#groundsiders

[hawkeykirsah]

50 Things I Love About Kaidan Alenko

I love that little smile he gives Shepard in the med bay after Eden Prime.

I love his slip of the tongue on the Citadel in ME1 when he indirectly tells Shepard he thinks she’s beautiful.

I love his dry comments when you take him along groundside in ME1 and his snarky remarks when you talk to him back on the Normandy.

I love how annoyed he looks when Joker interrupts that almost-first kiss in front of the lockers.

I love that tentative smile he gives Shepard at the beginning of ME3.

I love that strut when he comes to Shepard’s aid in the Citadel DLC together with that smirk and the “Looks like you’re having a bad day, Shepard.”, and his smirk after asking the volus to open the gates for them on the Cision Motors skycar lot.

I love the entire Citadel DLC dinner.

I love his “Next time … wake me.”

I love the love and admiration you can see in his eyes when he comes to Shepard’s quarters before the assault on Cerberus headquarters. 

I love his “I lied. I didn’t come here for a quick drink”, and the grin on his face when he carries Shepard toward the bed.

I love how his voice wavers but doesn’t break when you talk to him in London and how he doesn’t care that everybody can see them when he kisses Shepard good-bye. 

I love his “Don’t Kaidan me!” on Mars.

I love how he turns half around and looks over his shoulder when Liara asks Shepard how they manage.

I love his incredulous “Me?” after Shepard tells him he’s always been stubborn.

I love how his voice drops at “ … can be the difference between success and sitting at home in your PJs taking red sand” when you talk to him at Huerta. (I’m certain he’s speaking from experience.)

I love how he places his hand over Shepard’s briefly after they tell him they care about what happens to him.

I love the determination on his face in the elevator during the Coup before he encounters Shepard and their team.

I love that short laugh of relief when Shepard tells him they couldn’t imagine facing the Reapers without him.

I love the moment you walk into the Starboard observation after he rejoins the Normandy and you see him staring into space.

I love how nervous he is on that first date on the Citadel.

I love his “I love you, Shepard. I always have.”

I love how he takes Shepard’s hand and presses it against his cheek.

I love his banter with Tali aboard the geth dreadnought.

I love his worried “Shepard!” when they step on that first mine on Rannoch.

I love how concerned he is while Shepard is in the geth consensus.

I love how he places his hand on Shepard’s shoulder on Mahavid.

I love his “Let’s make sure we never let time just slip by us, okay?” after returning from the mining facility.

I love his “I’m not too crazy about this plan” on Despoina followed by that little nod he gives Shepard after Shepard tells him they’ll be fine.

I love his worried “Never do that again” in the shuttle after Shepard talked to Leviathan and his “You scare the hell out of me with those risky stunts …” back on the Normandy.

I love his “Nah” on Eden Prime after Liara realizes he was joking.

I love his enthusiasm back on the Normandy after finding Javik.

I love his level of snark on Thessia. (”Reaper convention”, all his “… looks like a Prothean” comments at the temple, etc.)

I love his comment about liking a challenge when Shepard tells him Joker has a terrible poker face.

I love his reaction to James “Flawed implant” comment during the party.

I love his “Wow, Shepard. Did you really just say that?” if you side with James at the party.

I love watching him and James doing push-ups (and that Kaidan wins even without Kasumi sitting on James’ back).

I love his “You’re the boss. Except when you’re not. And in that case … find me later”.

I love the wake up-scene after the party.

I love the once over with that predatory smirk he gives a male Shepard in the romance scene.

I love that he wants to be Shepard’s rock and soft place to land.

I love the look on his face when Shepard runs their fingers along his cheekbone and then down to his chest before gently placing them on his chin and giving him a kiss after waking from their nightmare.

I love his “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen” after getting injured during the run for the beam. (Stubborn, remember?)

I love his “I love you, too. Be careful.” (Just rip out my heart and stomp on it why don’t you?)

I love his “And I’m not leaving, either!” at the beginning of ME2. (*cough*stubborn*cough*) 

I love his integrity.

I love his friendship with Ash.

I love seeing him and Shepard remembering Ash’s sacrifice after disarming the bomb on Tuchanka.

I love his “Why can’t it be both? Ow, my heart!” before entering the casino and his disappointed “And here I had this good cop routine all planned” after finding Elijah Khan.

I love his apology for tripping at the Ardat-Yakshi monastery.

I love his shoulders. Seriously. They do things to me.

[magellanicclouds]

Personal Journal (Theodore Srivastava, MBBS-MD) / Entry 0864 / 2559-10

>>: The recovered individuals had required extensive medical care on arrival, and a battery of diagnostic testing to understand their biology enough to successfully deliver treatment and establish a safe continuity. Commander Mallah had offered to loan me a few techs from the Xeno lab for consultation. For humans.

Their rate of healing has been extraordinary however, and there's blessedly no signs of preliminary rejection to organ tissue, structural implantation, or soft tissue grafts. Primarily just scattered ecchymosis for two out of the three. It's remarkable. Examination is on-going, several rounds daily, and expected to continue for a series of weeks to establish more reliable trends.

They'll be with us for the duration of course.

There's nowhere else to go.

We've learned that the individuals represent a third generation of Spartans, and their...atypical lab results have been casting long shadows to say the least. More of the UNSC's deeply forbidden secrets are filling our charts in waves and creating a lot of unease regarding this sub-category's uniquely dangerous mutagenic traits. These features are remarkable for organic changes in their brain tissue and gross manipulation of the endocrine system. Even considering the total divorce of human ethics that the Spartan programme already represents, this seems a startling escalation.

What is happening back home to have prompted such a chilling devaluation of human life?

The discomfort amongst my staff is overwhelming their fascination.

It's not yet clear if the Spirit's limited facilities can even maintain the critical needs of these new and terrifying soldiers. What is the margin for error on the consistency of their 'smoother' dosages? How short exactly is the fuse on their hormonal detonators? Could a scuffle in the mess hall lead to a massacre?

They're bracingly young, but noticeably removed from the common traces of youth. The scars between them are enough to trade away for decades of warfare.

Myself and other providers have found their temperament similar to the Spartans of Red Team at least. Polite. Professional. Human certainly, though most of my staff have remarked negatively on their atonal general expression and significant lack in sense of social familiarity.

Truthfully, after the hell they'd undertaken groundside (and surely horrors years before now), I find it callous to hold 'being withdrawn' against them. They do not shy from eye contact, and when one looks back with not the eyes of a provider, but the eyes of a man, it is clear that these Spartans too know fear and sadness and heartbreak.<< //

[pareidoliaonthemove]

For Fluffuly 2024, #31 “Remember when this picture was taken?

CSaTM, with White and the Captains, please

A Candid Moment

Colonel White surveyed his quarters and sighed. A top-secret, high-tech, high-altitude mobile military base was all very well and good, but it had some drawbacks. One of the chief being, the weight limits.

The former British and World Navy Admiral was more than familiar with weight limits – a competent sea captain had to be able to trim his ship to reduce the roll, and Charles Grey could calculate his ships metacenters in his sleep. But Cloudbase was, strangely, more sensitive. Despite exhaustive work to ensure that no matter what activities were taking place, the personnel distribution over the base would be even, he could tell if the weekly movie screening in the large conference room was popular by the degree of list Cloudbase formed on Saturday night during its first showing.

And in deference to the laws of physics, the amount of personnel effects permitted to every member of Spectrum aboard Cloudbase was severely limited by weight. It had been quickly discovered that, although ground-time was limited, and transiting staff had to have their luggage weighted departing and returning the base, somehow, through a strange kind of osmosis (and the mail), people living on Cloudbase managed to accumulate possessions at a statistically significant weight.

Thus, Colonel White had decreed that every member of staff had to have a six-monthly ‘spring clean’ of their possessions, to ensure that they remained within the permitted weight-limits. It was a fraught time for everybody as their time came up; the saga of Destiny’s shoes, or Captain Blue’s books were now enshrined in Cloudbase lore. As was Captain Scarlet’s many attempts to refuse new honours because they would exceed his allowable onboard weight.

And unfortunately, not even the Colonel himself was immune.

He stared in fascination at the mess in front of him. He had been groundside maybe five times in the last six months (a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Dr Fawn grumbled about overwork and burnout), how on Earth had he accumulated so much … stuff?

He sighed, made himself a cup of tea, and started methodically going through the mess.

It quickly transpired that a not insignificant portion of it was the notebooks containing his fragmented attempts to write a novel. He prevaricated, fussed, read what he had written, before finally biting his lip and making a difficult decision. The notebooks relating to the three most promising-looking stories were replaced in their – locked – cupboard, and the remainders were put in the container to be shipped to his personal storage locker in the security hold in Spectrum’s London Headquarters, available to be retrieved and shipped back up to him if he decided he required them.

Turning his attention to a large file box containing random papers, he started sorting through – personnel accounts, letters from friends that he had read, replied to but hadn’t got around to filing, a thousand little notes and memorandum for him to remember one thing or another. Much was consigned to the shredder, and others were filed in folders and consigned for shipment to London.

A large photograph, face down, had now floated to the top of the box. On the back, in Captain Black’s distinct hand, was written “For Charles. In memory of one glorious, chaotic afternoon; the first time they achieved the mission objectives through unanticipated means.”

White closed his eyes, memories of when he had first found this photograph slipped under his door, swamping him. He had found it after Captain Black had departed Cloudbase for his mission to investigate the mysterious signals detected from Mars. This photograph was his last memory of his friend, tainted as it was by followed it almost immediately.

He turned the photograph over, and smiled at what he saw.

It was not, in truth, a photograph, rather a still from a CCTV feed printed onto photographic paper. And the image was one of utter chaos.

It had been about a fortnight after the Captains and Angels had met at Koala Base, and in the interest of fostering good relationships between the two groups who had already formed into their own tight-knit cliques. So a ‘social afternoon’ had been planned, starting with a barbecue lunch that the two groups would be responsible for creating.

It had quickly degenerated into chaos.

Despite the much referenced and popular warnings of the dangers of Australian wildlife, Colonel White hadn’t given them much thought. Sure, there were myriad spiders, but that was what insect spray was for, and there was a designated and trained ‘snake handler’ on the staff, and Doctor Fawn had ensured that every base was fully equipped with a large stockpile of every anti-venom known to medical science, with an emphasis on local wildlife at each site. And while he appreciated the danger the hundreds of kangaroos in the area represented to motor vehicles, that was the limit of the danger they posed, surely?

Unbeknown to him at the time, the first foundations of the chaos in the photo was built when, upon arrival, the Angels had been charmed by the kangaroos that grazed and lounged fearlessly on the small grassed area, and had taken to feeding them. The animals had become quickly accustomed to this, and much more brazen, coming ever close and demanding what food was available.

So when the table had been set up, and the first covered platters containing the various salads had come out, the kangaroos had soon been attracted, nosing about the table, and generally ignoring all attempts to shoo them off.

And when the remainder of the personnel had come out, things had quickly disintegrated. The argument over who was going to cook the meats was quick, but Captain Grey had quickly won by virtue of simply getting started while the other men argued.

Scarlet, put out at not having anything to do, had quickly organised a game of backyard cricket, and the captains, and some of the Angels had moved out onto the lawn, and Scarlet, Lieutenant Green, and Rhapsody Angel were soon animatedly trying to explain the rules of cricket to the Americans who had followed.

Fawn had arrived – predictably – late and just in time for all hell to break out.

The cricketers had spread out over the field, and Captain Ochre had apparently wandered too close to a copse of eucalyptus trees when a black and white blur had whooshed past him with a menacing ‘clack’ sound.

Ochre, not knowing what this apparent warning meant had turned to investigate, and found himself under attack by no less than three birds, who all took turns to make swooping attacks that edged ever closer to him. His yells attracted the attention of his fellow cricketers and many ran to his assistance, only to fall victim to the attacks themselves.

Magenta was the first injury, getting ‘stabbed’ by a beak on the left temple as it sped past. The intensified yelling had Black running towards the group – as shown in the image – yelling Fawn’s initial bellowed instructions to “Get back from the trees!”

The Doctor had started to move towards the scene of the bird attack, only to be distracted as, attracted by the increasing frustration of the kangaroos being denied food, a large – VERY large – male had arrived, to investigate proceedings. Destiny’s screams as the animal had faced up to her, rearing to its full seven-foot height to glare at the woman had elicited a startling line of invective from the Doctor, and he had run to put himself between the indignant animal and the Angels.

The selected frame showed Fawn squaring up the kangaroo, fist clenched and arm pulled back, as the Angels scrambled to get clear. The subsequent punch Fawn would unleash – a beautiful right cross – had landed squarely on the animals snout, rocked its head back. The animal had shook its head, snorted in apparent derision – Destiny would later swear the animal had meant ‘Is that the best you can do?’ – and, apparently taking note of Fawn drawing his arm back again, turned its back on him, and ‘walked’ off on all fours – front legs out, bunny hopping with back legs, for the front legs to stretch forward again, a curiously insolent gait that indicated that Fawn was no danger to it, just a mild inconvenience – as the original gathering of smaller kangaroos slowly broke away to follow him to the shade of a scattering of trees and bushes. To White’s knowledge it was the only time Fawn had acted aggressively in his service with Spectrum.

In another corner of the picture, Captain Grey was gesturing excitedly, he had been calling for a platter onto which to put the first round cooked meat, a full three kilograms of sausages, to allow him to get started with the next round. Behind his back, a bird – a rugby-ball sized kingfisher – was perched on the built-in work surface, and was happily swallowing whole sausage after sausage.

White smiled. The kookaburra had over indulged, and had been unable to fly. A thoroughly disgruntled Fawn, after patching up Magenta’s wound, rounding chastising cricket party for not “getting out of the Magpie’s backyard”, threatening the entirety of the base with various unnamed dooms should he hear of anybody so much as thinking of feeding the wildlife – “and that goes double for kangaroos!” – had captured the bird, installed it in a large aviary quickly installed on the covered patio outside his temporary office, and cared for it until it was sufficiently fit to fly again.

It quickly became a nuisance at every attempt to hold a barbecue, but Fawn solved it by having a small selection of stir-fry strips of lean meat that he would intermittently throw for the bird, whom he had named ‘Indy’, to catch. It was a source of great amusement to watch Indy batter his snack against the branch, before swallowing it. And it wasn’t unusual, even now, to see Fawn wandering around the grounds of Koala Base with Indy perched on happily on his shoulder.

While the barbecue had been a disaster in application, the subsequent bonding over the events had indeed forged strong ties, and a single team who worked seamlessly – even if the Americans still couldn’t get their head around the concept of cricket as a sport.

White sat a long while, lost in thought, and memories. And what to do with the photo?

A week later a large, framed photograph appeared mysteriously on the wall of the Officer’s Lounge. Embedded in the frame was a small plaque that simply read: “Do you remember when this picture was taken?”

Notes:

No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. Not even human ones.

Contrary to what many people may believe, punching a kangaroo – especially a large male red kangaroo – on the nose, WILL NOT harm them. It WILL make them back off, though, which is ALWAYS a good thing. The kangaroo doing their equivalent to you, however, WILL MOST DEFINITELY harm you. DO NOT get this close to a kangaroo outside of a petting zoo. The whole Boxing Kangaroo thing is real, and they do not adhere to Queensbury Rules. Boxing Kangaroos do not win by TKO, they win by disembowelling you. And for the love of all things holy, DO NOT FEED KANGAROOS!!

Also: kangaroo meat is a sustainable resource, high in iron, VERY low in fat, and very tasty. Except as sausages. You don’t want kangaroo sausages – they’re like eating tubes of sawdust. (Not enough fat.)

Australian Magpies are intelligent highly sociable birds, who can easily be bribed to be your friend by throwing them some food every now and then. Except in mating season. Then they are flying piebald kamikaze harbingers of death, who fear naught and will repel any and all things that get too close to their nest. I once had to file a Workers Compensation claim for a truck driver who was injured by a magpie attack WHILE DRIVING HIS TRUCK. Australian Magpies are hardcore.

And Kookaburras, well, there’s a reason they’re called ‘Laughing Jackasses’. They will ABSOLUTELY raid your barbecue hotplate, platter, or your half-built sausage sandwich for a tasty snack that they snatch on the wing and retreat to the nearest high tree branch to chow down, and then laugh at you. They are the seagulls of the barbecue.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Captain Scarlet, either the Original or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[black-aengel-07]

Also named as the Universal Gun, for its flexibility on the battlefield, it is considered the standard weapon of choice for the various groundside Man of Iron battle constructs in the Legion Armada.

Given its use of Repulsion fields in exchange of magnetic rails, it is able to make use of anything as ammunition, provided it has mass to affect and repulse. Everything from metal to plastics to plain gas can be utilized with this weapon, granting it immense tactical flexibility that the Imperial Bolt Gun would simply lack. The repulsion field can further be modified to fragment a slug as it travels through its terminal point or be used as a short-range repulsion field that can knock enemies off their feet or even contain them with constant repulsive force.

However, this is not the limits of the RCGs, as their second greatest trait is their modularity. Each Coil is an independent component that can be removed or added to reconfigure the weapon for various purposes, permitting the RCG to be converted from an assault rifle to a grenade launcher and then into a sniper rather quickly in a pinch.

Ammunition Forms:

Depending on the RCG and the Fabricator Feedstock its being used, it would fire solid heavy metal slugs or pellets, bolters and special fluid types.

Solid Metal Projectiles. Given that they are much faster to produce, they tend to be quite common and RCGs making use of these have shown a much higher rates of fire. Do not underestimate the power of these basic rounds, for more powerful Infantry Grade RCGs can fire a ferromagnetic slug with enough force to punch a wide hole through the resilient armour of Astartes with surprising ease.

Reactive Liquids. While they tend to not be as commonly employed, reactive fluids have found their place within the army of the Men of Iron. Given the Repulsion Field's ability to affect anything with mass, RCGs made to fire a steady stream of reactive liquid have their uses. From searing Promethium to Pyrocaustic Substances and the horrendously deadly Graywash [The Man of Iron's term for Nanites], they should not be underestimated.

Ferrum Bolts. While indistinguishable at a glance from standard Imperial Bolts, Men of Iron Bolts are much more compact and as a result are superior to their Imperial counterparts, possessing far greater range, speed and payload, and oftentimes capable of surprising tricks to increase their tactical flexibility. The following is the general list of Ferrum Bolts encountered by the Imperium by the end of the Razing of Prospero.

1(a): Standard Round and their General Sizes [Top to Bottom].

Heavy Bolt

Standard Bolt

Light Bolt

1(b): Special Munitions (Any Size)

Bio-Chem Round: Ranging from neurotoxins to pyrocaustic acids, the Bio-Chem Round is the catch-all term used for RCG Rounds that make their kill through the application of deadly chemical compounds or lethal pathogens. Its most common form is with the use of the Acid-KLR.7, an extremely deadly acid compound that releases hazardous fumes into the air once it begins dissolving matter. Rarely used unless for clearing out organic targets in confined spaces like Hive Networks and Ships, provided that they are used without the worry about civilian casualties.

Wailing Glass Round: A type of Psi-Round made from a synthetic version of the Shimmering Glass of the Reflecting Caves from Prospero. Bolts made with this material contain a heavy impact core energized with traces of Empyrean energy that does great damage to Metaphysical creatures like Daemons. Requiring a special Fabricator to be installed on the unit that intends on firing them, they are easily felt by psychically sensitive creatures for the 'wailing' sound they make as they travel through the atmosphere.

Tactical Round: Further modified Bolt, it is the general designation for Bolts designed for specific tasks in mind. Scatter Type explode mere meters away from a target, causing a shotgun like effect of heavy metal pellets to flay the flesh off their target. Ideal for Light Infantry. Hunter Type are able to make fine course corrections mid air to hit their target with increased accuracy or focus on weak points. Tend to be used for well armoured high-speed targets like Astartes. Restrain Type are light bolts filled with an adhesive and rapidly expanding foam. Used when wanting to incapacitate a target from afar with minimal chances of harming it.

Melta Round: A modified base round that is used mainly against Heavy Infantry and Light Vehicles. It is considered little more than a hybrid between a Bolt and a Melta Charge, yet this demonstrates the Men of Iron's ability to miniaturize advanced technology and mass produce it to a frightening scale.

Nanofluid Round: Made with killing Astartes in mind, it fills the role of a bioweapon designed to eliminate organic targets with an Immunity Rating of 7 and higher, whereas conventional bioweapons would be rendered either ineffective due to the aforementioned immunity or because non-combatants could also be afflicted with them should a bioweapon spread occur. It kills its target by injecting them with short lived Graywash fluid that rapidly shred the internal organs of its victim until all that remains is a darkened liquefied bloody paste, guaranteeing a swift yet very painful death on its target.

1(c): Heavy Special Munitions (Heavy Round Minimal Size Requirement)

Piker Round: Piker Rounds are made to penetrate deep into armour thanks to a Power Field that assists in perforating through vehicle armour with ease and detonating within. Made for taking down vehicles and extremely armoured heavy infantry like Terminators with a handful of shots.

Bullhead Round: Seismic-Grav Impact, made for causing as much damage to structures and heavy vehicles as possible, but limited to the higher-end weight class of RCGs. Upon impact, it releases a gravitational pulse combined with a singular, high-intensity shock wave that is capable of turning ferrocrete blocks into fine gravel.

Lumina Fluid Round: A Bolt Round exclusive to one Specialized RCG. Lumina Fluid is an extremely volatile and unstable psi-reactive substance that requires extensive security mechanisms to safely create and contain. It is oftentimes described as having the worst aspects of raw Warp Energy and Nitro-glycerine combined into the most frighteningly unstable Psi-reactive compound in the Man of Iron's army. As such, Bolts made to contain this Fluid require a miniaturized Stasis Field to avoid an unwanted pre-detonation. When they strike, however, the target is subjected to a miniaturized and explosive Empyrean detonation that no material armour can resist. However, their true target is the Metaphysical organisms that exist within the Warp, as being struck by such a weapon would critically injure even Exalted Daemons.

-Standard RCG Models- {2}

a) Crisis Pistol: Small sidearm for the Peacekeepers. Used mostly against infantry or to deliver specialized ammunition fire.

b) Tri-Angled Modded Crisis Pistol: Due to a quirk in the Repulsion Fields, creating something like a minigun is unfeasible. Instead, high fire rates are achieved by multiplying Repulsion Coil Barrels into a single weapon.

c) Principality Assault Repulsion Rifle: Standard RCG used by most Peacekeeper models.

d) Flamer Modded Principality Repulsor: A modification of the Principality Repulsion Rifle for dispensing a stream of Promethium.

e) Principality Adapted Granade Launcher: Heavy barrelled grenade launcher, capable of fabricating and launching specialized grenade ammunitions at a rapid pace.

f) Providence LMG: Large and heavy hitting firearm, used exclusively by Knights and Paladins. Excellent for eradicating anything in their path.

g) Providence Adapted Sniper Gun: Capable of taking down heavily armoured targets up to seven kilometres away or even further if aided by course correcting ammunitions.

-Specialist RCG Models- {3}

Specialist RCGs are all named in a long-forgotten tongue of Man. For whatever reason, the Man of Iron bears a fancy for ancient unspoken languages.

A) Canto de Dante: To the untrained eye, this RCG may seem like a mere Combi-weapon given its ability to fire both searing beams of molten metal and discharge short range blobs of plasma, however, that could not be further from the truth. Making use of the comparatively most powerful Repulsion fields in union with a component that bears many similarities to the Volkyte systems, it is able to fire a condensed beam of superheated metal at its targets. However, this system bears great flexibility, for it can also heat the very metal inside the containment chamber until the point it becomes a searing glob of barely contained heavy plasma that then gets discharged at close range in a wide cone capable of melting through any target. While the Magnetohydrodynamic beam struggles to penetrate thicker armour at range, the ionized metal discharge up close will succeed where the former fails.

B) Lagrimas de Lilith: Only weapon permitted to fire the infamous Lumina Fluid Round. While internally it is not that dissimilar from a standard medium RCG, its fitted with an E-Injector for charging the Lumina Fluid that it uses, as well as Stasis Field Projector. Externally, it is protected with thick plating to protect the very fragile and volatile components within. However this volatility is also used as a feature in certain cases, as Lilith's Tears can be turned into an impromptu Warp Bomb capable of turning even heavy tanks into a heap of Empyrean Warped metal and screaming scrap.

C) Gota Negra: Specialized weapon designed for producing and dispersing Graywash fluid in various. Its main form of attack is to fire Nanofluid Rounds, yet that is not the limit of its power, for it has three settings to diversify its lethal arsenal, by either releasing a stream of Graywash in a thin condensed jet that breaks down matter and tissue, or disperses clouds of microscopic particulates that are exceedingly dangerous to walk through unprotected, much less inhale.

D) Martillo Esmeralda: Specialized RCG that is less a gun and more a Seismic-grav Thunderhammer with a RCG Barrel and fabricator attached to it. So large and heavy that only Paladins are known to be able to properly wield them, it is in their hands an impossibly agile weapon as the device can regulate its own gravitational mass, capable of tipping over light armour as if they were mere toys with every hit and levelling buildings with frightful ease.

Author's Notes: Okay, I think I went a bit overboard. I have grown a whole new level of respect for concept artists. Phew...

I was meant to do the drawing for the Scythe, but since I already had these weapons in my prior drawing I decided to recycle the used assets and make this before moving onto the fighter jet... little did I know that my urges to make something as high quality as possible resulted in me just adding one too many shootas... sweet god... anyway, I hope you enjoy. Next weapon sets will be the Direct Energy types.

[caffeineyum]

Muffins (Chapter 8)

@biomecharnotaurus wooo! Little nsfw at the bottom

Sitting across from Alba was Captain Vitha. The rest of the table was filled with other naval officers. Alba always felt uncomfortable in these situations. They played a different level of politics, and all she knew was the communication style she learned from Kurt. 

The group was talking about “graduation” for the Spartan IVs. They were planning out dropping in and the many obstacle that would be set. It was nothing new to Alba, but one thing she kept noticing bothered her. The intelligence officer who communicated back and forth with ONI couldn’t sit still. Normally Lt Ross was a calm woman. Even when parts of earth were under attack and the ship was taking on too many wounded, she stayed calm. Now the Lt was twitching like she had drank a whole pot of coffee. 

“It’s settled then,” the captain Vitha began, standing and pointing at a red marker on a holographic map. “We’ll drop them here,” 

Alba nodded agreeing with him. Then Lt Ross stood up from her chair. “I have a disturbing report to share,” Her voice wavered. 

“Go ahead,” the captain gave her permission.

“There’s been a report of Banished in Africa,” Ross stated as a bead of sweat rolled down her face. “We have seen nothing from the aerial view and it’s not confirmed, but a team of UNSC scientists reported have encountered brutes in Africa,” Ross ranted. “Sir,” Ross addressed captain Vitha. “Petty officer,” Ross addressed Alba looking directly into her eyes. “I recommend scrapping this graduation until we have more information,” Ross declared, her voice shook and her eyes darted around the room.

“What exactly did they see lieutenant?” Captain Vitha asked. 

“One scientist reported coming nearly face to face with a brute in the tunnels. He returned to their camp with a spiker wound to his arm,” Ross answered. Alba and the captain Vitha looked at each other. It was interesting story and the wound added some validity. 

“Ma’am how far is this research center from our site?” Alba asked.

“Far,” Ross paused. “I can’t tell you more than that,” 

“Lieutenant, we’ve already delayed this graduation by a month,” captain Vitha sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “How sure are you this is real?” 

“I-I I’m not sure,” she sighed. “I have no idea how the Banished would have even gotten on earth. But if they’re in Africa, we shouldn’t put new Spartans at risk,” 

“We’re two weeks away,” Alba started. “Can we wait a week and see if there are more reports? If we get more reports we terminate it or conduct graduation elsewhere,” Alba finished. The captain nodded at her.

“If not we proceed as usual. Finding another area will be difficult and time consuming. That class needs to get graduated ASAP. The UNSC needs more IVs and as you know there’s shortage of trainers,” captain Vitha declared. Alba took a breath, she didn’t entirely agree. She liked Ross’s logic more, but relying on the account of one scientist was not a reason to delay. Alba hated how unnerved Ross was, that made her think it ran deeper.

“Sir, let’s send a scouting team down to the area,” Alba suggested.

“Good idea. We don’t have the resources but I’ll call in a favor,” captain Vitha determined. 

“The tunnels,” Ross began. “Tell them to especially check there,” 

“Is there something you aren’t tell us?” Alba finally broke, it worried her to see Ross sweating. Ross stared at Alba.

“I’ve told you everything I can,” Ross stated standing up straight and standing her ground. 

“We’ll check the tunnels,” Captain Vitha declared, nodding to her. “If that’s all, everyone is dismissed,” 

Alba stood up and walked out of the room. She wondered if it would best to go groundside with the scouting team. Alba wasn’t about to let her trainees walk into an ambush. 

“How’d it go? They eat you alive?” Johnson asked standing by the door.

“No, but some scientist apparently saw a brute in the tunnels and got wounded at a research outpost” Alba sighed as the two walked down the hallway. “Although the place is supposed to be far from the graduation site,” She added. “Ross is nervous, Captain Vitha is sending a scouting team,” Alba finished explaining the situation.

“Well either the eggheads are startin’ to see things or we got a real big hairy ass alien monkey shaped problem,” Johnson determined. “We should tell ‘em,” he added. Alba nodded, thinking it would be good for the trainees to know. 

The Spartan gnawed on the inside of her mouth. She wanted to go down there, to see for herself and her trainees. 

“I want to go ground side and scout,” Alba confessed but her stomach churned. Jane popped in her head, now Alba had someone she had to worry about leaving behind. A wave of sadness hit her thinking about never seeing Jane again. 

“Heh the shrinks’ll flip their shit,” Johnson huffed. “But I don’t blame you,” he reached out and patted Alba on the arm. “Those are our dumbasses and we gotta make sure they survive training,” Avery chuckled. “You ask Capt’ Vitha? Maybe he can wrangle some shrinks for you,” 

“I’ll ask,” Alba finally decided. “Would you go if I can’t?” She asked Johnson, glancing down at him. 

“Course I would Alba, one of us gotta scope it out. Can’t have any alien bastards at graduation,” he grinned reassuringly. “Beside if they are down there, I’ll get to kick some alien ass,” 

“Thank you,” Alba smiled at him, she felt a new sense of relief. 

“Anytime! You and me, we’re a team,” Avery replied winking at Alba. She smiled back at him and lightly bumped their shoulders together. 

It was around lunch time and Jane’s shift was in full swing. As shift lead she was in charge of the day crew and together they were cooking up a storm. When they were hired it had been requested for them to make as much fresh food as possible. This put a high amount of strain on them every lunch and diner. But Jane didn’t mind, it kept her busy. Being the shift lead she coordinated line cooks and took over positions that were empty. That was to say she was the ultimate multitasker.

“Jane! Can you run food? I’ve got three new buckets ready!” One of her line cooks called. Normally one of them ran food, but thing were especially busy and with it being spaghetti and meatball day, the ships crew was especially hungry. 

“Yep. Just keep cooking, let me know what else you need,” Jane replied and took off with several metal containers full of food. She wandered out of the kitchen slowly, careful not to run into anything. Then set the contains down and began grabbing the empty or close to empty ones. In front of her, people reached out and served themselves food. The meatballs were nearly gone, they were a favorite and the nearly absence meatballs were causing a stir. 

“I got meatballs!” Jane cried with a smile and bolted over to the crowd. There were a couple cheers as Jane swapped the empty container. 

“You’re the best sweetheart!” An older officer called to her as she darted over to the other two containers. As she replaced the spaghetti, Jane felt someone staring and came face to face with a man. He had blue eyes, regulation short brown hair, a thin face and a smirk pulled at his lips. He wore a black tech suit with a jacket over top of it. The only reason Jane knew what the suit was from Alba who informed her. So this person was a Spartan. Stitched into his jacket was the name Senchina. Jane thought she recognized that name, she could have sworn she heard Alba talking about a trainee with that name. 

“What’s that from?” He questioned pointing at a bruise under Jane’s chin. “Midnight rendezvous for a scissor session with Alba get a bit rough? Did she rip off your shirt? That how you got her jacket?” He added an eyebrow raised. Jane rubbed her chin, she had forgotten there was a bruise there. Jane had gotten it this morning when she was leaning on her hand listening to Alba and slipped off it. Her chin slamming into the table, a rare moment of clumsiness for her. Alba had been worried about her, clearly relieved to see it was only a bruise. 

“No, no,” Jane laughed. “This is from a table,” she pointed to her chin. 

“Oh so there was a table involved,” he interjected raising his eyebrow with a smile.

“And Alba gave me the jacket after she saved me from the freezer,” Jane clarified. “But why are you asking? Do u have a lesbian fetish?” She joked back. 

Senchina served himself the spaghetti Jane had just replaced. “I’m just curious,” he half smiled half smirked at her. “I only have a fetish for ceramics,” Senchina told her as he turned away. Jane watched him walk off and sit with several others in tech suits. 

Well that was a weird exchange Jane chuckled to herself, as she grabbed the other container, this one was full of sauce. She found a nearly empty sauce container and scooped the remainder into the new container. Jane felt someone staring at her again and looked up to see two more people in tech suits with jackets. She recognized them from the gym. 

“Oh hi!” Jane greeted Petersen and Butler. Both of them stood stiff then looked at each other as Petersen reached to the sauce ladle.

“Hi,” Petersen grumbled.

“How’s the simulations?” Jane asked. “Alba said you’ve been doing better at following its orders,” Jane commented, she was genuinely interested. Immediately the posture between the two changed, they relaxed. 

“We got a high score today,” Petersen smiled, as he gave Butler a spoonful of sauce. 

“Petersen’s finally playing by its rules and our squad is kicking ass,” Butler added grinning at Petersen. The two then gave each other a first bump. 

“That’s great!” Jane smiled at them. 

“How’s your day?” Butler asked as the two slid down to get some more food. Jane followed looking for empty bins of food. 

“Wonderful!” Jane exclaimed genuinely. “Weirdest thing just happened though, I think one of your classmates told me he had a fetish for ceramics,” she added. Petersen and Butler looked at each other trying to contain laugher then burst out.

“Senchina?” Petersen asked between laughter. Jane nodded.

“Don’t take him seriously. He likes to mess with people,” Butler said in between laughs. 

“But!” Petersen lightly elbowed Butler. “Badovinac says he collects ceramic pumpkins,” Petersen and Butler looked at each other and burst into laughter again. Jane laughed with them, the idea of someone being into ceramic pumpkins was too much for her. 

“I’ll see you two later, happy Friday!” Jane smiled at them, she had finished checking the remaining food. “Good luck with the training! You can do it!” She called on her way to the kitchen and waving. 

“Good luck with the food! I guess?” Butler called back, trying to be supportive but clearly unsure. Jane gave a thumbs up and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alba and Jane had been spending more and more time with each other. If they could, they hit the gym together and Jane would always see Alba in the morning when she worked. Jane was still the muffin dealer and both of them enjoyed chatting in the morning.

On the days when neither of them worked they would watch movies, play card game or just talk. Tonight was Friday so it was their gym and movie night. But at the gym Alba had briefly mentioned she wanted to talk to Jane about something. 

“Everything ok?” Jane asked Alba as they sat on the couch together. Alba tuned towards her crossing her legs and putting the plushie tiger in her lap. 

“I’ll be going down ground side early for a scouting op,” Alba began, she had gotten the approval from Captain Vitha. He hadn’t exactly been happy about fighting the shrinks but he told her he’d get it done. The Spartan then told Jane about everything involving the report, none of it was classified. Afterwards Jane sat, thinking and pursed her lips together.

“I think it’s a good plan,” Jane determined. “Of course I’m the wrong person to ask,” she chuckled. “The whole thing is a little weird, I agree there’s probably something ONI isn’t tell you,” Jane sighed and looked at Alba. “But you can handle it,” Jane beamed, and it was obvious to Alba just how much confidence the contractor had in her. Alba shifted, the whole unknown of it made her nervous. “Do you feel ok going into potential combat?” Jane asked cutting straight to the point. 

“Yes but the unknown bothers me. We’re going in blind, straight into a snag,” Alba explained. She wasn’t sure how she actually felt about fighting again but she knew she could do it. Alba was extremely capable even considering the mental issues. Ultimately those were her trainees, she was doing this to keep them safe. 

“Possibly, or the report was bunk,” Jane suggested. Alba knew that was the alternative, she took a deep breath. Had she really told Jane just to run through everything again? Alba had been replaying everything in her head all day. If she just needed to go through the factors with someone again, Alba would have done that with Johnson. No there was another reason why she was telling Jane and it was related to the pit in her stomach. 

“Jane,” Alba‘s voice shook and she reached out for the other woman. Jane took her hand and moved closer to her. “I-I’m so glad I met you,” Alba began and Jane smiled at her. “I’ll be going ground side next week and if I don’t come back,” Alba paused trying to find the right words. She looked into Jane’s grey eyes and Alba found herself reaching to pull Jane towards herself. Jane wrapped her arms around Alba’s neck and let the Spartan pull her close. Jane gently set the tiger aside removing it from Alba’s lap and then took its place. 

Alba felt everything in her body buzz looking at Jane, heat rushed to her cheeks and a goofy smile forced itself onto her face. She had no idea what this feeling was but it was as intimidating as it was warm and pleasant. Jane meant so much to Alba and she had no idea how to express it. She desperately wanted to tell her that no one made her feel like this, but Alba had no idea if that meant anything. All she knew is that she had never cared for another person like this. 

Jane patiently waited and gently cupped Alba’s face. The touch amplified everything the Spartan felt and her now visage resembled a tomato. 

“I-I I care for you unlike anyone else,” Alba finally settled for. That was the best thing she could think of. Suddenly the idea of kissing Jane popped in Alba’s head. Alba had never kissed anyone before and as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt extremely nervous. It felt nearly as bad as pre-mission jitters. The porn Alba had watched also did not help, those people practically ate each other’s faces. Was that really what kisses were like? Then the scissoring thing. Oh god, Alba thought, I don’t understand any of this. 

“I feel the same way,” Jane smiled caressing Alba’s face. Alba felt her heart rate spike and she was sure that if she was in her armor the alarms for her vitals would be screaming. Jane took her fingers through Alba’s hair and now their faces were only inches apart. Alba pulled Jane further into her, gently pressing their bodies together. Jane leaned in a little more then hesitated. “Is this ok?” She asked in a whisper, Alba nodded. Jane’s grey eyes sparkled looking at Alba like she was the only person in the universe. Alba closed the gap between them and Jane kissed Alba. Sparks shot through Alba’s nervous system and she fully embraced Jane. She wanted to be as close as she could with Jane. Responding in kind Jane leaned into her and wrapped her legs around Alba’s waist. 

The two finally pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Can we do that again?” Alba blurted out. 

“Of course, come here,” Jane mumbled before kissing Alba again. 

[karriethemechtech]

Do you have any tips on life support system maintenance? I've only done exoatmospheric maneuvers before and I've got an assignment on-planet now, so I'm worried about how my filters will hold up.

Hey Em!

Biggest thing you’re going to need to remember—and this is operational, not maintenance—is to switch to atmospheric mode. Pretty much all the life supports I’ve worked on can draw either from an onboard Sabatier recycler or from the atmosphere—if you’ve only worked outside a breathable atmosphere you’re only gonna be familiar with the first. There’s a lower power draw associated with atmospheric mode, so you usually get…I wanna say about 2% better targeting in a breathable atmosphere? If you’re really into squeezing performance from your ‘Mech.

So, new things for in-atmosphere…rust is something you gotta watch out for. Just means you gotta clean things every once in a while though, no big deal. Additionally, I’m sure you’ve got filters galore on the intake manifolds, but those need to be chemically scrubbed every once and a while (I think they have an operational cycle of a few hundred hours, though you can really stretch ‘em if you prefer).

…you do have intakes, right? I wouldn’t recommend running on Sabatier in-atmosphere, in case you get your cockpit breached. If you don’t for some reason I can get those installed once you’re groundside.

@the-emmapult

[serabellyms]

  PLOTTED STARTER !     ⤷ @downs1de ✧ rustin cohle.

Finally, finally, she'd been able to take some leave. It was difficult, given the intensity of her training, but now that there were final evaluations for those who'd be deemed N7 status (and her passing all of the previous levels with flying colours), she had time to wait until she'd know whether she'd been chosen for such an esteemed vocation. It'd been a difficult journey, and so far... she'd passed. Now, she had a chance to take a break, and she’d sent a message to Rust, letting him know where she was staying if he’d like to come visit. She hadn’t received a message back, but she figured he’d see it eventually.

What she didn’t expect was hearing a knock at her door late at night. She was up in a flash, grabbing her sweater and pulling it over her head to conceal the garish scars that marred her arms and shoulders. Who would be coming at this hour? She hadn’t received any messages; surely if it was emergent, one of her COs or her training officers would’ve sent her a message. Raising a hand, she pulled her pistol close with her biotics, setting it out of sight in case of an intruder, but somewhere she’d know where it was. No need for her to answer the door holding it; she didn’t exactly need a gun to defend herself, after all.

Opening the door, she was... surprised at what she saw. Dishevelled was one way to describe it; clothing rumpled, tie loosened, and a half-abused bouquet of flowers that looked like it'd been bought hours ago. The only saving grace was his hair; it always looked like that, a little tousled. The rest was easy to figure out; even if she couldn't smell the alcohol yet, she certainly knew the look of a man who'd had one too many drinks.

At least he'd taken a cab, identified by the car that was leaving now that she'd opened the door. Oh, god, what did you do? At least he looked... okay, for the most part. No bruises or cuts, which mean no fights, but something had happened. Sighing softly, she reached for his arm to gently coax him inside, resigning herself to... whatever this was. If he'd come to her in this state, there had to be a reason he'd picked her over everyone else.

"C'mon," she encouraged, guiding him to the couch. "Do you... want some coffee, or do you just want to sleep it off?" Either option didn't matter to her; she doubted she'd be sleeping much, given she'd be too damn busy worrying. Once he was sitting, she pulled two glasses from the cupboards, filling them both with water; if nothing else, she’d get him to drink at least one glass of water, and she herself probably needed one. Of course, water wasn’t the only thing she grabbed; reaching into the fridge, she juggled one of her usual electrolyte drinks, knowing that ought to be a hell of a hangover cure for a non-biotic.

Setting the glass down in front of him as well as the bottle, she took a seat next to him, sipping the second glass of water herself. “Drink. The water first, then that. It’ll at least save you from being dehydrated in the morning. They’re, uh—they give them to us after… long stints groundside.” Hopefully he wasn’t apt enough to notice her cover-up; she’d yet to tell him about their real purpose: to keep biotic soldiers hydrated, given the amount of calories and electrolytes burned in combat generating and controlling mass effect fields.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Whumpril #10: Adrenaline

Jemma curls as far back into the corner of her cell as she can. It’s pathetic. She should be better than this. She’s a fighter, a soldier. She’s faced down hordes and liberated whole planets. And in contrast to Darrow - supposedly the mastermind of their little operation - or Jay - the lead singer of their little boy band. She can manage the clean up and the logistical requirements of a newly freed people. 

It’s not, despite what the men might think, as easy as bombing whatever passes for the Domain’s Central Services, making a rousing speech and flying off into the sunset. 

All of which is to say that she has both brains and brawn. Capture can happen to anyone, weight of numbers will, eventually, subdue even the best of strategists and the most fearsome of warriors. And Jemma is confident that she didn’t make a mistake and that she would make every choice that led to this again. 

The Domain will doubtless take her apart. They’ll strip out everything that makes her her first. But she couldn’t have let them put hands on Rosie. The girl’s the same age as the daughter that she doesn’t think about. The one wound she has that never scars over and is just as raw as it was the day she lost her. 

Making dramatic heroic pronouncements:

Take me instead of her.

I’m far more use to you. 

Just…just go. Don’t worry about me. 

That’s the easy part.

Being here, waiting, knowing they’re coming and what they’re going to do her… Even Jemma’s steel quails a little, making her cower and shake. She hates herself for it and hopes she isn’t going to disgrace herself by begging.

Which is when there’s a bang, a crash. Explosion? It makes the whole structure shake. If they were groundside, Jemma would wonder if it was a quake. There’s a brief screech of a siren, abruptly silent, and the many (many many many) fleet personnel running, swearing, shouting panicked questions to each other.

Is…is this enormous floating prison fortress under attack?

Which idiot would-

No. Wait. She knows. 

Adrenaline suffuses her, stiffening her spine. This is foolhardy, it risks everything that she’d given herself up for. The light on her door denoting the lock’s magnetic engagement pulses. The door begins to move. Jemma curls hands into fists, ready to fight her way out of the box she is trapped in. Ready to turn an impossible attack into an equally impossible pincer movement. Ready to help however she can.

She doesn’t even get a chance to leap for the opening door as the taser hits her in the gut and takes her to the floor. 

[wingsdreamt]

ameneurosis

@steeleidolon

Time, the passing of it between major events and the disruptions they have wrought, affords them some level of safety they would not have otherwise had. Time, plus whatever magical properties are wrapped up around the bunker that render them immune to shifting timelines until the moment they step back out into the smoggy haze of Midgar’s underside. Glancing one last time at the date printed on the corner, Zack folds up the newspaper in his hands and tucks it under his arm as they half-jog up the steps to HQ. 

No news is good news never applies when Shinra is at its center. A cursory glance through the editorial columns, the overseas war, classifieds, and entertainment sections provide no insight as to Kalm’s eventual fate. March 21st, almost a year to the date. Best not to advertise what happened at all and let the Turks work quietly like they usually do. The company motto, of sorts.

“1999…Didn’t The Matrix come out that year? This year. Whatever. We caught it in theaters and re-watched in the dorms only to find out that Shinra’s censorship team completely fucked with the theatrical release, right?”

Chatter between two helmeted SOLDIERs as they pass the threshold of glass doors lining the front entrance, filling the air with their complaints about the latest and greatest sci-fi flicks, is mundane, all of it. No suits turn their heads, PubSec admires and reviles from afar without criticality, other SOLDIERs have places to be, orders to fulfill and training to attend. 

They blend right in.

Contingencies have been prepared for worst case scenarios. Their bikes have been hidden under a sheet of tarp by one of the many chain link gates that feed into the nearby corporate housing districts. Within sprinting distance, should they suddenly be discovered. 

The higher up they go, the more creative they will have to be to get groundside. One benefit of their years past shenanigans while on leave– intimate knowledge of the Tower’s various maintenance access tunnels and vents provide escape routes aplenty within arms reach. Useful when avoiding the ire of their superiors and friends, necessary now that they cannot afford their progress arrested. With enough false confidence and elaborate obfuscation between them, Zack is optimistic they won’t have to go that far. 

The sound of their boots striking the perfectly polished floors, ambient chatter from other employees, the smell of cheap coffee left to sit too long in its pot, even the damn leafy planters next to the benches. There are so many memories in these halls, so many things that have remained unchanged in his mind’s eye against the backdrop of the past that they now traverse. It takes measurable effort not to stop and linger to stare in disbelief. 

Using two fingers, Zack taps against the side of Kunsel’s shellmet with a laugh as they make their way past the information desk, around an arguing group of analysts, and up to the elevator. Purposeful, despite the whimsical ease of their conversation.  

“Okay. But. Wanna know my first thought the first time you took the helmet off?” Zack knows he looks absolutely goofy with the shameless grin he now wears, toothy and glittering beneath the open portion of his helmet while they wait for the elevator doors to open. They can be forthcoming here, now. As much as they want.

“I thought–” he stops for a moment, elbows the button labeled ‘49’ on the way in, then faces forward with his arms folded as the doors slide shut. Zack angles his head towards Kunsel, continues with complete seriousness, “--oh no, he’s hot.” 

[nebulaicdust]

Looking at the sky and the clouds and the sun from the other side of the atmosphere for the first time in your life.

---

Anei'Veron gets groundside for the first time in her life, and on a garden world at that. Who knows what her Pilgrimage has in reserve for her future?

[autoexsanguine]

what are the major factions in Eyecandy's setting? are there any important-but-small factions? which factions will be in focus, narratively?

absolute shambling ramble below the cut!

The largest faction in the setting is definitely the Dragoon Navy - the godslaying navy we've mentioned in the captions of our drawings we've been doing! They're essentially a nation-sized navy of airships formed to kill the godlike monsters that show up every few decades, now with 600 years of history behind them. The long gaps between Leviathans actually showing up leaves a lot of time where they still need to somehow support themselves, so 85% of the time theyre seen as essentially a pirate navy hoarding the technological secrets that make their ships actually work. The Admiral Bloodied Dove has also, on a few occasions, used the navy to intervene militarily against the nation-states forming groundside.

While they use naval ranks, Captains are elected from among the crews annually. Technically, Captains can then vote amongst themselves to elect a new Admiral, but running against an immortal that half of your weird paramilitary sees as a saint doesn't tend to appeal to many.

Other than them, theres various nation-states which… we dont have much to say about. They're all fairly small (think princedoms in the HRE.) because of the nature of the setting - reality is only stable enough to do things like Build Cities in small pockets, surrounded by a morass of dreamlike uncertainty. The narrative mostly unfolds between three of these nations, with their tensions simmering in the background: Illrd, Stacks, and Vermillion.

With that said, there are several nomadic groups who live out there in the fog, the Covens! Their direct involvement in the narrative is limited (though one of our protagonists comes from the covens), but their actions come up a lot - living in the mists outside of the established nations, the covens are the ones who are able to chart and map the dreamlike demi-reality enough to find spots where it can be Forced into a shape enough to run railroads and such.

The actual story is on a pretty personal scale, so national/factional conflict mostly forms the backdrop to the core narrative, rather than being a particular focus? We do have some really disorganized docs with things like railroad companies and unions and which covens mostly deal with the cities where the characters live, but thats mostly for us to keep names and dates and such straight, and probably not an interesting read even if we did rewrite them to be halfway comprehensible, ehe.

[warped-au]

Transcript:

"Astro-Tower: Groundside space port for the First City on the Planet Gaia.

“After the introduction of Humanity into the United Nebulae (UN), there was a need for a Space Port to retrieve and ship goods as well as receive new intergalactic immigrants. As is custom for welcoming a new planet into the UN, each planet that is represented produced a single story of the tower and gifted it to Humanity. The tower thus stands at nearly 200 stories tall including the top most disc which is the Control Center to direct traffic. 

“The USA also gifted Humanity with a space station Port known as the Astro-Station. This space Port receives ships that may have difficulty entering and exiting the atmosphere due to size. It is also the primary entry for immigrants and goods to be processed. 

“Tarmac for arrivals and departures for both persons and goods are situated at different ends of the tower. For persons, the tarmacs are located on the north and south ends of the tower, while goods are on the west and east side of the tower. The lobby hosts ticketing, general information, and currency exchange offices. The other 197 floors have various restaurants, hotels, meeting offices, a library, gift shops and more.

“The Astro-Tower is located on the south end of the First City, overlooking it to the north, east and west. To the south, the tower overlooks The Sea.

The screen then changed to show an outline of a golden retriever happily sitting, with a pair of costume angel wings on its back.

“As you can tell, there is a lack of creativity in the naming conventions of humans. Historically there are three ways humans name things: 1) What The Thing looks like. 2) After whoever discovered and/or conquered The Thing. And 3) What they hope The Thing will become or do (and almost always ends up having the opposite effect). 

“The first method actually has two ways it can be implemented. The second being to name it what it looks like, but in another language than the primary one spoken. 

For instance, the name of their new planet is ‘Gaia’, which is just ‘Earth’ in a dead human language. ‘Astro’ is just ‘space’ in that same dead language.

"A prime example of this naming convention is the Golden Retriever, a domesticated dog named for its golden hued fur and ability to retrieve things for its owner (If trained and in the right mood). In fact if you looked at the golden retrievers branch in the animal family tree it would be listed as: 'Canidae, Caninae, Canini, Canina, Canis.' Which roughly translates to "Dog, Dog, Dog, Dogest of Dogs.

“The golden retriever and other domesticated dogs are also descendants of an aggressive animal called the wolf, also known as 'canis lupus,' (which means dog wolf.) This is why domestic dogs' scientific name is 'canis lupus familiaris,' which means 'dog wolf but friendly'. 

“There were many names that were presented as possibilities for the Astro-Tower. Some proposed to try and name it for the Captain of the Invincible which brought over the humans from their dying planet, Earth. Others suggested it be named after the ship, but many felt that naming it the 'Invincible tower' may be tempting fate. The Invincible’s head engineer (and at the time, primary City Planner) Mark, had suggested naming the tower after him. This idea was also shot down and instead the naming committee had decided to just name it for what it was in their dead language.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

*knock knock* Trick or Treeeeeat!

Sorry I'm late in answering this, but that just extends the fun, doesn't it?

Hmm, what do I have? How about the first part of a young Jeff and Lee WIP?

And again, I'll let you decide if it's the 'trick' or the 'treat'!

It was almost fate, when Jeff Tracy and Lee Taylor met at USAF basic training; two hotshot young men with eyes fixed firmly on the stars.

To some, it was a case of life imitating art. Jeff, the impulsive and passionate leader and tactician. Lee, the stoic, a thinker capable of action. Both fixated on a shared goal. It was inevitable – albeit not entirely respectfully – that they would be endowed with call signs from the TV show they evoked. Lieutenant Jeff ‘Kirk’ Tracy, and Lieutenant Lee ‘Spock’ Taylor.

By the time they came to the Space Agency’s attention, much had changed. It was no longer the USAF, that had been absorbed into the World Government Air Force. And they were Lieutenant no more. It was now Captain Jeff ‘Kirk’ Tracy, and Captain Lee ‘Spock’ Taylor.

And ‘Kirk’ had found his leading lady.

All astronauts were required to fulfil public relations duties, and Jeff and Lee quickly became the media’s darlings. Jeff was definitely the golden boy, the world’s press eating up his Kansas farmboy to astronaut story. Lee was heard to jokingly complain that it was “those darn dimples. If I had dimples like that, I’d be the one with the main billing, Jeff!”

It wasn’t uncommon for astronauts to get new callsigns, or ‘astronaut names’ upon successfully entering rotation once space qualified. Jeff and Lee were practically unique, they lost their callsigns. They had found their home, their place in the universe. They were Jeff Tracy and Lee Taylor.

The two ‘baby’ astronauts, quickly earned their wings, and the respect of their peers as quickly became instrumental in their exploits establishing and manning the Space Agency’s brand-new, state-of-the-art, research and tracking installation on the Moon: Shadow Moonbase Alpha, or, as they immediately dubbed it, Alphie. (“Saves on the phone bill, Control!”)

So when they were both pulled off Alphie’s rota and got posted groundside, the world’s media and scientific community were driven into a frenzy of rumour and speculation. Whatever was going on, must be big.

It was.

Jeff Tracy and Lee Taylor were to head the first manned mission to Mars.

And the world loved it.

[angelictyphoon]

[GROUND]: during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again.

@forgivenpunishment (7 to grace? :3c)

@forgivenpunishment

The song has been haunting him this whole time. An undercurrent, subtle, not fully imperceptible but not entirely legible. Grit beneath his fingernails, an itching wound almost fully healed, the controlled quaver in an opera singer's voice as it swells in time to the music, the barest catch in his revolver when he hasn't kept it properly oiled.

Plant song. He tilts his head back, squeezing his eyes more tightly to shut out all other distractions. The sound. Off key, nails on chalk, a newborn tomas finding its legs, Doppler effect. He didn't know such a thing was even possible. Worse still, the dissonance carries pain. Pain, and more, but it’s so difficult to discern. 

Vash breathes in sharply, startled by the spike of fear in his gut.

Why did it take him this long to notice something was wrong? How could he have been so blind, so deaf, so, so stupid? This is their last night here at the resort. 

“Sorry…Wolfwood…”

Just a couple minutes, he promised. Enough time to clear his head and he’d come back. With a lingering touch to the closed door to their hotel room, he sweeps down the hallway. To the elevator, down, down, down, as far as it will take him before he disembarks, hunting for a maintenance access opening, air duct, anything. If SEEDS has been successful here, then the engineers that built this place would have followed their blueprints, incorporated that knowledge groundside. 

That meant the Plant room, because there must be one, because the resonance pounds at his temples, flaring bioluminescence at the fringes of his face tells him he is so very close.

Metal clatters to the ground, deafening in the quiet hum of machinery. Vash nudges aside the security grate as he drops down from the duct and gazes on the Plant terrarium for the first time. 

Except what he sees is not a Plant, not quite. 

“No…” he breathes, climbing over the railing, his lips parted, color drained from his face. He makes it right up to the glass, right up to the figure huddled inside. A biomechanical horror of cables and misshapen wings, feathers fallen like so many withered petals, a face, a human face, cracked at the edges with Plant markings, human hands, arms, legs, and an exposed ribcage framing a ruby red, beating, human heart. 

Not fully human, not fully Plant.

Vash falls to his knees, fingers splayed against the glass. Whoever they are, whoever they once were… the person inside attempts to move, to weakly mirror the placement of his hands. 

“Nononono.” His voice strains with a suppressed sob as he presses his forehead to the glass. Feathers creep out from between the folds of his clothing, snaking through openings, along his arms, his cheeks, a few of which catch the tears already streaming from the corners of his eyes. Vash becomes so lost in the blurred Song, in suffering, in flashes of memory, that he does not realize that Wolfwood has angled his face away, cupping his face, until he’s blinking away a wall of tears. 

[springagainafter]

Fiddling with Ash's post-Therum dialogue!

Mildly dismayed by the lack of a reasonable dialogue option to agree with her opinion on the Council throwing humanity under the bus to save their own hides. The Renegade one is not cutting it. Went with neutral ("I don't see that as inevitable") but Merrick probably just nodded and said something like "that's definitely a possibility."

Ash expressed her opinion on how Garrus and Wrex, specifically, shouldn't be allowed to poke about the Normandy's engineering, weapons, etc. No mention of Tali (quarians aren't a Council race) or Liara (the asari have fancier tech and Liara doesn't hang around engineering or weapons).

Which led to one of my favorite neutral options.

Merrick: I'm not going to lock them in sleeper pods for the whole trip, Williams.

:D He'd never manage it with Wrex, anyway.

Ash's response is that she'd be more comfortable if they didn't have access to engineering/the CIC, which makes sense.

Merrick agrees with her reasonable "we shouldn't rely on the Council allies staying allies" stance, even if there are no great dialogue options to do that.

Ash mentioned her drill sergeant from her first field exercise on Titan and actually succeeded in getting a startled laugh out of Merrick (something she definitely hadn't heard him do yet) over them having had the same drill instructor (Gunny Ellison!) at the same boot camp.

I don't care if smiling looks better in 2 and 3; this is always such a cute little moment.

This led to him asking her if she'd worked with aliens and her explaining that she'd been mainly groundside.

Merrick: That's odd. Your record is spotless, and your technical scores are exemplary. You should be serving with the fleet.

Ash gave him a clearly-not-entirely-true answer here ("That's why I haven't worked with aliens, Commander") and he didn't pressure her to get a real answer.

(The default Colonist dialogue during part of the convo is "I lost my whole family on Mindoir." But he definitely doesn't bring that up at this point and instead told her she was lucky with her military family - without saying why - and didn't push when she dodged his question about whether she was related to anyone he'd heard of).

She asked him what he was doing here out in spaaace/the Alliance and he told her "I'm here to put hypervelocity rounds through the heads of bad guys" - another clearly-not-entirely-true answer - and she just said "Most satisfying part of the job, Commander" and didn't pressure him to give a real answer.

[dgrailwar]

[Pretender Squad] Ah- groundside enemies, too? Faker really brought the party favors, huh... let's not get shown up too badly, milord?

D'ya think these familiars have any appreciation for a good lullaby, or are they thoughtless things that are easier scattered with a firm strike?

Or, would we prefer to fight by proxy, and give Ruler a boost?

Lady Ruler! Don't be afraid to tag out for a breath if you need to! You're not fighting this alone!

"I'm not much for front lines, more of a supporter… I figured Ruler wasn't either, but I seem to have misjudged her on that front. She can probably do both, but I don't think she's the type to back down unless it's absolutely necessary."

He pointed outwards, at the Ruler-Class Servant that was smashing through the skeletons. Her body seemed to glow after each impact, brighter and brighter, drawing more attention towards her-- which meant more skeletons would stumble in her direction… and end up obliterated.

"Thank you, Masters! I promise I won't put it to waste!"

"I wonder if she's some type of knight or paladin… ah- hang on a moment."

The Pretender raised his hand. A spear made of glistening wood was shot forward, knocking one of the skeletal warriors into pieces before it could slip in and attack the Ruler. As swiftly as it appeared, the spear vanished into a dark mist, as the Ruler turned around with a grateful smile.

"Ah-- there were so many, I didn't even notice! Thank you!"

"Not a problem! It'd be troublesome if you got taken out now, right?"

-

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