#troubleshoot ship

[cybernova010]

Does anyone else ship troubleshoot (Error x Anti-Error) plz I need friends who ship it plzzzzzzzz 😭😭😭😭

[riisume]

ENA²xKENA BEACH EPISODE ! ! !

ENA and ENA are all dressed up for the beach! KENA doesn't like the beach... But she got coerced into going... And wearing a swimsuit that keeps her shy and super exposed and ready for tickles!! (Thanks ENA...)

I'm super happy with how this came out!! I love them all so much... At the end of the day, they've all had a lot of fun, including KENA contrary to popular belief... She gets to hang out with her crushes in cute swim wear. Lucky gal!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR ELSE YOU'LL CONTRACT RABIES FROM ME GRHDIDJIROKERGRGRR!!

[jamboreeartsupplies]

my Japanese Frog Furby has arrived btw !!! not formally introducing them to the gang just yet because they need a new speaker !! i got them working for now but they are mute which is a bummer so wish me luck !!! 🤞🏻

if anyone has a link for where i can get the correct kind of speaker without having to buy a whole new furby please lmk !!! bc i know what kind of speaker to get but haven't found any for sale ???

[cyberneticdryad]

i will solve this pc issue so help me gods

[gearsofmetal]

the desire to play with his hair is CRAZY

[styxxsyringe]

i need proper name for oc groups/duos tbh... the initials just aren't fun enough

[baitustudios]

here, under the poncho, where all is safe and all is calm

[afrenomes]

I honestly feel like I need a phd to properly run the sims 3 on my computer

[thedbahub]

Top Factors That Can Disrupt SQL Server Log Shipping

SQL Server Log Shipping is a powerful tool for maintaining a standby server, but several factors can break the process. Log Backup Chain Breaks Directly taking transaction log backups outside the log shipping configuration can break the log chain. This scenario demands a meticulous approach to restore the sequence. Network Connectivity Issues Network connectivity issues between the primary…

[leighsartworks216]

Totally not procrastinating by thinking about Game Developer Sylus

Bc we know he's skilled at coding and shit. Imagine being part of his team. You design the levels and he codes them. Working close together so he can program things to work the way you plan them to

Late nights in the office, takeout containers spread around as you both huddle together in front of a monitor to troubleshoot an issue you ran into. During your exhausted conversations, you doodle crazy ideas you bounce off of one another, sketching the protagonist of the game in increasingly absurd situations. The conversation lulls. Your head lands on his shoulder in a soft thunk, and his hands still on the keyboard as he watches your eyes flutter shut in the glow of the screen. He stares for a while at your sleeping face, heart racing, before he finally - carefully - picks you up and lays you down on one of the couches in the lounge. He covers you with his leather jacket that smells like the open road and his cologne

The team lead gets on your ass about not having all the sprites drawn up yet, but you have had no time to work on them in between the level design and trying to meet your basic daily needs. Sylus getting on the lead in return, telling them how horribly they've been running this ship and how they don't do shit but delegate all their work onto everyone else and bitch and moan about nothing getting done. Your work load gets a little lighter

He programs a test feature you didn't ever really expect to show up in-game when he's at home. Brings it in next day and tells you to demo the game for him, he wants to make sure it's working as intended. You go through the motions of the first level, and he sees you come to life before his eyes when you get to the new feature. You're laughing in disbelief, playing with it as you ask when the hell he had time to do this. He shrugs and says it didn't take him that long (lying). You both know it could never make it into the final game, but he saves a copy of this version for you on a thumbdrive that you can play any time you like

Anyway, Game Developer Sylus.

[struungout]

I’m tired…

…of people telling newbies that all they need to do to fix their doll’s posing issues is to tIgHtEn ThE sTrInG. I’m coming for you people with a squirt gun.

How to Actually Make a Doll Handle Better:

Tighten/Loosen the string - Okay so yeah this CAN be helpful sometimes. Plenty of companies, artists and previous owners send dolls out too tight or too loose and it needs adjustment. This is basically 101 doll troubleshooting.

Note: Your doll shouldn't be so tight that you cannot comfortably pull hand/feet part out of their socket to replace them. I don't know why some of y'all do this shit, but I want to shake your head like an 8-ball every time you complain about not being able to get the doll's head off. OF COURSE YOU CAN'T! THE STRING CAN'T STRETCH ANY FURTHER! (also don’t keep the knot in the head because that’s making life harder for you too)

Elastic cord gauge is too thick/small for your specific doll - This, in my experience, tends to be the most likely cause of issues. Lot of people are under the impression that all dolls of specific sizes use the same size elastic, and that is not the case at all. I got dolls that need different size elastic for their arms vs their bodies. What thickness you need is completely dependent on how much room is available in the individual doll’s string channels.

As for why that is…

If you use too thick of elastic cord, it won't have room to move and thus won't pull back as well if at all (had this issue where my Raccoon Doll boy's hands wouldn't suck back into the wrist socket and his arms would also not sit nicely at his sides. Completely fixed when I used a thinner cord).

If too thin, then it won't have enough strength to pull pieces back together and you'll have an expensive rag doll.

Do yourself a favor and buy a pile of different sizes of elastic cord and experiment with what works in your individual dolls. I personally buy my elastic from Dollmore since they got a good collection of sizes with good strength for dolls, and even offer beige and brown colored cord (but if you have a local craft store with a good collection of elastic cord, that’d likely be even cheaper).

Elastic is complete garbage - If that shit stretches for days super easy, throw it away. Yes, we want stretchiness, but we also want that shit to snap back into place so all the parts pull together. Resinsoul and Iplehouse are two companies completely guilty of shipping their dolls with useless string in their dolls (not sure if that is still the case, but it was in all the times I purchased directly from them). It does not matter how tight you make this shit, it will not make your doll behave any better (if anything, now your doll is kicky, still floppy, and also it's impossible for you to switch hands and feet out).

Resin is too smooth - Lot of people love that silky smooth finish on their dolls, but now the parts have no friction and nothing to grab onto in their sockets. Hot glue sueding in the sockets helps a ton with amending this.

Wiring - If you want action figure level of control, this will get you at least partly there lmao. I've only bothered shoving wire into my dolls when they have truly bad joint designs (RIP Dust of Dolls and Lillycat lmao), but it’s always great to have this extra stability in more competently designed doll bodies.

String style is some cockamamie horseshit - A rare occurrence, but it happens (looking at you, Iplehouse and your fucked up cross-elastic-at-the-groin-before-going-down-legs nonsense). A majority of BJDs are strung in the one specific way because it's what works best and allows the elastic to do its job without hindrance.

If the doll in question isn’t over-engineered, you can sometimes restring them the Correct way, but usually dolls that are like this have to be modified to behave right.

[drabblesandimagines]

Trunk

Leon Kennedy x female reader (BSAA) for this request Fluffy, bit of mild spice, bit of blood, mention of panic attack, swears

It was meant to be straightforward surveillance ahead of the main op. Monitor the drop – the metal suitcase fitted with a tracking chip and three fake virus vials – note any observations about the pick-up, then inform the rest of the Wolf Hound Squad who would track the co-ordinates to find the terrorists’ base of operations.

You had pouted a little at being sidelined from the main action, but Chris needed someone stealthy to keep an eye over the drop and, with a squeeze to your shoulder, your track record meant you were the prime candidate.

You’d set yourself up in the eaves of the abandoned warehouse that served as the drop-off point, armed with a pair of binoculars, an ear piece and a couple of guns, as always, for if anything went south...

..which it did the moment you detected movement from the south-east corner. It took a few attempts to get them in focus, but your heart sank when you recognized the figure – one Leon S Kennedy of the DSO rolling between abandoned shipping containers, honing in on the one you’d placed the metal suitcase in a few hours previously.

What the hell is he doing here?

You press down on your earpiece and it beeps once, opening the line to transmit. “Alpha to Lupe. Got a problem. Over.”

Silence.

“Alpha to Lupe. Got a problem. Over.”

Nothing – again. Maybe your current position has poor signal, but there’s no time to troubleshoot when squealing tyres echo around the structure, alerting you to the two black cars swerving in and heading to the shipping container in question.

The cars stop, their engines remaining idle and five well-built and well-dressed men depart – three from one, two from another.

Through your binoculars, you see Leon head straight for them, gun raised.

Shit.

--

You are jolted back into consciousness when your crown smacks on something hard, before being ricocheted back down to your nose cracking against something firm, groaning as you come to.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?”

The voice is familiar and rumbles through your chest with the horrible realization that you’re lying on top of someone. You try and scoot back, whacking your head again and a sinking feeling as you feel plastic digging into your wrists, keeping them bound behind you.

It all comes flooding back.

Numerous gunshots go off as you slide down the ladder back to the ground floor, half expecting to find Leon bleeding out or even dead on the concrete. Instead, he’s being heaved up by his armpits, unconscious, and pushed into the trunk of one of the cars, half in, half out as one of the heavy-set men commences a search, confiscating a multitude of weapons with a scoff.

You can’t see any other bodies, which is strange. Is Kennedy getting slow in his old age?

At the other car, a man with a blonde pony-tail is bent down, talking through the window to someone you can’t see. “Go on ahead with the package.”

The driver seems to protest, but ponytail shakes his head.

“We’ll take the rat elsewhere, have some fun… We’ll join you back at base after. Go.” He thumps the top of the car with his fist to emphasize his point.

The idling car now hits the gas with gusto, the tyres burning against the concrete before it skids out of sight.

The heavy-set man seems to have concluded his search of the unconscious agent by then, finishing with what looks to be Leon’s phone. He considers it for a moment before he drops it to the floor and grinds it into the concrete with the heel of his shoe, the screen splintering and plastic cracking under his weight.

He then leans into the trunk before holding Leon’s arms behind his back and securing his wrists with what looks like a zip tie, before heaving up his legs and giving his ankles the same treatment.

You grit your teeth as you think – you don’t have much time. They’re not taking Leon to the HQ, so it’s not like you can catch up and let the rest of the squad know they’ve got a hostage.

The other car’s gone, one of the guys is distracted, if you just-

“Well, well…” There’s a gun pressed to the small of your back and your stomach sinks. You’d thought the two remaining were the ones you had in your eyesight, assuming three others had got back into the other car, but one seems to have been prowling. Fuck, you’re better than this usually. Are you and Kennedy both having an off day?

A thick forearm wraps around your throat in a headlock.

“Drop the gun.”

Before you can even think of how to get out of the hold, a knee is forced between your thighs, weakening your stance and preventing any sort of retaliation you might be able to achieve with your legs. The forearm tenses and cuts off all air, the order repeated and it is not until your grip on your gun goes limp, letting it drop to the floor that it relaxes, leaving you gasping for breath.

“We’ve already caught ourselves a rat this evening, suppose it makes sense we catch a mouse next.”

You try and throw your head back in desperation - if you break his nose he’ll definitely let go, but there’s not enough room and the arm around your throat squeezes again, but this time there is no relief, only a smug whisper in your ear.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse.”

 Everything went black.

You squint in the dark of what you assume is the car trunk – an eerie red glow emitting from the corners which you presume are the taillights – and your eyes slowly begin to adjust to find two icy blue ones staring up at you under familiar bangs. “Leon?” Your voice is a little hoarse, but it’s better than being dead.

“One and only. Gotta say, this is a surprise. Been a while.”

You try and roll off his chest entirely but it’s awkward and cramped. The trunk is not large enough to be accommodating two adults, let alone one as muscular as Leon. You manage to shift most of your weight off him, though your legs are somewhat still entangled, ankles crisscrossed together with the same zip tie treatment. You cough, trying to relieve the tightness in your throat. “What are you doing here? This is a BSAA op.”

“DSO had intel of a terrorist cell being supplied with virus samples.” He tries to shuffle back a little, take in your face after you lying atop of him unconscious for however long.

“It’s a fake – it’s our drop.”

“What?”

“I was doing surveillance to confirm they accepted the suitcase with the tracker – the rest of the pack is gonna intercept their base once co-ordinates are confirmed.”

You see him raise his eyebrow in the dim light. “Pack? Redfield still going by that wolf crap?”

 “Oh, because birds are so cool, right?” You retort, though you’re more annoyed at your situation than him.

“How’d they get you?”

“Does it matter?” You avoid the question, not wanting to tell him the real reason you’d got caught was because you’d been concerned seeing him being shoved into the trunk.

“We’ve gotta get out of these restraints. I can try and…” You trail off, your breath catching in your throat. You pull fruitlessly at the plastic holding your wrists, ignoring the sharp pain, and try and bring your knees up to your chest.

“Already tried, there’s not enough space.” Leon interjects. “Maybe if I was here solo…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mean to sound sarcastic, but with how you’re breathing it sounds more like a genuine apology. “I just thought it looked so fun when I saw you being kidnapped so I had to join in, you know?”

You’re breathing too heavy now, but it’s not getting down into your lungs. You’re not sure if it’s because your windpipe was crushed earlier, or that you’re on your side in an awkward position, or the fact that you’re stuffed in the trunk of a car with potentially limited oxygen.

Fuck.

“Hey.” Leon’s voice sounds foggy.

You shuffle as best you can, hoping a change in position might open up your airways, but it feels like as if the trunk is closing in around you.

“Hey. You good?”

“I…”

“You need to breathe deeper than that, okay?”

Deep down, in your logical mind, you know you do, but in the panic it’s just not happening, and your breaths grow only shallower. Your throat is too tight, the zip tie around your wrist and ankles is too tight, the space in here is too tight. Leon tenses his forearms behind his back for the umpteenth time, willing the plastic to break as he sees you falling further and further into distress. His words aren't getting through and he can't really touch you either, can't grab your hand or your shoulder and try and ground you for a moment to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry.” Leon throws his head forward and kisses you – not square on the lips, more at the corner of your open mouth, messy and awkward - but it’s enough to knock you out of hyperventilating as your scalp tingles.

“Breathe.” He orders, pulling back.

“You just-”

“Breathe. There’s plenty of oxygen in here – it’s not airtight. Breathe.”

You close your eyes and mouth and take a deep inhale through your nose, spluttering a little as you try to hold it. It takes a few cycles, Leon keeping silent as you gather your bearings, but eventually it steadies.

“Sorry.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just couldn’t think of how else to divert your focus.”

“No, it’s okay. Definitely worked.”

There’s an awkward silence before Leon shuffles ever so slightly.

“Promise you won’t tell Redfield? I’d rather not have my neck snapped.”

“Why would he do that?”

“You... You two aren’t a thing?”

“No.” Your brow furrows. “He’s my captain. My life’s already complicated enough fighting bioweapons without throwing in dating my superior.”

“Oh. I thought…” He shrugs as best as he can before you can see the infamous cocky grin. “Well, how about you and I grab dinner after this?”

“If there is an after this.” You try and swallow down the anxious feeling that’s crawling up from your stomach once more. “Being moved to a second location against your will is nev- Ugh!”

The car drives over a pothole but, thankfully, your head doesn’t collide with the top of the trunk. Leon groans as the impact threw him over onto his front before he mutters under his breath and starts to grind his hips.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I think they missed a weapon.”

“Really?” Your voice perks up. “What?”

“A knife.”

“How’d they miss a knife?”

“Is that a complaint?” Leon scoffs.

“No, just seems a bit amateur hour. Can you reach it?”

“Not a chance, but, er…”, he clears his throat, “you might. We’re gonna have to try and adjust positions first, I’ll need your back to my chest.”

“Okay. Erm…” You scooch yourself forward with your hip and heel of your boot - easier said than done as the trunk grows narrower the further you go down, your knees bunching up towards your chest. “Like that?”

“Gimme a sec.” He responds through gritted teeth, trying to roll over again. Whatever make car this is, it’s not American – the trunk space is abysmal. Eventually, he manages it, shuffling himself forward until your fingers are pressed up against what feels like his chest.

“Hey!” He snaps with a poorly concealed laugh as your fingers twitch against the fabric. “That tickles.”

“Sorry – reflex. Where is it?”

“Well, put simply, my crotch.”

You give yourself a moment to let the words sink in.

“You keep a knife in your crotch? How have you not cut off your-?”

“It’s more a scalpel than a knife,” he cuts you off. “And it’s hidden away in the lining – in-built sheath – near the fly. Think you can find it?”

You close your eyes tight, thinking it might help you focus. Your thumb brushes up against something firm and you feel Leon tense behind you.

“Is that…?”

 “My jockstrap, thank you.” He clears his throat again. “Higher than that and more to the left.”

You try to follow his instructions, but it’s impossible to go any higher, unable to bend your elbows. “I don’t think I can. Can you shuffle down any?”

“Er…” He tries, shifting down an inch or so, his knees pressing into the back of yours in a spoon, his breath tickling your ear as he settles back down. “There. Bit to the left again.”

You close your eyes again, feeling the zip with your thumb and head to the left until you feel what feels like a thin tube.

“That?”

“Yep. Now, just try and bring it up and out. The blade’s at the bottom.”

That’s easier said than done as you press your thumbs either side of it and feel it move ever so slightly up. It’s a slow and steady process, not helped with the fact of how sweaty your palms are now getting with Leon pressed right up against you. “I think it’s nearly there. If the blade’s at the bottom, can you shuffle back? I don’t wanna slice you open.”

“You got a good grip?”

You swear you can hear the grin in his voice with that one.

“As good as I ever will.”

He scoots back a little, not as far as possible, but enough room so you can pull the scalpel implement up and twirl it around carefully in your grip so you can start to saw against the zip-tie.

“Got it.”

“Does it feel like it’s working?”

“Yeah. Just kinda awkwa-" There’s a stinging pain in your palm as the knife slices through and you hiss.

“What?”

“Got my palm.”

“Bad?”

“Had worse.” You bite your lip at the pain then, eyes squeezed shut again, trying to visualize what might be going on behind your back. Your movements are miniscule, a concern that that if you went any faster you’d slip in your enthusiasm and stab Leon.

It feels like hours when you finally feel the tension give and your wrists are free of the horrid plastic.  

“Got it. Just…” Mindful of your bleeding palm, you roll over with your good hand and lean up, pushing Leon face down so you can set to work on his wrists. It only takes a few confident saws, despite how slick your palm is with blood, before the agent groans and pulls his arms in front of him.

You pull your knees up to your chest and quickly slice through the restraints around your ankles, before handing the scalpel to Leon to do the same. His fingers pinch your other wrist instead, bringing your bleeding palm up close to his face to analyze in the dim light.

“Shit, that’s deep.”

“It’s fine,” you try and shake off his hold, but his grip remains firm.

“That’ll be the blood loss talking. Hold on.” He pulls up his shirt with his free hand and rips at the hem with his teeth, tearing off a rough strip, before he begins to wrap it around your palm in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

“There.” He announces, tying it off with a tight knot. “Not ideal, but it’ll have to do for now.”

“Thanks.” You cradle it back against your stomach and hand him over the blade so he can finally cut through the zip-tie around his ankles. It seems just in time too, as the car begins to slow.

“How do you want to play this?”

“You sit tight, I deal with whoever opens the trunk… then we go for dinner.”

“You know I am not a sit tight kinda gal, right?”

“We’ve only got one knife.”

“One scalpel.” You correct.

“Exactly.” The car stops.

“Roll over, face the back.” He orders, taking control. “I’ll go the other way – they won’t be able to see our hands. When they lean in to haul me out…”

The dulled sound of the car doors opening leaves you with no choice but to turn away as instructed and your hand brushes up against Leon’s as you tuck them back behind your back. With the hand that’s not holding the scalpel, he grabs hold of your uninjured hand and squeezes your fingers in reassurance.

The trunk opens.

Leon is peering through his lashes, bangs over his eyes, as his captor comes into view, gun raised. He nudges Leon’s shoulder with the barrel, watching the agent’s head lull back before holstering his weapon and preparing to heave Leon out of the trunk.

And that’s when he takes his chance, scalpel in hand, straight into the jugular, his other hand nabbing the gun out of the holster as he twists himself up and out of the trunk before the man can hit the ground.

Before you can get up to join him, he slams the trunk back down. You curse, hearing back and forth gunshots before the trunk opens again a few minutes later, Leon stood there with an apologetic smile.

“Coast is clear. We’re down at the docks – I can’t believe I let myself get caught by these amateurs.”

“Well, I can’t believe you shut the trunk on me!” You shuffle forward using your good hand, relieved to be sitting upright at last, legs dangling out from the trunk.

“I’m sorry - I know most guys bring their dates flowers,” he pulls another confiscated gun out of his back pocket – must be his prize from the other guy – and offers it out to you, “but something tells me you’d accept this instead?”

You take it with a smirk and a retort too good to pass up on. “You’re really gunning for this dinner date, huh, Kennedy?”

He leans forward and pushes you back into the trunk with a kiss.

--

This is so, so silly but I had fun x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[shannonsketches]

Okay I'm back to talk about headcanons that this ask made me think about because like I said yesterday I think we have very similar but adjacent thoughts and I wanna blabber

So the tl;dr of it is that I fully agree that Bulma terrifies Vegeta and that's part of her charm but our reasons for why differ a bit.

My headcanons are very heavily based on the manga, so in my mind he really didn't see much of her on Namek to compare with her Earth behavior. She and Krillin were both the correct amount of afraid of him, and then the Ginyu force showed up.

I do definitely agree that he's very impressed with the dragon radar -- but Vegeta's grown up in a super high-tech empire full of Freeza's personally curated collection of brilliant minds. While it is crazy that Bulma essentially reinvented scouter tech as a teenager, and hyper-specified it to pick up only the energy that the Dragon Balls were putting out, I think it's also important to recognize that Dragon Balls are a myth at best to almost every non-deity being in the universe, and a closely guarded secret for Namekians.

Bulma invented the radar because she found real ones in her attic (which, why do we never talk about why Dr B and his lovely wife just. Had two dragon balls? Chillin in the attic? This whole time?) and decided to see if the legends were true. Freeza had never seen one, and didn't know anyone who had ever seen one, and wouldn't have had any reason to invest R&D into a device that could detect them.

Don't get me wrong it's still CRAZY impressive that she did that, and something I fully agree Vegeta acknowledges as crazy impressive, especially having done it at sixteen because she was Bored, but for me I think that detection and tracking tech is kind of standard where he comes from (if others didn't already have proof that they work and weren't always in a race to make their wish, which kills their energy signature, they might too take the time to study them for the same result) -- so the time machine would be a much wilder truth to learn for him imo

But I feel Dr B impressed him first because, outside of Capsules, in terms of technology, Earth is VERY primitive to Vegeta. Even for as rock-carved as a lot of the low-ranked neighborhoods on planet Vegeta were, they still had space-faring ships (and potentially also the rearing pods) before they were taken over by King Cold. Bulma and her father -- and even Gero, who is collectively acknowledged as the most superior scientific mind on Earth -- didn't have access to the kind of tech and fuel that can do that effectively. In the Saiyan saga Bulma even talks about how the fastest engine her father ever built would take over four thousand years to go where Vegeta can in a matter of months (in an autopiloted pod, no less).

Bulma and Dr B can, however, utilize alien tech to create things that suit their needs, which is its own brand of impressive. In the manga, there is no second ship. Vegeta asks Dr Brief to build him a gravity room, so I personally hc it's him Vegeta's impressed with initially. I enjoy the thought that Bulma's capacity is one he learns more about just spending time with them developing the room to suit Vegeta's needs and standards, which are almost certainly annoyingly high (as it's established in the manga that Freeza's bases had training rooms too, and it may be safe to assume there is gravity tech in use, considering those fighters have to be prepared for battle on various planets of various sizes and atmospheres).

But again, that this earthling is able to replicate that technology without access to the base alien tech is crazy impressive.

I like to think that Vegeta's mind impressed both of them too, having spent so much time around fighters who are not scientific or tech-savvy at all, and suddenly an alien who knows wtf he's talking about and specifically what he's looking for and can troubleshoot and do minor QA on tech and explain in great detail how how something works (he can report in real time what's happening to him physiologically while it's happening to him, even if it's happening to him for the very first time, which is insane). One of my favorite long-time inside jokes with friends is that Capsule Corp didn't have hover cars until Vegeta moved in. I also just love that Dr B calls him Vegeta-kun in the JPN.

With Bulma though, especially in the manga, she's very much like everyone else -- she's brilliant, but imperfect, and still learning from her mentor (her dad). The bit in Daima where she works so hard on the ship just to have the launch fail feels very much like a callback to this joke where she VERY confidently tries to call Nappa's pod and self-destructs it because she mixed up the buttons, for example:

"Krillin, who's the genius here?" [fails immediately] "Dammit." my love for this fictional woman cannot be overstated why do we even have that lever

So like, while I VERY MUCH AGREE that Vegeta finds her intellect deeply impressive and hot and dangerous, in my personal opinion that is a part of her that intrigues him but it's not the part of her that terrifies him.

To me, it's that despite the fact that she is so smart, and so clever, and so quick-witted -- she is so brazenly authentic.

When Vegeta gets to Namek, he's at the tail end of a poker game he's been playing for years inside the Freeza force. Everyone's running a clever game, everyone's got an ace up their sleeve, everyone's bluffing, everyone is looking for a tell, and everyone's got a loaded gun under the table pointed at someone else.

Freeza notes that their confrontation was inevitable, but is surprised Vegeta's rebellion happened so soon. The thing is that Vegeta is also surprised that it happened so soon -- he was planning to go back to Earth when Cui told him Freeza had already left for Namek. The table got flipped and a 30-Year game turned into a standoff overnight. Vegeta's living on earth fresh from this lifelong cultural experience of "Loyalty is a strategy, everyone is playing to win, and no one is ever really on your team. The only way to save your neck is to keep your head low and your mouth shut."

Then there's Bulma, who -- despite her housing every ability (and reason, as the most wealthy heiress on her planet) to be extremely cut-throat and manipulative and shady and mysterious -- is not only extremely open about her flaws, her feelings, and her insecurities, but extremely LOUD about them.

Bulma will just cry. Bulma will just scream. Bulma will just be passively peer pressured into changing her clothes and then announce that what other people are wearing made her feel stupid.

Bulma is not just vulgar, she's transparent about all of her weaknesses. She plays damn near nothing close to the chest. She announces her suspicions. She announces her plans. She announces her observations, as if they can't be used against her. She's messy and unpleasant, out loud, where people can see her being messy and unpleasant. That's horrifying when you're used to everyone posturing and cooing and kissing ass to get what they want.

She's openly afraid, and also openly curious, and also openly lacking a sole singular fuck about what you think, and also loudly giving a fuck about what other people think. She's both deeply predictable and impossible to track. She thinks we should just kill that guy before he becomes a problem, she also thinks that even though everyone saw how dangerous this guy is he seems uncomfortable so we should leave him alone.

For lack of a better word, from where Vegeta's standing -- Bulma's fucking insane. This woman is crazy. She's got whims like the goddamn weather, but in the exact opposite way that Freeza did. Freeza would smile at you and wish you the sweetest condolences while running a knife through your chest, Bulma will wish you dead at the top of her lungs and then ask what you want for dinner because it's punishment enough being stupid you don't need to be hungry too.

Bulma has all of the same ingredients he's used to being around, but hers combine into something so radically The Opposite of that, and I think that's destabilizing in a way that was very very good for him (likewise, I think Vegeta's absolute lack of GiveAShit about being exactly who he is and dressing however the fuck he's dressed and doing exactly what the fuck he's gonna do no matter who's got opinions about it or what those opinions are (bless Toriyama for describing his personality as 'aloof superiority') was destabilizing in a way that was very very good for her).

I also definitely agree that seeing so much of Bulma's personality in Trunks as he grew up was not only endearing but kind of reassuring. Although I personally think Trunks is terrifying in his own special way. The combined parentage made the boy too confident. Now he's an unbridled weirdo (absolute joy, overwhelming praise).

tl;dr Part 2: I really really enjoy Bulma as a genius in terms of maths and metallurgy and machinery, but I like to think that Vegeta's got a better head for biological and social sciences and strategic operations (when his pride is not in the way), just as a matter of that being where his primary work experience lies.

I love the idea that Dr Brief was a bridge for them, and is a wildly fluctuating polymath who can kind of do all of it with exceptional comprehension, and would be a much bigger problem for everyone if he didn't have the personality of a career stoner.

Bonus: Dr B being awed and happy that there are people out there in the universe doing things better than he can while his daughter reminds them they're on a deadline.

[lesmisshippingshowdown]

Les Mis Shipping Showdown Semi Finals: Official Winners Reveal

(crawls onto the blog tastefully hungover) sorry this is late, lads. next time i will remember my vital modly duties before making social plans for the exact same night steals expire

Anyway, onto what's really important in life: The Les Mis Shipping Showdown semi finals.

Without further ado, the winners ARE:

Enjolras/Grantaire (83.8%) vs. Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta (16.2%)

In the end, Enjoltaire nation managed to extend an already resounding popular vote lead through the power of steals, securing their place in the grand final. JBM nation also produced some fantastic steal works, and it was amazing to see both fanbases get properly involved in the stealing game after being rather quiet in preceding rounds! But here we are, the most popular Les Mis ship on AO3 (by some 10,000 works) is in the final. One could say this was inevitable all along, but whether or not they take the overall victory is still up in the air, considering the formidable opponent they'll be up against...

Cosette/Éponine (67.8%) vs. Enjolras/Combeferre (32.2%)

You wouldn't guess it from how close this result is to the original popular vote totals, but this was an INTENSE AND PROLIFIC steal game from both sides. We already knew it would be, with both ships successfully stealing their respective quarter finals in their favour, but the numbers say it all - Team Eposette produced 59.3 points' worth of steal works, with Enjolferre nation's grand total coming to 54.4 points. In the end, the leaders of the tournament's overall steal points championship won the day, and it looks like we'll be debating an age old question in the final: yaoi or yuri? 🧐

Now onto the admin side of things:

TROUBLESHOOTING

To our knowledge, every steal submitted for this round has been counted into our total and either reblogged or queued. If you can't see your post on this blog yet and are worried it's not been counted, please follow these steps in order:

Check your notes for a like from my main (@lonelyroommp3) - if your post has been seen and queued (but not reblogged here yet) my url should be in there :)

Make sure neither myself or my co-mod @glindalesbian are blocked - we can't see your steals if this is the case

If, and ONLY if, you come up short on these options, send us an ask so that we can double check if your steal has been counted. Your deadline for checks & appeals is 22:00 BST (UTC+1) TONIGHT. After that point I will be taking the results as official and queueing the final polls.

FINALS SCHEDULE + SPECIAL MOD NEWS

The GRAND FINAL POLL will be dropping at 20:00 BST (UTC +1) this Friday, 11th April. This will be a week long poll as usual.

There will also be a third place playoff poll between Enjolras/Combeferre and JBM dropping at 19:00 BST (UTC +1) on Friday, 11th April. This poll will only run for three days.

As a friendly reminder there is NO POLL STEALING in the final or the third place playoff. You've made it this far with a little help from your incredible fanwork making capabilities, but now you're on your own - it's time to settle this the old school way, with good old votes and propaganda.

Also, please note that both mods will be away this weekend and not able to answer asks with any regularity, if at all. This is for a VERY important reason: @glindalesbian is GETTING MARRIED ON SATURDAY!!!!! Everybody send them your congratulations and best wishes. Or else 🔪

(So basically, please behave in our absence and only message us if it is genuinely, truly urgent. We’re like your parents leaving you alone in the house for the weekend and begging you not to throw an absolute blowout discourse rager)

STEAL OFF 2 REMINDER

Finally, a reminder that Steal Off 2 opens for submissions at 00:01 BST (UTC+1) on Monday 21st April. Start getting your final works ready, and check the linked post for more details & rules.

Of course, the leaderboard has shifted a little over the course of this week with 4 ships submitting steals for the semi finals. Right now it looks a little something like this:

Cosette/Éponine (168)

Enjolras/Combeferre (88.6)

Jehan/Montparnasse (76.1)

Valjean/Javert (70.3)

Turning Woman #3/Musichetta (19.1)

Courfeyrac/Marius (18)

Enjolras/Grantaire (15.6)

Combeferre/Courfeyrac (5.5)

Marius/Cosette (5.3)*

Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta (5.3)*

Éponine/Montparnasse (2.7)

Enjolras/Feuilly (2.2)

Combeferre/Grantaire (0.7)

(*technically tied for 9th place. we might figure out a tiebreaker system later)

[skeletalemon]

Data meets Ada!

Two robots having a very robo conversation:

Data: My mistake. I thought you looked like an old friend.

Data: You mentioned that you are able to find a flawless path through a dense asteroid belt?

Ada: I have complete control of almost the whole ship and its dimensions. It isn’t difficult to me.

Data: interesting.

Ada: You mentioned a “Tasha”. Another one of my kind, perhaps?

Data: No, she was a human, like your Captain Hawthorn.

Ada: Was? Has she taken another form?

Data: No, it is complicated. She -as humans would put it- is no longer with us. Or as Worf says, “an empty shell”.

Data: She has a similar facial structure to yours, which is why I mistook you for her.

Ada: It seems you had feelings for her.

Data: Feelings…? Ah, to love, or to care for. In that case, possibly so.

Ada: The bedroom is on the second floor if you would like to “curl up in a ball” and “let it out”. If you would like troubleshooting…

Data:…?

Ada:*smirk* I could…provide you with other services.

Data: Was that a joke?

Ada: Not amusing?

Data: I do not find it so.

[wolv2077]

Let's set the record straight.

Disclaimer: Before we dive into this post, I want to make one fact abundantly clear - I'm not writing this post for the hell of it. My name was brought up publicly first, by an individual who stole and then cherry picked parts of a private conversation to craft a disingenuous, one-sided hit piece. I am now well within my right to respond, and to criticize the blatant double standards. I do find it adorable, in a predictable kind of way, that the clique that practically wrote the book on back-channel Cyberpunk 2077 trash talking is now clutching pearls in what is yet another public performance of self-righteous superiority.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm some sort of infallible holy saint. Nor will I defend the private conversations of some S7 individuals. Unlike the people behind the hit-piece, I'm more than capable of introspection - I've made some decisions over the years that I regret, as have most people.

But I won't be lectured on decency or “mental health” by a class of people who, behind the facades of public positivity, have spent years weaponizing both as shields in order to exile anyone who doesn’t fall in line.

So if you want to drag me into your stupid game of purity olympics, then let’s play. But make sure your own closets aren’t rattling first.

Selective ethics

After all, these are the same individuals that, at best, partake in the exact same behavior they proudly claim to stand against (the crime of private venting). And on average, far surpass it. For years prior to S7 and to this day, some of them have repeatedly cheered each other on as they harass and marginalize. Who’ve built reputations off gatekeeping, tone policing, and vendettas dressed up as virtue. And now they perform outrage as if they haven’t been operating wholesale echo-chambers this entire time, right to this second and beyond. Even as they collectively analyze this very post (hi!). Channels and group chats with surveillance, gossip and exclusion. Corroborated by past members, victims and insiders alike.

Let me be abundantly clear - this is not a justification, nor a defense of the resulting private conversations of some S7 members. Two wrongs don’t make a right. But the blatant hypocrisy and double standards are genuinely baffling.

The same people, who despite their “hatred of drama”, are objectively a magnet for almost every conceivable fandom related drama since December 10, 2020. Tell me, think hard and ask yourself critically, what kind of rational individual has such a long, documented public history of controversy? From regular fandom politics to false accusations hurled without evidence due to a difference of opinion. Now, it’s not a crime to vent or to be upset from time to time, but if you're constantly getting into childish conflict every other month, for years, what does that say about you?

Third parties & moral posturing

And now, i’d like to speak directly to all third parties. To those of you that may be new to the fandom, or to those that have only seen their curated public personas - yes, I'm sure they’ve been kind and bubbly to you. Yes, I'm sure they’ve left a sweet comment, love bombed you, complimented your OC, or helped you troubleshoot a mod.

But repeated problematic behavior doesn’t stop being problematic because you weren’t in the crosshairs. Being on the good side is conditional, it only works until it doesn’t. Voice the "wrong" opinion, associate with the "wrong" person, ship a character in the "wrong" way, and watch the mask slip. As people have already learned, more often than not, their support towards others is calculated social maneuvering.

So, where do we go from here?

On one hand, I can start iterating through each and every relevant receipt brought to me, in detail, one by one, and by the time we're done the clock on my taskbar will read "2077". On the other, I acknowledge that people are inherently complicated. And while I vehemently disagree with their antics over the years, antics that have (a) marginalized people to anxiety (whether they realize it or not) and (b) ironically led people to vent frustrations privately, I don’t doubt for a second that beneath it all, there is some genuine hurt. 

But until then, if nothing is going to change, then you can all sit in your small corner and continue to throw your little public temper tantrums because my comparatively tame private quips bruised your feelings. Maybe you can all desperately parse that stolen HTML document for more cherry-picked material to satiate the next #fandom-wank session. And when you finally get that brief moment of post-session clarity, seize it and reflect on your own conduct for a change.

Accept it or run with denial. I've said what I've had to say, and now I will move on. This is my first and final statement on the matter.