glamorous!)

Step three: Adjust to the hull

One modeler figured the ship had to be ~370 meters long to fit the decks as-is, which would leave them using only ~20% of the length. One dev is quoted as saying she's 170m. Fan estimates comparing it with other ships suggest somewhere from 210–230 meters.

The hangar deck is the one*** place the interior aligns with the exterior for certain. The hangar needs to fit two kodiaks in the space between the bay door and the elevator, and each kodiak needs to fit 12 people plus the pilot. Additionally, as the lowest deck the hanger is limited in width by the inward curve of the hull (and that limit changes based on how low you go, which is why the drawing above includes a front elevation).

***Yes, we also see Joker piloting right up in the nose. This is impossible to achieve and also stupid, so I've elected to ignore it.

Sizing it to the smallest reasonable hangar — and after drawing a rather stubbier kodiak — I managed a 194 meter hull; ~217 if you include thrusters. At this size the liveable area takes up just over a third of the hull length. It's still an awful lot of nose, but that nose means 136 meters for the main gun, which for my purposes is still a rail gun (so size matters). Sadly it can't be a hull-length gun; it would run into first the elevator, and then the eezo core.

I did NOT pretend to figure out where the Make Spaceship Go parts are, or the Keep People Alive parts. There's a LOT of 'wasted' space; assume it's all in use and accessible through engineering access-ways, though how comfortable or safe they are is questionable.

———

Thanks to @swaps55 for the amazing high-res screenshots of the game maps, and to @faejilly and @sheepishwolfy for the long-ago talks about crew size that started all this!

[normalaboutmediaa]

Hm. Saw a tag about Severance and the oppression of youth and children and like. Oh yeah how the fuck didn't I see that.

The Innies are essentially children in a lot of ways, but the parallels to how they're treated on the severed floor to how real children are often treated in society is. Kinda crazy.

You wake up one day a fully formed thing- you have thoughts, feelings, emotions, and an entire body with which to feel and experience all that. You do not know where you are or why you have been brought here, but you are surrounded by people suddenly telling you what to do, where to go, and how to act. There are several rules - some spoken, some unspoken, and the breaking of these rules results in punishment and shame. You cannot choose what you wear, where you go, or what you do. You are placed in front of an activity and told to do it, but any questions as to 'why' are often ignored or placated with meaningless answers.

When the Break Room was first introduced, it was extremely reminiscent to me of the practice of making children write lines. If you're unfamiliar, a common disciplinary tactic is to have a child write something like 'i will not interrupt the teacher' over and over again, often until the teacher feels that the lesson has gotten through their head satisfactorily. The idea is that repeated exposure to the idea of 'correct' behavior will instill the lesson in the child's mind, along with the task being tedious and boring enough that most kids won't re-offend just to avoid having to write the lines again.

So, we've got rewards systems, punishments, and a general sense of being below the authority figures in the situation and having no power. And then there's Miss Huang. A literal, actual child who is placed in a position of authority. Obviously there's a more literal parallel to be drawn there about child labor and exploitation, but I think there's something to be said about the way we teach children to police each other's behavior as well. She's a hall monitor, essentially, she's been given power over people who are actually technically younger than her and seems to see the job as an honor or at least a promotion from her last one.

Importantly, I don't think the show is TRYING to comment on how we treat children in our society. I don't think that's a primary theme that was on the creators mind, but it's there nonetheless. While very few would ever admit it or think of it in this exact way, the sentiment of 'I am a person, you are not' rings true to how a lot of parents and adults in general view children as less than human or being only 'half' a person, and hold them to impossibly high standards for good behavior as a result. The way the Outies see the Innies as just extensions of themselves that they can force to do or become whatever they want is very toxic parent-child relationship coded.

Anyway- kids are full people and you should treat them nicely. They aren't just here to fulfill your dreams and follow your rules.

[fleshandregret]

Were there always 𝘵𝘸𝘰 beasts of deceit?

☆.A list of general headcanons about an au where the witches decided to divide the knowledge in two. Can also be read as: i hate that everyone thinks that Shadow Milk basically kidnaps people instead of being able to love someone and actually be understood :D

☆. This was originally meant to be an au with my oc but I tried to keep the personality for the reader as neautral as possible, no gender or anything specified because if I see that I'm supposed to have long blonde hair one more time I'm gonna kms. 　　

☆. Isn't really nsfw but there is a "suggestive" part, like they don't fuck but it's implicit so before someone comes for my head I WARNED YOU. Anyway I hope you enjoy it :}.

☆. Also english isn't my first language so I'm genuinely sorry if there are any mistakes :/.

-First of all I prefer to think that you didn't meet Shadow Milk after he became the beast of deceit. To have someone understand him in such a deep way it's only possible if you were there since the origin of everything, even his. It's not impossible to imagine how heavy all the knowledge is to bear so it would make sense if the witches decided to divide it in 𝘵𝘸𝘰, no?

-Not everyone knows that it wasn't one being that held all the knowledge in their head but two similar cookies, always together since the start and unable to physically stay away from each other for a long amount of time. It wasn't far fetched to say that after the creation of the academy people considered you to be his shadow and him yours. There wasn't one moment where you two could be found more than ten meters apart and the reason was kind of obvious, even if not to many people. You were each other's half without wanting it to be, if knowledge started with him the only possible outcome was for it to finish with you.

-As much as the weight of knowing literally 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 held the both of you from forming meaningful relationships with other cookies (ignoring the beasts obviously) it didn't mean that you became hermits and went away from society, especially since your role was to spread information and teach others. It was after years and years of having to face thousands of different cookies everyday and try to help them with the infinity of informations you had that it became more of a burden to you.

-If years ago others seemed happy to know every kind of possible thing in Crispia, now it felt as if you were being rude by telling them those truths. Needless to say that having someone able to understand perfectly helped the both of you overcome those moments and push forward. And even if things made you tired it was always okay because you knew that he would have always been there to comfort you and vice versa.

-But the situation changed. It changed that one faithful day when the witches you held so dear to your hearts told you that it wasn't enough, that even if all the cookies preferred 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘵 you couldn't agree with them and ignore it because only they could and not 𝘺��𝘶, not the perfect duo they created to spread 𝘵𝘩𝘦 word. From that point on it only went downhill, the two of you agreed that it wasn't 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳, it wasn't 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 that only you had to suffer because of those rules and standards while the others could live happily and in ignorance.

-It took some time for the other beasts to start noticing how unfair life was to them too and one by one they fell, the only ones you could think of as friends being held back by forks and chains while you had to pretend that your life was happy. After that everything changed, the knowledge and truth you were supposed to spread became the base for misinformation and lies, those very things the other cookies liked some much became your routine until at some point the witches stopped you, they did what you saw years before being done to your closest friends only now you were being both sealed away in some damn tree for what you thought would have been the rest of eternity.

-Shadow Milk and you weren't the fountain of knowledge anymore, to them at least, but all those things didn't vanish from your minds, all the informations, lies and painful memories were still in your heads like a sea during a storm, unable to stop and become peaceful like it once was. Conversations with the other beasts became rare over time, their rage towards the witches making them unable to care about a conversation with you. It was at that point in your lives that you really understood how important you were to each other, obviously you knew it already but now that it was nothing but you two it became palpable how your souls were interviewed and literally unable to be pulled apart. If the witches thought it a good idea to create two of you it was probably their biggest regret now.

———————

-It was after 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 that the damn tree opened and you realized that you didn't have your full power anymore. As if being imprisoned for a millenia wasn't enough they had to strip you of your soul jam and give it to some 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘥, like he had the right to use it while you two were left to your own demise. Anger, resentment and sadness were the only feelings that your hearts could feel for far too much time and after 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 who it was that stole your power they only heightened, now unable to really understand how was it 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 that everything that made you two who you were in the past was now held away from you while your mere existence was considered a crime.

-The only luck on your side was the one that made you have enough power to escape the situation and find refuge in what was years before known as the spire of knowledge, now a place full of dust and old memories that could once again be considered your home. It's probably thanks to that too that you were, even if only a little, able to partially calm down and concentrate on the situation at hand and how to face those 𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 and regain your power back.

———————

-As for the relationship I'd say that the start was probably the hardest part, but only like the first few days because after those it felt as if you were literally made for each other (lol you were). The type of relationship and friendship where you two are able to talk about everything, and in your case literally 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, from how the universe was made to why some rats look better when they become taxidermy than when they were alive.

-Your life was a constant presence in his and the same was for you, it should feel bad to always be around someone but with him it was as if everything around you was still and the only moving things were the two of you. Needless to say that in the years at the academy you couldn't really show affection to each other because of the list of students always surrounding you two to ask things regarding previous lessons, and even if you two lived together the time was mostly spent working to improve lives and not to really live yours.

-All this started to change when you opted for the lies and deceit road, now able to talk to each other for more than ten minutes at a time and to maybe sleep at least six hours. This obviously meant that your lives were spent differently, you didn't have to care about others too much so it came natural to care about each other even more than before. Now it wasn't a problem if you two were found kissing each other before a lesson and if someone dared to say something bad about it they would 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 have no one to talk to the next day. Totally not because one some rumor that started spreading about them, oh no no, you misunderstand really it was only his fault that made the situatuon escalate like that and so quickly.

-Needless to say that over time people noticed a pattern and opted for staying away from you, not that you minded obviously, it only meant that you two would have finally been able to start living like a normal couple and not like the embodiments of all knowledge. By this I mean that general affection became routine, cooking together every morning was now the norm and things like spending time reading on the couch or watching a movie could finally be considered normal days and not like some kind of taboo.

-The almost non existent 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 moments that for a long time were almost nothing more than an escape from the harsh reality out there were now finally moments of pleasure between two lovers. The attraction you felt for each other now had the time to be expressed and the shame you almost felt in the past seemed to never have existed in the first place.

-Obviously all of this came to an halt when the tree took all you beasts in 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 and it's kind of obviously to say that when it spat you out the first thing you did when arriving at the spire wasn't dusting the shelves and sweeping the floors.

-Now your life could begin again, even if the anger you both felt towards Pure Vanilla was the prime subject of your discussions that doesn't mean that your life as a couple magically ended. It was after some time that other cookies decided to work for you, the first one was obviously Black Sapphire and after some time Candy Apple joined too. As much as it seemed strange at first to have other people living with you, even if not in the same section of the spire, they grew on you both after some time, not that they could be considered your kids but when you started helping the younger one with choosing the hairstyles she preferred for the day and which dress fit her better it did start to feel as if you were some kind of family. As dysfunctional as it could be obviously, but a family nonetheless.

-After the years spent in the tree the clingy side of him started shining through, not that you minded but it sure was way different than the past. It wasn't as if your personal space stopped to exist since you both were always together but a thousand years ago he probably would have never opted for walking with a hand around your waist or literally making out in public, be it in front of servants or cookies like Gingerbrave and his friends. Speaking of that: the expressions on their faces when they first entered the Spire and saw that Shadow Milk wasn't alone but with someone literally sitting on his lap was priceless. What followed was them shouting at him to free you of whatever kind of brainwashing technique he used, only to have you kissing him and showing them your wedding band as an answer. After that they looked more confused than before but it surely wasn't your problem.

-It took some time for you to get used to his way of talking with the others, you too obviously changed and had to craft a mask to show the others and protect your real self but the difference between when he talked with you and when he interacted with other cookies always managed to leave you speechless. After years it became routine and even kind of funny to listen to him talk in such an exaggerated way, only to ask him something and listen to him change his voice completely to the one you always knew.

-Well needless to say that people can believe that the perfect couple doesn't exist but we all know that the world is indeed full of lies, is it not?

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

You do know that fornication with cybertronians, regardless of faction is impossible as they would crush us due to their sheer sieze and weight, right? It would also be considered immoral and beastiality if we are talking about the predacons for example.

Y'know, I was originally just going to dunk on you for unironically using the word Fornicate in the year of our Lord Primus 2025, but this seems to a genuine, good-faith argument you've constructed here and to leave it at a joke would be flippant on my part, and I hold myself to a higher standard than that. So! Allow me to counter these points one by one.

While in reality, yes, the likelihood of death or injury from letting a 20-foot robot that weighs as much as a truck rail you full force would probably be pretty high, the nice thing about fiction and fantasy is that it doesn't really need to be grounded in reality. And even if you can't entirely suspend your disbelief on that level, there are still workarounds.

For example, not every transformer has all the mass of a semi truck. Their sizes have quite a bit more variation than you might be anticipating. Animated Prowl is only like 10 feet tall, 12 tops, and a smaller motorcycle only weighs around 350-400 pounds, which really isn't all that crazy. You look at G1 Rumble and Frenzy, and they're hardly taller than the humans. And then you look at the Beast Wars cast and some of the Maximal are straight up shorter than I am. Rattrap is like 4 foot nothin'.

Now, I know what you're thinking. We certainly do not limit ourselves to lusting over the smaller bots here on cybertron-smash-or-pass dot tumblr dot edu, so what gives? Well, my dear, we've found a reasonable canon excuse to bring the very big very heavy robots down to a more manageable and less hazardous size through the magic of ✨mass displacement✨. Basically, if Soundwave can scale down into an itty bitty cassette player that can easily be picked up like it weighs nothing, there's really no reason a 30-foot robot as heavy as a jet couldn't scale down into a smaller, human-ish-sized robot. They have the technology.

Now say someone doesn't really want to make their fictional robot boyfriend smaller. Maybe the insane overall size is part of the appeal, but they still can't get over the thought of whatever they're packing being way too big to avoid injury. While Cybertronians are typically humanoid, their junk doesn't really have to be in perfect proportion with a human's. No rule that says you can't scale it down enough to fit! But then, maybe they can work with the equipment being comically big, but they can't get over the idea of being crushed. Easy solution, human can't get crushed if they're on top!

Maybe they can't picture the spike fitting at all, and scaling it down just looks a little too silly, but they're still attracted to a big ol' robot. At that point, the best workaround I can give is just sticking with picturing non-penetrative sex. Not like there's only one way to do it, and nobody can stop you from imagining Optimus prime having at it between your thighs, or scissoring with Megatron <3

Now as for whether some of it is immoral, I don't really think banging a Predacon would be wrong? Whether we're talking about the beast wars preds or the tfp preds, they're all treated as adults with human-level intelligence, so they'd be able to give consent, unlike earth animals. Sex with Optimus Primal is really a lot closer to bangin' a guy in a gorilla suit at a costume party than hopping into an actual gorilla enclosure and bending over. While an argument could be made about the tfp predacons being technically very young, and it'd be perfectly valid to be uncomfortable sexualizing them with that in mind, not everyone is going to interpret them as being immature since it seems they start off in that continuity generally having their shit together and knowing enough as to not be easily taken advantage of.

So with all that said, I hope you at least have a clearer picture of how the mind of a robotfucker operates!!

[lucis-dove]

Random Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, size!kink, dirty talk

a/n: and of course a few HC's for Ghostie as well🤭

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

sfw

-you know those mascots in full-body costumes? Yeah, Ghost hates those, gets on edge each time he sees one. He just gets this uncomfortable feeling in his body bc why go around masked like that?

-yes, he's aware of the irony

-your first kiss, technically, happened with his mask on,

-he wanted to kiss you but wasn't ready to commit fully, showing you his face meant a lot and he wasn't there, yet, so he just kinda directed your face from the TV to him by your chin and pressed his lips to yours despite the clothing concealing them

-you don't scare easily, even if he would disagree, but when having a shadow the size of him creeping up on you silently, which should be physically impossible for someone his size, it always makes you jump

-Ghost enjoys it for some reason, always repressing a smile when you gasp and clutch your chest with a hissed 'Simon!' despising that you never got used to it

-what you don't know is that he actively makes it harder for you, always staying in your blind spot when coming up behind you, silencing his step just like he does on stealth missions

-standard case of you falling first but he fell harder, it was a slow endeavour getting to know him, even slower when you started dating and he demanded that things wouldn't be rushed, but once he opened up he was practically already in love with you considering he rarely did open up to people

-he doesn't like gifts

-contrary to what people think, it's not because he doesn't know how to react, closer to the truth is that he's picky and doesn't like random things coming in surprises

-that's why Ghost always keeps a list of things he wants or is in interested in buying, one that you have unaltered access to just to keep track if you ever feel like gifting him something for a special occasion or if other people come to you when he just won't answer what he wishes for read Soap

-the ONLY casual gift he doesn't mind is when you get him a book, within reason of course bc yeah, he likes to read

nsfw below the cut

-on the topic of books, he doesn't read romantic stuff, if it isn't a book you push into his hands, then he knows what's between the pages: raunchy ass stuff you more often than now want him to act out, leaving you nervously giggling and then panting when he fully went into the role of fucking you silly

-another thing about Ghost that people think, but is wrong, is that he always so reserved

-this man can run his fucking mouth when he wants to

-perhaps others just don't notice, because he doesn't do it with them, but when you're by his side his face is for the most part ducked in level with your ear, making it his mission to rile you up enough so you're the one who grits out 'we're leaving '

-and the cocky bastard knows he will manage too, your resolve wearing down quick when he whispers stuff like 'pretty necklace, lovie, would rather it was my hand wrapped around your throat' and if he manages to catch you off-guard with that, mouth agape kinda surprised, he'll muse 'pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild'

-in the Riley household, there's one particular rule: if you buy any piece of clothing, either online or in-store, you're going to model it for Ghost

-doesn't matter what it is, he's gonna sit down in the living room waiting for you to come out for him to drink in your pretty self

-he always twirls a finger in a sign for you to spin around, not because he has any sense of fashion more than the normal man, he just likes to see all how your clothes flatter your figure

-and if it just so happens you only bought a pair of pretty panties or a flattering bra, his rule applies to those too, with the addition you'll come out in only those

-and so help you, but if your tits are on display or that pretty cunt of yours bared, he will not only make you spin but curl his finger, beckoning you towards him

-usually ends with you in his lap as he either plays and sucks at your nipples or you grind against his growing bulge before riding him

-guilty pleasure of his? your obsession with his arms and tattoos

-when you first started seeing each other, he always noticed how your eyes strayed to the ink peeking forth from his long-sleeved clothing, when you both got more comfortable and you saw him without a hoodie constantly, the way you drooled at his bulging biceps made it difficult adhering to his own rule of things going slow

-in fact, the first time you slept together was a consequence of your intrusive thoughts winning during a cuddling session

-you'd been positioned in-between his legs, running your hand over his arm curled around your waist, gaze following those delicious lines running along his forearm and then you just... dragged your tongue over his bicep, licking a long wet stripe on the muscle that tensed upon feeling your tongue

-there was a rumble against your back and a 'what the fuck was that?' making you glance up at Ghost with a sheepish smile with some explanation he didn't fucking buy for a second

-it ended with the both of you kneeling on Ghost's bed as he fucked you from behind, his arms circled around your neck, your nails digging into his forearm, a moaning mess as if you didn't know he killed men just like this but in a tighter chokehold

-so that's why he always wraps his tattooed arm around your front when you cuddle with him behind you, most time also seating himself on your right side, offering you the opportunity to trace the intricate lines decorating his skin

[thesunshinebunny]

hellooo can you do any dorm leader with male or g/n reader with fierce wild cat personality? And can you make the reader from RSA?? If not that's fine, ty hope you have a great day!!^^

For context: Some RSA students were sent to Night Raven on an exchange program, just for a couple of months, with the intention of generating a better environment of camaraderie between the two schools. Among them, you, with a personality that does not fit into RSA standards, having quite the reputation for being tough and unpredictable. With a feral demeanor and no time for nonsense, you don’t exactly get along with everyone, but that only adds to their charm (or trouble).

Riddle

Riddle wasn't exactly the type to indulge in chaos, but when you showed up at NRC, it was impossible to ignore the tension you brought. You were like a caged animal, unpredictable and wild, with no care for rules or anyone's expectations. For some reason, though, it was your being among anyone else who participate in the program who intrigued him the most.

He thrived on order, structure, and discipline. But there was something captivating about your raw energy, your untamed spirit. You were dangerous in ways he didn't fully understand, but maybe that's why he couldn't stop watching you. The first time he attempted to approach you, he was meticulous. His usual stern tone came out when he spoke to you. “Pardon me,” Riddle began, his eyes scanning you with a mix of curiosity and caution. “You're from Royal Sword Academy, correct? “I’ve heard you’re quite… independent”

You barely looked up at him, continuing to twirl your claws around your fingers, almost absently. “What about it?” Your voice was cold, guarded, almost like you were daring him to step closer.

Riddle stood a little straighter, although the challenge in your stance did not go unnoticed. He wasn't intimidated, but he couldn't help feeling the sparks of tension between the two of you. “I just want to make sure you understand the rules here at Heartslabyul, and preferably in the entire school. We don't take kindly to disruptions, and—"

“Rules? “Do you mean your rules?” You interrupted, your lips curling into a sly smile. “You really think I care about them?”

For a moment, Riddle wasn't sure how to respond. You were brazen, but he wasn't one to back down. His posture grew more rigid. “There are things that must be done properly, or else there's chaos. And chaos leads to trouble.”

Your eyes locked with his, unblinking, the air around you electric with hostility. You approached him, slowly, like a feline about to pounce on its prey. “I'm no one's pet, Red. Don't try to put me in a cage. I’d rather burn it down.”

Riddle’s jaw tightened, too much, even more than before if that can be possible. Something stirred in him. You were a force of nature, much like him. Maybe that's why he couldn't simply dismiss you. “So, you're saying you'd rather be left unchecked?”

You shrugged, bringing your claws closer to his cheek, being able to scratch his soft, pale skin with the tip of your index finger. You finally exchanged long and penetrating glances with him, but not before forming a small, sharp smile. “I'm saying, I'm not going to be anyone's pet project. But you can surely try. Be my guest, see what would happen”

For a moment, Riddle stared at you, his heart racing despite himself. Maybe you weren't the sort of student who could be “tamed” easily, but that didn't mean Riddle would back off. No, he was intrigued, and he could already feel a rivalry—or perhaps something more dangerous—brewing between the two of you.

Leona

Leona had seen many personalities come through these halls, but nothing quite like you. A RSA student with a reputation as sharp as your claws, and a temper to match. You weren't here to be a lapdog, and he admired that. Although the other students weren't sure how to approach you, Leona's wild side made him think that maybe, just maybe, you were someone worth getting to know.

You had a way of carrying yourself like a prowling predator—eyes always scanning, every movement a mix of grace and lethal purpose. You didn't speak much, but when you did, your words carried weight. You didn't need to be loud to make a point; your presence did all the talking.

Leona watched you from a distance as you wandered through the halls, your usual scowl fixed in place. His eyes narrowed, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

It wasn't long before the inevitable encounter came. You were walking through the courtyard when you spotted Leona leaning lazily against a stone pillar, his usual nonchalance making your hackles rise. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken challenge that intrigued you but also grated against your nerves. You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing. "D'you need something, Kingscholar?"

Leona chuckled, his tail flicking behind him in amusement. “Nothing. Just wanted to see how long you’d last without making a scene.”

You didn't flinch. Instead, you let out a low growl, like a cat warning another to stay out of its territory. "Do you spend all your time thinking about me? I'm flattered"

His smirk widened as he pushed off the pillar and took a few steps toward you. “You've got the fire of a wild animal, and I can't help but wonder if you'll bite if provoked.”

You raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. His confidence wasn't unwarranted, but you didn't back down easily, especially not to someone who thought they could take the upper hand. “Don't tempt me, second-boy. I don’t need anyone’s permission to run this jungle.”

Leona's eyes glinted, an animalistic challenge flashing through them. “We’ll see about that.”

You didn't know what it was, exactly whether it was his laid-back attitude that rubbed you the wrong way, or the way he kept provoking you, but you felt that familiar wild instinct rising within you. Before you could even think, you were right in his face, your gaze as sharp as a predator's. “You wanna test me? Come on, we both know you bite more than you can chew.”

Leona's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Maybe I will." He stood his ground, his posture tense but ready, his pride as untamed as yours. "But I think you're more than just a wildcat with sharp claws, aren't you? You've got a heart to match that fierce spirit. And I'm curious to see how far you'll go to prove it. "

You blinked, a bit taken back by his words. For a moment, the tension between you two felt like a standoff between two predators, but underneath it, there was something else, something more complex than either of you were willing to admit. Leona wasn't scared of you. In fact, he was downright fascinated. And as for you, well… you had no idea why his challenge made your pulse race.

Azul

Azul was used to work with all sorts of personalities. His intelligence, charm, and resourcefulness usually meant that he could talk his way out of (or into) any situation. However, you were something completely different. You weren't the type to be easily swayed by words, and that intrigued him, but also irritated him.

You had been summoned to his VIP office for a "friendly discussion," as he put it, about how you had been causing disturbances in the halls and dining areas. But you weren't the type to sit quietly and listen to lectures.

Azul was sitting behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, a charming smile playing at the edges of his lips. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you (y/n). You have quite the fiery reputation, wouldn’t you say?”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, not showing much interest in his little speech. “Not a reputation I’m interested in keeping between these lounge halls.” He was taunting you, inviting you to leave and never set foot in his business again, or allowing you to stay, on his terms.

Your gaze was cool, sharp, as you observed his every movement, calculating. “I don't need your approval. I’m here because I want to”

Azul chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And I'm not here to give you my approval. I'm simply offering you a deal. You see, it's all about negotiation. If you’re willing to work with me, we could make your life here a bit easier… or perhaps, more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “A deal, huh? Don't think you can buy me with your shiny words and contracts, fish boy. I’m not some easy prey.”

Azul’s smile faltered just slightly, but it quickly returned, colder and more calculating. “Oh no. I'm not trying to buy you. I'm offering a partnership. You’re a formidable individual, but even the wildest creatures need a master at times.” His voice lowered, sharp and calculating. “That's where I come in. All you’d have to do is bend a little.”

For a moment, your expression hardened, the words stinging in a way Azul had not anticipated. “I don't bend. I break, especially anything that tries to hold me down.”

Azul's smile remained, but there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. You were a force of nature, and he could respect that. But he wasn't the type to just give up either. “We'll see. It’s always a pleasure to find out just how far someone like you is willing to push before they snap.”

Kalim

Kalim was the kind of person who loved everything and everyone, with a big, bold, and full of warmth personality. But when it came to you, the wild, unpredictable RSA student with a temper like a storm, even his usual optimism had to take a step back.

He had seen you during one of your "episodes"—a moment when you had gotten into a tense altercation with another student, your sharp words and fiery stare more than enough to keep anyone from pushing you further. Kalim, however, wasn't easily intimidated. His natural exuberance meant he wanted to break through that tough exterior and see what lay beneath.

“Hey! (y/n)!” Kalim’s voice was bright as he approached you in the courtyard, his usual cheerfulness radiating. “You've gotta come to one of our parties in Scarabia sometime!” His radiant gaze, not to mention his smile, was enough to destabilize you for a millisecond. “It'll be so much fun! You can hang out with me and Jamil, and maybe you can even let loose a little!”

You eyed him skeptically. “What do you think I need to ‘let loose’ for? You’ve got your whole ‘party animal’ vibe going, but I don’t think it’s gonna charm me.” You emphasized the word animal, making it clear that you would not be one more at their exorbitant parties, nor a zoo animal for his amusement.

Kalim wasn't put off by your cold response. He just laughed, his smile wide and genuine. “I'm not trying to charm you. I just think someone like you deserves a little fun! You’re always so serious and intense… it’s gotta be exhausting.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, studying him. “I don't need your pity, Kalim. If you want a fight, I'm happy to give you one.”

Kalim blinked, looking at you for a moment like you were a puzzle he just couldn't figure out. Then he beamed even brighter. “Nah, I'm not here for a fight! I’m here for you to have a good time!” This boy could destabilize anyone, too much good energy in a school that was too gloomy. Maybe he should have gone to the RSA and you should have gone here. “You're a lot of fun already, and I want you to know that you don't have to be all fierce all the time. You can relax with us. I’ll make sure of it!”

You scowled, trying to suppress the soft tug at your heart from his genuine kindness. “You think I'm gonna let you change me?”

Kalim only laughed again, his eyes twinkling with optimism. “Not change you! I just want to show you there's more to life than being on edge. You’ve got a big heart under all that fire, I can tell.”

He wasn't wrong, and that only frustrated you more. But for once, you didn't want to snap. Kalim's exuberant energy was infectious, even if it wasn't your thing. Still, you weren't about to admit it.

Vil

Vil was someone who took pride in his appearance, discipline, and the image of perfection. As a rising star in the world of beauty, he believed that everyone, especially students at Pomefiore, should strive for refinement and grace. Your wild, untamed personality was the complete opposite of what he valued, but that made you… all the more interesting to him.

At first, Vil had dismissed you. There was no room for chaos in his world of elegance, and you had made your first impression by causing a disruption during potion classes, which only fed the rumors of your wildcat-like nature. However, something about your ferocity and refusal to be "refined" piqued his curiosity.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk around campus, trying to enjoy a brief moment of solitude when Vil appeared in front of you. His posture was regal, eyes sharp and calculating as always.

“(Y/S), was it? you’ve made quite the impression at this school,” Vil began, his voice smooth and flawless, like velvet. “Your reputation precedes you”

You didn't bother to hide your scowl, your gaze narrowing in response. "And what's it to you? I'm not here to impress anyone, least of all your pompous ass"

Vil's lips curled into a practiced smile. “I see. But your appearance seems to speak for itself, whether you like it or not. You’re simply… not the ideal student.” His voice carried a certain weight, one that made your spine straighten, your wild instincts on high alert.

"Is that your way of telling me I'm a failure?" you shot back, voice sharp as a whip.

Vil tilted his head slightly, studying you as though you were a work of art he couldn't quite figure out. "Not a failure—no. But certainly, a diamond in the rough” His eyes glammed. “I could help you polish that sharp edge of yours. I could show you how to refine that… wild energy into something more elegant.”

You bristled, your hackles raising. “I don't need you to 'polish' me, Schoenheit. I’m not some porcelain little doll for your beauty standards”

Vil's gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. But his composure didn't falter. "No, you're not. And that's what makes you so fascinating. A challenge. But if you ever want to learn the art of discipline and true beauty, I'll be more than happy to show you.”

He paused, watching you closely. “That is, of course, if you think you're capable of learning.”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "I don't need your lessons” you almost spit on his words, such an insult for you and for him. Who does he think he is to say what you can or can't study. And who do you think you are to despise such kindness from Vil.

Vil's eyes softened slightly, amusement creeping into his voice. “Your spirit could be refined. You’d be far more beautiful if you embraced it.”

Despite himself, his words made your heart race. You didn't know whether it was the challenge in his tone or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he saw something in you beyond your wild and hard cocoon. But you wouldn't let him know that.

“I'll consider your offer,” you muttered, walking past him. “But don't expect me to become your little pet”

Vil watched you walk away, his smile a little more genuine this time. "We shall see, darling, we shall see"

Idia

Idia was a different breed entirely. His social anxiety, introversion, and affinity for gaming made him the complete opposite of someone like you—someone who had a fiery, untamed spirit that didn't fit into his quiet world of screens and isolation. He'd heard rumors of the wild RSA student who had a temper to rival the most volatile storms, and as much as Idia preferred to keep to himself, he couldn't help but be a little curious.

When he first saw you, it wasn't during a calm, collected conversation. No, you were already in the middle of a heated argument with someone else over them bumping into you casually in the hallway. Your voice was sharp, your body language wild and defensive. Idia couldn't help but stare from behind his thick, holographic screens in the dorm's lounge, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Yikes… that person is scary…” Idia mumbled to himself, retreating a bit further into his hoodie.

It wasn't long before he found himself face-to-face with you by accident during a late-night trip to the vending machines…in Ignihyde, how you ended up there is beyond me. Idia froze as soon as you turned the corner, nearly bumping into him. He was all awkward gestures and stammered apologies, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Oh! sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to block the path…” His voice was quiet, practically a squeak.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his sudden fluster. “It's fine. Just… don’t make it a habit, alright?”

He looked up at you through his disheveled hair, clearly taken back by your bluntness. “Of course! I wasn't trying to…” His voice cracked in his nervousness. “You're, uh… (y/s), right? From RSA? I’ve heard about you…”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. “Yeah, and?”

He adjusted himself, cheeks flushing behind the heavy hoodie. “It’s just that… you’re kind of… intimidating.” His voice trailed off toward the end, unsure of how to continue.

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued but still not fully willing to show it. “Well, you're not wrong. So what?"

Idia panicked, his mind racing. "I just… you seem like someone who doesn't take things lying down! That’s kinda cool, actually!” he have mumbled the last part, but you heard it clearly.

For a brief moment, you softened, just a little. The truth was, Idia wasn't like everyone else. He didn't try to challenge you like Kingscholar or force you into submission like the little red one…what was his name again? It didn't matter right now.

He was genuinely curious about you in his awkward, quiet way. You smirked, folding your arms even tighter. “You're a strange one, Shroud. Not what I expected from someone who hides behind screens all day.”

Idia flinched, but the slight tease didn't seem to bother him. Instead, he brightened, a little spark of excitement in his eyes. “I’m more comfortable with technology, games and computers than with people, so…”

“Figures,” you said, giving him a sideways glance. “But you're not completely useless. Maybe you're not so bad” Idia's face lit up, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself actually engaged in a conversation, not out of fear or obligation, but out of genuine curiosity. You grinned, your feral smile making your heart skip. “Don't get the wrong idea, Shroud. I'm not going easy on you just because you're all shy and stuff. But I respect someone who can keep their cool despite being thrown into the fire.”

He blinked, processing your words. “So… does that mean… you want to play a game with me sometime?”

You paused for a moment, then gave him a knowing smirk. “Sure. But you better be prepared. I don’t lose.”

Idia practically melted at the thought. "I'll be ready!" His excitement was palpable. For once, he wasn't overwhelmed by your fierce attitude. Instead, he saw it as a challenge, a game of sorts, and the idea made him feel more alive than he had in a while.

Malleus

Malleus wasn't someone who was easily moved by most things. Yet, something about you, the fierce, untamed RSA student with a personality like a wild animal, caught his attention. He had watched you from afar, intrigued by your intense presence, your almost unearthly defiance, and your eyes that seemed to burn with the fire of a creature that could never be tamed.

When he finally spoke to you, it was as if the air itself thickened with magic. “You're quite the anomaly” his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “You remind me of something… untamed, like a wild creature of the mountains.”

You weren't intimidated by his presence, although you were acutely aware of his power. “You've got a strange way of speaking, horn guy” you looked him up and down “Are you comparing me to some kind of beast?”

Malleus’ eyes glinted, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps. But is that such an insult, I wonder? I have always found strength in the wild, in the things that refuse to be controlled.”

You blinked, your guard momentarily dropping. “You think I'm wild, huh? Well, that's something we can agree on”

Malleus nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You are strong. But even the wildest of creatures have their limits, don't they? Perhaps you have yet to meet someone who understands you, who can match your wild spirit.”

There was a challenge in his words, although it wasn't spoken with malice. Malleus was simply…curious. He could see that you weren't just a student who needed to be molded into something conventional. You were like him—fierce, untamed, and powerful. And that intrigued him.

You straightened, meeting his gaze head-on, daring him to push further. “Maybe I'll let you find out just how far I'll go. But don't think for a second you can tame me like the rest of your kind"

Malleus' smile widened slightly. “I don't believe I'd have the need to do such a thing. I simply wish to see how far your power will take you” his figure approaching, his eyes penetrating your gaze, his fangs approaching his smile. Charming was to say the least.

“You are more than a creature of rage, you have the potential for much more”

[deadbeatbirdmom]

One of the themes in RWBY is about the current generation being failed by the previous one. We see it a lot with the mess that is the Xiao Long-Rose-Branwen family.

Every single member of Team STRQ failed Yang and Ruby, to a greater and/or lesser extent.

(read more cut because this gets long, although I make no promises that I'll cover everything, and please forgive any typos, I'm very tired)

Raven abandoned her daughter and her husband (yes, husband, according to 'The World of RWBY' book by Daniel Wallace, written with input from CRWBY), and the rest of her team. Yang wasn't old enough to remember her, and may well have still been a baby at the time. The reason why seems to have been for Raven to take the leadership of the Branwen tribe of bandits, although I think it was more complicated than that, which would fit with Raven being such a complicated woman.

Summer. Yang's super-mom. The mother who stepped up. I deeply respect that. She had the best of intentions when she left on that super secret mission with Raven, presumably to confront Salem. To protect her family, and hopefully so she'd never need to leave them again. Unfortunately good intentions pave the road to hell, and she ended up never going home to her girls. That truly tore the family apart, and it never really recovered. Yang's abandonment issues aren't only from Raven leaving, and a lot of Ruby's issues come from trying to live up to the memory of Summer while being held to impossible standards.

Tai didn't react well to the loss of Summer. To quote Yang: he shut down. Yang had to pick up the pieces and keep things together. Alone. Because Tai was always busy with school, and Ruby couldn't talk yet. It's striking that Yang refers to her dad by name in Alone Together when talking to Weiss about it. Most kids don't do that when referring to their parents. Your mileage may vary about what that means, but to me it sounds a lot like resentment. Don't get me wrong, Yang loves her dad. But it's entirely possible to feel both love and resentment.

I do empathise with Tai. I'm all too familiar with grief and loss and depression. I'm sure he did his best, and as far as we know he did keep his kids fed and clothed, and gave them treats from time to time like the boba tea mentioned in the RWBY Beyond episode. But the fact remains that Yang ended up doing more to raise Ruby than she ever should have or would have if at least one of her mothers had stayed. Yang had no reason to lie to Weiss about that.

And Tai definitely failed his daughters. Even without anything else, there's the incident when Yang and Ruby were left alone when clearly too young to be unattended, and Yang went in search of Raven, with Ruby pulled in a wagon. That they weren't devoured by Grimm is thanks to Qrow, and possibly Raven for getting Qrow there, because I don't know how else he found them in time besides good luck for once (or very bad luck for the Grimm).

Does that mean Raven might have given Yang more than one save, or wriggled out of her rule about that by getting Qrow to do the saving? Does she secretly have a bond with Ruby, and that was Ruby's save? Whatever the case, Raven failed them too, because Yang wouldn't have been looking for her if she hadn't needed a mother, and Raven was well aware she no longer had one.

I do think it quite likely that by this point Raven had become the Spring Maiden, so might not have felt able to return even if she wanted to - it would have risked endangering the girls if someone learned Raven was a Maiden and tried to take the power for themselves.

Did that near disaster give Tai a wake up call? Did Yang only raise Ruby until then? We don't know for sure, but as someone raised by a single mother for a while, I can tell you that single parents can't work and raise children without help. There doesn't seem to be any extended family around to have done so, probably all killed by Grimm in the dangerous world that is Remnant... Plus there's Ruby's words to Yang when they're reunited in Volume 9: "If you thought we wouldn’t come for you, then you must’ve forgotten who raised me." I really don't think Ruby is referring to Tai there. Especially with referring to just herself and not both Yang and herself with 'who raised me.'

Childcare exists in Remnant, at least in Argus (there's a mention of needing to collect Jaune's nephew from childcare in Volume 6). I can't imagine it's unheard of in Patch. Yet Tai doesn't seem to have used it. To be clear, if any of the rest of Team STRQ had been left as a single parent they'd have needed help with childcare too, you can't both work and raise children at the same time. That goes for Summer too, even super-mom would need help. Maybe Tai's teaching job didn't pay well enough for him to afford it. Maybe he feared reaching out for help would mean losing his daughters, and I have no doubt that he loves them, and not just because they're all he has left of their mothers.

The way Tai talks to Yang during her training session in Volume 4 does make me wonder if he associates her far too closely with Raven, because while there are similarities Yang is very much her own person and also influenced by Summer far more than by Raven. We don't see him interact much with Ruby, but I wouldn't be surprised if he similarly associates her too much with Summer.

It doesn't help that Yang and Ruby so closely resemble their mothers - and they do, despite Yang's hair and eyes being different to Raven's, apart from when her eyes turn red. That must've given Tai quite a shock the first time it happened... Anyway, my point is that Raven is like a dark reflection of Yang. Or Yang a bright reflection of Raven, I'm not sure which. The physical resemblance of mothers and daughters can't have helped Tai with constant reminders of them, especially as they grew older and the resemblance more striking.

Qrow... I'm sure Drunkle Qrow did his best to help out, but at the time his mindset on his Semblance would have limited him to fleeting visits rather than living with Tai and the girls. He simply loved them too much to want to risk Misfortune hurting them.

That and Qrow was raised by bandits, a rough upbringing where he was made to feel like a bad luck charm. I'm not entirely certain he'd have seen the problem with Yang having to raise Ruby. There is a story in the Yang official manga anthology where Qrow acknowledges kid!Yang has every right to be angry about being burdened with the responsibilities of grown ups, but how canon those anthologies are is ambiguous.

One thing for sure: both Yang and Ruby were familiar with Qrow being drunk, and having to deal with that, although never as bad as it got in Volume 6.

And yes, Ruby does talk about Qrow teaching at Signal, and having taught her to fight, and that Tai taught Yang, but that does not mean they were a happy family living together while that happened. Sorry, this family has been haunted and broken ever since Summer disappeared, and the cracks appeared when Raven noped out of there to be a bandit queen.

I've mostly talked about how Yang was affected. But Ruby was too. Sure, she had more of a childhood than Yang did, because to some extent Yang made sure of that. Chances are Ruby got good at pretending things are fine when they aren't. That and Ruby is quite possibly socially awkward for a reason: she was at least partly raised by a child only two years older than she was. Yang did her best, I've no doubt about that, but there's no way she knew what she was doing.

Why does Yang seem comparatively normal if she at least in part raised herself? Because she's good at blending in and wearing masks. She'd have to be to avoid raising suspicions with her teachers about the situation at home, because Tai couldn't have been the only one who afraid about the kids being taken away. One of Yang's worst nightmares must've been about being taken into care by social services and separated from Ruby. Presuming of course that Remnant has social services. It surely has to have something because of the likelihood of those orphaned by Grimm attacks, in addition to the more usual family breakdowns.

In conclusion: this is such a messy family, and as has been noted by @one-real-wrimonkey that's part of what makes them so interesting (sorry, I hope you don't mind being tagged).

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I ken she isn't a character you typically focus on, but my curiosity is biting ma baws so I may as well ask just in case.

What do you think of the dynamic between Kate and John? And possibly the dynamic between her and Nikolai. Apologies, I ken there's about a bawhair of dialogue to work with on Kate and Nik but you're smart and I'd trust that if you do have an answer, then it'd intrigue me.

If you don't, fair enough, I completely get why. I'm just, to my core, a nosey bugger. And I fear an obvious one because Christ, the way I type isn't subtle and it really fucks the anonymity bit of this, I just cannae be fucked asking on my main blog.

I think their dynamic is pretty great but obviously complicated by the fact they're working for, and loyal to, different nations. Until very recently, UK and US geopolitics has been pretty aligned. I think John and Kate, if they existed today, would be struggling like fuck with how the rest of the world is turning its back on the US. All of Kate's avenues of information are being cut, MI5 and MI6 view the US as a liability, etc.

But, anyways, in fiction! First meeting and I think Kate probably thought "aw an upstart baby", because Baby Price with his shaven chin and serious eyes probably looked comical to someone who had a twelve year headstart on him. And then he proved himself to be a truly formidable operator, she realised she needed to build a strong link; he was clearly brilliantly intelligent and also gay as fuck ("aw repressed gay murder kitten").

It started off as a relationship of necessity. Then they shared a whiskey and a smoke after a particularly grizzly op, and it snowballed into actual friendship. John did wacky shit like use a gorilla costume as a decoy, and wasn't afraid to bend, and sometimes completely break, the rules. She liked that. He's smart, witty, funny, and so is she. If he was a woman, he'd be her wife. Luckily, she found someone just as good, but without John's temper and fixation on duty (read: someone healthier), so he gets "best friend" instead.

It's still characterised by their roles though. Sometimes Kate has to keep things from John and she hates it. But it's just the way it is. She hates it when their mission objectives don't align, she hates it when she can't provide him all the intel because she just doesn't know, and the fact that he'll go in anyway... Sometimes she wants to choke him with her bare hands. She'll take his growls and his snarls when he's frustrated because she knows it's coming from a place of deeply seated duty, an honour code that pushes him constantly forwards.

John is loyal to Laswell as much as you can be to a foreign agent; again, there are just some things he needs to keep to himself. He'll go in and risk his neck to save her arse. He respects her highly, would follow her into the maw of hell if needed. Over the years, he's started to see her and her wife as part of his extended family. I think he's probably slept on their couch while injured a few times. I wrote "Kicked Into Touch" initially because I wanted to write that domestic time between them. John values Laswell's opinion of him and he enjoys sharing hobbies/time with her outside of work. He's been to BBQs, the occasional family function; she'll likely officiate his wedding to Nikolai.

Speaking of Nik, I think Laswell adores him and him her, even though he finds her exasperating. "Why do you want to go there you crazy woman, what is--fine." He doesn't understand the American mind, probably finds it more than occasionally frustrating, but he knows Laswell is good and just, working within a straight jacket as best she can. She's not your standard, cookie cutter capitalist. She finds him eccentric but brilliant. She knows she can count on him to achieve the impossible in most situations; acquiring specific weapons, flying into hostile territory, accessing the inaccessible meetings and gangs. Nik is one of her greatest assets.

It was Laswell that gave MI6 the idea to use John to get Nik to turn. She had known Nik for a while by that point as a potential informant but her guys had failed to entice him over. Their offers just weren't hitting the mark; he didn't trust them. She had enough intel to know he was gay, and in an exceptionally vulnerable situation, so she had to play it carefully. Honeypotting him outright was cruel and it would only damage the working relationship later on. She needed someone that sat in the niche of hot and interesting, but not a blatant appeal to his prick.

She told MI6 to put Baby Blue himself right in Nik's path; intense, honest, brave and handsome in a unique, roguish kind of way. Laswell knew the way John spoke, the way he carried himself, his expressive face, would hook their Russian in. So when Price turned to Nik in the bar and said, "Come work with me, Nikolai. We'll change the world", Nik damn well believed him.

[anim-ttrpgs]

drow rpg thoughts

Yesterday I got excited and did a design outline for another game, this time about drow. Don't worry, the Eureka Patreon updates will keep coming monthly and we are even close to another free public beta release, but i have been under a lot of stress and might need to work on something else for a few weeks after that, even if only because i think it could actually be something i could make fully playable within a short time.

It is based on a particular setting written a while back by me and a close friend, the purpose of which was to reimagine drow with reasonable post-hoc explanations for the way they are portrayed in Forgotten Realms. It would be a very specific game, sharing a few design ideas with Eureka's rules, but not as broad and generalized.

This rpg will certainly come with a bunch of lore, but for right now the only thing you need to know is that in this setting, "Drow" is a title and referrs only to the female warrior-caste of dark elf society.

Many of the mechanics will be asymmetrical. A “party” will consist of one Drow and any number of her servants, with the goal of surviving incredibly dense hierarchical social situations

>problem will come up that could embarrass the Drow, threatening her Reputation (stat)

>Drow has to delegate tasks to servants that will fix the problem

>due to stupidly dense and impossible etiquette, actually delegating these tasks is not very clear or easy. Screwing up tasks and failing etiquette will reduce a servant’s perceived Competence (stat)

>due to high pressure, impossible working conditions, and garbled instructions, these tasks are not easy and are very likely to be screwed up

>the Drow has to contend with and smooth over the screwed up tasks. She can lose Reputation if she doesn’t discipline incompetence, but harsh discipline is only going to make the servants less able to complete the task.

>Failure state for the servants is if their Competence ever reaches 0, and failure state for everyone is if the Drow’s Reputation ever reaches 0.

Half the Game Master’s job will be keeping track of the strict and deliberately impossibly overcomplicated etiquette by which servants have to address Drow, and docking their Competence when they screw up(and possibly docking Drow Reputation if anybody else sees her letting that slide), and keeping track of the strict militaristic code of honor and (evil) morality that all Drow are expected to exemplify whether they actually enjoy being cruel psychopaths or not, and docking Reputation when the Drow fails to uphold the right standard of evilness in front of other Drow.

The servant part of the “party” will either have to humorously manipulate Drow while hiding that anything is wrong, or they and their Drow will all have to all work together to maintain a facade of this brutal hierarchy

Drow lose Reputation and servants lose Competence when they fail to adhere to social etiquette that covers like 15 pages of instructions (designed to be impossible to follow). In that way, it might be considered similar to Paranoia, with a similar sense of humor.

Some of the servants’ etiquette would be like

>don’t speak out loud to a Drow unless told to by that Drow

>at the same time, don’t remain silent when a Drow expects them to answer a question even if she didn’t explicitly say they could speak

And this is why the Drow has to be a PC, because this same servant etiquette is a pitfall for the Drow. if she doesn’t make her expectations explicitly clear, it puts the servants in an impossible situation, where they will embarrass her with their incompetence(even though it’s her fault) and she will be socially obligated to go out of her way to discipline them. Of course in the in-setting society, the fault lies with the servant, because they should have intuited when they were being given permission to speak or not. Some Drow will be self-aware enough to realize that they caused this situation, most won't.

The structure of their society will often incentivize a tactful Drow to "roll with" mistakes made by servants, e.g. "No, my servants did have permission to address me out loud, you just weren't clever enough to catch it."

Each will have to cover for the other, and/or hide things from each other and the Drow's social rivals.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel When You Defend Him

Warnings: Swearing, violence, fluff.

Joel is always ready to protect those he loves so i thought it about high time he had someone look out for him.

Word Count: 1,694

Joel didn't want to be here tonight but he did it for you. He'd do anything for you, even put up with the exuberant crowd deafening his good ear. On a normal night at the Tipsy Bison, he'd be quietly nursing a glass of whiskey, relaxing in the company of two of the very few people he loves the most; you and Tommy. But tonight isn't a normal night.

A surprise birthday party had been organised on the quiet for one of Jackson's most senior patrol men. Joel knew you'd been itching to go as you hadn't stopped talking about it for the past week, even offering to help with the decorations. Usually he would pass on large gatherings like this, preferring not to draw too much attention and stares from some judgmental arseholes, who'd decided that his relationship with you was inappropriate. A dirty old man taking advantage of a younger woman.

In truth you look far younger than your actual age of 38. Most people assumed you were in your mid to late twenties when you'd arrived in Jackson with Joel and Ellie. After a little while, most people had become more accepting of his relationship with you, especially once it became obvious what you both mean to each other. But there's always a few bad apples in the bunch, who love nothing more than to gossip and judge.

If Joel was being honest with himself, he couldn't give a shit about people's opinions of him. He's not here to impress anyone, and if someone doesn't like him, he won't lose any sleep over it. However, he will not stand for anyone bad mouthing you. He'd be more than happy to rip the tongues out of anyone who dared to disrespect you, and Ellie for that matter. But at the same time, he wouldn't want to cause a scene when you're all trying to assimilate into a community with rules and standards reminiscent of a society long passed.

That's why he'd usually distance himself from most social gatherings, that, and to protect you from any unnecessary tattle. But after you'd all but begged him to come, insisting that you don't care what people might think, how proud you are to be able to call him yours and how much you want to live a normal life with him, including experiencing everything that normal couples do, how could he refuse you? Especially when you use your greatest weapon against him; your big doe eyes! Damn it, you knew just how to break him down.

So that's how he ended up here tonight, much to the astonishment of Tommy and Maria. And Joel had to admit it was worth it, just to see you enjoy yourself. He could bask in your infectious small all night long, his chest filling with warmth and pride at how easily most people have taken to you in your short time here. A group of women your age had pulled you into conversation and as a result you'd spent part of the night bouncing back and forth between them and the table where Joel, Tommy and Maria sat.

But you were never gone too long, seemingly unable to keep yourself away from Joel. That was just the pull you two had on each other, both the moths to each other's flames. Joel had noticed some glares and sneers from a few women at a nearby table, (women who'd tried gaining his favour in the past, and didn't handle the rejection well) while you obliviously snuggled under his arm, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. But as long as you didn't notice and they kept to themselves, he'd let it go.

"Be right back, handsome," you cooed into Joel's ear before making your way to the group you'd been getting to know. Joel got up a few moments later to get another round in. The music from the jukebox close to the bar and the lively chatter of drunken patrons made it hard, but not impossible for Joel to hear his name being mentioned. Glancing over his shoulder he could see it was the three women who'd been watching him earlier. He turned his good ear to their conversation.

"I can't believe he shamelessly flaunts their... 'relationship'...," a dark haired woman spat the last word out as if it had the worst taste imaginable, "like it's no big deal." "You'd think they'd have the decency to keep their affection behind closed doors," another woman, a redhead scoffed. Joel gripped the edges of the bar, his knuckles turning white. These sour hags were getting dangerously close to crossing a line by referring to you as well. Joel could feel his his anger building, a fragile thread about to snap.

"Let's face it, creeps like him always go for the younger girls because nothing droops yet," a blond woman snarked, which garnered a giggle from the others, "She's probably some dumb, naive airhead with daddy issues. He probably controls her every move, and being a doormat, she probably likes it. I can't even imagine what they'd even talk about. He should try a real woman." The women laugh conspiratorially.

Joel has heard enough. He turns to the table, eyes blazing and fists clenched so tightly he can hear the crack of his knuckles. But before he can take even one step towards them, his brows raise in surprise. Blondie let's out a high pitched shriek as your hand buries itself in her hair, pulling her head back to look directly up at you, her two friends watching in horror.

"Let's get one thing straight...," you seethed, menacingly into Blondie's fear filled eyes, "Our relationship and what we talk about is none of your fucking business. I'm sick of bitter bitches like you...' you fix her friends with an icy stare, "judging us and painting Joel as some kind of pervert. You sheltered pussys have no idea what we went through to get here, and the last thing Joel needs or deserves is hate. He defends this settlement and this is how your repay him?! You three don't deserve to breathe the same air as him!"

Joel is frozen to the spot, mouth agape. A meteorite couldn't move him right now. He hasn't seen you this angry since you'd learned what the Fireflies had planned to do with Ellie, that same murderous look darkening your eyes, now reignited for him. No one has ever defended him with such ferocity before. He's not sure if he's even worth such love and devotion. A strange new feeling washes over him like a warm blanket, and he likes it.

He knows how much you love him, never doubted it for a second, and now watching you defend his honour, looking ready to kill this bitch for him, leaves him in awe of you. For the first time in... god knows how long, Joel feels important, significant. He never realised he could mean that much to someone. God, he loves you! He would burn the world to ashes for you, just like you would for him. A gratifying smirk dances across his face as he takes in, not just the shocked faces of the trio, but also the stunned expressions of those within the vicinity.

Clearly, everyone here had underestimated you, but they won't after tonight. His feisty, fearless, loyal girl! Joel is bursting with pride at your resolve and tenacity. Blondie begs for release while grabbing your fist full of hair. "Please, I'm sorry! You're ripping my hair out!" You tug back further, tightening your grip even more, just to make it clear who has the upper hand here. Lowering your head beside hers, you growl, "Let this be a warning to all of you; if you breathe one more bad word about him, hair loss will be the fucking least of your worries!"

And with that you yank out a clump of hair, just for good measure, as you finally release your hold, causing Blondie to yelp in pain. You purposefully walk over to Joel, softness shining behind your eyes again and gently lace your fingers with his. "Come on, let's get out of here, honey" you whisper tenderly, a juxtaposition to the fury lacing your words only moments ago. Still reeling from your impressive and, quite frankly, arousing display, Joel follows you outside, wordlessly, but not before throwing a glance over his shoulder to see Maria with her jaw on the floor and Tommy trying and failing to suppress an amused grin.

Once outside, Joel stops as you turn to face him. "I'm so sorry Joel. You didn't deserve that," you say shaking your head and looking to the ground. "What are you apologising for?" Joel asked, incredulously. "This wasn't your fault." "It is...," you insist, vehemently, "I made you come tonight. I know you stay home a lot cause of what people say about you and it was wrong of me to force you to-"

"Darling..." Joel tilts your chin up until your eyes meet his, "I couldn't care less what they say about me. It's you I was worried about. I only stayed away to protect you, but I was wrong to do that. Fuck them! I was about to fill their worthless mouths for them, but you beat me to it...," Joel slaps his hands to your arse, pulling you flush to his body, drawing a delighted gasp from you as he presses his growing erection into your belly, "and it was the hottest fucking thing, seeing you stand up for me like that."

Joel watches as you bite your lower lip, knowing exactly how this night is going to end. "Hmm...," you sigh, seductively, hands slowly travelling the broad muscles of his chest. "liked that did you?" Your tongue flicks out, barely brushing his plush lips. "What do you think!" Joel growled lowly, pressing his length against you even harder. "Then take me home and show me just how much you liked it." Joel chuckled darkly as he bent down and threw you over his shoulder, power walking to your shared home. Tonight, you are in for a treat!

[cerastes]

IS2+3+4 Relay/Triathlon Runs Breakdown and Post-Mortem

Yesterday, I streamed a trial run of a tentative format I'd love to start playing, for now called IS Relay Run (or Triathlon, but that name has an expiration date with IS5 coming soon), where you do a run of IS2, followed by a run of IS3, and finally a run of IS4, with the catch being that units used in IS2 are banned from the IS3 run, and units used in IS2 and IS3 and banned from the IS4 run.

Here's the ruleset my chat over at Twitch and I built and agreed upon for the trial run:

Difficulty levels correspond to the minimum difficulty that gives you maximum scoring conditions, thus, IS2 Calamity, IS3 Waves 7 and IS4 Natures 10, as those are the minimum difficulty levels that net you the maximum score in those respective modes; Calamity gives the highest score in IS2, Waves 8 and up offer the same scoring as Waves 7 in IS3, Natures 11 and up offer the same scoring as Natures 10 in IS4.

Reserve Operators don't count into the unit bans. The logic is that 1) there's many of them in the first place, 2) softens some of the inherent logistical nightmares that come with three distinct runs of IS RNG can bring in a format that's already cutting deeply into your numbers.

Elite Operators count into the unit bans. So if you nab yourself Sharp in IS2, you don't get to use him in IS3 and IS4.

Alternative versions of Operators don't count into unit bans for their counterpart versions. You want to use Kroos in IS2 and Kroos the Keen Glint in IS3? Knock yourself out, no one should ever be denied their Kroos, they are two distinct units for the purpose of this format.

If you take an Operator and don't use them even once, they still count as a pick and are banned from the rest of the runs. Sometimes, a pick is an investment opportunity, and it may or may not pay off, like grabbing Texas the Omertosa in IS3 hoping to get a promotion, but then it never comes. Texas, in this case, still counts as used.

Any ending goes.

You may pick any starting squad. It doesn't have to be the same one in every run (and in the case of many squads, this would be impossible anyways).

***Not a real rule, but one I stuck to anyhow: No Ingot withdrawals from the Shop, mainly because I'm interested in seeing if the format can be used for racing, and in case of a race, this would be so someone with 999 investment ingots doesn't have a huge advantage over someone with 10 if they decide they're going to break the piggy bank to absolutely ruin the other contestant.

With this ruleset, I ran the format and it was very fun. This was the final roster:

With that said, here are some considerations I have following the trial run:

IS2 Calamity is very volatile. With no exaggeration, it was the most challenging part of the run, in no small part because I got the Sigil of Tragodia (All enemies have +30% Attack, Defense and HP, and you have -2 Deployment Slots). For those not in the know, the way Calamity works is that runs start you off with a powerful Cursed Artifact unique to Calamity that exclusively works against you to make things harder, as well as a minor positive Artifact, usually Squad Size +1. The rationale in using Calamity, besides the max scoring logic, is that with Calamity, you'd be incentivized to use powerful Operators you'd otherwise keep in the bench for future ISes. In the case of the Trial Run, that was why I picked Dusk and Shamare for IS2, as the reduced Deployment Slots and hefty increase to enemy Defense meant that Dusk's S3 was going to be very very strong (as well as providing me with many Arts tanks for the Scarlet Singers; Freeling's have 50 RES), and having Shamare's Cursed Doll helps bring down those immense stat boosts at least temporarily many times per map. I'd say whether IS2 is run Standard or Calamity is up to player discretion, as the raw volatility of Calamity can make for plenty an early end to the run. When it comes to potential Races, I'd say Standard is the way to go, due to the selfsame volatility; the Cursed Artifacts are not made equal, Tragodia is VERY dangerous, whereas others can be half as threatening. If one contestant gets Tragodia and the other doesn't, then that's already a potential huge blow not really in line with the spirit of the race (considering there's already plenty of other random factors such as node distribution, Bewildered IS2 floors, recruitment voucher luck, and such)

Endings are really a player discretion thing. Normally, you'd take the path of least resistance for your ending routing, but if you want to challenge yourself or, more importantly, want to agree to certain endings on your race, knock yourself out. That said, I think the most logical thing is to stick to Ending 1 on all races, because of the random nature of getting Endings in most cases. IS4 is much more consistent in this regard, but IS3 very much isn't (going for Ending 2? Hope you're Gopnik-proofed the moment you get the Last Knight) and IS2 even less so.

I think it's ok to withdraw Ingot from the Shop if you're doing this solo, but I really think Races should ban withdrawing Ingots, for the reasons detailed previously.

Something that didn't come up during the trial run or during discussions is what happens if you lose: I think we all implicitly agreed that you simply start over from IS2, because we love high stakes. That said, in a race format, there's two real ways to go about it: If you game over, you lose the race outright, OR if you game over, you start over from the IS you lost at. This, I'm still thinking about and I'll run it over with the people over at my stream next time, but for now I think it's definitely something you can agree to either way with the other racers. If you're playing this as a self-imposed challenge, my suggestion is to treat a game over as a true game over that sends you back to IS2, for that delicious tension, But Of Course, that's all that is, a suggestion, if you think for you it's more fun to just start over from the IS you lost at, well, that's what you do.

Other considerations with the races may be performance differences between contestants (Racer A's computer or phone runs much faster than Racer B's, thus they load faster). These may be 1 or 2 seconds, but 1 or 2 seconds per loading screen add up after three entire runs (hell, "just" 1 or 2 seconds is huge already in and of itself in the context of a race). Another issue might be that this can easily take several hours, given it's three distinct ISes with extra scrutiny on Operator picks, during which emulators may crash, phones may overheat, Things May Happen. This is true in one way or another for a lot race formats of things in general of course, but it's worth thinking about it anyways. Things that come to mind is maybe doing the race in segments, so IS2 is its own segment, and the first place can chill until the rest are done, then they all start IS3 together and so on, and the end timers are used to make the final calculation on who won or lost. Another format could also be points format per IS, so clearing IS2 the fastest gets you one point, IS3 gets you another, and so on, and person with the most points at the end wins the race. There's Different Ways to go about it in respects to people's limitations, specs, available time, and such.

Something I'll say is that it's pretty time consuming, and it can be stamina consuming, too: I was streaming while doing it, and streaming means interacting with and entertaining a group of people whilst you play, which adds another factor of exhaustion, but I think that just focusing on the game should be pretty fine for most people. Your mileage may vary as to whether 3 runs back to back is not a lot or a lot (it's plenty if I'm also needing to stream, but not at all if I'm just playing, for example). That said, it's a bit of a moot point if you're doing it in your own time; you can do IS2 one day, save a screenshot of your banlist, then continue with this challenge two days later with IS3, then do IS4 yet another day. The world (and format) is your oyster after all.

And, of course, this is really, really endgame stuff to be doing, given you have to have enough units prepped for not one, but three runs at a reasonable difficulty level. It definitely rewarded having map knowledge and knowing your key units to bring to each IS.

But, yeah, really fun format if you wanna try something new whether it be with our 'house' rules or your own!

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall has arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, gaze always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, marked by the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the mark and its location in such graphic terms it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says in a voice normally revered for executioners, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger and more volatile cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers.

Or to convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the reckless among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the hop in his step and the proud set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the blood from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy enough to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the galaxy. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be cowed by a little gossip.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

He goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered, "You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, expression so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.