#civil engineering assignment

[worstoftimesbestofcrimes]

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OUT-Civil Engineer Licensure Exam Room Assignment November 2024| CELE Room Assignments Region wise

PRC Civil Engineering Board Exam Room Assignment November 2024. CELE 2024 Room Assignments November Region-wise Check. The Board of Civil Engineering Successfully Released Room Assignments for the CELE Examination on November 18-19, 2024. It’s Fabulous News to all who are Waiting for Civil Engineer Licensure Exam Room Assignments in November 2024. This year Civil Engineering by its chairman, Engr…

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[gradehood]

https://www.collcard.com/read-blog/56909_a-guide-to-the-advantages-of-the-assignment-writing-services.html

Discover the key benefits of assignment writing services in our comprehensive guide. Learn how these services can enhance your academic performance and ease your workload.

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[gradehood]

Learn the difficulties faced by civil engineering students and how assignment help benefit them. Also, learn the types of services offered and how to choose the best offer.

[newobsessionweekly]

Aftershock: Bradford's Barbie

Main Masterlist | The Rookie Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Tim Bradford x younger!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim are not dating. But also aren't not dating. Until he pulls back, you shut down and every feeling comes crashing down on you both.

Angst to fluff

Warnings: description of gunshots maybe? not proofread yet

Words: -

It didn’t start with fireworks. Or candlelight. Or anything remotely poetic.

It started with a crash.

Not the earthquake kind, not this time. Just you—exhausted, makeup smudged, hair in a bun that had declared war hours ago—falling asleep on his couch after a late-night takeout run and a shared bottle of whiskey neither of you meant to finish.

You woke up tangled in his arms. The next morning, you told yourself it was a one-time thing.

It wasn’t.

Somehow, in between shifts and field assignments, takeout orders and inside jokes, it became a routine. Your body in his bed. His scent on your clothes. His lips on your skin, hot and heavy in the silence after dark. And, weirdly, you slept better at his place. He did too, not that he ever said it out loud.

You weren’t dating.

You weren’t not dating, either.

Tim called it “convenient.” You called it “friends with benefits.” Lucy called it “a catastrophe waiting to happen,” though she didn’t know the half of it.

Because somewhere between him calling you a menace and you calling him a fossil—somewhere between him brushing your hair off your face and you learning how he liked his coffee—you started catching feelings.

Like a dumbass.

And the worst part? You didn’t even mean to. It just… happened. The way feelings do. Quiet at first, like a hairline crack. Then spreading, splitting, splitting, splitting.

Until something inside you started to break.

You told him once.

Sort of.

A few weeks ago, lying in his bed with your cheek pressed to his chest, you’d murmured something dumb and sleepy like, “I think you like me, Bradford.”

He hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t kissed you either.

He’d just gone still.

“Don’t make this complicated,” he’d said finally, voice low. “It’s already risky. You’re… you’re too young. This thing is just for fun. Let’s not pretend it’s more than it is.”

And like a fool, you nodded.

You told yourself you could deal with it.

But here you are, two months later, being reckless all over again.

Because now, thanks to a shiny new contract between LAPD and your father’s construction firm, you’re officially partnered with none other than Timothy “Emotionally Constipated” Bradford.

You might’ve pulled a few strings. Okay, a lot of strings. But in your defense, it was the perfect setup: a project pairing cops with civil engineers to evaluate post-quake building damage. Everyone wins. Especially you.

Except you forgot one detail.

You’re still in love with him.

And he still thinks you’re a goddamn risk.

You’re halfway through assessing a condemned strip mall in East Hollywood when it all goes to hell.

The street’s quiet, a little too quiet, the kind of quiet that prickles under your skin. Tim’s beside you, hand on his vest, eyes scanning every window and alley like he’s waiting for something to jump.

You’re marking a crumbling doorway with bright red chalk when it happens.

A pop.

Then another.

Gunfire.

You drop instantly, instincts kicking in, but not before Tim grabs your shoulder and yanks you behind the rusted frame of a dumpster. His body covers yours, warm and solid, one arm braced against the metal and the other curled around your waist.

“Stay down,” he growls, eyes blazing.

Your heart is beating in your ears, faster than it should. Too fast. His breath is hot on your cheek. His chest rises and falls against your back, firm and steady, while yours feels like it might explode.

And all you can think is: this isn’t casual. This isn’t just “fun.”

This is him shielding you like he’d die for you.

When it’s over—when backup arrives, when the scene clears, when the world rights itself again—you’re sitting on the tailgate of an LAPD shop with an ice pack pressed to your knee and a very pissed-off Tim looming over you.

“You okay?” he asks. The words are tight. Controlled. But his hand won’t stop gripping your thigh.

“I’m good,” you reply lightly. “But damn, Bradford. You almost made me think you caught feelings.”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t.”

“What? Can’t a girl joke around with her—what are we again? Bed buddies?”

He doesn’t answer. Just steps back like your words physically burned him.

You wait for him to say something—anything. But all you get is silence. His walls are up again. Brick by goddamn brick.

You nod, lips tightening.

“Got it.”

You stop texting him after that.

No goodnight emojis. No sarcastic memes. No more midnight rides to each other’s places. You pull out. Clean cut. No drama.

You tell yourself it’s the right thing. The smart thing.

You also start sleeping like crap again.

You expect him to call.

He doesn’t.

You expect him to knock on your door like he always does when things go sideways. Show up with a six-pack and that dumb grumpy look he pretends isn’t fond.

He doesn’t.

Instead, silence.

You last three days before deleting his name from your favorites. Five days before you fold the hoodie he left behind and tuck it in a drawer. Nine before you hear through one of the engineers that he requested a reassignment. A new partner.

The hurt isn’t new.

You just didn’t expect it to land like this. Like a slow tear in your chest every time you turn a corner expecting to see him, but don’t.

Tim is worse.

He doesn’t talk about it. Not to Lucy. Not to Thorsen. Not to Lopez. He just… broods.

He snaps faster. His fuse is shorter. He works more shifts, runs more drills, volunteers for the worst hours.

Lucy notices.

Of course she notices.

“You’ve been insufferable lately,” she says one day while they’re stuck in the locker room post-shift, both drenched in sweat and sun. “Worse than usual.”

Tim grunts, slamming his locker shut harder than necessary. “Just tired.”

“Bullshit.”

He shoots her a look, but she doesn’t back off.

“Is this about her?” Lucy asks casually. Too casually.

Tim stiffens. “What?”

“The blonde. Barbie. Earthquake Barbie. Whatever nickname you gave her in your grumpy little brain.”

Tim says nothing. Just pulls his shirt over his head like the conversation’s over.

It isn’t.

Lucy leans against the row of lockers, arms crossed. “Look, I didn’t want to get involved, but you’re spiraling. And when Tim Bradford spirals, people start punching walls and doing push-ups until their triceps cry for help.”

Tim’s voice is low. “She’s fine.”

“She’s not talking to you.”

“She doesn’t have to.”

Lucy raises an eyebrow. “So you were hooking up.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even flinch.

Lucy whistles. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Tim exhales slowly, resting his forehead against the cool metal. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything.”

“But?”

He hesitates.

Lucy watches him carefully. “But?”

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “She got under my skin.”

Lucy nods. “Yeah. That tends to happen when you’re in love.”

Tim turns to her, eyes flinty. “It wasn’t love.”

“Sure.”

“She’s almost twenty years younger than me.”

“And?”

“She’s reckless. She pulled strings to partner with me.”

“She also stood her ground during a live gunfire incident and patched your hand when you busted your knuckles punching a brick wall.”

Tim doesn’t respond.

Lucy softens. “Look. I don’t know what happened between you two. But I’ve known you long enough to know when someone’s got you twisted in knots. Go to her. Fix it.”

It takes him until midnight.

You’re not surprised when he knocks.

You hear the heavy sound of his boots on the hallway first—then the pause, then the knock. He doesn’t knock like a neighbor. He knocks like someone who built you into his routine and doesn’t know how to function without it.

But you don’t answer.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, hoodie pulled over your knees, and sip from a lukewarm mug of tea you don’t even like.

You hear the second knock. Then his sigh. Then silence.

“I know you’re there,” he says through the door, voice low and rough. “You’re loud in heels. But I swear—you’re louder barefoot.”

Your heart stutters.

You stay quiet.

He exhales, palm pressing to the door.

“I didn’t mean to push you away.”

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t push me away, Bradford. You made it very clear where I stand. Or don’t stand.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Yeah. I’m a dumbass.”

You don’t deny it.

Tim leans closer. “I just… I didn’t want to ruin what we had. And I thought keeping it casual would keep it safe.”

You raise an eyebrow even though he can’t see it. “Casual? You kissed my shoulder when you thought I was asleep. You stocked your fridge with my favorite iced coffee.”

Silence.

“Casual my ass,” you mutter.

You still don’t open the door. You hear his exhale through the wood.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says, quieter this time. “You know I didn’t.”

You hate that his voice still does that to you. That low rumble laced with something vulnerable. Something only you ever get from him—when no one’s watching. Not Lucy. Not his team. Not his goddamn conscience.

“You said I wasn’t worth the risk,” you remind him, because he needs to hear it. Needs to sit with the way it burned through you like acid.

A pause.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Silence.

You wait. The kind of silence where seconds stretch until they feel like bruises. He doesn’t answer, and that tells you enough.

You move to the door, pressing your back against it, still not ready to open it. “Go home, Tim.”

“I am home,” he says softly, and fuck. Fuck him for saying that.

The ache spreads. It’s not even anger anymore. It’s that thing you hate admitting even to yourself. Longing.

You press your palms to your eyes. “You don’t get to say that.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Fine. You won’t talk to me?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

He must hear the way your breath hitches through the door, because his next words come sharp.

“Then I’ll make you talk.”

The knock stops. The silence twists.

Then the click of the door handle turning, slow—because you forgot to lock it. You never lock it when you expect him.

The door opens, and there he is.

Post-shift, tired eyes, hand still on the doorknob like he’s giving you one last second to throw him out.

You don’t.

He steps in and shuts the door behind him.

You’re still in your hoodie, hair up in that messy knot he always said made you look like you “tried not to look hot,” and failed.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just drinks you in. Quiet, serious, unreadable. Then, in three strides, he’s in front of you, his hand tilting your chin up.

“I fucked up.”

You blink. “You think?”

He doesn’t smile. He just leans in—closer than he’s let himself in weeks.

“Say something.”

You don’t. You won’t.

So he does what Tim Bradford always does when he’s cornered by emotion—

He acts.

His lips crash into yours before you can say another word. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Like he’s trying to apologize with every breath he pulls from you.

Your hands fist in his shirt before your brain catches up. Before your heart can argue. Because you’ve missed this. Him. The heat. The feel of his body like a shield and a furnace all at once.

He pulls back just far enough to murmur, “You’re mine.”

You open your mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to fall apart—but he kisses you again before the words come.

“Say it,” he breathes against your skin, kissing down your jaw. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, dazed, breathless, undone. “And you’re mine as well.”

His hands tighten around your waist, like he’s trying to ground himself to the words. Like you’ve said something dangerous, holy.

“I’ve been yours,” he says hoarsely, “since the moment I met you, Barbie doll.”

Your knees nearly give out.

He lifts you—effortlessly—and carries you to the couch, laying you down like you’re something fragile and irreplaceable.

This isn’t just sex anymore.

This is everything that’s been building. All the friction, the denial, the tension that snapped the moment he let himself feel.

The hoodie is the first thing to go. His hands slow, reverent. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

He kisses your chest, your neck, your mouth again. “I don’t care about the age gap,” he murmurs. “Or the job. Or the risk. I care about you.”

You close your eyes and arch into him. He’s not just making love to you. He’s choosing you. Out loud. Without hesitation.

And the best part is—you’re finally choosing him back.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir, feeling the steady rhythm of Tim’s heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “So, does this mean we’re official or something?”

You chuckle. “I think last night made that pretty clear.”

He grins, pulling you closer. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You nestle into his embrace, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t known you were missing.

And in that moment, everything feels right.

[wolfgangsdick]

University Professor AU

What I think each of the primarchs would teach. You can tell I thought about some more than others.

Lion: Classical Literature

His readings of Shakespeare would be awe-inspiring. The man could have been an actor in another life if his face would just match the intensity of the words he's saying. But also, he is ruthless in grading assignments. Missed a semi-colon or a comma? Well, there goes your perfect grade. There will be no extensions or late submissions, he gave you all plenty of time to have them finished. Advisor for the fencing club.

Fulgrim: Theater

An actual actor who was forced to take a break by his agency after a bit of a scandal. He'll be back on the stage, though in the meantime, he needs something to do, and Ferrus told him there was a position open, so why not. He runs stage productions like the navy, not one step off beat or a wig out of place. They are always over budget, but the theatre is full night after night, so does it really matter? He also teaches a late nude painting class twice a week.

Perturabo: Architecture & Computer Science

He pass-faill rates are entirely one-sided, and people drop out all the time if they find out he's teaching the course. The only way to pass is to kiss his ass from day one and always arrive early. Come in late even once and be ready for your grade to drop significantly. He gets incredibly annoyed if people interrupt him to ask questions. You better hope it wasn't already answered in the syllabus or in the readings. Otherwise, that's another grade lost. He will ruthlessly rip apart designs he doesn't like and call out the students with the worst grades. Get ready to be told to drop out multiple times and that this is the real world. If you somehow manage to get on his good side, then he'll actually take the time to give you constructive criticism on your work and further explain complex concepts. You're pretty much guaranteed an internship once your studies are over since it's rare he finds students he can actually tolerate.

Jaghatai: Sports Medicine

Won a couple olympic gold medals in his youth but retired to raise horses. He's teaching now since horse rearing wasn't busy enough for him. He's the advisor for the universities equestrian club and coaches track and field. His classes always start with stretches and breathing exercises since he knows sitting for a long time can be tough for some people. Is totally fine with people leaving mid lecture since he too has a busy schedule and sometimes cancels class because of it. Need a ride to the next track meet? He has you covered.

Leman: Environmental Studies

He probably only took this job as a favor since teachings not really his thing. Worked as a parks ranger before this, living off the grid. His job was mainly preservation based, things like population control and catch and release jobs. But his favorite part was hunting down poachers, nothing like seeing a grown man beg for mercy before he gets hog tied and dragged down to the station. A hands-on kind of teacher. He asks for volunteers, and you suddenly find yourself with 3 other people, holding down an alligator while Leman pulls out fractured teeth and gives it vaccinations.

Dorn: Civil Engineering

His voice is incredibly monotone, so get ready to fall asleep if you don't drink a coffee or are at least well rested before going in there. His lectures are also extremely detailed, so you can't really afford to sleep through them. Thankfully, his classes often have multiple note takers since he does listen to feedback. His classes are known as the pain glove because your legs will fall asleep in those uncomfortable chairs, and your back will be hurting. You can tell if people just came from one of his lectures if you see them limping out. Students who have had him multiple times bring their own cushions and back supports. He still won't ask the university to replace the chairs in the lecture hall though. Those things are sturdy as hell, 5 people could probably stand in one, and it would hold just fine.

Konrad: Law

Asks insane ethical questions that would never happen in real life and then asks what the correct response should be according to the law. Honestly just trying to teach them that personal morals don't matter in the justice system. Pop quizzes are common so you should always be ready. If you cheat on a test, you will go missing. It doesn't matter if he actually calls you out on it during the test, he will know. You will stink of guilt. Your hair will fall out. You will get stomach ulcers and nightmares from worrying about if you were caught. You. Will. Go. Missing.

Sanguinus: Visual Arts - Painting

The professor that everyone has a crush on, he has a devoted fan club that can get a bit out of control at times. He can sometimes be found at the local pub performing with his band. His paintings consist of mostly landscapes and really abstract self portraits. Loves seeing how creative his students can get with their projects, though there is a shocking amount of religious gore in their pieces for some reason. Can't believe how many times he has to tell students that painting with blood is a biohazard. Look he is flattered, but please stop using him as a model for your artwork. He can't have 50 students painting the same subject when it has nothing to do with the assignment.

Ferrus: Mechanical Engineering

His assignments consist of assembling and disassembling different machines since he believes the best way to learn is through hands- on experience. That doesn't mean that you're not getting a bunch of readings and tests though, knowing theory is still important. He's only going over the instructions once so you better be paying attention. People can't really tell if he hates teaching or if his face is just stuck like that. Let's his students battle with their robot creations at the end of the semester, the winner gets their extra credit. Helps out the theatre department with their stage designs since their sets are always so elaborate.

Angron: Athletics

A ex football player with a brain tumour, he now coaches the football and rugby teams. He lives on campus cause he's been banned from driving and all modes of public transportation. You can see him walking his service dog sometimes in the mornings and afternoon. Practices are brutal but there's a reason their team have been league champions for as long as he's been working there. "Is that what you call a tackle? No, this is how you tackle someone!" You can probably hear him shouting from half way across campus. Is apart of the night walk safe program and teaches self-defence classes on the weekend.

Guilliman: Political Science

A perfect professor, he's always on time and answers emails right away. Will absolutely give extra time for assignments if you explain your situation. Right after lectures there is always a line up of people waiting to speak with him. Is always happy to hear from past students and see how they're changing the world. But considering how many of his past students go on to become politicians or work in other government positions, it makes sense that he doesn't mind staying in touch. Need a reference for a job? Ask him, he will write a wonderful letter of recommendation for you. Also works in university admin so he shows up to a lot of university functions.

Mortarion: Chemical Engineering

At the start of every semester, he shows his students the burn scars covering his hands as a warning on the dangers of not being attentive in the lab. That being said, if he notices you messing around or not paying attention, he'll kick you out, no second chances. Is using his unlimited lab access to develop pesticides for agriculture companies on the side. Smokes two cigarettes after every class. Can find him in the greenhouse sometimes growing weird fruits and veg that are the wrong color or twice the size they should be. Would not recommend eating any of these experiments. One of your friends swears they delivered weed to him once.

Magnus: Archeology & Ancient Literature & Dead Languages

Access to the universities' restricted literature collection AND he gets to share his knowledge with people? The perfect job for him. You will cry when you see the class reading list, half the books on there are out of print or single copy only. Shows up late to lectures sometimes because he lost track of time exploring the archives and often stays up late. Accepts bribes in the form of coffee. Runs field trips every year to dig sites that may or may not be haunted, regardless someone gets hurt every year.

Horus: Business & Finance

Owns multiple successful businesses and has stocks in major companies. His charming smile and charismatic personality means that people buy a shocking amount of things from him all the time. Though he's usually right about the quality of the stuff he's promoting so it's fine in the end. It's an open secret that he sometimes shows up to frat parties and shares a drink or two with his students since he's always getting invited. Every year there are rumors that he's dating one of his students but nobody knows who and admin never says anything about it so...

Logar: Theology

Has been excommunicated twice but won't say from what religious orders. His classes can get heated really fast because he is always willing to debate with students. He has had several warnings from university admin to stop forming cults and making students partake in ancient rituals, though his excuse is that it's a part of hands-on learning.

Vulkan: Sociocultural Anthropology

Worked as a case worker for many years before coming back to work on his masters. He's always receiving awards for his community outreach. Do you like community service and field trips? Well, you better, his class and assignments are all about hands-on experiences/ participation. He wants to know how you felt while helping out at soup kitchens or while building homes in marginalized communities. He'll take you to gentrified areas and explain their history while on a walk through the city. It's unfortunate if you didn't like doing that stuff, but he cares more about how you perceived the environment you were placed in more than anything. If you're in his class, you're likely to see one of his foster kids sitting in the front drawing or reading a book while they wait for him.

Corvus: Journalism

He specializes in political journalism but has never worked at a news outlet for long since the articles he writes hold nothing back. Has definitely been sent death threats over the corruption cases he writes about, especially since there's no way he should have any of that information. The last political scandal he exposed was so big that it almost started a civil war. It was national guard level bad. After that, he's taking a break to lie low. All that said, his journalism classes are usually popular. He gives good feedback on papers and is pretty understanding on late assignments. He understands life happens and that sometimes it's hard to find the right sources. Was asked to be the advisor for the university newspaper by some of his students but refused since it has such heavy guidelines for whats allowed to be published and he actually wants to keeps this job.

Alpharius: Misc

Those courses with weird titles that are always full. "Have your friends and family been replaced with body doubles?" Conspiracy 101, the truth is all around you. Gives a lecture on the Guilliman for president theory, which is that the PolySci professor is filling the government with past students loyal to him to make it easier when he eventually takes over the country. (Guilliman knows about this theory and doesn't know how to feel about it.) He might teach biology one semester and then teach music the next. Every time he's asked about the number of degrees he has, the number changes.

As soon as class is over Alpharius is gone. His office hours list a certain time, but when you go there, he is never in. You hear that he actually has more than one office so you ask a classmate where you might find him, and the building they give you directions for was knocked down 3 years ago. You write him an email, and all you get back is an automated out of office message. You go to the department head to ask for a current contact email, and the name on the door says Alpharius. A notice beside it says "out of office until the 28th of November", but that can't be right, you saw him yesterday. Just when you consider dropping the course, a letter addressed to you slips out of your textbook, answering the questions you had about the assignment and where to find some of the more niche course readings. You have no idea how that got in there, considering you haven't lent it to anyone since the beginning of the semester.

Bonus-

The Emperor: University President

Used to teach bioengineering with a specialty in gene splicing and CRISPR technology, but he can't talk about any of the work he did for the government since it's covered under an NDA.

Malcador: Mathematics & Astrophysics

He has tenure. He honestly doesn't care if you show up to class or not. If you try to do an assignment last minute and ask him for help, he will openly laugh in your face and tell you to figure it out. What he teaches that day is whatever he feels like, he did say that the syllabus was only a rough outline after all.

[endivinity]

WOUGH okay so the premise all started because of the way I play FO4 on survival which is about as long and arduous as this post. it's ALL in settlement building and most of my mods reflect this. I play that shit like minecraft. I'll chuck some screenshots at the end

the more you think about it, the less plausible it is for a soldier or a lawyer respectively to have ANY idea about the fine tuning of crafting a fusion generator or a water purifier, let alone know how to construct a pre-broken window pane. None of the wood is useable - there's no amount of fantasy that can make me believe a whole bed can be constructed out of two pencils and a pack of cigarettes. Realistically - the resources need to come from somewhere. I've also read critiques about how the commonwealth hasn't progressed for two centuries (which, part of this is because of how Bethesda handles the Fallout franchise vs the established societies in 1 and 2. for the record i LOATHED 3 and am very firmly a new vegas bitch). They're still living in Diamond City surrounded by piles of trash and the rest of the NPC settlements are canonically wiped out or basically considered the dregs (Goodneighbor, the Children of Atom, charitably the Atom Cats; Quincy and University Point, etc). They live off scavenging for trash and components that are somehow still lying around untouched. Most of this is because the game wants you to use this cool mechanic they've introduced and to feel like you're rebuilding the wasteland with your bare hands, and you get your pick of a huge scope of lands to build on, and the appearance of actual civilisation suffers for it. Nobody lives there. Realistically, you're going to build up one or two really good settlements and the rest are barebones or empty.

Jake (probably has a longer name. it's never mentioned) is a civil engineer who has combat training and survival know-how for funsies and by the cusp of the great war her department had enough downsizing that she was taking on the work of coworkers who had been "let go" (executed for thought crimes), so she knows some stuff about blueprinting things other than major city infrastructure, at least enough to delegate or make suggestions. She also stirred the pot and got higher-ups very angry at her and was punitively assigned to marriage and domesticity in Sanctuary Hills. Most importantly, she's not related to the family that have the kid. Nate gets shot and Nora suffocates in cryo.

She enters a world that perplexes her specifically because nothing has progressed for two hundred years, but through very very careful investigation she finds out that something or someone is actively interfering with any attempts to settle and develop. There's an intensive spying network going on and she has to figure out what's safe, who's safe, how the raider groups are able to be raiding year-round without dying of starvation because they're certainly not farming, how to build and manage and educate her new settlements without tripping the local spy network, how to set up trade convoys for lumber and concrete without tripping the local spy network OR instigating the raider gangs that systematically wiped out the convoys in the first place, and how to source parts for this goddamn water purifier schematic while not dying to super-radstorms or a really big wild hog. She customarily fights with a knife (Throatslicer); she's proficient at sniping and occasionally uses a plasma sniper or a gauss rifle.

Deacon is her story companion because of the 'friend' RR sign above the vault. Guy's been spying from the get-go. But because Jake's super paranoid and realistically, he has no way of knowing who you are because you aren't stupid and bald and wearing a pair of signature sunglasses, he loses her the moment she ditches the vault suit at the Abernathys'; half of his part of the story is trying to find out what happened to her, why the institute was involved in the vault at all (and increasingly wild theories about how she's a synth plant), and who this weirdass woman is who's suddenly taking over the trade routes, and talk of new settlements that's kept so hush-hush he can't even crack the secrets with his super believable caravan hand outfit.

Eventually Jake realizes she's in way over her head trying to manage settlements and hunts down the Railroad to ask for help, which... they're very downsized. They're basically a skeleton crew. I have no idea how they suddenly have all those heavies at the battle of bunker hill or the castle or whatever the fuck. So they can't and/or won't help her, and it comes down to Deacon to make an executive decision over what he thinks is going to be longterm better for the wasteland and the synth populations, and when weighing up the options between this cool lady who never shows her face and creeps around spiderman-style to sever a gunner's spinal cord and wants to crack the Institute wide open, or being trapped in a crypt with Carrington and successfully exfiltrating one synth every three months, the decision is obvious

and since you made it this far here's some shots of builds I've worked on. My main base at Egret Tours; Sanctuary Hills after I removed all the shitass housing for funsies; Murkwater Construction with incredibly poor navmeshing; my other main at Dalton Farm. yes my save file hates me

[astonmartingf]

MISERY ; MW2

mark webber x rbr race engineer! reader

. . . fuck sebastian vettel and fuck his goddamn race engineer who he can't help but think about all the time. he's bitter, jealous and in misery.

amgf finally i've moved everything 🎉 yay! everybody cheered!! i'm so happy and excited, i'm going home for the week and i'm writing the heck out of that alo fic and doab will be finally over 🫠🫠🫠

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2009]

With the way the Australian was acting one would say he’s bitter. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes every time you laughed at something Seb said, which wasn’t even that funny. Maybe you were trying to be civil, but Mark wasn’t having any of it. 

Not only was he fighting for his seat in Red Bull, with the addition of a newer and younger driver he was about to be replaced. The team finally made a car competitive enough to race for podiums, but instead of attacking for points he’s left behind the dust of his teammate Sebastian Vettel.

YN who was now assigned to Vettel- are not only starting to form a better relationship, but also score more points. Not that YN nor Vettel was to blame, the sport is already complicated in a way with changes and upgrades, not everything is constant. 

And as much as Webber wanted to work with you, with how things are looking it’ll be better with both of you to do different things. You were Vettel's race engineer, and he stuck as the second driver.

[2010]

He can’t seem to pinpoint the root of his frustrations, but every time he hears your voice in the background of the team radio, talking and congratulating the fuck out of Sebastian and his pole position, he turns into this miserable monster who wants nothing but to silence you.

This of course hasn’t got unnoticed by the younger German driver who was observant, nosy, and attached to you by the hip. It seemed like wherever you go, Sebastian would follow like a lost puppy on the track. 

Which only irked the driver more, adding to the long list of unexplained frustrations in his head, eating him up. “You know, with how much you’re frowning, it’s shocking it hasn't formed into a unibrow yet.” 

Mark glanced up to see the one and only Sebastian Vettel with a goddamn awful smirk plastered on his face. Clearly he knows what’s up, rolling his eyes as the Australian raised his middle finger in front of the younger driver.

An audible gasp left Sebastian’s mouth, “You shouldn’t do that to me, I can help you know-” teasing the older driver.

Raising his brows Mark pulled Sebastian closer to him, whispering in his ears, “I don’t need your help mate, now go on and annoy someone else.”

“So… I should just go talk with YN then.” 

The mention of your name whips his head back to Sebastian, smirking as if he caught him in action. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian nods, slowly putting two and two together.

“There is something going on with you two… YN had mentioned you a few times in our conversations.” 

Mark knew better than to react, there’s no way he knows. But the thought of you speaking about him, he couldn’t help his curious nature. Turning around slowly he could hear the German’s stifling laughter. “Spill it.”

“On second thought, I think it’s time for my debrief with YN. I guess you’ll have to figure it out next time.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sebastian walked the other way leaving Mark no time to chase him.

“For fucks sake… Get a grip Webber.”

[2011]

The only thing that developed from last year was his relationship with Sebastian, it boosted the morale of the team but more importantly it put him in conversations with YN. From a bystander’s view it’s embarrassing to see his efforts go to vain.

Especially with Sebastian’s new found knowledge, he teased the Australian often. This time he learned not to blame YN, hearing Seb talk about how you’re always busy prepping and forming strategies, as well as the pressure to perform in meetings.

He could barely catch you since you were all over the paddock, nose buried in different papers looking at data, triple checking results for Sebastian. On the way from the small set prepared for the DHL Fastest Lap Award he was shocked to see YN walking beside him.

“Congratulations on your award.” Mark froze, he had not expected this at all. He’d been looking for you, biding his time to form a conversation, yet here you were congratulating him.

“Are you looking for Seb?” Mark spoke without speaking, wincing at his reply- there were definitely better responses but why would he assume you’re looking for Seb after congratulating him.

“You don’t like talking to me much? Seb has been talking a lot about you, you’ve gotten quite close these past year.” Mark stayed silent, waiting for you to say anything more.

“But I’m not here for Seb, I came looking for you actually. You deserve that award, and many more. I guess I’m just proud of you.”

This revelation came as a surprise to Mark. Bewildered, he asked more about your statement. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I ever hated you Mark, if anything else- you should hate me.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Mark was lost. But he knew he would get his answers soon, “Why would I hate you?”

Placing your hands deep in your pockets, slouching as the corners of your mouth form to a frown, “I disappointed you Mark. Though, I’m glad to see you winning now. You did it by yourself, and I know you will continue to do better.”

[2013]

It all happened too fast. In the corner of the pit wall you stare at the screen as you watch Sebastian overtake Mark, you froze. You wanted nothing more than to run and leave, but at the same time you were stuck in your seat like a deer in headlights.

Hearing the radio beep, Sebastian’s voice was drowning in your train of thoughts and in the background you picked up the voice of Mark speaking to his own engineer. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before responding to Sebastian.

The whole situation is out of hand, and despite you not agreeing with his actions, you have to focus on your work that needs to be done and prioritized before anything else. Just like you always have.

At the end of the podium celebration you found yourself hiding inside the team garage away from both drivers, knowing fully well you couldn’t take the stress from it all. As much as winning with Sebastian felt good, not only for the team but for your career, it also brought out the worst parts of yourself.

You didn’t know you could be this calculative, greedy, and the hunger from wanting all the wins took a toll on you, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally had you drained. You felt miserable, and worst of all- you felt yourself to blame for what happened. 

All you wanted to do was run away, there was no longer a voice of reason- the sport became unenjoyable for you, and there was no longer hope for you to get back and enjoy the sport like you used to.

Sitting in silence, you jump at the sound of Mark’s voice muffled behind the door. “YN? Can I come in?”

“It’s okay to come in.” Your voice comes out thin, hiding your face in your arms. “Are they looking for me?” Peeking over, you catch Mark kneeling down beside you.

“Nah, they’re just cleaning up. Are you feeling okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

It took you a few years to approach Mark once again, blaming yourself for his past results. As a race engineer it was your responsibility to support and ensure the drivers of their performance. You worked hard behind the screens, drowning yourself in data in the hopes of finding ways to improve.

You sit in silence, slowly relaxing as you lean on Mark’s shoulders, “It’s not your fault you know, not now and definitely not before.” 

“How are you so sure of that?” 

Mark hummed in thought, “Because I spent all those years blaming myself as well, I thought I wasn’t capable of putting out results and when you were with Seb, I can see your genuine happiness whenever he’s winning. Something we never got to experience together, I think it’s unfortunate but it’s definitely not your fault. You should know that, I don’t blame you now.”

You nod to yourself, “You blamed me before? I’m glad to hear that, I was inexperienced and only had myself to blame.”

You feel Mark laugh as his shoulders rise and fall, “I definitely cursed you in my head more times when we were together, but I learned then. And look at us now, we’re definitely better than before.” 

“I’m sorry, Mark. I could’ve done more.” Pressing his lips, Mark nods to himself.

“I understand YN. I wouldn’t lie if I say I’m not flattered that you chose to support me, but don’t ignore Seb for too long.” 

“I’m not ignoring him at all, I just want space to think clearly.” You rise from his shoulders, facing him for the first time. Your eyes puffy from crying.

“And, what did you think about?” Mark asked, wiping the tears rolling from your eyes.

“I’m thinking of quitting after the season.”

yourinstagram

liked by aussiegrit, oscarpiastri, and 648,297 others

yourinstagram it's been a while in the paddock but good luck to our boy oscar <3

view 97,461 comments...

aussiegrit thank you for coming and for the nonstop support love ❤️

sebastianvettel let's meet up soon

yourinstagram sure seb, i miss you and hanna

user1 their boy oscar WOW

user2 why are you casually dropping this????

user3 i'm here from twitter and it's a mess

user4 i just read the webyn thread

user5 we're all here from twt???

oscarpiastri thank you so much for coming to see me!

yourinstagram good luck on your first race! we're proud of you

user6 yn left and came back as MOTHER!!!

user7 this is single handedly making me look forward for the 2023 season in the hopes of seeing mark and yn on the paddock

[eldar-of-zemlya]

To Boldly Sew: The Creation of Star Trek's Iconic Wardrobe

Gene Roddenberry’s arguments with NASA, costumes crafted from shower curtains, male characters in miniskirts, and why the gold command uniforms were actually green—this is the story of Star Trek’s groundbreaking wardrobe and the visionary work of the man behind it, Bill Theiss.

If you’d like to read the formatted article with easily accessible references, you can also find it on AO3.

During the production of the original Star Trek, the creative team faced numerous challenges, the most persistent being, unsurprisingly, the show’s limited budget. These restrictions had a significant impact on many aspects of the series, including one of its most crucial visual elements: the wardrobe.

Each week, the costume department was tasked with creating original outfits for the show’s characters. Alien civilizations had to look distinct and believable without distracting from the storyline—all while staying within a tight budget. To achieve this, the team employed clever tricks, such as repurposing and dyeing old uniforms, turning garments inside out, and even fashioning costumes from unconventional materials like vinyl shower curtains.

"Sometimes a show will call for 30 or 40 costumes," explained Star Trek’s costume designer William "Bill" Theiss. "And since we film back to back, that means I have to design, get approval from the producers and director, and construct the costumes in six to eight days." [Source]

Commander Spock and Lieutenant Tormohlen don "protective suits" fashioned from shower curtains as they investigate the mysterious death of a mannequin crew member. (Season 1, Episode 4, "The Naked Time.")

Theiss was a key figure in shaping the visual identity of Star Trek’s universe. Over the course of the show’s three seasons, he designed costumes for a wide range of characters, from blue-skinned Andorians to the infamous Orion slave girls, and even the Nazi-inspired inhabitants of the planet Ekos. (Interestingly, the episode Patterns of Force, featuring Ekos, was banned from German television until 1995 due to its controversial themes.) [Source]

Theiss first met Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry while Roddenberry was developing the show’s pilot. At the time, Theiss had gained attention for his innovative work on the science fiction play The Veldt, based on Ray Bradbury’s short story of the same name. This caught the eye of Star Trek writer Dorothy Catherine Fontana, who introduced Theiss to Roddenberry. By then, Roddenberry had already interviewed over a dozen costume designers but had yet to find someone who could bring his vision to life. Theiss’s creative approach, which often involved crafting unique costumes from unconventional materials, immediately resonated with Roddenberry. Their collaboration would continue for decades, even though, amusingly, Theiss never learned how to sew. [Source]

After the original Star Trek series was canceled, Theiss and Roddenberry remained close collaborators, working together on various projects until Roddenberry’s passing in 1991.

Left: William Theiss adjusts Susan Oliver's costume on the set of the 1965 pilot episode, "The Cage."

Right: William Theiss and Leonard Nimoy on the set of Season 2, Episode 26, "Assignment: Earth" (1968).

When designing Star Trek’s now-iconic multi-colored uniforms, Roddenberry drew inspiration from the color-coded uniforms used on American naval vessels, where quick role recognition was essential in low-visibility environments. As a former military pilot during World War II and later a police officer, Roddenberry had firsthand experience with structured, hierarchical organizations. These influences shaped not only Star Trek’s command structure but also its visual design. [Source]

Each division was assigned a distinct color: engineers, communications officers, and security personnel wore red; medical staff and scientists were dressed in blue; and command officers wore—believe it or not—green. (But more on that later.) All uniforms were paired with dark ash-colored trousers and high boots.

Star Trek is not typically associated with realism, which makes it surprising to learn that NASA was involved in the show’s production, offering advice to ensure it was "scientifically believable." Among their suggestions was the idea that 23rd-century astronauts might wear form-fitting jumpsuits. However, Gene Roddenberry dismissed the concept, humorously referring to the design as “long underwear.”

NBC, on the other hand, had entirely different priorities. The network insisted that female Starfleet officers wear more revealing attire, a demand that clashed with Roddenberry’s vision of a future where women were treated as equals to men. In the first pilot episode, The Cage (1965), Roddenberry boldly dressed female characters in pants—an unconventional choice for 1960s television. However, after much debate with the network, a compromise was reached: miniskirts. Highly fashionable at the time, they were paired with shorts and dark tights, blending contemporary trends with Star Trek’s futuristic aesthetic. [Source]

Captain Pike and a group of serious women in pants protect the heroine from an ass-headed very wise alien. The first pilot of Star Trek, "The Cage" (1965).

Years later, when NBC faced accusations of sexism and objectifying women, Nichelle Nichols, who played Uhura, defended the wardrobe choice in a BBC interview. She explained that the miniskirts weren’t unusual or inappropriate for the era:

“I was wearing them on the street. What's wrong with wearing them in the air? I wore 'em on airplanes. It was the era of the miniskirt. Everybody wore miniskirts.” [Source]

Grace Lee Whitney, who portrayed Janice Rand, echoed Nichols’s sentiment, adding that she “didn't think the women should be in pants” and that she wanted to “look like Flash Gordon” on screen. [Source]

Meanwhile, costume designer Bill Theiss had his own, more subtle approach to creating “revealing” costumes.

“He felt that revealing non-sexual flesh (the outside of the leg, off one shoulder, the back) promised that the viewer would see more — but they never did,” explained screenwriter D.C. Fontana, citing the gown worn by Lt. Palamas in Who Mourns for Adonais? as a prime example. [Source]

Lieutenant Palamas's "ancient Greek" dress from the episode "Who Mourns for Adonais?" alongside William Theiss's original sketch for the design.

When designing the original Star Trek uniforms, Theiss was tasked with creating something that reflected military influences while also looking futuristic and remaining inexpensive to produce. His approach was practical:

“As for where I get my ideas from… well, I don’t get them from my dreams or anything. Mainly, I get them from fabric that I see that’s available; I look for interesting patterns in the material itself,” Theiss once explained. [Source]

For the first two seasons, the Star Trek uniforms were made from velour, a newly invented fabric that was cheap, easy to maintain, and had an appealing sheen under studio lights. However, velour had its drawbacks: it tore easily (as evidenced by Captain Kirk’s frequent shirt-ripping battle scenes...) and shrank significantly after dry cleaning. Since the costumes had to be cleaned after every episode, viewers may notice that the uniforms became progressively tighter throughout the first two seasons. By the third season, velour was replaced with double-knit nylon, a more durable fabric used in professional baseball uniforms.

Left: Kirk's velour shirt from Season 1, Episode 10, "The Corbomite Maneuver." Right: The same shirt in Season 2, Episode 22, "By Any Other Name." Shatner is diligently sucking in his stomach.

This brings us to another interesting aspect of the original velour uniforms—their appearance on screen.

“It was one of those film stock things,” Theiss explained. “It photographed one way—burnt orange or gold. But in reality, it was another; the command shirts were definitely green.” [Source]

So, what color was Captain Kirk's uniform really? In truth, Kirk's uniform—like the rest of the command crew's—was olive green. However, under the bright studio lighting and the quirks of 1960s film stock, it appeared gold on screen. The greener hue becomes more noticeable in scenes filmed on location with natural light. The difference is also evident in photos of the original uniforms on display, such as those taken at an exhibit in Detroit, USA. In one image, taken under dimmer lighting without flash, the fabric looks closer to its true green color; in another, taken with flash, it appears more golden.

Left: Kirk's velour shirt photographed without flash—olive green. Right: Kirk's velour shirt photographed with flash—yellow gold.

This might come as a surprise to Star Trek fans, but it makes sense when you consider that Kirk's alternate uniforms—the wrap-around tunic and dress uniform—were distinctly green. This wasn’t an intentional design difference; those variations were simply made from a different fabric that didn’t react to light the way velour did.

“The problem is that a lot of my work is seen on screen for only two to three seconds, and even then, it might be in bad light or at a bad angle,” Theiss noted. “But then, you can't really justify taking two hours to light and block a scene just to showcase a costume.” The play's the thing, according to Theiss. "That's what it's really all about. It's not about the costumes." [Source]

The color discrepancy of the uniforms became an interesting challenge when animators began working on Star Trek: The Animated Series in 1973. They had to decide whether to depict the uniforms in their originally intended green or the gold shade that had become iconic to audiences.

At the time of Star Trek's release, many viewers were watching on black-and-white televisions, making it impossible for them to discern the true colors of the uniforms. At the Kirk/Spock convention, @kiscon, I spoke to a longtime Trek fan who told me she had no idea what color the uniforms were when she first watched the show as a teen. For those fortunate enough to see the series in color, however, the command uniforms became strongly associated with yellow. As a result, changing the uniforms to their intended green in Star Trek: The Animated Series would likely have confused audiences who had grown accustomed to the gold appearance on screen.

Ultimately, the gold uniform was canonized in The Animated Series and used in all fan materials until the release of the Star Trek feature films. Meanwhile, the trousers—whose color had also been slightly distorted on film—remained their original dark ash shade.

Because of these discrepancies, fans often debate which version of the uniform to follow when cosplaying or creating visual content. Many cosplayers choose to replicate the original olive-colored velour, trusting that proper lighting will naturally recreate the golden appearance seen on screen. Others opt for the now-iconic gold shade, reflecting the way the uniform has been depicted in official materials for decades.

Star Trek: The Animated Series (1973).

Ironically, NASA was right in its assumption that jumpsuits would become the norm for astronauts, and Roddenberry was forced to use them in the first feature-length Star Trek film, 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The multi-colored shirts were rejected by the studio as too garish, and the miniskirts worn by Uhura and most of the female crew members were already considered a relic of the sexist 1960s by 1979.

William Theiss, who designed the costumes for the original series, was too busy with other projects to work on the film, so Gene Roddenberry brought in a new costume designer, Robert Fletcher, who created the Starfleet uniforms now remembered as the worst in the franchise's history. In an effort to avoid comparisons to military uniforms, the studio opted for muted tones ranging from pale blue to dirty beige and nude shades. The result? The Enterprise crew looked more like spa staff than starship officers, and some background extras in nude-tone bodysuits appeared practically naked on screen. Not only did these uniforms make it impossible to distinguish the characters' ranks and departments, but they were also surprisingly impractical. The suits were sewn onto the actors' shoes, meaning they needed an assistant every time they went to the bathroom.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979).

Luckily for us all, in the next film, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), it wasn’t just Khan who was filled with rage—the cast themselves rebelled and outright refused to wear the dreadful jumpsuits again.

Despite the failure of his design, Robert Fletcher remained as costume designer for the next three films, promising changes. In Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, the uniforms returned to a more military style, with the lead actors wearing maroon jackets with overlapping lapels that they could dramatically unbutton if their character was meant to look tired or stressed. If you look closely, you’ll notice that these maroon uniforms were actually redyed and slightly modified versions of the jumpsuits from The Motion Picture. The reason for the maroon color? It was the best shade that worked with the existing fabric from the first film. [Source]

William Theiss, reflecting on Fletcher’s designs, commented:

“Bob Fletcher is a very fine designer, and I mean that very sincerely. We don’t design the same way, and there’s no reason we should—or could. It’s apples and oranges. But my personal feeling is, if you go to a structured, woven fabric and do the kind of tailoring and structuring he’s done, it puts those costumes back, historically, 500 years, with shoulder seams and shoulder pads of that type.” [Source]

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982). Everyone turned red with anger.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, Roddenberry reunited with Bill Theiss, and together they decided to bring back the iconic miniskirts as part of the uniform, but with a twist—they wanted to make them inclusive. In The Next Generation, male crew members were occasionally seen wearing the same miniskirts or “scants” (a hybrid of skirts and pants), reflecting Roddenberry and Theiss’s vision of a future where gender norms no longer dictated clothing choices.

However, the social climate of the 1980s and 1990s wasn’t as receptive to this progressive idea.

“Having both actresses and actors in skirts was meant to diffuse any sexist accusations that might have been associated with designs from the old show,” Theiss explained. “It’s also fashionably probable that, 400 years from now, men would wear skants. Even so, there was usually a problem on the set,” he admits, “because some wisecracks were always made.” Theiss emphasized that he wanted his actors to feel at ease in the designs. “I won’t force an actor or actress to wear something they’re not at least 80 percent comfortable with.” [Source]

While Theiss’s designs were undeniably groundbreaking, he was known to be a challenging person to work with. Constantly preoccupied with time and budget constraints, Theiss had little patience for anyone—whether they were directors, producers, or even Gene Roddenberry himself. He was even less tolerant of people who approached him simply to praise or critique his work, or even just to say hello. His philosophy was simple: “Better to be rude than to delay filming.”

Actors, extras, and costume assistants often recalled how Theiss would dart around the set, frantically hemming, tucking, and adjusting costumes between takes. Many of the alien outfits seen on the show weren’t actually "costumes" in the traditional sense. Instead, they were often assembled from patches, ribbons, scarves, curtains, and wire, with actors being "stitched into" them directly on set. [Source]

For example, Janice Rand's iconic beehive hairstyle was crafted from several wigs braided together over a cone. Grace Lee Whitney, who played Rand, recalls running back and forth between the dressing room and Roddenberry’s office with Theiss, constantly piling on more hair. Each time, Roddenberry would stare at her intensely, then declare, “Higher!” Whitney and Theiss would rush back to add more wigs until the hairstyle reached its iconic height. [Source]

One Smithsonian Institute employee, who worked with Theiss in 1992 while preparing for a Star Trek costume exhibit, recalls combing through the Paramount warehouse filled with racks and boxes of costumes. She was amazed to discover that most of the "costumes" were actually scraps of fabric neatly hung on a single hanger. Yet, when these scraps were sewn, tied, and pinned together, they became the iconic designs we now associate with Star Trek.

Andrea Weaver, one of Theiss’s fellow costume designers on the original series, remembers:

“Bill Theiss was a creative designer. His designs for Star Trek were original, rather than distilled from other sources or redefinitions of previous works. This is what I appreciated about Bill Theiss. I thought he was a truly unique and rare costume creator.” [Source]

William Ware Theiss’s contributions to Star Trek are legendary. His uniforms for both Star Trek: The Original Series and Star Trek: The Next Generation remain iconic, instantly recognizable even by those who aren’t fans of the franchise. His innovative, DIY approach to creating futuristic costumes brought a distinctive charm to the original series and left an enduring legacy.

Here are some of his most memorable designs:

Left: Season 2, Episode 11: "Friday's Child" Right: Season 3, Episode 13: "Elaan of Troyius"

Left: Season 1, Episode 15: "Shore Leave" Right: Season 3, Episode 20: "The Way to Eden"

Left: Season 2, Episode 1: "Amok Time" Right: Season 1, Episode 23: "A Taste of Armageddon"

Left: Season 2, Episode 9: "Metamorphosis" Right: Season 1, Episode 6: "Mudd's Women"

Left: Season 3, Episode 5: "Is There in Truth No Beauty?" Right: Season 1, Episode 15: "Shore Leave"

Left: Season 1, Episode 23: "A Taste of Armageddon"Right: Season 2, Episode 16: "The Gamesters of Triskelion"

Left: Season 3, Episode 11: "Wink of an Eye" Right: Season 3, Episode 8: "For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky"