#intel reports

[p-ross]

step into my office!

welcome! i’m ross @sootapologist, and this is my funny little homoerotic political rp blog :]

what the hell is this? so glad you asked! the psychocompetitive hivemind, a tntduo discord server, got a little too silly one day and now we have our own weird roleplay. noc is president, crisis is an anarchist, ross is clinging desperately to the idea that having power will fix them- it’s all incredibly fun! if you’d like to join the server, i can get you an invite ^_^

p!ross uses he/she/they pronouns and uses any terms but prefers masc! she is demiallo and mspec.

tags below!

memos - talking/reblogs in character

meeting notes - talking/reblogs out of character

the people’s president - answering citizens (anyone without a set rp character)

intel reports - in character commentary on something happening outside of this blog, ie on other blogs or within the server

enough to make a girl blush - suggestive cw (it’s more common than you’d think.)

it takes two - @an-oncoming-crisis (running mate)

knife or stone - @presidentnocturne (opponent)

watching the train wreck - @worstfirstlady (opponent’s first lady)

freesias and snapdragons - @maxforoffice (opponent)

still at the bottom - krote (?)

[top-quality-garbage]

i made this literally a week ago. as a joke. it has aged poorly.

[fourphoenixfeathers]

so is your shattered glass au inspired by the cancled tfa animated where bulkhead and sari went to the shattered glass world?

No, not really. I've heard of the cancelled plans, but nothing really caught my eye. I was mainly inspired by the IDW shattered glass comics, and the way the Decepticons in TFA are always just a few war crimes away from being good guys. The times where they were living up to their name and being deceptive, I always found myself thinking "what if it wasn't an act? what if they really did care?" and that's where the sg au thoughts began.

Stuff like the autobot high command being deeply messed up even in canon, the way that Sumdac was so sweet and kind with Megatron when he thought he was an autobot, and the way Longarm/Shockwave was the only bot who seemed to care about Bee in training were a major part of it.

I didn't need to change the autobots too much to be honest, they just had to be a bit more ruthless and overtly cruel. And for the decepticons, they were already fighting for their own reasons. I just wanted to see a world where they became freedom fighters instead of terrorists. And since Optimus and the space bridge crew aren't as entrenched in the autobot brainrot, I wanted to jump on the opportunity to get them to switch sides, so I can have all my fave characters.

There are also some things that I just injected straight from the IDW shattered glass, aside from the color palettes, like Starscream being a scientist and Shockwave struggling with his infiltration bc he has too much empathy. But there are also a ton of things that I don't want to mirror, because even though they were interesting, the overall tone of the au is fluffy. If I could make everyone turn traitor, I would, but right now I'm just looking at the space bridge crew and Blurr.

[veerbles]

very curious about public opinion

honestly we all know post ck kaz is putting his whole back into making the council's lives miserable until they stop slavery. but what about the 1/13 of them that is uhhhh maybe like his friend or something (don't ask him to admit this out loud. he won't)

[zzz-updates]

Zenless Zone Zero Version 1.6 "Among the Forgotten Ruins" Special Program | Intel Report

In the forgotten ruins, a curse of "fate" flows through the blood.

New Agents Soldier 0 - Anby & Trigger are coming soon! Look forward to Agent Signal Search reruns, new plot content and gameplay features in Version 1.6!

The Special Program redemption code will expire on March 1 at 23:59:59 (UTC+8). Don't forget to redeem it~

View the image to see the highlights of this Special Program!

Redemption Code: SOLDIER0ANBY

>> Official Hoyolab post <<

[mad-hunts]

LOUIS MATHIS, THE INTELLIGENCE GATHERER — a walking collection of information to use against enemies and who's responsible for 'scaring' problematic clients a little to keep them in line.

[c-o-r-e]

Divine ultimates

There's limited knowledge on what has been dubbed as Divine ultimates / talents. It's believed to be linked to mass subconsciousness or a shared belief that has manifested.

The only way to get valuable results is to get a person with a Divine ultimate. It's going to get dangerous as we can tell. It's as if Despair is tied to this type of ultimate.

Rest easy as the C.O.R.E is seeking to prepare and prevent any global despair collapse. If you suspect anyone who could have a Divine ultimate, immediately report it to the closest authorities. Do not approach these individuals as they could be dangerous.

[p-ross]

i try not to be rude but god does mediating conflict get tiring sometimes.

[projp166-terong]

PROJP166

D̬̂Â̬F̬̂T̬̂Â̬R̬̂ ̬̂Ŝ̬Ê̬K̬̂Â̬R̬̂Â̬N̬̂Ĝ̬ ̬̂D̬̂Î̬Ŝ̬Î̬N̬̂Î̬

PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗔𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡 ☑️PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗠𝗨𝗗𝗔𝗛 𝗠𝗔𝗫𝗪𝗜𝗡 ☑️PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗢𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗥PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗔𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡 ☑️PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗠𝗨𝗗𝗔𝗛 𝗠𝗔𝗫𝗪𝗜𝗡 ☑️PRO JP 166♦️ 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗢𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗥

[usainsider025]

Intel Shares Jump on Report It’s an Acquisition Target

[unidentifiedfuckingthing]

gave in and linuxed our laptop the other day and its CRAZY how literally from startup to shutdown on windows it got so hot and the fans were running nonstop and using linux w kde it was just like. 🙂👍 its not even an ancient laptop its like an 8th gen intel. i mostly use it as a tablet bc its got a pressure sensitive touch screen so i might even be able to use blender on battery for more than literally half an hour now

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when gojo satoru sees a tiktok that says “she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies” and takes it way too seriously?

a/n : satoru in a small ponytail. that’s it. i am so ill.

it starts with a tiktok.

some ridiculous, pastel-filtered, bubbly-voiced thing that popped up on his for you page. satoru wasn’t even paying attention at first—phone half dangling from his hand, his long legs stretched across the couch, socks mismatched, one slipping off at the heel. eyes glassy from too many cursed reports. a headache blooming behind his infinity.

then he hears it:

“she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies.”

the video loops, endlessly.

satoru’s entire body tenses like he’s been struck. won’t marry me? the phrase echoes. his thumb hovers above the screen, then slowly lowers it like he’s disarming a bomb. he watches the video again. and again. and again. each repetition more damning than the last.

because here’s the thing—he’s already imagined it. you, in white. your name beside his on every formality. the tiny domestic moments. the matching toothbrushes. your socks in his drawer. the way you scrunch your nose at strong coffee but drink it anyway because it reminds you of mornings with him. gojo satoru, known for his irreverence, hasn’t taken anything seriously since he was sixteen—except you.

so, of course, he can’t take any risks.

within five minutes, he’s spiraling. tabs multiplying like cursed spirits. “best cookie recipes to make her love you.” “is baking a love language.” “can cookies be legally binding.” he’s skimming mom blogs and side-eyeing user reviews like they’re jujutsu intel. he gets into an argument with a reddit user named sugarboi92 about sea salt ratios. he forgets to blink.

you’re across from him on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, headphones in, humming softly to yourself. your lips move slightly with the lyrics. you don’t even notice the way his blue eyes flick toward you every thirty seconds, like he’s checking the stakes of the mission. his gaze lingers on the slope of your shoulder, the arch of your brow when you’re concentrating. the way you curl your toes slightly when you're content.

the next day, the kitchen is chaos.

flour in his hair. streaked across one cheek like warpaint. he’s tied his hair back, sort of—a stubborn, barely-there stub of a ponytail held by one of your elastics, fraying loose at the crown. his bangs still refuse to behave, fluttering messily over his forehead. he’s in your apron. pink. frilly. a cartoon cat winking on the chest. it rides up awkwardly over his broad frame, and he wears it with the dignity of a man crafting destiny.

his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. his forearms flex as he stirs. his fingers are clumsy, smudged with brown sugar. a smear of chocolate ends up on his temple. he mutters under his breath with each step, reciting the recipe like a curse formula. every so often, he glances toward the door, listening for your footsteps.

jazz plays faintly from the speaker. something soft, velvety. the smell of vanilla and browned sugar hangs heavy in the air. when he spins to check the oven, his socked foot slips slightly on a patch of spilled butter—he stumbles, catches himself with infinity, then growls, “no, no, no—these are for my wife.”

satoru tries. he really tries. he measures, levels, even uses your little kitchen scale. but halfway through, impatience wins. he eyeballs the butter. forgets the baking soda. adds too many chocolate chips. licks the spoon like it might tell him what love should taste like.

the cookies come out uneven. some puffed too tall. others thin, laced with caramelized edges. a few… a few are better left unnamed. but he arranges the best of them on a plate, forming a heart that leans to the side like it’s shy. he pipes icing across the center: “marry me?”

it’s crooked. a little desperate. but honest.

the kitchen is still warm when you shuffle in, rubbing your eyes, hair sticking up from sleep. your sleep shirt hangs off one shoulder. you freeze mid-step, blinking slowly at the sight of him.

he’s standing like a statue—plate in both hands, held up like an offering to a divine force. his hair is coming loose, white strands falling into his eyes. powdered sugar dusts his collarbone.

“...did you bake?”

your voice is raspy. amused. your brows lift slightly.

“for you,” he blurts. “they’re… hideous. but they’re made with love. and maybe some shell. tiny bits. character-building crunch.”

you blink. then smile. soft and slow. your hand comes up to stifle a laugh, but it slips through anyway—light and warm. he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a century.

you take a cookie, nibble it, eyebrows rising in playful surprise. “not bad. crunchy. very... bold.”

he grins, triumphant and sheepish all at once. “bold like my love.”

later, you’re curled into him on the couch, your fingers idly twisting the hem of his shirt. his hand is at your waist, thumb rubbing slow circles over your hipbone, grounding himself. the crumbs from the cookies are scattered on the coffee table, forgotten.

satoru murmurs into your hair, “you would marry me even if i didn’t bake, right?”

you hum, teasing. “maybe.”

you don’t see the way his jaw tightens slightly. how his hand stills. how his eyes lose focus, staring somewhere into the middle distance.

that night, he doesn’t sleep.

by 3 a.m., he’s back in the kitchen. hair tied up again, face set in grim determination. this time, he double-checks the measurements. preheats the oven properly. watches every timer like a hawk. he sifts the flour twice. levels every cup. wipes down the counter with surgical precision.

because gojo satoru might be the strongest sorcerer alive—but when it comes to you, he won’t risk anything. not even with cookies.

he knows the video’s probably a joke. he knows you’re not the kind of person who’d break up with him over a batch of chocolate chips. he knows tiktok is 90% lies and 10% cat videos with manipulated audio. but what if it’s not? what if, deep down, there's a part of you that really does want warm, homemade cookies from the person you love? what if someone else bakes them for you first?

that’s not a chance he’s willing to take.

not when he’s already seen every future where he loses you—and in none of them did it start with cookies. but maybe that’s why it’s so dangerous. maybe the end begins with small, quiet things.

so he bakes.

and love, unlike cursed energy, can’t be tamed. it pulses, wild and unscripted, without binding vows or techniques—just a heart stupid enough to keep trying.

[blazehedgehog]

Soaking this in

If you don't know what this is, here's an explanation: Both Fortnite and Call of Duty employ something called "Skill-Based Matchmaking" (SBMM for short), and it has become the bane of a certain subset of players who very vocally yell about how it is ruining multiplayer games.

In short, the game secretly and quietly keeps track of your "skill level." Even if a game has both ranked and unranked modes, it is always tracking this skill level stat that reports back how quickly and easily you're getting kills. When you connect to a new match, it tries to group you with players near your skill level.

The idea being you start with zero skill stat, and by playing the game well, your skill stat levels up until you eventually plateau and you are forever playing the game with people that are just as good (or bad) as you are, within some level of variance.

This means if you're one of these career streamer guys or a Youtube clip compilation sort of dude (or both), then you very quickly get put into high tier matchmaking pools with all the other career streamers and wannabe esports pros. Hence the very loud, very vocal complaints, because if you're one of those guys, the idea of having a "casual match" goes away. Everybody is always firing on all cylinders and you're expected to do the same in order to keep your rank and not look embarrassing to your captive audience.

So Activision apparently ran an experiment per Charlie Intel (article here) where they reduced SBMM's effectiveness, meaning the big fish pros and the little tadpole casual players were thrown into more games together.

The result was a sharp uptick in players rage quitting matches early, some even quitting the game entirely and never coming back. The report notes that while player retention for players with a high skill rank was improved, they make up such a small percentage of the player base (apparently less than 1%; the article has some grammar problems) that servicing them really doesn't make sense.

As it turns out, low level players don't want to get hopelessly destroyed by wannabe esports pros. And those pros make up such a small percentage of the player base it doesn't make sense to keep feeding them more low level chum, even though they are the hungriest for it. As more and more low level players permanently leave the game due to frustration, it turns into a wasteland where high level players are getting mad at each other until they also get frustrated and leave as well. SBMM ensures long term health for a game's multiplayer ecosystem.

And being a Fortnite player, it's so validating to hear this. "SBMM is ruining multiplayer" was always a narrative coming from streamers and youtubers who were frustrated by having to actually TRY instead of being able to score easy clip compilation fodder on clueless newbies.

Enjoy sticking to your smurf accounts now, I guess.

[prokopetz]

I love it when farm animals in strategy games have their own little pockets of visibility in the fog of war, because the fog of war is ostensibly a visual abstraction of military intelligence-gathering, which implies that the goat is submitting intel reports.