#Backup Parameters

[cncrouterinfo]

Kitamura Mycenter 0 Parameter backup

If you’re one of my YouTube followers, you’ve likely caught wind of my recent acquisition – a used Kitamura Mycenter Zero CNC machine, for $3000. Youtube short: 3000$ Kitamura CNC In this YouTube short, I show the delivery of my CNC machine and a walkaround of this 1992 marvel, running on the reliable Fanuc 0M-C CNC controller. However, there’s a catch with these vintage controllers – they lack…

[tojisun]

“ghost,” price’s voice rumbles in his ear, the faint static almost breaking through his focus. there’s a familiar cadence in his captain’s voice, one that drags against simon’s body in miasmic waves—it is, after all, nothing short of a warning. still, none of it matters, and simon continues to march on.

“the mission–”

“stopped being my priority,” simon replies, cutting him off.

there was nothing but a crackle. a quiet whirring. then, “you know this is not what they would want.”

he grunts. “good thing they’re not here then.”

simon slinks into the shadows, ducking underneath the balcony, his eyes frantic as he scans the parameters. it’s safe. quiet. too quiet, in fact.

“location?”

“south of the chapel,” gaz replies with no hesitation. simon hums to himself—price must’ve shifted his directives too, then.

“roger.”

he moves, his boots crunching against the gravel and filling up the dead passage way with just enough noise. there’s still a whole lot of suspicious inactivity, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on the thought anymore. not when a loud bang rips through the silence.

his breath stutters, mind racing—that sound came from the shed.

his legs tense, muscles rippling.

“shots fired!” he reports before he leaps, devouring the vast space between himself and the sounds of scuffling. prayers form on the tip of his tongue, racing down his throat like scalding water.

he’s not even a religious man, but dear gods–

simon passes around the chapel, eyes cataloguing the lit rooms inside what he was told to be a desolate building, before tearing through the wooded shed. he knows he should’ve searched the area for any threat, should’ve probably waited for backup, but simon’s been running on overdrive, his emotions piling. spilling.

he tears the door open, guns poised for easy aim. only–

simon’s body buckles, throat constricting with the words he wishes he can say. but there is nothing else to be said. nothing but thank you’s.

because there, standing in the middle of the chaos, bloody and wounded and banged up to hell, is you. you weren’t even taken for that long but look how much they did to you. they hurt you.

your feet are soaked with blood, your boots and socks having been stripped off of you as though a part of their attempts at making you incapable of leaving. your face is swollen. marked up. cuts trace from the angle of your jaw to the side of your temple, leaving blood to trickle down to your neck, staining your tee. the gash doesn’t look deep, but maybe that’s all the blood covering the actual extents.

simon forces himself to breathe. to stay still.

(everyone has their own triggers, that’s what they were first told when laswell brought you to them.

“remember theirs and be careful,” she said before a pleased smile tugged at her lips. “mommy’s bringing home a new littermate. aren’t you all glad?”

the meeting ended there, just as johnny opened his mouth to complain. price passed around your file and simon memorized every line that night—your tell, your preferred gun, your morning beat.

somehow, he thinks that maybe that night was when his devotion to you started.)

simon watches—he’s always been watching you since the day that you arrived—as you compose yourself. the m9 is still gripped so tightly in your trembling fist, the metal quietly creaking at the pressure. it fills up the space in tandem with your ragged breaths, and he knows you’re still there, trapped in the depths of your mind.

alone. angry. scared.

“status?” price asks.

simon licks his lips. “unstable.”

he hears the faint crackle of johnny cursing from the other end of the line, and simon gets him. he really does. but he thinks they also just don’t understand.

you’re here. alone. alive.

your spiral is just proof of that. proof that even in your loneliness, amidst the pain, you clawed your way to survival.

simon hopes you two were back home—the barracks have been home for years now—so he can reward you. sweetly. fully. you deserve all that and more. deserve to be devoted on. to be adored. to be revered.

you were always beautiful, of course, but there is something sacred in seeing you like this: bloodied, angered, victorious.

he prays that your wounds will turn to scars, if only to give him a map of where to press his kisses from now on.

“ghost?” you finally mutter, and it tears simon from his thoughts. your voice is a weak rasp, like you’ve been parched for eons, and despite that, it spills the tension from simon’s body, his muscles loosening up at finally seeing you return to the topside.

he wants to say your name. he wants to sound it out—aren’t names made to be chanted like prayers, anyway?—but he reels himself in and mutters your callsign instead. the name tumbles from his mouth with the desperation and the worry smothered under the guise of grace.

your lips twitch up in an attempt at a smile. they don’t really get to make it much because of the gash running down the corner of your mouth. still, it makes simon stumble over his feet until he is rushing past corpses and sliding into your space.

“can i–”

he doesn’t even get to finish asking before you’re falling into his arms, tucking in your bruised face carefully on the crook of his neck. he takes your bulk in his embrace, folding you to himself, before he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you fist at his vest, your other hand still tight on the m9, and simon can’t really blame you. even he still feels exposed to any danger from in and out of this shed even when you’ve taken out all of the enemies. so he holds you close and holds you tight, knowing every second is sacred.

he breathes you in, taking in the scent of the leather, gun powder, and iron. it all feels familiar to him; it all smells like you.

simon nuzzles the smooth part of his mask over your temple. then, “let’s go home?”

you shift until you’re peering up at him, and simon takes this as the chance to catalogue the extent of your wounds. his lips purse at finally seeing the gash; you would probably need stitches.

“okay,” you finally reply. your eyes wrinkle as you attempt to smile. “thanks for comin’ back f’r me.”

“always,” simon murmurs, feeling choked up as his exhaustion finally catches up on him. “y’know that, right?”

you hum, nodding, and that was that.

[comicaurora]

If YouTube shuts down in five years or if the channel stops doing well or if you just burn out or whatever, what’s your backup career? I feel like a lot of “content creators” become super specialized into doing content creation stuff

This question is interesting, because you've given voice to one of the anxieties it took me the longest to overcome.

My thesis on life is you can't live in any sort of healthy manner if you're constantly planning for the worst case scenario - what you would do if everything in your life suddenly changed. Like how you can't live comfortably anywhere if you've constantly planning for the next time you'll move out.

For me, that question takes the form "what if youtube suddenly exploded", but everyone has a scenario like that. In fact, everyone has an infinite number of scenarios like that.

What would I do for I living if I got sick or had an accident and could no longer meet the physical demands of my job?

What would I do if I had a breakdown and needed everything to stop?

What's my contingency plan for if my entire company exploded and I got laid off without warning?

What've I got lined up if a global pandemic shut down all in-person jobs?

What's my backup plan if I lost the sense I needed to create the art I specialize in?

What if my mind deteriorated and I could no longer engage with reality at all?

What if technological advancement replaced the need my job currently fills?

What'e my plan for if I lose someone I love and it breaks me?

What will I do if a natural disaster destroys my house?

Where will I live if a meteor hit the earth tomorrow?

The idea that "content creators" overspecialize ignores the fact that most people get very comfortable doing the thing they spend most of their time doing, and very rarely seriously plan for the scenario where their One Thing is ripped away from them and they have to find something else. The phenomenon of "person loses their job after years of work" is famous for being massively disruptive, and that isn't because everyone in the world is dumb or bad at planning ahead - it's because a disruption like that is a disruption, in the same way that an injury will always hurt. I don't think it's a failing for someone to live their life as it currently exists, just like it isn't a personal failing if someone experiences a catastrophic change and has to readjust. You can't solve a problem that doesn't exist yet, and if it does happen, it'll come with information and parameters that you'll need to actually deal with it rather than just worrying about it.

If youtube explodes, maybe I'd join our other youtube friends on another platform as we all worked to solve the same problem together. Maybe I'd be in a financial position where I wouldn't need an immediate fallback plan and could take uncomplicated time off. Maybe I'd pivot 100% to writing. Maybe I'd drop off the grid and live in the woods for a while. Maybe I'd get serious about pursuing voice acting or theater. Maybe a friend would recommend an opening at their normal person job. Since we're only pondering a hypothetical catastrophe, we can't predict any of the other factors that'd be in play that would actually determine how we'd handle it.

Most of us will experience many life-changing turning points, and in turn get to experience many different lives. I'm very much enjoying this one, but I'm not worried about what the next one might look like. Overplanning will spoil the adventure with needless anxiety - I'll just be excited to explore it whenever it comes.

[monsterfloofs]

Drone (Name Unknown) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(New silly robot??? New silly robot!!!)

“Hey buddy. . . you doing okay?”

Diagrams and maps start flicking around the inside of a mechanized mind. Camera’s lock onto the face of the person bending down and staring at them. Recognition dawning, and information beginning to populate into text that floated around the hazy visage.

“Prisoner 368a. . .” The voice droned before the cameras shifted to examine their surroundings. “Input systems must be damaged, I am not receiving schematics of your sector.”

The human prisoner winces, “Well. . . that’s because we aren’t. . . uh, we’re not there anymore.”

“I told you not to take that hunk of junk with you!” A voice on the other side of the room snapped, causing the drones cameras to swivel and look for the source of the voice.

“What could I do?” The person looming over them replied, a tremor of nervousness in their voice, “I wasn’t even sure if they would be operational, we must be at least a solar system away from their main control system.”

“Sh! And we want to keep it that way!”

Unable to find this new voice, camera’s swivel back to the known human. Tracking the person's eyes rolling in obvious annoyance, “I didn’t give away our location, cheebus, you are so. . .” Then their shoulders sag before their face turns back, almond eyes staring down.

“Are you. . . alright?”

”I am operational.” The drone replies smoothly, “You promised you wouldn’t do anything that would make our elite upset. I see you didn’t keep your promise.”

“Oh my god,” The other voice pipes up again, “ I didn’t even know a drone could be passive aggressive. This is the last time I let you take in any stray weirdos you find. If they make any more snippy comments I am coming down there and throwing them into space myself.”

“They were kind to me!” Prisoner 368a snaps back, “And it’s my fault they got hurt.”

”Honey, they were keeping you prisoner.” The other voice sounded shocked.

Sensor’s indicate Prisoner 368a temperature rise in their face, a subtle and slight shift of mood.

“Today just couldn’t get any worse.” The human mutters. The drone tried to move, one arm twitching and whirring as the other scraped against the floor.

“I am. . . damaged.” The bot reported new schematics populating into the green striped vision. Their movements were sluggish, even their own operating system seemed to take a hit. Yet there was a strange feeling of clarity. “Prisoner 368a. . . what has happened?” There was that strange cringing expression again, eyes crinkling, eyebrows pulling down, lips pulling back in a grimace to show little white rectangles of teeth.

”You’re. . . offline. I mean, yes you’re damaged, that too. Ah.” They rub the back of their neck with a five fingered appendage. “I’m. . . kind of surprised you’re functional right now. Your systems must have some kind of backup computer that lets you go solo. We. . . we aren’t within your fleet's parameters anymore.” The drone whirs and clicks, staring back at the human.

“We. . . are not.”

“No.” The five fingered hands steeple together, fingertips pressing against lips. “So. . . long story, Oh man how do I put this. I. . .”

“We have been botnapped. I see.”

The human makes a strange huffing sound.

”Ahem. Not. . . exactly. I’ve been rescued. . . you’ve been botnapped. I guess. Though, I didn’t mean for it to be like that? You. . . stood in front of someone trying to hurt me, and while I was stuck in that cell you tried to help me, so I thought that I would return the favor. You know? See if I can fix you.”

“Ah. I now see, you have botnapped me.”

Another strange noise between a squeak and a gasp.

“Ah, n-no? I tried to save you! You know where you guys end up when your ranks think one of you is defective? Right into the incinerator! I didn’t want that to happen to you!” The prisoner looked fretful, new schematics mapping the nuances of their face.

”I. . . see.” Though truly, the drone didn’t understand it at all. “And you believe that I am still worthy of being fixed even though I am defective?”

“Yes— No! You’re not defective!” The ex-prisoner pleaded.

A confusing answer.

“Yes no? What is the prerogative of a yes no?”

The human sat in a stunned silence, taking in a deep breath. “No, you are not defective. Thinking for yourself and wanting things is not being defective. I know your elite love to chant ‘One mind, one soul,’ but that’s not really. . . uh. . . I just think you should be able to have the right to think for yourself. You chose to go that path. When I was escaping the cells, even when I was there, you chose to be kind and go out of your way to look after me. It wasn’t in your programming but you wanted to anyway. I think you should have the right to be able to continue to choose that path. If. . . you want to.”

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Elder scrolls worldgen presets for Dwarf Fortress

People seemed to like the BotW Hyrule worldgen preset I shared for for Dwarf Fortress a few months ago so I thought I'd share these ones too.

The file contains world prests in different sizes for Cyrodiil (generated from the Oblivion heightmap), Skyrim (generated from the Skyrim heightmap), Vvardenfell (generated from the Morrowind heightmap) the Iliac Bay (generated from the Daggerfall heightmap) and Tamriel (generated from this fanmade heightmap)

Elevation should be relatively accurate bc I generated them from the games' actual heighmaps using PerfectworldDF, althought I had to make some minor alterations (such as connecting the Imperial City Isle to the rest of the world with a little land bridge). I did my best with the biome placement but I'm only human and the DF biome editor is not exactly easy to use, look at this shit:

This was made for classic DF but I've confirmed it works with the Steam version too.

How to use:

Download this world_gen.txt file

Go to your Dwarf Fortress install.

Go to data>init

Replace that folder's world_gen.txt file with this one.

(Make a backup of the old file if you want to keep your old world presets. Or merge the two files into one by copying the entire text of one of them and pasting it at the end of the other)

In game, choose "Design new world with Advanced Parameters"

Choose one of the presets from this file.

Before generating, you can tweak details like history length, number of civs, etc, etc etc.

[wanderinginksplot]

Sev + "I'm going to give you five seconds to take that back."

Sev x gn!reader (no use of 'y/n' and no pronouns). Flirty (ish).

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: discussions of medical concerns, references to missions, stimulant misuse, grandstanding, ill-planned bets, semi-flirtatious wrestling.

---

It had all started when you tried to talk your most recent set of charges into being more healthy. 

Delta Squad had been a source of constant frustration for you since you were assigned to be their medic. Normally, commando squads weren’t overly concerned about having a medic on-board. However, Delta had a close call on a previous mission. One commando, Sev, had been in especially bad shape. 

Some time in a bacta tank had fixed the worst of their injuries, but there were certain limits they shouldn’t push if they wanted to avoid a repeat. Sev needed to be particularly careful, since he had suffered damage to his ribs and many of the organs within them - including his heart. 

Which was why you had been irretrievably furious when you found him downing a packet of stims. 

“Are you trying to die?” you had demanded. “Because I know you’re not stupid, and those are the only possible reasons you would be using stims with damage to your heart. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I have a mission to complete and I don’t have eight hours to sleep before we get there.”

Honestly, you could have expected that kind of answer, but the nonchalant tone Sev had used was what pushed you over the edge. 

“And when they wear off? You know, since you took them three hours before we even break atmosphere?” You had shaken your head, clenching your jaw so tightly that the muscles ached. “If you had bothered to talk to me, I would have advised you to sleep for that time, then take half a stim pack when we arrive.”

“I don’t need some vorpan baar'ur telling me what to do,” he had spat. “As long as I can do my job, the GAR doesn’t worry about the little things. Including my health or my life.”

You didn’t understand the Mando’a, obviously, but that didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes at the drama of his caustic words. 

“Apparently, having someone tell you what to do is exactly what you needI” you had countered. “Do you know what kind of shape you’ll be in after another dose of stims? Even I would be able to beat you in a wrestling match! Some use you’ll be to your brothers then.”

It was a bit too far, and you felt bad as silence fell in the small ship. You had worked with enough troopers to know that they prided themselves on loyalty to their brothers above all else. In your defense, though, you recognized the signs of someone who wouldn’t be talked out of their nihilism. By meeting him head-on using the parameters of life as he saw it, you had hoped to shake him out of his stubbornness. 

It was only bad luck that it hadn’t worked. Sev’s expression had darkened and you prepared yourself for a threat or a cutting insult, but Scorch had laughed, breaking the tension.

“Sounds like a good, old-fashioned bet,” he had said, chuckling in a way that could only be described as ‘gleeful’. 

Sev had scoffed and walked away without another word, but your luck ran out.

Delta Squad had gotten a call from General Jusik, alerting them that the leader of the Separatist-controlled planet had opted for a peace talk. As a gesture of good faith, the GAR was withdrawing the commando squads who had been set to invade.

“We’ve been redirected,” Boss announced when Jusik disconnected the call. The sergeant stepped out of the small cockpit where he had been navigating with Fixer. “We’re to touch down on a Republic-friendly planet in the next system and settle in. We’ll be backup if things go south, so stay ready to go. Get some sleep if you can.”

“Those of us who didn’t already take a packet of stims,” you had muttered when Sev went back to cleaning his blaster instead of heading for the bunks. 

Unfortunately, your sarcasm would prove to be your undoing. Scorch perked up at your quiet admonishment, visibly brightening. “Hey, didn’t you say you could beat Sev in hand-to-hand when he’s using stims?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, holding eye contact with Scorch, but trying to watch Sev in your peripheral vision.

“I’m going to give you five seconds to take that back,” Sev growled. When you looked over, you saw that he very much was not focusing on his blaster anymore. 

“I don’t think I will.” The way you lifted your chin was nothing short of antagonistic, but you were angry. Clarity of thought while angry had never been your forte. Despite that, you clocked the gray undertones in Sev’s face and the way his fingers were trembling slightly. “In fact, I think I could beat you now, whether or not you take another dose.” 

“You’re on,” Sev told you, a challenge thick in his tone. 

“Wait-” How you hadn’t seen this coming, you weren’t sure, but your stomach was sinking. “I didn’t mean I actually want to wrestle you. I’m just telling you, as a medical professional, that-”

“Hey, you already said you would,” Scorch reminded you. “Too late to go back on it now.”

“Knock it off, Six-Two. It isn’t too late for anything,” Fixer told him, turning around in the cockpit to face you all. Before you could thank him, he continued as he eyed you directly. “It’s actually a choice: wrestle Oh-Seven or admit that stims aren’t that bad.”

“They are that bad, though,” you insisted. 

“If you’re going to wrestle on my ship, do it in the cargo bay,” Boss said over his shoulder. “I don’t want to explain broken equipment to the GAR.”

“This isn’t enough of a challenge to break anything,” Sev decreed. He watched you as he set aside his blaster and stood. “Cargo bay. Five minutes.”

It was overdramatic to specify a time and place on such a small ship, but it still made the pit of your stomach tighten. You took care to offer him an unimpressed face and a simple nod. 

"This is gonna be fun!" Scorch said excitedly. 

You strongly disagreed, but that wasn’t going to help. It was far too late for that. So you stifled your misgivings and made your way to the back of the ship. 

Sev had stripped off his armor by the time you got there. That hadn’t been a concern, but you wondered if it should have been. There was nothing at all you could do against plastoid armor. However, much as you loathed to admit it even to yourself… you were almost as disadvantaged anyway. The sight of Sev’s muscles swelling and bulging under the tightness of his body glove was enough to make the ship feel like it was lurching through the galaxy. 

You were wearing comfortable clothes, having refused to change into your lightly armored medic’s gear until you were closer to your eventual destination. You were comfortable and didn’t have to strip off any clothing, but that was almost a pity. It was starting to feel distinctly warm aboard the small ship…

“Ready?” Sev asked. 

You nodded, resigned to being decimated by the fully-trained commando. He didn’t attack immediately, choosing to watch you instead. You circled warily, already closer than you liked. The cargo bay of the ship was reasonably big and, as promised, you weren’t going to break anything. That should keep Boss happy, but there still wasn’t a vast amount of space. 

So you and Sev circled around, watching each other. You were focused on his chest: all of the hand-to-hand training the GAR had offered told you that motion was typically forecasted in the torso, so that was the best place to watch if you wanted to avoid being surprised. 

When you occasionally snuck a glance at Sev, he was watching your face rather than your torso. At first, you wondered if you should be doing the same with him, but then you started to feel flustered rather than wary at the weight of his eyes. 

That was when he pounced. 

You managed to avoid the first lunge, but you weren’t expecting him to recover his balance as quickly as he did. In half a moment, Sev was upright once more and diving at you. 

A strong arm hooked around your waist and you were falling, cushioned from the ground by Sev’s body, but the impact still knocked the air from your lungs. Sev flipped you over and you made your move, rolling quickly out from under him before he had time to close the distance between you. 

You got to your feet - or, you started to. Sev’s hand closed around your ankle and pulled. It wasn’t enough to put you back on the floor, but it was enough to bring you heavily to your hands and knees. Since you were already in the proper position, you kicked out with your foot and felt a surge of victory when your heel connected. 

And then you were horrified, turning around as you gave a loud gasp. “Sev! Are you okay? I’m so sorry-”

There was a small smudge of dirt on his forehead from your boot, but Sev’s grin flashed bright. “I’m fine. Keep going.”

And then he grabbed both of your ankles, pulling hard enough that your knees went out from under you and you landed on your stomach with a soft, “Oof!”

Sudden heat at your back warned that Sev was getting ready to pin you, so you rolled again. He seemed to expect the movement then, dropping onto you in mid-turn from your side to your back. 

With a sudden, surging need to keep your freedom, you pulled back a fist. Your goal was Sev’s recently injured ribs, but you came to your senses before the blow came too close to landing. You were a medic, and every bit of training you had received covered how to prevent injuries, not cause them. 

Sev didn’t know that, however, and he winced sharply. He curled into himself in an effort to protect his ribs - a motion that only put more pressure on them. The flash of pain across his face would have made you stop even if you hadn’t already decided to do so. 

“Are you-?”

Before you could ask if he was hurt, he had reached down, snagged your wrists, and pressed them against the cold metal of the floor. You were pinned. 

You were on your back with a commando pressing you into the floor, but you both… stopped. Your breathing was heavy and - with more than a little surprise - you noticed that Sev’s was, too. Of course, his ribs probably still hurt and you would have to check him for a boot-borne head injury, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling anything other than pain.

You definitely were. 

The chilly bite of the floor at your back faded into the distance as you and Sev studied each other from closer than you had ever been. Sev always looked vaguely angry, but you had wondered if that was his natural expression. That seemed to be true: if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would have taken his expression to be one of irritation and disdain. But there was softness in it, too. That was what left you feeling like you couldn’t get a full breath. 

“Well, Sev, I’d say you won,” Boss remarked dryly. 

The comment pulled you back into the moment and you realized that Boss, Fixer, and Scorch were all observing the scene. It felt vaguely ridiculous then, wondering what it would be like to kiss the man who currently had you pinned to the dirty floor. But as Sev released his grip and stood, you missed the warmth of him like it was something tangible.

To your surprise, though, Sev held a hand out to you in a silent offer to help you stand. You took it and he lifted you easily. The silence was thick. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I guess I was wrong. One stim pack isn’t enough for me to win a wrestling match. I still think-”

“Save it,” Sev ordered and you froze. No matter what you thought had changed between you, it wasn’t enough to save you from his sharp tongue. But when he spoke again, Sev’s voice was far more gentle. “It was closer than I thought it would be. Another few minutes and I would have probably lost. I’ll lay off the stims.”

“Aww, no rematch?” Scorch complained. 

Fixer made a sharply derisive noise and left for the cockpit. “I’ll pilot us to the staging planet.”

“All of you, get some rest,” Boss ordered before he left as well. 

Scorch lingered a moment, glancing between you and Sev. You were still standing close together, the tension palpable between you. Unlike most of your interactions, that tension was not actively hostile. 

You were torn between wanting Scorch to leave so you and Sev could talk about what had just happened, and wanting him to stay so you didn’t have to. Slowly, like he was watching something interesting unfold before his eyes, Scorch turned and retreated to his bunk. Since the bunks were in the section just ahead of the cargo bay, Scorch was still in hearing range, but a sense of privacy settled thickly around you and Sev. 

When you finally gathered the courage to look over, Sev was watching you. Neither of you spoke, and your mind raced in an effort to find the right words. 

Your lips parted, though you didn’t have the slightest idea what you planned on saying. Fortunately, Sev spoke before you could say some muddled assortment of words that might mean nothing… or too much. 

“We should sleep while we can,” he told you. After a moment, he added with a wry grin, “Some medic told me I need actual rest, not just stim packs.”

It was more familiar ground, and you relaxed enough to jibe, “What disappointing news.”

“Yeah,” Sev agreed. “But the delivery made it a little better.”

You could only shake your head as you followed him to the bunks.

---

Author's Note - I love Sev wayyyyy too much! I have written more fics for him than for any other member of Delta Squad. That being said, I'm going to focus on Scorch and Boss next since I haven't done much for them. If you have any great ideas for either one that you'd like to throw my way, feel free to comment, ask, or message!

Thanks for reading! You can find other works on my masterlist. As of a few days ago, I discontinued my taglist. You can find just fics on my side-blog, @wanderinginksplot-writes. (As soon as I work through my drafts on this blog, all fics will be posted there first and cross-posted here later.)

[accioprocrastination]

Is she here?

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

A/N: Military inaccuracies, angst and fluff

TW: hints to PTSD, trauma, loss and anxiety

Jake POV

"As the Royal Navy already have extensive eyes in the region, we will do this mission in collaboration with some of their own" Cyclone starts speaking. I sit up straighter in my chair hoping that in some bizarre coincidence you'll be here. Javy gives me a look that I instantly know means he is questioning the same thing.

"Does that mean the spots on the mission will be allocated to them or that they will have a backup team?" Payback questions.

This is the only part of today that I have been active listening, suddenly having laser straight focus.

"Neither. We are getting coms from them and that will be reciprocated by you. They are running a separate mission on the same target. Naturally, their mission is classified but you will both be navigating the same terrain and dealing with the same enemy aircraft... Today we will be running a team exercise for you to know who you are flying with" Cyclone answers in the most convoluted way. I roll my eyes, it's typical that they expect us to work alongside them and not tell us why.

Maverick steps forward to take over. "You all know the mission parameters and each other's limits. I think that it is important that we get to know their flying so we are going to do more dogfighting. No missiles just guns. This will be done in teams UK v US. There's less of them than us so we will break up into groups" He says before calling up his first team to go get their flight suits on.

We listen on the radio as our team gets shot down over and over again. It is frustrating to only hear our coms so we have no means of knowing how they are shooting everyone down so fast or any understanding of their strategy.

It would be useful to know who these people are and how they work together. Also, more than anything else today, I just want to know if she's here.

Everyone leaves until it is just me, Phoenix and Bob, Rooster, Payback and Fanboy.

"Don't leave us out to dry." Phoenix warns me as we step out onto the tarmac.

"I won't, we're winning this." I respond giving her a cocky smile. She nods.

"We need to pair off and cover more ground. You take Phoenix and Bob, I'll wingman Payback and Fanboy" Rooster directs me.

"Sir, yes sir." I mock salute as I walk towards my plane.

He gives me an unreadable expression. "Something is different about you today." Rooster remarks before dispersing. We don't have time for him to theorise or question me further.

*

Payback and Fanboy are out in literal seconds. Rooster gets lock on the person responsible then moves to protect Phoenix and Bob from the other side.

"You see anything Baby on Board?" I ask bob.

"Ignore him." Phoenix mutters.

"Nothing on the radar. Where are these guys?" Rooster asks the second that someone gets lock on him.

"They're below us." I confirm having watched someone put guns on Rooster.

We swing around to find them but as we're turning they go upwards into the sun.. "I can't see a thing!" I express, dropping back once I realise I've gone too quick and started to stray. That's when I see the plane gaining traction on her.

"Break right." I instruct her as I go after the other person and get them out with ease.

"Two down, two to go." Bob says.

"Great should be easy." Phoenix jabs with a small laugh.

"I've lost them in the sun." Bob informs us.

"Let's drop down slightly because we cannot see up here." Phoenix suggests.

"Break left hangman!" Bob bellows. I do so and it saves me but gives someone the opportunity to get lock on Phoenix and Bob.

"Fuck." I express. It's two against one.

I drop fast, needing to use the terrain here against their targeting systems. I break and one of them flies right over me as intended. I get a lock on them but not a plane on the radar directly behind me.

One v one.

I break left in an attempt to shake them. Predictably that does not work, so I go lower quickly reaching the hard deck. That does not deter them, they follow.

I try slowing down again but they anticipate the collision with me and invert above me to swing around and take the shot. I lock eyes with her then and she smirks. I give her the finger and she laughs - we both know she's about to shoot me down. "Holy shit she's good." I say as the lock tone rings.

Moving in line with her I wave enthusiastically before signalling for her to land. "God I am so in love with you." I mutter to myself completely oblivious to the fact that everyone is still on the radio channel downstairs.

Seconds after her, I land. She's already nowhere to be seen, probably gone to the lockers. By the time I get there she's gone. I swiftly strip out of my flight suit and into my uniform for a debrief.

"Nice of you to join us." Bob remarks as I meander in. I smile and put a toothpick in my mouth as Maverick starts talking. I'm listening to him, but my eyes are on you. How are you already stood here in your pearly whites looking so good after hours for dogfighting?

There's a phone on my desk. I pick it up wondering who it belongs to as I do not recognise it. I am met with a picture of myself as the lock screen - so you got a new phone.

I look back up at you and you're smirking: you want me to snoop at something. Looking away from Mav I glance down and unlock the phone. You're looking at a hotel in the Maldives, of course you are. I check the dates and press confirm glancing up every so often to look semi-engaged in whatever Maverick is saying. Bob coughs to get my attention and gives me a disapproving look as I start entering my card details.

I lock the phone again, placing it face down on the table to give you my undivided attention after Maverick announces, "Okay I'm going to shut up now and let our British counterparts introduce themselves."

True to word he stands back and you step forward.

"I'm Captain Y/N Seresin -" you start instantly cut off by Fanboy. "Any relation to Hangman here?" he asks.

She doesn't look at me as she lies. "No." she responds simply.

"I mean he did say that he loves you so that's a pretty big indication that you might know him more than you're letting on." Coyote says making me smirk. She knows he knows, so I expect her lie to falter.

"You've seen my flying, why are you surprised?" You respond winking at him.

"Everyone loves her." Phoenix says loudly over to Coyote not knowing he was best man at your wedding. There's no one else I would've asked to do that for me. You smile at her and nod in agreement.

"These are Lieutenants: Warren Smith, Harvey Brown, Suzie Radcliff, Thomas Raey and Rose Turner. As team leader, if you have any concerns or problems with any of them, which you shouldn't because they're all great, please come to me directly." You instruct us all.

You meet my gaze and I can't help myself but smile.

"What are your callsigns?" Rooster asks you, taking your attention off of me. I glare at him unconsciously annoyed.

"We don't have call signs like you do. Individual flights are given callsigns but these are not attached to the aviator." you briefly explain.

"Ah that's strange" Bradshaw responds.

"They were given honorary callsigns last time our paths crossed, I'm surprised you're not enforcing them since taking over the team Y/N" Phoenix speaks up.

"I'm not enforcing your drunken callsigns on anyone." You giggle playfully rolling your eyes at her.

"Where's Prince?" Phoenix questions looking over your lineup of aviators and noticing the missing party. Your smile is instantly gone, a frown taking its place.

"He's MIA." You respond voice ever so slightly quieter.

"Shit." Phoenix counters.

"It has been so long, I hope he's dead." Warren contributes.

I watch you instantly withdraw. It's not like you to go quiet. You cross your arms and I know you were there that day. Whatever happened to him, you witnessed it.

"Maybe he didn't eject?" Rose theorises.

So whatever happened, you haven't told your team?

"Dear God, can we not rehash this?" Tom asks loudly before looking to you. I know he's about to ask if you're okay you nod once as a silent answer to his unasked question. He was there too then.

That completely shuts down the conversation and you've mentally distanced yourself enough from the conversation to not instantly fill the silence like I'm used to.

"Let's just get on with this... Americans introduce yourselves." Tom speaks for you.

When everyone starts introducing themselves you snap out of whatever thought process gripped you, and start asking personalised questions to get to know the people you've never spoken to before.

When it comes to me you don't bother with a question because you already know me. That's your tell here. You haven't asked Coyote, me or Phoenix any questions.

Trace is looking over at me with a raised eyebrow having picked up on that. I raise my eyebrows back at her. "How?" She mouths. I laugh and tap my nose. It's a secret... because I have absolutely no idea what the answer to that question is. How on Earth I managed to score you is a mystery I do not think anyone will ever solve.

[catboydogma]

envie si grande et menaçante

grandiose - pomme

wc: 4,475

notes: the long-awaited vox fic for @meerlichtz :) this has been in my drafts for so long that i think it put me on (semi-unintentional) hiatus. yes, this fic is quite possibly the reason why i've written .2 fics for the last 32 years. regardless despite all the horrors i had a ton of fun writing this and hope u enjoy meer :)

summary: one Jedi Shadow Quinlan Vos gets stuck in the Coruscant Guard's medbay recovering from a mission gone meiloorun-shaped. This goes about as well as expected.

“You are not allowed to die on me,” Fox snarled, reining in the urge to shake the Jedi by the fronts of his tabards. For General Gallia to leave Fox to babysit this asshat and then have this asshat die on him was unconscionable. Fox had never failed a mission objective in his life, and he wasn’t about to let some muscle-headed Jedi change that. 

“Me?” Vos grinned. His teeth were stained pink with claret; Fox could see it foaming at the corners of his mouth, lips and tongue a ruddy crimson with it. “Why would I die when I have so many better things to be doing on you?”

Mission parameters could be flexible. Surely General Gallia wouldn’t mind that much if Vos disappeared—quietly—discreetly—

“Whoops. Now that’s a scary face.” Vos mimed zipping his lips shut. The effect was only partially ruined by the tremor in his hands, now getting worse.

“Shut up.” Fox leaned even more of his weight into the hands keeping pressure on Vos’ abdomen and ribs, ignoring Vos when he wheezed something about his ribs. A few cracked ribs wouldn’t kill the Jedi, but the hole in his chest would, even if the blaster shot had only just missed his lungs. “Medevac, ETA?”

“Closing in on your location now,” Thire reported. “Hold your position.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” Vos said airily.

“Commander Thire can be the judge of that.” Fox felt his lips draw back in a near-unconscious snarl but he kept his hands and voice steady. There was no telling how fragile a natborn could be, even one with Jedi capabilities and training.

“Commander Thire is calling bullshit on that, unless the blood loss is starting to affect the good General’s vision.” Thire arrived with two full squads of backup: he and another Corrie medic dropped to their knees beside Vos, ushering Fox out of the way as Fox started to direct cleanup efforts.

This Jedi had an uncanny ability for making situations devolve before Fox’s very HUD. General Gallia had left on a relief mission to the Outer Rim yesterday, at which point Fox had met her temporary replacement—one Knight Vos, Jedi Shadow and relentless flirt. From what limited intelligence Fox had managed to gather, Vos was conducting covert ops on Coruscant, which made it convenient for him to be stationed at the CGHQ with the Guard. He’d gone out at some point last night for what he’d cited to be “super top-secret party business,” missed his early morning check-in, and turned up two klicks from HQ mid-afternoon sans four pints of blood. Fox recalled the squads he’d sent out in search of Vos after he’d missed check-in, sent another to scour the area for traces of Vos’ attackers, and ignored the increasingly amused conversation Thire was having with the Jedi behind him.

more on ao3

[theamityelf]

In Makoto switch place with Kaede how would her dynamic with Kirigiri? Also, did Suichi ever get rid of his hat? Maybe more of his and Makoto dynamic and both of their dynamic with Kokichi and Kaito?

Ah, good questions all around!

Kaede and Kyoko

I think Kaede would think Kyoko is really cool but also get openly irritated with her whenever she withholds information. Like, Kaede would constantly be saying "Where'd you get that?" "How'd you find that?" "How do you know that?" "Tell me!" Until she just resolves, "Screw it, I'm following you around. If you're not going to tell me what's going on, then I'll just see for myself what you're up to."

It's Kyoko's secretive nature versus Kaede's refusal to be ignored.

Kyoko would be annoyed because this pianist is taking a jackhammer to her subtlety, but she learns how to operate within the new parameters, sometimes placating Kaede with information, sometimes avoiding her. I don't know whether they'd become friends, because Kyoko really values her boundaries and Kaede is way more persistent in that regard than Makoto is, but it's possible.

Shuichi's hat

In the AU where Shuichi is in THH, I could see Taka saying "It's rude to wear a hat indoors," but dropping the issue when Shuichi insists. And a little later, he takes the hat off in some pivotal moment as a gesture of friendship towards Taka (and because he's become more confident from being Taka's friend, because Taka's belief in working hard rather than being innately talented is really good for him). Or he takes the hat off when Taka dies, as a kind of tribute to his memory.

In the AU where Makoto is in V3 with Shuichi, I don't think there's a pivotal moment where he takes the hat off; I think it just falls off while he's doing push ups with Kaito and Makoto (...and Maki, depending on where we are in the timeline), and he makes the decision to leave it off because he realizes he's fine with not wearing it, now.

Shuichi, Makoto, Kokichi, and Kaito

I think, as far as Shuichi and Makoto, they fall into a natural rhythm pretty quickly. There is a feeling of interdependence there that isn't really codependence; it's just incredible synergy. It's simple things like Shuichi observing a tripping hazard before Makoto trips over it, and Makoto giving Shuichi positive reinforcement when he needs it, and Shuichi remembering and noticing things about Makoto so that he knows him well despite how little he talks about himself, and Makoto serving as backup to Shuichi during investigations, making observations and generally modeling for Shuichi that it's okay to question his friends and identify the culprit. They make each other feel special and valued, they're both just really genuine and they care about each other.

(The main disconnect between them is that Makoto will not lie in a trial. When Shuichi tells a lie that involves him, Makoto will be super evasive and uncomfortable if anyone questions him about it, and if Shuichi tells a lie to give him an alibi or otherwise clear him of suspicion, he'll feel really guilty. I feel like they'd talk about it afterward.

"You don't have to lie for me."

"I knew you weren't the culprit, and making sure they knew you weren't the culprit brought us to the truth faster."

"I know it worked out in the end, but...still. It doesn't feel right."

"...I know."

That said, if Chapter 5 happens the same way, I think Makoto would start lying way earlier than Shuichi. Like, as soon as he realizes Kokichi's objective was to defeat Monokuma, I think Makoto would go right to helping confuse things, and Shuichi would get quiet for a bit to figure out what Makoto is doing, and then he'd go along with it. They try to bring about the conclusion that the crime genuinely can't be solved.)

Kaito cares about them both, and they care about him, but his posturing gets in the way of letting him be as close to either of them as they are to each other. They both consider him a friend, but he has made himself the vinegar to their honey. If he punched Shuichi or Makoto in the face, the other would seriously take issue with it, regardless of whether it's just his tough love "Man up!" stuff.

And like I mentioned, Kokichi needles Kaito about this. It's kind of a mirror situation, where both Kokichi and Kaito are failing to let themselves have straightforward, positive relationships with their friends. Kaito feels kind of insecure because they both excel in ways he doesn't- Shuichi by being an amazing detective, and Makoto by being vulnerable while still being strong. But they both think he's really cool. The three of them and Maki have some great moments working out together at night.

Shuichi has a less generous outlook toward Kokichi than Makoto does. Kaito's view is that Kokichi is just a guy who's a jerk, Shuichi sees Kokichi as an enigmatic villain, and Makoto believes that Kokichi is ultimately on their side and trying to help them. Mainly because when an action of Kokichi's can be read as beneficial (despite the way Kokichi does it), Makoto will notice it and take it into account.

Also, any attempts Kokichi makes to prank, trick, or mess with anyone in the killing game will somehow affect Makoto no matter what. Like, Makoto is a confounding factor in any prank, because somehow he will manage to set something off that wasn't meant for him, or accompany someone who was expected to be alone, etc. Naturally, he passes out right along with Shuichi when Gonta grabs them for the Insect Meet and Greet, but also he gets absolutely ruined by those bugs. Like, even more so than Himiko. This results in Kokichi pulling little pranks just as a way to observe his luck and figure out how to work within and around it, because if unpredictable stuff keeps happening around Makoto, that's bad news for any plan Kokichi tries to make. (Shuichi sees this as Kokichi bothering Makoto just for the evulz.)

If Chapter 4 happens the same way as in canon, Makoto will be really shocked and hurt by what Kokichi did to Gonta. I think Makoto will still mention that Kokichi was put in a difficult position, as far as being targeted for murder and not having a lot of recourse, but I still think he would say that Kokichi crossed a line.

I'm imagining Kokichi covering up his shame and hurt by snarking, "Oh, did Makoto finally stop believing in my better nature?" and just generally lashing out and mocking him.

Also, I kinda want Kokichi to kidnap Makoto in Chapter 5, in addition to Kaito. That's just kind of something I want. But I also want Makoto to bring the group up after the depression hits about the maybe-ended world. Decisions, decisions...

[pininghermit]

Heeey, I'd like to make an ask if you don't mind but first I just have to say that I really liked the fic you wrote on alucard, I thought the relationship dynamic was so cute *internal screaming* So I was wondering if you could do a modern au fic with a female monster hunter s/o who's like batman (uses their brains over brawn but definitely knows how to fight) and she works together with alucard on monster hunting missions(if it's possible to make it Genya Arikado version from the aria of sorrow/dawn of sorrow it would be really cool as there's not a lot of content with that but it's fine if not.)

Thanks!

Mr. and Mrs. Tepes (Alucard x Reader)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: A slightly rushed "Where are you?" greets you as soon as you plug in your Bluetooth. You hear the clang of metal followed by gurgling growls on the other end. "I am on my way," you press harder on the gas as you speed to the site of conflict.

AN: Hi, thanks for requesting such an interesting ask. I am not familiar with the Genya Arikado version that you mentioned but I tried doing some research to pull up something decent. I hope you like it and please forgive any cannon inaccuracies I'm a noob.

"It's just going to be a bunch of mindless skeletons," he said.

"I can handle it myself, he said,” you grumble as you furiously pull back your hair into a tight braid as you try to locate your crossbow.

You chuck your weapons in your trusted Audi. He better be damn grateful for this. You would have never put your darling Audi8 through this rough treatment, but alas, the situation called for it.

Giving your resort one last parting look, you speed your way through isolated roads. Speed limits and laws jump out of the window at 2 am in the morning.

A slightly rushed "Where are you?" greets you as soon as you plug in your Bluetooth. You hear the clang of metal followed by gurgling growls on the other end. "I am on my way," you press harder on the gas as you speed to the site of conflict.

It had been a no-work vacation that you had somehow convinced Adrian to take. After weeks of pleading, he agreed to spend a week of nothingness except for relaxing spas and soothing hot springs in Hokkaido.

You should have known better. Honestly, you had no idea when he snuck out to 'explore' the land. In his plan to be discreet, your very smart fiancé thought it wise to venture into an unknown territory without appropriate weapons or ammunition.

It had been too late by the time you caught on, and your dampir fiancé replied with cryptic texts that told nothing about his whereabouts. While you were busy freaking out about your missing fiancé, Adrian was out there living his best life, scouting Japanese forests.

Giving up on the cocky bastard, you resorted to destressing through the amazing bath at your disposal. And he did text you about how he did not need help fighting mere annoyances.

Next thing you know, just as you undress to hop into water that is just the right temperature, Adrian hits you with a "Need backup" text with the coordinates of his location.

Now here you are, very much away from your therapeutic bath and herbal tea. Parking your baby outside the forest parameters, you double-check your Bluetooth. "Take cover, I'll be there soon," you speak into the mic as you huff with the weight of weapons on your back.

In a matter of seconds, you transform yourself into a killing machine loaded with weapons of every kind at your disposal. Pulling Adrian's location on your watch, you start your trek through the forest or, to better phrase it, through the trees.

While Adrian fought head-on, you preferred to catch your opponents off guard. You lingered in shadows, waiting for a chance to strike. Maybe it was a habit from your past as an assassin that never left you.

Long ago, before you met Adrian, you fought for people who bought others' lives with the money they were born into. You sliced throats, spiked drinks, sniped unsuspecting targets, fabricated accidents. Adrian wasn't in your life back then. It remains a past you wish to forget, but you don't deserve to forget it, not after all the blood you have on your hands. This is your penance, to remember and live with your dark past.

But now, as you blend into the cover of the trees, your past helps you spot Adrian faster than ever. You find him crouched behind a rock. Great, he actually took cover. It must be pretty serious then. As if on cue, he looks up, and you see relief settle into his features.

From your vantage point, you spot about two merman and around twenty skeletons. Adrian could have dealt with this mix... if only Mr. Smartass had enough weapons on him. You could shoot some from your spot, but first, you need to equip Adrian with some ammunition. So, you soundlessly make your way to join Adrian behind the abnormally large rock.

The first thing you do after reaching him is to look for any possible injuries on him. Adrian, for once, lets you do your job with the patience of a saint, at least for him. After making sure that your fiancé won't bleed to death as you fight, you wordlessly hand him refills and the crossbow.

Neither of you speaks about the atrocious number of daggers in your pack. From the look on Adrian's face, you're pretty sure he's dying to present his reasons for the adventure, but it will have to wait.

Adrian feels all the exhaustion leave his body as his senses focus on your hands tying a bandolier around his waist. Your movements are efficient and quick. You separate the poisoned dagger from the normal ones.

Even in such an unexpected situation, you remain undaunted. You scheme and plan, but you do not cower. That's what Adrian loves about you. You're brave. Brave enough to accept your past, your flaws, and live with them.

It's easy to forget the hideous monsters on the other side of the rock as you both huddle close under the clear skies. The cool night breeze sways a wayward strand that escaped your braid, a sign that you probably rushed on your way here.

"Eeek," Adrian squeaks as you pull him closer by the grip on his collar. He's seriously too old to blush like a schoolgirl, but his cheeks heat up when he realizes how close your face is to his, and his eyes meet yours.

"You better make it up for all this," you whisper next to his ear, and Adrian feels the warmth of your breath against his skin. Barely holding back the shudder that runs through him, Adrian nods silently.

With a satisfied smile on your face, you pull back, only to lean in again and steal a kiss before disappearing into the cover of the trees. Your message is clear as Adrian tightens his grip on the gun in his hand. Reeling from the distraction, Adrian tries to focus on your concealed footsteps and the obnoxiously loud monsters on the other end.

Adrian steps into the clearing where the monsters stand, waiting for him. Hidden in a tree, you provide cover as he approaches the two Merman. It's a well-practiced dance, a complex routine of taking the lead and handing it off to the other when needed.

As he fights the monsters, who seem to follow a repetitive pattern of overused attacks, Adrian reminisces about the first time he met you.

It was a grand hall, and he was disguised as Genya Arikado. It was the birthday celebration of a powerful politician's son. The most prestigious individuals in town had gathered to celebrate the man-child's twenty-seventh birthday.

Genya Arikado had been invited by a colleague who he worked with under his disguise's alias. The party had reached a point where Adrian was trying to discern possible faces and shapes in the botched ceiling paint.

Lost in thought, he was looking up when he bumped into another person, causing them to fall upon the impact. "Oof!" Adrian snapped back to reality and quickly apologized, his eyes landing on you.

Red. He saw red when he saw you. Dressed in the deepest shade of red, you sat there, glaring at him. "Watch where you're going, will you?" you muttered as you stood up, ignoring the hand he offered you. In a flurry of motion, you disappeared, blending into the sea of bored people.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Adrian searched for you or any sign of your red dress, but he failed. It was as if the entire interaction, lasting only a few seconds (though it felt longer to Adrian), had never happened.

Adrian's mind was consumed by thoughts of you and the fleeting encounter. Doubt gnawed at his thoughts. Had he truly imagined you? Had his longing for companionship manifested itself in a vivid yet illusory encounter? He replayed the interaction in his mind over and over, dissecting every detail, desperately trying to grasp onto any evidence that would confirm the existence of that brief connection.

The memory of your delicate fragrance lingered in his senses, adding to his confusion. It was a fragrance unlike any he had encountered before—subtle yet captivating, with floral and citrus undertones that momentarily transported him to a world beyond the confines of the party. The scent became intertwined with the image of you, deepening the mystery surrounding your presence.

As the night wore on, Adrian's frustration grew. He wondered if he had been destined to cross paths with you only for a fleeting moment, forever chasing an apparition that could never be captured. The questions echoed in his mind, haunting him with the possibility that he might never find the answers.

Yet, despite the uncertainty and the absence of tangible evidence, Adrian couldn't shake the feeling that the encounter had been real. The emotions stirred within him, the electricity in the air, and the inexplicable connection he had felt—all pointed to a profound encounter that defied rational explanation.

Later in the chaotic night, when the guests rushed out, Adrian found himself reluctantly leaving the hall. Throughout the night, he had been unable to find you. Even his enhanced senses had failed to spot any sign of your presence. The party ended abruptly when the politician's son had to be carried out on a stretcher due to an allergic reaction to a shellfish starter.

Waiting for the valet to bring his car, Adrian paused as the valet got out to offer him the keys. A familiar fragrance flooded his senses. Standing in front of him was you, dressed in a valet uniform with a seamless disguise. Smiling with a knowing look in your eyes, you handed him the keys and rushed back to work as a guy, seemingly your manager, called out for you.

Back in the present, Adrian tackled the last surviving skeleton, realizing he was almost done. From the corner of his eye, he searched for you, wherever you might have ended up during the fight. Lost in handling the final skeleton and looking for you, he didn't notice another set of footsteps approaching.

He suddenly became aware of the presence of another surviving skeleton running toward him and prepared to dodge the attack. However, it never came. The skeleton crumpled down into dust as you tackled it, jumping out of the literal sky.

Standing in the now quiet clearing, Adrian allowed his shoulders to relax. All the tension from the past hours left his body as he observed you collecting arrows from the ground.

"Make haste, Mr. Tepes. You've got a bath to run once we get back," you said, bundling all your beloved knives into their designated packs.

The slight smirk on your face revealed that Adrian would be running more than one bath. His list of chores had just increased exponentially for the week. Sighing in dismay, Adrian cracked his back as he followed you out of the forest.

[molluskmirage]

Lets talk about Etoiles feelings about the 2v1 from purgatory. (In great length)

if you look at the facts he started a 2v1 with Fit against Tubbo, to which Tubbo then had to run to Bad then fighting 2v2 before Fit had to back up injured allowing Bad and Tubbo to isolate Etoiles eventually killing him.

so why is Etoiles salty? Why are his feelings towards this fight so strong well after the fact? Why is he adamant that it was a 2v1 against him leading to his demise unfairly?

theres a lot of interesting reasons that lead to his conclusions and feelings.

Etoiles has parameters that he adheres to in belief of what makes a good ‘fair’ fight. Considering it in most light to be very honorable, he is willing to bend this code of honor when he is egged on by a teammate or a person to protect. Etoiles is also a bit of a puppy dog jumping up and down at the chance to fight, his code however keeping him at bay. Etoiles had Tubbo listed as someone who could defend himself and therefore good fight material he did and had fought and killed before. Now he may have been able to be persuaded not to fight to adhere to his code of honor as it was Him and Fit against a lone Tubbo, but Fit wanted the kill so Etoiles was willing to lean in.

They attack Tubbo who had been momentarily separated from Bad (my memory is hazy on this I think Bad died and was recollecting his things in the desert or he was simply collecting materials from a previous death). Tubbo runs to Bad yelling about the attack occurring and Bad quickly jumps into action. They all fight for decent time before Bad gets Fit low enough that he backs away allowing Bad and Tubbo to focus Etoiles.

heres where it gets interesting from a feeling and standpoint level. Bad had been evading fights up to this point as much as possible with Etoiles because strategically it didn’t make sense to fight him. Bad knows Etoiles is stronger then him and to die would set back his whole team. For Etoiles this was in a sense betrayal to his code, choosing not to fight when etoiles considers bad strong and able is nothing short of cowardly and boring, but now he saw Bad fighting with Tubbo by his side honing in on him when he was now disadvantaged. This stirred a lot of complex emotions but what happened next is what solidified strong feelings of injustice. Bad makes a call out to Aypeirre as if he was about to cut off Etoiles, absolutely disheartened that it was not only 2 in pursuit of him but 3 he feels so dejected he resigns himself to his death.

The absolutely wild part is that Aypierre was never there, Bad knew that he and Tubbo were in a call that could be heard by Fit and Etoiles in proximity, he told a lie so cold he had his own audience believing he was magically in a call with Pierre and that back up was on the way. There was no backup it was all Bads ploy to get inside Etoiles head and weaken his resolve and it worked seamlessly.

Bads fighting style is sneaky, calculated, and often is support for stronger fighters. Incredibly strong opponents excites him rather then discourages however his willingness to fight those above him does not override his need to be smart about it. He knows to win with opponents bigger then himself tactics delving into the mental sphere is a huge asset and determining factor. ((He is not always successful in his style and his hubris can overshadow smart plays at times Im certainly not saying he’s not rife with mistakes because he is but he does have access and skill sets that can and do work if played correctly))

This is a stark contrast to Etoiles beliefs/play style, his code, what he determines as fun, and a true show of strength. Bads fighting style is not unheard of to him but as it doesn't fit in with his ideals its a challenging force for his emotional standing causing feelings of discord, disbelief and betrayal. Even though the feelings are built up from Etoiles own making they’re very powerful and override objective facts of the fight that transpired.

The truth is Etoiles was out played in that fight. You could argue that the misunderstanding about Fit’s ‘disengage’ comment lead to an unfair fight however Tubbo and Bad were both operating under the assumption that Fit was behind them, of course they wouldn’t stop when Etoiles was all alone when Etoiles started the fight with Fit and they had every reason to believe Fit could swoop in after having healed himself. Bad and Tubbo focused Etoiles after getting Fit injured because he is the bigger threat, if you want to win a 2v2 you need to focus the bigger target as 2 against 1 will be stronger so long as you can pull it off and they did. They won as fairly as any fight could said to be won despite the odds that weren’t in their favor as Tubbo was attacked by Fit And Etoiles first. They won.

now there’s compounded feelings of loss that’s understandable it sucks to lose and it sucks more when your opponent pulls out tactics that challenge your beliefs. What spins Etoiles feelings even further is that these feelings started prior to the fight when Etoiles let Bad talk himself out of getting murdered. Etoiles felt the sting of mind games letting bad go then and now he was faced with a physical loss to mind games again. This fire starts and soon every little frustration he has towards Bad piles on to his feelings regardless if true or merely exaggerated or anecdotal or false. Those feelings burn to a heat not easily quelled and so are left to this day as unresolved.

every moment Bad evades him (knowingly or not) every word he says every comment someone else makes about bad fueled Etoiles to murder an unarmed bare Bad after Bad had already been killed and was merely trying to retrieve whatever left from his corpse. Not willing to hear his plight despite Bad having been mercilessly chased by the bounty system all day despite his ridiculously long walk back to his body. Etoiles could no longer see reason with Bad from his own feelings which again still remain so strongly well after the context they originated from. He does not see what he did to Bad in anger as retribution for his feelings, his feelings persist and linger and cloud his judgment and perception of Bad to this very day.

it is very neat to dissect these origins, and I do hope I can be forgiven and corrected if I have read into Etoiles wrongly as I am mostly coming at this from what I have witnessed in Bad’s pov. Only watching bits and pieces of others and not understanding languages I really wouldnt want to presume this to be a 100% accurate take (i do hope it is somewhere within accuracy but I could be off base please feel free to share). And also too I hope it’s understood that I do think Etoiles is a fantastic person and character, its wonderful to see his emotions come through his narrative. I find it fascinating how emotions unfold for everyone its neat what makes people tick and gets under their skin. Its neat how it effects their narrative. Its a lot of the reason I really love this form of storytelling and I have a lot of respect for the creators.

[synthaphone]

firefox HATES my enormous laggy pokemon spreadsheet (pictured: me trying to switch to the tab that has my in-progress list of every pokemon i own in it. ignore the insaniquarium window in steam idk why that popped up lol)

while part of me wants to keep stubbornly forging ahead, another (wiser?) part of me is thinking that i should Perhaps split it into two spreadsheets, divided into pre-switch and post-switch games

pros of splitting it into two (or maybe even three... if i isolated the 3DS era of games...) Sheets:

it would help reduce the ridiculous loading times

i'd only need to move Pokemon over to the Switch sheet as necessary when i transfer Pokemon, since you can't send shit backwards

the earlier games' sheets could have less columns for ribbons and marks (marks didn't even exist in those games), and cut out the 'tera type' column. maybe i'd replace it with a pokerus column...

i'm only like, 1/3 through adding just the gen 5 pokemon i have in HOME, and its already struggling to load... Ruh Roh!

maybe i'd actually be able to 'sort by' different parameters instead of just filtering columns- i've been scared of what might happen if i try to reorder everything on a spreadsheet this big

i don't usually need older game's boxed pokemon info at the same time as i need switch-era pokemon info

if i wait any longer before i decide to do this, it'll only get more difficult to do

cons of doing this:

it'll be a pain in the ass

it'll be an even BIGGER pain in the ass to change my mind once i've started doing it

the best way i can think of to do it is to duplicate the one i already have and delete all the switch game and HOME entries from the copy

splitting the sheet defeats the purpose of being able to sort all of my pokemon's data and view it in different ways- for instance, a lot of my favorite pokemon i imported are clones of my pokemon from earlier games, because i didn't want to leave those games barren. being able to compare (and keep track of) their different iterations can be useful

what if the big sheet with all of my pokemon in it really COULD work. i'll never know if i split the sheet off now...

if i DO change up what columns exist between different sheets (like getting rid of Tera Type or adding Pokerus), it'll make importing pokemon a lot more annoying to update the spreadsheet with, because i'll have to reenter data instead of just copypasting it. but if i don't, then i'll have a bunch of extra pointless columns bogging down those spreadsheets. so i think i'd have to do it

anyway. i think. i'm going to split it off. i think it'll probably be worth it for reduced lag. augh. ough. maybe. i'll save a copy of the whole spreadsheet file as it is now as backup, just in case i start doing this and realize i hate it

[midnight-ranger-general-jiyan]

Mission Log: #242807

Time: 0800 hours

Location: En route to Recon Point Alpha

---

Three days prior to this mission, I undertook a meticulous preparation regimen to ensure optimal readiness. Each step was executed with precision to account for every possible scenario.

Preparation included:

1. Equipment Check: All gear, including communications, navigation tools, and tactical equipment, was thoroughly inspected and tested. Spare components and backup systems were also secured.

2. Logistical Coordination: Supplies and provisions were carefully calculated and packed. The transport routes were analyzed, and contingency plans were established.

3. Intel Review: I reviewed all available data on the mission parameters and potential encounters. The objectives, although classified, were studied through various angles to anticipate any issues that might arise.

4. Physical and Mental Conditioning: I adhered to a rigorous training schedule, combining physical endurance exercises with strategic simulations to maintain peak performance.

The designated recon point, Alpha, is a strategically chosen location where I am to meet with Calcharo. This area has been evaluated for its tactical advantages, providing an optimal vantage point while minimizing the risk of detection.

Mission Objectives: [Redacted]

Current status: On schedule and proceeding as planned. I am maintaining vigilance and adhering to the protocols established during preparation.

End of log.

[mightymizora]

So I noticed with several of your posts that your interpretation of Banites are predominately masculine and is massively ‘good ol boys club’ leaning. I’m curious how in a world that operates under a different praxis of sexism, bio essentialism, economic discrimination, and fertility politics than our own, how and why this is the case. Does it have to do with the general personality types that are attracted to Banite worship? The group of people who just happen to have the means and motive to be attracted to Bane? Gortash’s conscious or unconscious bias? What does being a man mean in Banite culture, to you? I’m so sorry, this is way too long and way too serious ……

Eeee I get to get into this one! I'm only on my first cup of coffee and I am trying and failing to not make this a literal essay (EDIT I failed sorry this is long and I don't think I even answered everything)

And I'm also going to pre-empt this by saying I am not a sociologist, or a particularly smart person! So some of these ideas may be very hack!

So the first thing I have as a parameter here that there's three scopes of influence that inform looking at this to me - there is the version of Faerun and Dungeons and Dragons 5e that Larian put in the game (which I LOVE and appreciate very much, I love the direction that 5e has gone in) there is the history of the writing of some of these characters and the influences of those writers across the history of D&D, and there are the influences I have in how I've built my characters and the influences I'm taking. So I'll try and be clear about which is which where I can!

Under the cut for more as this is already too long!

So the first thing to acknowledge is that gender and D&D in 5e is at its best representation of all time, to me. Obviously things still to improve, but as somebody who started out in the days of 3.5 with all the myriad of problematic ways women were represented, and then through the 4e oddness of "Yes, you as a woman can do ANYTHING!" with no real backup in the worldbuilding, I really enjoy this and I like that Larian has gone for it too in a really meaningful way.

I also think that the Dead Three were created at a point of the most edgelordiest writing in the history of the franchise, and they wear that influence on their sleeves.

We're at a really interesting point in Faerun and Larian are really exploring that in BG3. We have the printing press, we have automatons starting to come into civilian life not just inter-planar stuff, we have pianos (!) and I think it's fair to say we are at a point of change and upheaval in how people live their lives. More information is flowing across the classes. There's more social mobility starting to happen. Automation brings different approaches to jobs, and it also brings unemployment, profit margins etc etc.

We're also at an interesting point with worship of the Dead Three. I'll leave the other two for now but The Church of Bane has already gone through a pretty dramatic reform partly due to the Banesdeath and subsequent rebirth of Bane (Sidenote I need to dive into the similarities and differences between Iyachtu Xvim and The Dark Urge at some point.)

My inference is that in a combination of changing socioeconomic and socio-political norms (we can also include what happened to Elturel and Neverwinter in that, two big local powerhouse cities dramatically altered in the past twenty years before the game) has opened up a lot of potential for a lot of uncertainty, fear, and opportunity in both the church and the way power is perceived. I think this is somewhat supported in the game with just how Gort has risen to power. We get tons of ambient dialogue about the sort of cult of personality he's ridden in on in the general public. He will literally say anything to anybody to get his own way, as shown by his political manifestos having different core values. So I think this is also reflected in the Banite worship.

The Banites traditionally are people with means and ambition, which makes sense, but who those people are could be seen to be shifting too. Landlords, foundry operators, new captains of industry are likely to hold as much sway as the fading patriars. I think it offers a great deal of potential both for progress, but also regression of ideas. It also means that it would be easier, I think, to target new members by positing it as a business venture, which I think we have a little, possibly, support of in the text. It's a club for people of means. Oh, and it's a cult. But you're okay with that, right? Here's some money and some contacts.

I've shown the good old boys club of Bane (which was influenced by the lore line that they were as likely to solve disputes through lively debate, it took me right back to gentlemen's clubs) but I think there are a myriad of ways of worship now that basically play to the indulgences of the participants that best show their hunger to usurp each other. Where they were literally killing each other for dominance, it's now a more subtle set of rituals. Gambling, sex, fight clubs. Rather than torture to evoke fear as the offering to Bane, fear is now a pact offering. Everybody has their metaphorical hands around each other's neck in vice.

I do think there are women, and I do think Gortash hosts them just as he hosts the boy's club I've put forward, but in my interpretation he sees value in dividing, in creating these silos of worship and letting people create their own competition to try and destroy. At the end of it he doesn't care about who is under his boot, as long as they are, as long as he has control of them, and as long as they're looking to each other as the enemy and not to him. I think he would absolutely play into gender politics as part of that.

When it comes to influences I bring, I really like the idea that progress is not as linear as we always assume it is. I read a lot of Victoriana and I find it so fascinating that a lot of British ideas of values and things were really completely made up in that era (on a very not smart note, that's what I'm evoking in my writing. It's literally "enforcing gender essentialism and being Victorian style reformers is evil, actually." Not really very deep.) Myths were repackaged, etiquettes re-examined. Attitudes to sex were a huge one - the Georgian period had a huge shift in attitudes to sexuality and then the pendulum swung back. So I'm putting forward that one of the easiest ways to gain followers is to play into people's worst instincts. I'm not retconning the crap gender politics in earlier editions of D&D, but saying they were of the time and history in-game as well, and Gortash is very cynically using them to gain support. He encourages people to think that they are special, that they are the power, and to look down on the other, but he changes who the other is to suit himself (very contemporary politics there, Gortash...)

The Dead Three have historically been very, very masculine, and I don't think this changes if you have a default Durge. There can, I think, be a case for a reading of the gods being of a different era, a bunch of cringefail men, and their choices of chosen which leans into old misogyny when it comes to Orin (who could have a whole post of her own because of course, as a changeling, she isn't bound to gender at all, but is percieved as girlish, more on that later.) Bhaal being obsessed with siriing offspring and the big buff Bane examples etc. and I do think there's something interesting in their values being also out-of-step with the world. They will never win not only because they suck, but because the world has moved on. Again, Kelemvor and Cyric deserve their own posts here...

I really, really like the idea of Bhaalists and Banites essentially swapping their worship styles a bit and this is only from my own readings. Bhaalists becoming more obsessed with hierarchies and secrecy, Banites becoming more of a club for vice and taking on some of the weird gendered things Bhaal is guilty of as a means of control.

(I also REALLY like the idea of the Dark Urge being a woman, non-binary, or gender-shifting through how they identify and/or being a changeling, firstly because I like the idea of Bhaal God of Mess wanting to try something new. I also like different idea of having a womb and being able to birth in changing Bhaal's plan. It's not wide spread of seed, it's gestation, it's something personal and can be seen as sacred. The Dark Urge is a vessel for Bhaal in multiple ways. And thirdly particularly in trans Dark Urge works I love the idea of autonomy in that. Does Bhaal approve or no? Is this defiance or blessing?)

I'm going to stop there because honestly I could go on forever but this is the surface-level considerations in the worldbuilding of my fics.

[pictureamoebae]

do you have any beginner friendly resources for reshade/lighting mods? I love how they look but i'm not very tech savvy and unfamiliar with computer terminology so it's a bit overwhelming and i don't know where to start :x

Hi anon!

I wrote a guide called Understanding ReShade about a month ago, it tries to go through step by step exactly what ReShade is, what shaders are, what presets are, and ends with installation help, info about backups and uninstallation, and some troubleshooting tips too. Take your time to read through it, and bookmark it so you can refer back whenever you need.

As for other lighting mods, I'm guessing you mean for TS4? There are 2 main types: package mods that go in your Mods folder; and world lighting mods.

The first type are like No Blu/No Glo by luumia, or Into the Light/Out of the Dark by lotharihoe. These are package files that go in your normal Mods folder. They tweak some of the global lighting parameters. They're easy to add in or take out, just like regular mods and cc.

The second type are like Sunblind by softerhaze. These are world lighting mods. They edit each world map in the game to have a different lighting profile. To use these you have to replace the game's world files. If you make a backup of the originals, it's quick and easy to swap them in and out, but it is a bit more involved than just using a regular mod.

I hope that's helpful, anon. If you have any other questions about ReShade I'm always happy to try and help.

[team7-headquarter]

Dropping the official teams for the first Konoha 12 come back mission. As a treat <3

Context:

The kunoichis of the Konoha 12 are back, but after so many years of working for Tsunade or spending time perfecting their clan techniques, they have to prove themselves.

The operation belongs to Konoha Police Force and is directed by Fugaku Uchiha. Since the whole goal is to prove that a) the kunoichis are capable of holding their on and b) they are loyal to Konoha, Tsunade can watch, but she cannot participate in any way.

Fugaku decided to separate the girls from their genins teams to truly test them.

Mission Status:

Konoha Police located a rogue nin base that they have been following for quite some time. The orders are to get in, neutralize the enemy, contain the situation, rescue any hostages and get out without casualties.

The Teams :

INFILTRATION TEAM — Kiba, Ino, Shino.

They're the first step. The "previously".

This team is full of deemed specialists in what one could call espionage. Be it shapeshifting, mind control or remote control of elements able to transfer information, they know how to get in, blend in, find the information they are looking for and get out as if they were never there to begin with.

Since they work mostly alone, they're some of the most in danger. There's also a myriad of unpleasant situations they'd have to participate in. Long range is preferable, either that or the type of subtle technique that can be used up close and leaves no evidence.

Unlike many other infiltration teams, this one focuses on details that no many would pick up on. Sound, smell, even your mind. No one is safe with them around.

EXTERNAL TEAM — Shikamaru, Tenten, Choji.

Once the infiltration team relies all the info they need, the external team sets in.

Their job is to prepare the operation so nothing would go wrong. They set a perimeter, fill the selected space with traps to avoid any enemy escaping, they lay the basics of the mission and connect everyone to the headquarters.

Although Fugaku is leading the operation, it's more of a supervision than anything else. The external team must control the scene with the parameters they were given.

Since they have to keep an eye on everything and everyone, there's often a specialist on every attack range (close combat, middle range and long range combat). They must be tricky and hard to evade, but also low-key enough that the enemy won't spot their exact location.

ATTACK TEAM — Sasuke, Hinata, Naruto.

They kick-start the real action!

( and cause everyone else a headache)

This team's job is to directly engage with the enemy, to both neutralize them and to provide a distraction for the retrieval team to act. They must be loud, they must be capable of being lethal, they must be capable of taking damage or at least capable of engaging for long periods of time.

In truth, the top requirement for anyone who wants to join an attack team is to be annoying and resilient. Attack teams don't really know what they'll find, for how long they'll have to fight or if the other teams would be available to give them any help.

Along with the unpredictability and endless energy of a jinchuuriki, the attention to detail and the battle IQ of an Uchiha, they have the high range vision and chakra blockage of a Hyuuga. Nothing screams Konoha like three of the best clans on the attack team.

RETRIEVAL TEAM — Neji, Sakura, Rock Lee.

The shifters. They can become any of the other teams if needed.

In a perfect scenario, they never engage with the enemy, follow the info provided by the infiltration team to get to the hostage, get the hostage out the place and into the protection perimeter set by the external team and repeat until everyone is safe.

In the real world, the retrieval team often fights their way to the hostage only to find one too many problems to fix at the second if they do want the hostage alive. They're the backup for every other team, they are the ones running in and out of the battlefield, as many times as it's needed. Although, while the hostage is alive and it's capable of being saved, they maintain their status and only the retrieval matters.

Long range is not really necessary, 'cause their mission is not to be noticed. They need to be fast as to not get caught and in case there's no way around it, close combat is a priority. They