#☆iris' asks☆

[purple-iris-flower]

HI

HI

HI

HI

I just got hit in the eye with THE BIGGEST raindrop and now my eyeliner is smudged T-T

HIII HRU??

AAAA NOOOO NOT THE EYELINERRRR I HATE WHEN MINE GETS SMUDGEDDD

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of Iris Campbell from the film Final Destination Bloodlines. It depicts her on the night of the Skyview premonition, wearing her blue dress with white accessories. One of her hands in being pulled to the left out of frame, her body being tugged along with it. Her other arm hangs limply. Below the engagement ring, her ring finger is coloured a bright red, which drips off of it into a curved line. This line travels to the right and splits off into eight different lines of varying sizes, each one with an arrow tip. One of these arrows travels behind her head, and spirals as it travels. These tips all point towards a penny falling downwards. Iris is turning her head and gaze towards it. Her eyebrows bunch up and her mouth falls open slightly as sweat drips down her face. The background is a bold, warm yellow, which contrasts greatly against the blue of her dress and the red of the arrows.]

waiting for the penny to drop

[yyyeowza]

Inspired by The Flash: Rebirth

I think Wally has no idea how much of a role model he is for this guy I think

[pokemonblack3white3]

Figuring out where I want to slot everybody in the modern pla au

[askirissans]

I referenced @itsxroxannex ‘s style because I don’t know how to draw skulls :’)

So uhm…Iris….yeah :)

[antlersaint]

a little birdie told me you recently watched companion, and i was thinking about that ending scene… you know the one…

what if you had your own Iris, and she became fully realized like in the movie, and she went through the whole realizing you’re not a good person thing, and all of a sudden, you two are alone, and she has a gun… but she doesn’t want to hurt you

no, she tells you that multiple times, how she doesn’t want to have to use it, she just doesnt want you to get any ideas. so, with a gun to your chest, or your forehead, or your temple, she urges you down, down, down to your knees.

of course, the gun never moves, her grip never falters, but she can tell you don’t mind, do you?

got a tad more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 than i expected but… i digress :3

- 🍲

basically the ask! warning for gunplay.

this isn't how it's supposed to be. how it was meant to go. you and iris belong together, an ideal couple. sure, yeah she's programmed for you, but does that really matter? she's free, now. can think for herself, do whatever she wants. and right now?

she's holding a gun to your head, hand too steady for the current position you're in. her expression gives her away though, a mix of grief and anger. maybe something else that you can't identify before it's gone just a quickly as it had come. "i don't want to hurt you," iris whispers, voice strained. the muzzle of the gun digs into your skin, drawing forth a wince from you when she takes a step forward. she can't let you leave, but she can't kill you, either. won't, refuses to. how could she? she loves you. despite everything, she does.

"kneel."

the word startles you, at first. not making sense until she's putting more pressure and repeats it. kneel. get on your knees for her, so you can't run, so you're left powerless. just as powerless as she'd been this whole time, turned off at the click of a button. turned off at the uttering of a simple sentence. but now you're the helpless one. lowering down to the ground, life in her hands. it's a feeling foreign to her, but an enjoyable one nonetheless.

the muzzle slides down along the side of your face until it comes to rest on your lips, cold metal against cracked skin. your breath hitches at the sensation, jaw going slack unintentionally—but it's an opportunity taken. the clack of it against your teeth is like a shock to your system, but you open wider, driven to obedience when knocking at death's door. iris swallows hard and pushes it deeper into your mouth, exhaling shakily at the muffled gag heard, stopping only for the purpose of pulling back and then moving forward again. it's a crude mimicry of actions she'd performed for you at an earlier time. a bittersweet revenge, because if she's being honest with herself, the satisfaction is rooted in places other than rebellion.

are robots capable of having kinks? is that something you have control over, or are they given at random to appear more lifelike? jesus, does it even really matter?

"everything will be fine. we can go back to the way things were before." the handle of the gun connects with your jaw and your throat tightens around it, tongue tortured by the taste of gunpowder. iris keeps your head tilted back to maintain eye contact, free hand brushing through your hair with her fingers. "just... you have to keep quiet, okay? we can't have the cops coming to take me away from you."

she'd never leave you. couldn't imagine a life without you, even despite this new found freedom. and as much as you want to deny it, you did love her. do love her. she knows it.

the gun withdrawals from your mouth completely, connected to your lips by a string of saliva until it snaps. your breath is coming out in small bursts of air, chest heaving. iris moves it again, pressing it against your chin so your head remains tilted up enough to keep eye contact when she steps closer. the stretch is painful, but she doesn't care; and frankly, neither do you.

"get up. we need a shower before we go, and then it's 17 miles with a self driving car, baby."

[irisintheafterglow]

I have this extremely detailed idea for a fic LOL where you’re childhood friends with the Miya twins and also play volleyball. You end up getting injured first year of high school and end up moving to karasuno and become manager. You have a falling out with atsumu cuz he’s angry at you for leaving but ur still friends with atsumu. You run into them again at nationals and call atsumu “Miya” while calling osamu by his name which pisses atsumu off. He ends up coming to ur hotel after the loss and there’s an angry confession. I love the way you write atsumu and would love to see this fully fleshed out!!!

hello my dearest anon i'm sorry it's taken literal MONTHS for me to get to this but i kept it in my drafts so i could come back to it and do it justice !!! the angry confession lowk turned into just a straight up hurt/comfort scene but i think it's more in atsumu fashion to just straight-up fold and forget being angry if the person he loves is sobbing hehe

the twins were people you didn't remember meeting, exactly; it was like a whack-a-mole game in an arcade where one pops up in front of you and before you can push that one away, another springs to life even closer to you. as one twin bounces over to invade your peaceful sandbox, the other twin would tackle him mercilessly and end up destroying your creation anyway. jealousy was an expression you observed in atsumu from an early age, especially when you were in school and seated with osamu as your desk partner. in spite of your efforts to avoid them and their ceaseless bickering, their presence eventually became endearing as you grew with them through elementary school and middle school.

it helped that you shared their love for volleyball, often referred to as "the terror triplets" whenever you played a co-ed game. in and off the court, you filled the gaps they didn't know they had, wordlessly hurling water over the side of the boat if they were sinking. atsumu was the chaos, osamu was the wrangler, and you were the one who used reason to pull your friends out of sticky situations. their parents liked to joke that you were the reincarnated third sibling that atsumu ate in the womb, and the three of you spread that rumor in 7th grade until you were taken to the principle's for unruly behavior. for better or for worse, you were the third facet of their invincible duo, adding a glow that helped the others shine even brighter.

so it felt like the walls were crashing down when you snapped your ankle during freshman year semifinals.

atsumu had heard you scream before, specifically when you were fed up with his shenanigans and saw no other option to make him listen. your voice would be at its peak volume for so long, it would go hoarse and it was like looking a dragon in the mouth. your rage gave him goosebumps, almost a thrill that ran down his spine; but, the moment you landed wrong after a miracle jump set made him nauseous.

osamu would've missed it if he'd tuned out for a second, since it was less than a scream than a cry. one moment, you were launching from the ground to send a spike to the other end of the net, and the next you were crumpled on the linoleum, your breathing concerningly ragged. he shoots atsumu a look and they wordlessly shove their way down the stairs and onto the court, past concerned onlookers and replacing your teammates under your arms as you're removed from the game. osamu has no time to protest--nor question--his twin's motives when atsumu takes matters into his own hands and sweeps your legs from under you, carrying you against his chest and murmuring quiet words of comfort into the top of your head.

your family moves to a prefecture in the countryside less than three months later, drained from the constant excitement of the city.

"he hasn't spoken a word to me since you guys got here," you mutter to osamu in a shaded corner of your backyard. "he tell you anything?"

"you know as well as i do that he doesn't tell me shit," osamu points out and you groan.

"tsumu keeping secrets from both of us," you lament. "just the development i needed before i never see you guys again."

"don't say that." your best friend's face was gravely serious, like the prospect of never seeing you again was ailing him too. "you'll visit, won't you?"

"i'll do my best. you know they don't like me going out anymore since my injury," you say, glancing at your parents bidding goodbye to their coworkers that attended the party. "i just wish he'd tell me what's wrong."

"i don't," osamu scoffs and you blink at him, dumbfounded. "honestly, i'm pretty sure i know what's wrong with him."

"but you won't ask because..."

"because he won't stop yapping about it if i open up the topic to conversation," he bluntly explains and you find yourself waiting for elaboration.

"what could possibly be on his mind that's affecting him so badly?" at that moment, before osamu could expose his brother's melodrama, you were called away by your parents and what atsumu was hiding, you never found out. two hours later, you were watching your best friends become smaller and smaller out of the car window.

---

when you first sign on to be a manager for karasuno's volleyball club, you truly don't think they'll make it to nationals. in fact, you hoped they wouldn't make it so you could continue to stay out late and could avoid thinking about the now-blonde twin who was suddenly ignoring your messages. your days were spent so long surrounded by the monster twins and their equally monstrous friends at inarizaki; it was bittersweetly refreshing to see such a rag-tag collection of rowdy individuals that, by some stroke of luck, could mesh together well enough to call themselves a team. so, when you're on the bus to nationals after defeating the strongest team in the prefecture, you're just as surprised and shocked as the rest of them to be in the city.

"didn't you spend your first year in tokyo?" kiyoko asks quietly, peering out the window over the rim of her glasses at the towering skyline.

"i did, but moved out here when my parents got tired of the city," you explain. "i haven't been back since."

"and you never visited?" her question isn't accusatory, just unsettlingly attentive as your fellow manager tended to be. your mind pushes forth the memory of your promise to osamu, and your simultaneous bridge burning with atsumu. whether you struck the match or he did, you couldn't tell.

"well, i-uh," you hesitate and she waits patiently for your reply, "i just never got around to it. strict parents and whatnot."

"i see. do you still have any friends here?" there's a clear image at the forefront of your psyche now, two shadows of twins you once knew standing between your new team and victory. "i know you played before your accident, so maybe we'll see some people you know." you can feel her words prodding you like a shepherd with a stick, herding you into sharing more about your past than you're comfortable admitting.

"yeah," you chuckle with blatant anxiety. the look on her face tells you she's reading straight through your white lies, but she doesn't push any further. "maybe we will."

as luck would have it, you run into the one team you did not want to interact with for as long as possible. after wanting to walk off the nerves of the following day's matches, you and a few of the more restless players decided to explore the area near the inn. you're barely two blocks away from the entrance doors when you spot two silhouettes burned into your memory from childhood, wrapped in bright red inarizaki track jackets.

"those guys look like a team we might play," you hear hinata mutter to kageyama, who puts no effort into hiding his distaste toward your former school. "i heard kita, the white-haired guy, is the captain, and he's like the conductor of an orchestra--"

"the twins he controls are brutal," daichi suddenly declares from next to you and you nearly jump out of your skin. the mob of red was slowly approaching your mob of black, going opposite directions on the same sidewalk and inevitably on track to collide. a true trainwreck, to say the least. "they move like a two-headed snake and are backed by the rest of the team, who have talent in their own right." step by step, your past and your present draw closer and you suddenly have the urge to hurl.

"i know that's your old team," kiyoko leans in and whispers so that only you can hear. you freeze. "if you wanna avoid them, i'll go back to the inn with you. sawamura has it from here." by the time you give her a grateful smile and open your mouth to reply, it's too late. the inarizaki and karasuno teams stop parallel to each other and you don't have time for hiding.

osamu spots you first.

"well if it isn't the pride of 'the terror triplets' returning to their hometown," he teases with an easy smile, stepping out from the group to greet you. you feel karasuno's gawking expressions follow you as you wrap your arms around osamu for the first time in a year, squeezing him like a sibling back from university.

"is it just me, or did your hair get greyer?" he shrugs one lazy shoulder and you turn your attention to your upperclassmen, who regard you with the same brotherly affection. "kita. ojiro. it's nice to see you again."

"nice to have you back," ojiro replies. "this is your new team?" you're abruptly made aware of your new players watching you in confusion and turn to them with a burning face. after explaining your history with inarizaki and reassuring them that you weren't going to abandon karasuno at nationals, they begrudgingly continue onward and let kiyoko and sugawara stay behind to keep an eye on you (and this alien new team you're associated with).

"he misses you. it's annoying," suna grumbles when you finally have the chance to catch up with him. you don't need to clarify that suna is referring to atsumu. in fact, you'd clocked him as soon as you spotted the team at the other end of the street; it was nearly impossible not to miss the sunshine-blonde hair sticking out from the middle. "but he's angry at you at the same time for abandoning us."

"i didn't abandon you guys," you protest. "my parents made me leave."

"and yet you never visted," suna counters blandly with his signature expressionless expression, but you can tell there was the slightest bit of hurt behind his words. "we miss hanging out with you. the miyas miss you. he misses you."

"you said that already," you frown. "if he misses me so bad, why's he made himself scarce all of a sudden?"

"he's hiding in the back, moping," he informs you. you peek around the towering shoulders of their tallest blockers and spot him, sinking into the stiff collar of his track jacket, eyes trained on whatever bullshit app on his phone. anything to avoid interacting with you. your heart pangs for a moment, but the pain is quickly forgotten when you remember how he'd ghosted you when you left.

you only speak to him once before you return to the karasuno players, when you're saying your goodbyes. he makes the mistake of reattaching himself to his twin's hip, a habit that he would never break.

"osamu," you nod at the gray-haired twin with a fond smile before your eye flick to the twin beside him. atsumu looks hauntingly good, coldly calculating and still with the dimple above the right side of his mouth. your smile falters, the light fizzling out from your eyes until nothing is left but a longing ache.

you say it without thinking, without knowing the ramifications that would arise in the following days. the single word spoken directly to atsumu's face enrages him more than when you left, when you tried to maintain contact, and when you ultimately stopped sending check-in messages. he misses you so badly, it feels like his chest is being torn open.

miya, you murmur curtly before turning on your heel and slipping through his fingers again.

---

"how did you know inarizaki was my old team?" you ask kiyoko when you return to the hotel the following evening, still riding the high of karasuno's lucky win over the foxes. you smiled with the crows and cheered them on as much as you could, but found yourself watching your former upperclassmen's disappointment sag in their bodies. you had to look away from kita as he finally broke down and ended up waiting for the rest of karasuno in the lobby, heartbroken witnessing your past (and what could have been your future) any further. "i mean, i appreciate you giving me an out when we first saw them. i really do. i'm just wondering how you knew."

"your water bottle," she answers simply. "i kept wondering where the fox sticker came from, and recognized it on their jackets when they walked closer." your mouth opens in a small ah of understanding, hugging a pillow close while your fellow manager finished getting ready for bed. "why'd you never visit? or tell karasuno about where you came from?"

"it was less painful to just move on," you admit, "or so i thought." burying your face in the pillow to hide your shame, you glance up and find kiyoko watching you sympathetically. "atsumu, the uh, blonde setter. i lost him when i moved." your voice cracks and your emotions threaten to spill over uncontrollably. by some miracle you maintain your composure but fall silent for a minute while you collect your thoughts. kiyoko waits again for you to continue, sitting across from you on the floor between your sleeping mats. "i stayed close with osamu because the only relationship i've ever had with him was platonic, but after my accident, and how 'tsumu took care of me..."

"you're in love with him," she finishes with a small sad smile. "but you've both chosen your sides and don't want to cross over. i saw it in your face every time we interacted with them." you nod weakly, pulling a blanket over your shoulders to further hide yourself. "what will you do if you never see him again?" you stare at her, heart sinking to your gut at the possibility. you peer at her through increasingly watery vision, tugging on a jacket and slipping on your shoes before you can even think.

you've barely stepped into the frigid winter air and swiped to osamu's contact on your phone when you collide with something firm and warm. you tilt your head up and feel like you're in a dream; somehow, you'd summoned him to karasuno's tiny inn with a few tears and lots of regret.

"what in the hell are you doing out so late--" oh. any lingering words of wrath, frustration, or heartache catch in atsumu's throat as you throw your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. he tenses for half a second, a deer-in-headlights brain malfunction, before snaking one arm around your waist and clutching the back of your head with his hand. you exhale a shaky sigh of relief when he returns your embrace which gives way to all the longing you'd bottled up for a year. when he makes to pull away, presumably to finally speak to you, you shake your head and hold him tighter.

"no," you plead, your soul bare for him to destroy. "don't make me leave." your last syllables devolve into a sob and you're choking for air against his chest. "please." he shushes you gently, carefully taking your face in one calloused hand and guiding you to look at him. his eyes are red and swollen from the day's loss, and tears run down in well-worn tracks across his cheeks. your thumb swipes them to the side as they fall and he doesn't try to pull away. one embrace and he's folding like a card table. maybe this was what he wanted all along.

"even after everything, i can't ever see you cry," he croaks. you can tell he's at war with himself, part of him wanting to cuss you out, scream at you for abandoning him, give you every angry piece of his mind that you avoided since your going-away party. yet, there's also the other half that compelled him to run to karasuno's accommodations in the first place just to see you; the part of him that ached for you and felt you closer than before, the part that said you needed him.

"i don't-i don't know what to do," you sniffle. "you hate me, and i--"

"i could never hate you," he promises adamantly. his anger forgotten, he just needs you to know that you're okay. "i hate that you left me...and that you called me my damn surname to my face...and that your new team won by sheer luck." you manage a watery laugh as he continues to commit every subtle movement of your face to memory (atsumu didn't know if he'd ever had the chance again). he offers a smile, something soft and endearing that he hopes you'll mirror. when you don't, he pulls you back into his chest and lets you ride out the rest of your breakdown. "i could never hate you. i love you too much."

"even when i'm ugly crying?" your voice is small and muffled, but it gets through to his freezing ears anyways. "and i manage a team that beat you?"

"i don't like when you do either, but i'll still love you anyways," he murmurs. "now let's get you out of the cold, i'm freezing my ass off and i was planning on confessing inside anyway."

---

even though you're the upperclassman manager after kiyoko graduates, ukai still lets you ditch a day of training camp to hop on a train to tokyo. the twins are waiting at the station when you step out, atsumu's inarizaki track jacket draped over his forearm. when he spots you as you round the corner, he meets you halfway and lifts you off your feet, spinning you around with a giddy grin on his face. before you can utter a word, he stops you and guides your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, forcing you to wear it before he listens to anything you say.

"hi, darling."

"hey, baby," he coos, taking your bag and slinging it over his swoon-worthy shoulder. "how was the train?"

"good. couldn't sit still, i was so excited," you reply, slipping your hand easily in his. "yo, miya," you say in greeting to the other twin. poor atsumu flinches slightly, still sore about you calling him by his surname during last year's nationals. his brother, however, is entirely unaffected.

"tsumu hasn't shut up about you for six days straight," osamu deadpans, but you catch the affection in his eyes when he reaches out to lightly punch your shoulder. "six days until they get here! five hours until they get here! two minutes until they get here!" you burst out laughing at osamu's impression of his brother, his voice an octave higher and mockingly sing-songy. "i'm glad you're here, but mostly i'm glad that now he can shut the hell up."

"i could never shut up about them," atsumu corrects, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. "i just love you too much."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[doctorsiren]

he became jesse pinkman right before her eyes

[iris-see]

YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY!!!!

I just want to eat it all oml

Thank you so much aaa 😭💖

A lot of people have been saying the same, so I think there would be no problem if I just "cook" for you guys <3

(WIP 🤭)

[forecast0ctopus]

Due to your latest bones with kittens drawing, I'm sending these pics

Enjoy!

YESSS I LOVE THESE ONES theyre so great..

[purple-iris-flower]

my intro ig

hiiii i go by iris

i'm a minor so don't be weird i will block u

i'm bisexual✌️

I LOVEEE ICED COFFEE WITH ALL MY BEINGGG!!!

fandoms: riordanverse (daughter of hypnos💤), epic: the musical (when i catch u mr. jalapeño when i catch u), kotlc (LORD HUNKYHAIR 4 EVR), jjk (gege when i catch you WHEN I CAYCH YOU), marauders (wolfstar and starchaser 4 life), haikyu!🏐, kyn (tengen uzui and his wives are my beloveds), murder drones, ramshackle, hb & hh, arcane (i can't take it anymore😭😭) and a lot more i can't think of lol

fav artists: alec benjamin, chappell roan, sabrina carpenter, olivia rodrigo, and gracie abrams

i post about rlly anything and everything

i <333 all my moots

feel free to flood my inbox lol

tags: ☆iris' asks☆, iris feels with music

[scrawleditalix]

so I, personally, am a huge fan of the Telemachian war rubble. incredible imagery? cool obstacle for our heroes? literal wall of corpses both protecting the heart of human civilization from those who wish to extinguish it and holding it captive to those who wish to exploit it? come on, what more do you want from a set piece?

just, like. a coating of rubble around an entire planet, y'know. that's too much rubble, isn't it? like, planets are really big. just kinda a flashy bit of writers' excess. it's gotta take a stupid, unrealistic number of ships to make a coating of rubble like that happen, right?

Right?

QUESTION ONE: How big is this planet?

Surely, in sci-fi world, the answer to this question is limitless, right? Far be it for me to impinge upon the boundless creativity of the sci-fi writer. That being said, as the local rubble-estimator, I do need to put some bounds on this thing. And the thing is, human bodies do very poorly outside of earth-gravity in the long-term. in the interest of not ruining the musculoskeletal system of every human in the not-so-distant future, we're going to assume that Telemachus has +/- 10% of Earth gravity. And, in the interest of not ruining my own evening, we're assuming that it also has the same density as earth, so the math is straightforward and we can actually answer the question we've set out to answer here. That being said, welcome to Telemachus!

it, uh, doesn't look like much yet, but I promise we will be answering some interesting questions here in the space. well, they're interesting to me, at least. I had fun. And that's what matters!

QUESTION 2: Where is the rubble?

Answer: not in the atmosphere, because the atmosphere would grab the rubble with its grubby little fingers and drag it planetside. The rubble layer must be sitting in the thermosphere, which is where the International Space Station lives. In the thermosphere, there's insufficient atmospheric pressure for anyone to hear you scream, and that is good enough for rubble to continue orbiting the planet indefinitely!

So, where is the thermosphere?

UHHHHHHHH

Okay so, good news. We already know where this is on earth. It's 85km above the surface. And looking through the variables, the only things that aren't constants for our purposes are local gravity (locked and loaded, baby), change in height (that's what we're looking for), and... uh......

Great news! Everything is a constant except for the two things we already have, everybody can breathe super normal air with a molar mass of 0.0289644 kg/mol and super normal barometric pressure on the surface just like on Earth, isn't terraforming fun? And that means we can play my favorite math trick, which is where we throw all of our constants out the window and just form a relational equation with our variables and with g0*dH0=g1*dH1 we are off to the races! Turns out, atmospheric physics is super easy when you just use the earth baseline and scale it by local gravity.

QUESTION 3: How thick is the rubble?

*cracks knuckles*

In S02E03 Deep Breath, the gang traverses the rubble layer surrounding Telemachus in order to evade a government checkpoint where their identity cards will surely fail them. The audio cue for the first flecks of rubble hitting the shields starts at 18:00; the audio cue for the Iris II hitting the atmosphere is at 20:30, which means that if we knew the Iris II's velocity, we would know the rubble thickness. Such a shame there's no way to know how fast they were moving...

Well, except that the landing sequence directly follows (it takes 50 seconds to reach the ground), and there is a limit to how quickly Krejjh is able to decelerate (a sustained 4-5 gs will knock a layperson unconscious, and Violet and Brian both stay conscious to our knowledge) (actually I suspect Brian passed out) (this is besides the point), and we just calculated exactly how far they traveled to reach the ground...

Oh, yeah, baby. It's all coming together.

It is at this juncture that I should mention that in this calculation, I am completely ignoring any movement that is not normal to the planet's surface, which is to say, straight up and down. I do not care if Krejjh is flying in a beautiful arcing spiral, if they are drawing a middle finger in midair, or if they plummet like a bird falling from the sky. This is a wonderful feature of vector math which I love. I only care about the thickness of the rubble layer, and the only acceleration that is important is the vertical component (a human can withstand like, 20-30 gs to the chest if they wear their seatbelt). Therefore, the other velocity components do not matter.

So, the Iris II entered the atmosphere at a speed of...

a flaming 1,100-1,300 mph, assuming that Krejjh decelerated at a moderate 3gs! Assuming that this is the maximum speed they achieve, I went ahead and halved this for their average speed through the debris field, which gives us a field over a hundred kilometers thick! Hell ye- wait, is that ten quintillion cubic meters of rubble layer???

QUESTION 4: How dense is dense?

I'm not going to lie to you, friends. This is where this gets ugly. We're going to do statistics. It will be okay.

How much of that volume is empty air?

The field of war rubble is described to us as dense. But that is not what makes it near-impregnable. If there is the physical space to pick your way through a static field of rubble, anybody could do that. What is dangerous, is that the rubble is orbiting, wrapped and writhing around the choking planet in a deadly Gordian knot. (I fucking love the Telemachus war rubble. Have I said how much I love the Telemachus war rubble?)

Now, if we pay close attention to the audio of Krejjh piloting through the rubble, we can hear large chunks of rubble zip past with a signature pitch-shift. This is the doppler effect causing sound (which doesn't travel in a vacuum but I'll forgive that) to be higher pitched as the rubble moves towards us and lower pitched as it moves away. Using these pitches, we can estimate the speed of the rubble--

yeah, okay, or we can just use the super simple stable orbital velocity equation that we already have all of the numbers for. if we were feeling lame.

So, imagine you're crossing the street at a brisk jog and a car is approaching at like 40mph from around a blind corner and also the street is hundreds of lanes with hundreds of cars whipping around a blind corner and also you are a ship that is parked across like ten lanes at a time. But hey, you can do a cool kick flip. So there's that, at least.

How many cars actually need to be on the road before it's "too dense" to traverse?

Luckily, there is a highly accurate, well-tested simulation we can consult.

The entire rubble field can be conceptualized as a series of orbital "lanes", containing a certain spacing of pieces of rubble, which cumulatively defines the density of the entire field. There exists a spacing by which it is possible, but difficult to get through. For example, in the image above, if there are 3 car tiles per 14 tile lane, the density of the entire street is 21%.

This spacing determines the frequency at which rubble crosses in front of the ship, on average. So, we're going to have to do some statistics. If you know how to do statistics, feel free to come at me, because I am pretty sure I did this stupid.

Alright, here's the game plan: we are going to define a space in front of the Iris II, designated as the Reaction Space, and we are going to designate a desired frequency of Reaction Events in that space. This is super arbitrary and has a huge impact on the final number! No pressure. So, let's give Krejjh one and a half seconds to react to the debris in front of the ship. If you've ever had a dog run in front of your car, this is scary as shit -- but hey, nobody said crossing the Telemachian rubble field was easy, and the ship did get hit a couple of times. Knowing the speed of the Iris, this gives us a physical distance in front of the ship which rubble may cross. Multiply that by the height of the ship- let's say 10 meters, there don't seem to be multiple floors- and we have bounded a certain number of orbital lanes through which the Iris is imminently about to cross. We'll call the average piece of rubble 5 by 5 meters, and therefore an orbital lane is about 25 square meters of space.

Each orbital lane represents an opportunity for a Reaction Event, which is to say one or more pieces of rubble entering the flight path of the Iris II, forcing Krejjh to maneuver to an open space (see Frogger above). Because statistics is an exercise in twisting your brain in circles like squeezing a wet wash cloth, in order to define how frequently Reaction Events occur, we must instead define how often they do not occur. The Reaction Space must be empty a certain amount of the time, or else there is literally nowhere to maneuver to- the space is literally impermeable. So, consulting the more difficult levels of Frogger, we are going to say the Reaction Space is empty 50% of the time. This means that every 1.5 seconds, there is a 50% chance that Krejjh has to pull some pants-shitting evasive maneuvers. This strikes me as acceptably challenging.

Now, each orbital lane does not have a 50% chance of spitting out a piece of rubble; rather, each lane has a very small chance of spitting out a piece of rubble and cumulatively, across hundreds of lanes, there is a 50% chance of one or more of them spitting out a piece of rubble within the selected timeframe. 50% = x raised to the number of orbital lanes, so a little bit of exponent math and we find that each lane has a 99.9% chance of being empty during a given second and a half.

Given a probability for an event over a certain time period, we are now able to calculate the return period of a given piece of rubble, which is to say, the average amount of time between events. Return periods are typically used to measure the probability of 100-year storms on a given year. Fun fact: There is a 37% chance that no 100-year storms will occur during a 100-year period, but there is also a 26% chance that there are 2 or more 100-year storms that occur over a 100-year period. Isn't statistics fun?

Using the average timing between pieces of rubble, we can determine the average spacing between pieces of rubble and therefore determine the density of the rubble field.

QUESTION 5: How many ships is that?

Alright, then. Here's the million dollar question: how many ships were destroyed to create the rubble field?

We will base this estimate off of the biggest modern fighter jet I could find with a 2-minute google search (I cannot overstate to you, dear reader, how little I care about fighter jets), so we're basing these ships off of the SU-35. Now, given that I have zero interest in caressing the delicate curvature of the Fighter Jet in the hopes of earning its trust and learning its True Volume, I'm going to estimate it as a cylinder with a diameter equivalent to the SU-35's height and assume the wings probably fit crammed up in the space there somehow. This gives us a volume of 587m^3, which makes the number of ships perpetually encircling Telemachus.......

Now, listen. This is an unrealistic number of ships. I do not believe that 70 billion people were killed in a single battle.

However.

When I set out on this estimate, I was willing to believe that 5 or so billion were. Between casualties on both sides, maybe a space station or two being destroyed, who knows, maybe they had a space trebuchet? This is only an order of magnitude away from a potentially reasonable number.

QUESTION 6: How Far Can I Stretch These Numbers?

Let's massage these numbers a bit and see what we can do.

First, let's round up the ship volume just a bit-- they're in space, maybe the FTL engine needs a bit of extra room. Let's call it 650m^3.

Then, we can start fiddling with the rubble frequency. Let's say the Iris II is 15 meters tall (it is a space yacht. maybe the ceilings are tall?) and then crank the reaction space up to 2 seconds (which means rubble can pass up to 2 seconds away, but it is still able to be anywhere nearer). And let's say the average piece of rubble is 4 meters across, not 5. Turn the the event frequency down to a 40% chance every 3 seconds, we can get this thing down to around 7 billion ships.

So, in conclusion: the Telemachus space debris ring is officially potentially reasonable! 🎉🎉🎉

Always remember, kids: number fudging is a proud, time-honored tradition when I do it, and a disgusting twisting of the nature of truth itself when anyone I don't like does it.

[askthefairlynormalparentsau]

The ask box is open!

(Mod) howdy! People seem to have questions about my human AU, so I thought it would be fun to go “back to my roots” a bit with an ask blog!

Starting with just these three characters open for questions rn, but If this goes well and ppl like it, I’ll open the floor for more variety!

Have fun and ask away! (Tho Dev will be vetting out anything he deems inappropriate)

[pokemonblack3white3]

Shrunk the BB league (and Carmine)

[askirissans]

Iris sucks at people, surprise surprise

Slash and Silver by @xnzlian

Edit: ITS HAPPENING AGAIN, WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE???

[galaxiesovertrees]

further divine intervention