#strategies for mastering Statistics

[elvearryn]

König + Horangi Headcanons

Regrettably, the brainrot has taken hold of me properly, so this was always going to be an inevitable post

(This is also a chance for me to compile and work out my characterization of these two, as a sort of warm-up exercise for writing them).

All SFW! Trigger warning for mention of scars, alcohol, gambling, violence (military), you know Call of Duty typical stuff

All the headcanons for each are separate for each character, a few mentions of Horangi in König’s list but that’s it

That being said, here are my headcanons for König and Horangi 🙏

Horangi bites the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking really hard or having an internal emotional tug of war about something, he actually developed this habit because he used to instinctively press his tongue against the inside area of his cheek that had been scarred (if you’ve seen the popular design where he has a scar from about the corner of his lip up to his cheekbone, and yeah. I like that concept a lot)

Horangi used to drink and smoke heavily, as part of his gambling days. He dropped that habit when he joined the military, and to this day absolutely resents heavy alcohol of any kind, but doesn’t actively avoid milder alcohol as much as he does the stronger stuff, he just doesn’t see the appeal in it anymore

Speaking of which, Horangi sucks at gambling, in fact he’s so terrible at it it’s a wonder he stayed in the business so long. He actually wound up so far in debt because he kept telling himself “it’s not statistically possible that I can never win.” So he kept trying to prove he was capable of winning (he wasn’t.) Eventually, he did quit, escaping debt by fleeing normal civilian life in the process

Horangi hasn’t touched gambling since, he’s wary of even simple card games (glances judgmentally at uno). Even if he still gets that itch sometimes, he curbs it by playing games that don’t involve luck at all

By that I mean Horangi loves strategy games. A downright freak about them even, this way he’s not risking any money on card games that might be rigged… (Horangi chess menace, anyone..? Not promising that he won’t try to cheat in checkers) and he swears like a sailor whenever he loses

Any rush Horangi used to get from gambling is gone anyway, nothing can compare to the adrenaline spike from being on missions. In comparison, gambling feels like a watered down high and a desaturated painting, it wasn’t anything like the vivid colors of the battle field experience… and even that could get boring sometimes…

(That is not encouragement to throw yourself into combat 💧)

Horangi loves silver jewelry, especially rings. But never wears anything gold or with gems on it, he prefers the sheen of silver, and thicker jewelry too, heavy banded rings and he actually considers his dog tags as something of a fashion statement… there was a point in his life where he had his ears pierced, and only ever wore silver or black for those, however the piercings have since closed up as they would have been a hindrance in his military work

When Horangi was a kid, he wanted to be able to skateboard, the kind of kid who thought kick flips and riding rails down the stairs was the coolest thing, unfortunately he was never really all that good on wheels, and didn’t have the time to master the hobby

(He sure as hell can snowboard though. Don’t ask me; it came to me in a vision)

Horangi was actually planning to get full tattoo sleeves on his arms, but discovered that he was somewhat unnerved by the constant jabbing of the ink needle when he got his wrists and forearms done the first time around, since then he’s been a little wary about getting more. It’s not that his pain tolerance is low, or that he’s scared of the process, he’s just kind of annoyed by the way it’s done and the time it takes since it leaves him with nothing to really do while he waits with the incessant jabbing of the needle… yeah, he’s not a fan

Horangi has scars on his back (tiger scars!!!) from his youth, they’re not pretty or nice to look at, all ridged flesh and awkward lines, he couldn’t sleep on his back for weeks while they healed; and even after that there was phantom pain.

Because of these scars, Horangi dislikes having his back to anyone even more than the usual soldier. Not because he got the scars in that way, but simply because he’s subconsciously aware of them being there and he doesn’t like the idea of having them out in the open (even though he knows they can’t be seen when he’s dressed)

Horangi likes to doodle, no he’s not a good artist, he just likes to scribble on things, drawing in the dirt with a stick when he was a kid kind of thing, always carries a pen with him and doodles when he’s bored

Horangi is a great swimmer, like athlete level good at it. Do not try to race him, he will win

Is an avid language enjoyer, Horangi actually likes exploring different languages and how they work phonetically as well as alphabetically. His English is remarkably good, even with his thick accent

On that note, Horangi’s penmanship is… less than perfect. Maybe a small case of doctor’s handwriting if you know what I mean. He tends to slant his words a bit, and it looks a little like chicken scratch, but it’s charming in its own right

Horangi likes rock and rap, I think when he was a teen he would have really liked No Brain, especially the song “내 가죽잠바 My Leather Jacket” as well as western heavy metal, though he likes rap and hip hop too, anything fast paced or with a heavy beat (guilty pleasure listening might be lighter r&b) if you saw Gangnam style in his playlist, no you didn’t

If Horangi played an instrument it would be electric guitar, but only as an excuse to shred until the callouses on his fingers split and he had to wait for new ones to develop

Horangi is selfless to a fault, he likes to think he wouldn’t go through hell and back for just about anyone when he knows deep down he would in a heartbeat, he’s always cared deeply about others, he just struggles a little to express it, very much more of a subdued affection kind of guy, shown through little actions instead of straightforward declarations which are a rarity, but do happen

Horangi likes the military because it gave him purpose and direction. And best of all- an outlet. What else was he supposed to do with his somewhat short fuse and need to release pent up energy? Bashing up enemy forces seemed a good enough way as any

Horangi takes his coffee black, americano. (Shamelessly stole this headcanon from his voice actor…)

Bonus :

(His words not mine, do with this information what you will)

Now… König is somewhat of a difficulty for me to work through, he’s a bit of a silly bastard I can say that much. Still working on disemboweling him to understand how he works so his list might be a bit shorter, but I’ll try my damndest

König is clumsy, not in a “whoops I fell down the stairs silly me…” way but in a “where the hell did I leave my keys..?” kind of way, which is funny because he always struck me as someone who pays attention to detail while also having situational blindness, like “holy shit there was a car right there” even when you could ask him what the arrangement of crates were in a cargo shipment and he could tell you exactly without needing to think hard about it

König is absolutely incapable of keeping himself still, one of the reasons he was denied the position of a sniper… whether it be literally twiddling his thumbs, or bouncing his leg, he is always moving one part of his body at any given time

Two words, bad liar… König is a terrible liar even, not even consciously he just isn’t good at not giving an honest answer, especially if it’s to people he’s comfortable being around. Shifting eyes, clenched jaw, kicked puppy sort of demeanor if he’s actively trying to withhold the truth, he’s bad at covering it up unless he’s annoyed, then he can evade giving a straight answer but otherwise he can be read like an open book

In terms of social interaction, König is not some sort of inept stuttering dork, rather I would simply describe him as a little out of his element in mundane social settings. He’s a menace on the field, and he’s comfortable with that, when he isn’t occupied with something physically or mentally demanding however… he’s a tad socially awkward. But he’s still brazen and a little cocky, albeit easily annoyed or flustered (not blushing wreck flustered, just at a loss for words and maybe a few confused blinks if anything)

König is also competitive and a bit of a grump honestly, he takes things personally and tends to overthink, maybe a bit of a bad habit that involves twisting things in his mind until they’re warped from what they initially were, but yeah he’s gonna take things as a challenge or a jab at his abilities (inferiority complex coming back with a vengeance in the form of feeling like he needs to prove himself constantly)

That’s not to say König isn’t a “gentle giant” he does have a soft spot and isn’t prone to picking fights himself, but he’s also… bipolar for lack of a better word, he would definitely treat something with the most tenderness his large hands can allow, but then turn around and obliterate an entire unit with a blind sort of unhinged arrogance that doesn’t take kindly to being rivaled

König is like a barely domesticated guard dog with self worth issues that present themselves through mild narcissism and social insecurity. Again, he’s a madman, just listen to his voicelines, Horangi may look insane on the outside but he’s actually relatively stable, König on the other hand is like a carefully constructed bridge made of entirely weak points that are holding themselves together by faint pressure and the whole thing is covered in tape that mask wounds instead of bandaids

If König played an instrument it would be drums, he needs to be able to bash on things, I think he would get frustrated with something like guitar or bass

König is a bit demanding with things he wants, and likes to think he can get what he wants with relatively little struggle, not that he’s a spoiled brat by any means, just that he sees something and goes “I want that.” And isn’t afraid to say that he wants it, and that’s basically saying “I intend to get it” but he also does have manners, and isn’t exactly extroverted, but he has an obvious sort of intensity about him that really shines on the field, he likes a good fight

(Que “Finally some worthy adversaries!” line)

König knows he’s strong and is confident in his abilities, but despite knowing this he still doesn’t take praise well. Or compliments, he’s all sure of his abilities until someone points out he did a good job and suddenly he has no idea what to say, similarly if he thinks he can handle something and voices that, and someone replies “yeah you’re right, you’ve got this” he’d be like “???” because he’s not used to the positive reciprocation, he’s used to only having himself and the physical proof that he can do things and do them well, so when someone points it out he’s at a loss

König is more likely to let German slip into his speaking than Horangi is to let Korean slip into his, König’s English also isn’t as good as Horangi’s

König is a little possessive and can get defensive too. Stems from his childhood, being picked on a bit he learned to keep his stuff close to him and be careful who he shares with if at all, and is not trusting even if on the outside he appears relatively open despite his social awkwardness

However, König likes having instructions and knowing what exactly needs to be done, he’s organized and likes not always having to make a lot of complex decisions— the structure of the military gives him a way to keep himself occupied in this manner. And he likes feeling like he has a use, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted

(He’s still bitter about not being a sniper).

König’s handwriting is surprisingly nice, it’s neat and simple, but he doesn’t write paper and pencil often, in fact he usually records numbers and data if anything, and types everything else. He likes using digital tablets

König takes his coffee sweet, and doesn’t care about the temperature, he’ll drink coffee that started out warm and sat out long enough to get cold.

Rammstein fan? König is guilty. Also loves Slipknot and Korn. Orange Sector fan to the end too. His guilty pleasure is instrumental music. (Sometimes he and Horangi share their music with one another)

König wears his hair long (not super long, just a little unkempt and about jaw length), and he has stubble. He keeps his hair tied in a low bun for missions, on leave and for downtime he’ll tie the bun higher

König is shockingly loyal, like makes a conscious effort to be loyal to people, and is surprisingly thoughtful about little things that others wouldn’t really pay much mind too. It’s sort of a subconscious thing actually, he remembers a lot of insignificant stuff for no real reason, it just sticks

In König’s mind, he has a few jokes he came up with that he thinks are hilarious but has never had a chance to say them and is also a little doubtful other people would be as amused as him, so he keeps them to himself.

(Horangi might luck out one day)

Cough… and that’s all!! I’ll update this if I ever think of any more. But yeah, that’s all I got. Hope you enjoyed

[brodygold]

It Makes Sense

Inspired by @misctf and his post "Make It Make Sense". Be sure to check out his work too here!

Brody had just played the game of his life. As the captain and midfielder of the Golden Army, he'd pushed himself to the limit, scoring the winning goal in the last few seconds of the match. Every play, every pass, every movement on the field had just clicked. It wasn’t luck—it was strategy, precision, and heart. As the final whistle blew and his teammates rushed to celebrate, Brody couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Tonight was his night.

The post-match celebrations began quickly, with the team planning their usual victory dinner. This time, it was Brody's turn to pick where they’d eat. He already had his heart set on his favorite fried chicken joint, but first, there was one last hurdle: a quick interview with Channel 3 News.

Channel 3 had been covering the Golden Army since the team’s inception, and Brody had been interviewed by Andrew, their dedicated sports reporter, dozens of times. The two had built a solid rapport over the years, a bond of mutual respect that often made the interviews feel more like casual chats. But as Brody walked toward the camera crew, something felt... off.

Instead of Andrew’s familiar face, a new reporter stood in front of the camera. The man was stiff and uncomfortable, his dark suit and neatly knotted tie completely out of place on the field. His expression screamed disdain, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Still, Brody approached with his signature easygoing smile. “Hey there, bro. Where’s Andrew?”

The man turned to him, his face twisting with visible disgust. “Andrew is sick, so I’m covering for him. My name is Zachary. And let’s get one thing straight—I’m not your bro, ‘bro.’”

The contempt in Zachary’s voice was palpable, but before Brody could respond, the cameraman started counting down. Zachary plastered on a fake smile as the broadcast began.

“And we’re back after another thrilling game of soccer, with the Golden Army emerging victorious once again. I’m here with Captain Brody, who scored the winning goal in the final seconds! Good to meet you, Brody.”

“Likewise. Glad to be here,” Brody replied smoothly, despite the lingering tension.

“So, Brody,” Zachary continued, his tone dripping with condescension, “my sources tell me you’re the one who designed the plays that won your team the match. How does a jock like you come up with such clever strategies?”

Brody chuckled, brushing off the thinly veiled insult. “It’s not that hard for me, really. I’ve always been the smart one in the group. Ask the bros—they’ll tell you.”

“A smart jock? Now that’s a good one!” Zachary laughed, his amusement clearly genuine this time.

“Well, it’s true. I’ve got a master’s degree in mathematics and statistics. But, to be honest, I found my true calling here with the Golden Army.”

Zachary’s smile faltered. “That… makes no sense! I only have a bachelor’s degree, and I’m a journalist! You can’t be both smart and a jock! You have to pick one or the other, like I did!”

Brody tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, if it means anything, I think you chose correctly, bro. Those arm muscles must have taken a lot of effort!”

Zachary blinked in confusion, but before he could retort, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his arms. His biceps began to twitch and swell, growing larger and more defined. The seams of his tailored jacket strained, and his sleeves rode up, exposing thick, powerful forearms.

“What the—” Zachary stammered, staring at his newly muscular arms in disbelief.

“And those pecs look ripe for bouncing, bro,” Brody added with a grin.

As if on cue, Zachary’s chest began to expand, his shirt straining against his growing pectoral muscles. The buttons popped off one by one, revealing a broad, chiseled chest. His tie slipped to the ground, now utterly unnecessary.

“What… what are you doing to me?” Zachary gasped, his voice wavering between fear and bewilderment.

“Just don’t worry about it, bro,” Brody said soothingly. “In fact, don’t worry about much of anything.”

At those words, something shifted in Zachary’s mind. His thoughts, once sharp and cynical, began to dull and soften. The ever-present buzz of worries and calculations faded into blissful silence. Why stress about things he couldn’t control? Why stress at all? His lips curled into a goofy grin.

“Huhuhu, yeah… guess you’re right,” Zach mumbled, his voice deeper and more relaxed.

Memories of his old life started to slip away. His prestigious journalism career, his wife, his kids—all faded like a distant dream. In their place, new memories formed: the camaraderie of the Golden Army, the joy of training with the bros, and the thrill of victory on the field. The idea of dating a woman seemed absurd now. Why would he ever want that when he had a whole team of hot bros to bond with? He could have them any time he wanted, after all

As the transformation completed, Zach’s outfit shifted. His starched dress shirt shimmered and morphed into a tight, golden soccer jersey with black details, the number 58 emblazoned on the back. His slacks became shiny gold athletic shorts, and his polished shoes turned into gold cleats. He looked every bit the part of a Golden Army player.

“How ya feeling, Zach bro?” Brody asked, his tone playful but laced with authority.

“Never better, Cap! You know I always feel great after a win, bro!” Zach flexed his bulging arms, his grin wide and carefree.

Brody smirked, giving Zach a hearty slap on the back. “Good to hear it, bro. Now let’s go grab some fried chicken. I’ll meet you on the bus.”

As Zach jogged off to join the team, Brody turned to the cameraman, who was still staring in stunned silence.

“Sorry about turning your news anchor, bro,” Brody said with a shrug.

The cameraman hesitated, then grinned. “Eh, it’s fine. He was kind of a jerk anyway.”

“Cool. Any chance I can get a copy of that footage?”

“Sure thing. I’ll have it sent to the stadium.”

“Thanks, bro.”

With that, Brody headed to the team bus, ready to celebrate the win with his bros and a big plate of fried chicken. Some people might have trouble reconciling his brilliance with his jock lifestyle, but he didn’t mind. He was always happy to help them make sense of it all.

[thecreaturecodex]

Cephalonoid

Image © Terryl Whitlatch, accessed at CG Channel here

[Sponsored by Soluman Blevins, based on art that Terryl Whitlatch did for her book Principles of Creature Design. At one point in development, I intended for this to be one of the illithidae, but found myself getting more and more sympathetic to it, so changed the alignment away from evil. Thus, they became the rarest of monsters; an octopus creature whose behavior is actually based on that of an octopus.]

Cephalonoid CR 12 N Aberration This creature looks like a hybrid of an octopus and a carnivorous dinosaur. Its head is like that of an octopus, except that its beak is on a long stalk, emerging visibly from the nest of tentacles growing from its face. It walks on all fours, but it can rise on its hind legs like a gorilla. Its fingers and toes are jointless and tentacle-like, and a row of suckers runs down its back and along the upper surface of its tail. A coiling shell grows from the crown of its head, with an inflatable pouch beneath it.

Cephalonoids are strange sapient predators that resemble a hybrid of mollusk and vertebrate. They are amphibious, hunting either above or below the waves and then hiding underwater in order to sleep. Cephalonoids are curious and voracious creatures, and spend much of their lives either hunting or playing. These two activities are perhaps synonymous, as cephalonoids seem to enjoy playing with their food.

A cephalonoid’s primary strategy is to grapple prey and crush it while it struggles to escape. Their beaks are more extensible than those of true cephalopods, but still possess a shorter reach than its many grasping limbs. Creatures bitten by a cephalonoid are injected with a numbing venom, all the better to cut their struggle short and make them easier to constrict. A cephalonoid can spray toxic ink, which can form a concealing and enervating cloud both above and below water. They are highly resistant to mind-influencing magic, which has led some scholars to suspect that they have a link to aboleths, illithids, or one of any number of tentacle horrors with mental powers. Cephalonoids show these creatures no love, and may in fact prey preferentially on them if their ranges overlap.

Unlike the octopus they resemble, cephalonoids are long-lived creatures, with lifespans that can extend up to fifty years. They are territorial amongst their own kind and do not tolerate intrusion, except during mating season or in the guarding of eggs. Female cephalonoids lay their eggs in colonies called gardens, where they watch over them, fasting for months until they hatch. The young are then left to fend for themselves, and may be mistaken for mundane octopus for a few years before their skeleton grows in and they begin to move about on land. Cephalonoids do not understand concepts like domestication or private property, and may come into conflict with humanoids above or below the waves for raiding livestock.

Cephalonoid CR 12 XP 19,200 N Gargantuan aberration (aquatic, amphibious) Init +8; Senses blindsight 30 ft.,darkvision 60 ft., Perception +17

Defense AC 24, touch 10, flat-footed 20 (-4 size, +4 Dex, +14 natural) hp 171 (18d8+90) Fort +11, Ref +12, Will +14; +4 vs. mind-influencing effects DR 10/magic and [slashing or piercing]; Immune poison; SR 23 Defensive Abilities decentralized brain

Offense Speed 30 ft., swim 30 ft. Melee bite +18 (2d4+9 plus poison), 2 slams +18 (2d6+9 plus grab), tentacles +18 (4d8+9 plus grab), tail slap +16 (1d12+4 plus grab) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. (10 ft. with bite) Special Attacks constrict (4d8+15), ink cloud, master grappler

Statistics Str 30, Dex 19, Con 21, Int 7, Wis 16, Cha 12 Base Atk +13; CMB +27 (+35 grappling); CMD 46 Feats Bleeding Critical,Critical Focus,Defensive Combat Training, Diehard, Endurance, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Multiattack (B), Power Attack Skills Climb +20, Escape Artist +24, Perception +17, Stealth +15, Swim +28; Racial Modifiers +10 Escape Artist, +4 Perception, +8 Stealth Languages Aquan

Ecology Environment any ocean or coast Organization solitary, pair or garden (3-8) Treasure incidental

Special Abilities Decentralized Brain (Ex) A cephalonoid’s intelligence is distributed through its entire body. This grants it a +4 racial bonus on all saving throws against mind-influencing effects. Ink Cloud (Su) As a standard action, a cephalonoid can create a cloud of ink in a 30 foot radius, either above or below water. This ink impedes vision as a fog cloud spell, and creatures in the area must succeed a DC 24 Fortitude save or be sickened and staggered for as long as they remain in the cloud and for 1d4 rounds thereafter. A cephalonoid can make an ink cloud once per minute. This is a poison effect, and the save DC is Constitution based. Master Grappler (Ex) A cephalonoid gains a +8 racial bonus to CMB checks made to grapple; this replaces the usual +4 for creatures with the grab special attack. A cephalonoid does not take a penalty to grappling without having two free hands, and can grapple up to four creatures smaller than itself at the same time. Poison (Ex) Bite—injury; save Fort DC 24; frequency 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d4+1 Str; cure 2 saves. Tentacles (Ex) The oral tentacles of a cephalonoid are treated as a single primary natural weapon.

[serenastark-official]

⚖️ 10: How to Win Arguments: Foolproof Tactics for Always Being Right (Because, Duh, I Am) ⚖️

Let’s face it: arguing is an art form. And if you want to master it like yours truly, you need strategy, wit, and just the right amount of sass. Whether it’s a sibling squabble, a debate with your oh-so-wrong friend, or a full-on battle of wits with Tony Freakin’ Stark, I’ve got you covered.

1️⃣ Do Your Homework Beforehand (a.k.a. Know Your Stuff)

Nothing’s worse than going into an argument unarmed with facts. If you’re gonna fight, fight smart. Research your topic, anticipate counterarguments, and have receipts ready. Pull up articles, studies, and even throw in a fancy quote if you’re feeling dramatic. Bonus points if you memorize a fact just to drop it at the perfect moment.

💡 Example: Someone argues that pineapple belongs on pizza? Hit them with food science and cultural history. Game over.

2️⃣ Stay Calm (Even When They’re Wrong and Stupid)

The person who stays calm always has the upper hand. The moment you start yelling, you look defensive—even if you’re 100% right. Keep your tone steady, your expressions neutral, and if necessary, throw in a condescending smirk. Nothing frustrates your opponent more than you being unbothered.

💡 Pro Tip: If they’re getting worked up, just tilt your head and say, "Aww, are you getting emotional?" That’ll either shut them up or make them combust. Either way, you win.

3️⃣ Use Logic, Not Just Emotion

Yes, passion is great, but if your whole argument is based on feelings, you’re setting yourself up for failure. Use logic, evidence, and structured reasoning. If you can break down your opponent’s argument piece by piece while they’re just screaming “BUT IT’S NOT FAIR,” you’ve already won.

💡 Example: Instead of “I just feel like I deserve the last slice of pizza,” try, “I was the one who ordered it, I paid for it, and statistically speaking, I eat faster than you, meaning I should have the extra slice.” Science.

4️⃣ Flip the Script (Turn Their Argument Against Them)

This is where the fun begins. If someone presents a weak argument, use their own logic to prove them wrong. It’s like verbal judo—redirect their energy until they’re arguing against themselves.

💡 Example: Them: "You're so stubborn!" You: "If I was really stubborn, wouldn't I refuse to listen to you right now? But look at me, standing here, considering your point. Sounds like you're the stubborn one."

Boom.

5️⃣ Socializing = Exposure Therapy (aka Get Used to Winning in Public)

Arguing is a skill, and like any skill, practice makes perfect. Debate people, challenge opinions, and get comfortable speaking up. The more you do it, the easier it gets. Plus, nothing builds confidence like absolutely wrecking someone in front of a crowd.

💡 Pro Tip: If you really want to sharpen your skills, argue with Stephen Strange (sorry buddy, you're the guinea pig in this experiment). If you can hold your own against him, you can argue with anyone.

6️⃣ Hit ‘Em with the One-Liner Finisher

You know that moment in movies when the main character drops a savage line and walks away while the other person stands there, speechless? That’s what you need. A solid one-liner can end an argument instantly. Keep it short, keep it sharp, and then leave before they can recover.

💡 Example: Them: “You always have to be right, don’t you?” You: “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Exit stage left.

7️⃣ Ask Them to Explain (and Watch Them Crumble)

People love to argue, but most don’t actually understand their own point. The easiest way to expose this? Just say, “Explain it to me.” Watch as they flounder, backtrack, and realize they have no clue what they’re talking about.

💡 Example: Them: “You’re wrong.” You: “Oh really? Explain exactly how I’m wrong.” Cue awkward silence.

8️⃣ The Art of the Strategic Pause

Silence is powerful. If someone says something stupid, don’t rush to respond—just pause. Look at them. Raise an eyebrow. Maybe shake your head slightly, like you’re disappointed in their choices. The weight of the silence alone will make them second-guess everything.

💡 Pro Tip: If they ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?” just sigh dramatically and say, “I was just hoping for more from you.” Works every time.

9️⃣ Keep a Straight Face (Even When Their Argument is Hilariously Dumb)

Sometimes, people say things so ridiculously wrong that you want to burst out laughing. Don’t. Keep a poker face. Let them think they’re making a good point, then calmly dismantle their argument. If you laugh, they’ll think they’ve flustered you.

💡 Example: Them: “The moon landing was faked.” You: (Deep breath, blank stare) “Interesting. So you think NASA faked six moon landings, but somehow forgot to fake better camera quality?”

Watch them short-circuit.

🔟 Know When to Walk Away (Because You Already Won)

The biggest flex? Knowing you’ve won and not even bothering to keep going. If the other person is just repeating themselves, flustered, or resorting to personal attacks, you’ve already won. Just leave. Nothing is more powerful than walking away while they’re still trying to think of a comeback.

💡 Final Move: As you walk away, throw out a casual, “You’re adorable when you’re wrong.” Instant ego destruction.

Final Verdict:

Winning an argument isn’t just about being right—it’s about being better at proving you’re right. Stay calm, stay sharp, and above all, stay petty when necessary.

Now go forth, young debaters. Make me proud. 💅

And if all else fails? Just remember: "Could I BE any more right?"

shoutout to @makuyi13 for the idea

Also see: How to Win Arguments: What to Do When (Gasp!) You’re Actually Wrong

[spirited-splashes]

dont tag as ship. Click image for higher quality cause tumblr compresses the heck out of these—

THE SHORTEST GAME OF INTERDIMENSIONAL CHESS EVER

Non-Canon compliant fanfic undercut, 364 words, just some silly stuff

The endless night of sky loomed everywhere;  twinkling stars and nebulas were a common occurrence and formed what felt like a painting from the masters.

    Ford floated around his dream, his hair answering to the zero-gravity environment as it floated alongside the ends of his jacket.

He walked, or atleast tried to walk (he mostly just did a swim-like motion) to what he found to be a wooden table with two chairs on opposite ends, somehow not tipping over and not answering to the enviorment’s physics.

   On the table was a checkered bluely-projected chessboard, with all the chess pieces still on the board despite the no-gravity environment.

“HEY, SIXER! UP FOR ANOTHER ROUND?”

Ford looked up and saw his good old muse:  Bill Cipher.

    He was a golden 2D triangle that had a brick like pattern, a black-top hat, and bow tie;  he also had noodle black arms and legs, His singular eye was near the point of his tip had overexaggerated eyelashs and his pupil was cat-like.

“Ofcourse!”

Ford floated over to the chess board, with him taking the white pieces and Cipher taking the black ones on the opposite end.

    Ford had a secret:  he has no idea how to play chess.   He knows how the pieces move but he could never be bothered to pick it up as a hobby and learn the tactics or opening principles (plus he knew colleges wouldn’t care since he had an SAT score so high it would break the machines)

“Okay, just…strategy, what about—“ he thought to himself

He ended up doing the worst possible move ever: pawn to F3

Bill just…stared at that move for a while, his eye agape with confusion before he shrugged and moved his king’s pawn to E5.

    The young man decided to push his pawn to g4 but bill ended up checkmating him on the next turn with queen to h4

“THAT IS STATISTICALLY THE WORST MOVE YOU CAN PLAY EVER IN THE MULTIVERSE OF CHESS.   SERIOUSLY WHAT-WHAT WAS THAT?” Asked Cipher as he looked up to Ford who seemed to grip the ledges of his seat in embarrassment.   “…DO YOU UH…DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW THIS WORKS?”

“…no.”

(welp! Here’s a fanfic for you chess nerds out there)

[ct7567329]

One Shot, Two Ghosts ~ Fox x F! Jedi Reader

Summary: You always thought the hardest part of being with Fox would be hiding the Clone Commander–Jedi Master relationship from the Jedi Council. But now, Fox is haunted by the shot that took Fives. Maybe love can’t fix what’s broken, but maybe, just maybe, it can hold it together. Word Count: 9.3k (oops) Warnings: ANGST, canon-typical violence, grief/survivor’s guilt, PTSD/trauma response, references to death, implied sexual content, language A/N: this was a fic I started back in 2021. idk why i abandoned it, but i think it FINALLY deserves it's moment. perhaps this took me so long to write bc it WAS a tough write but, oh well, i always felt as if Fox desperately needed love after ~ the incident ~ so, this one's for you Fox <3 flashback (dream) is in italics join my taglist / masterlist

The Council Chamber was colder than usual.

The stoic curved walls offered you no comfort. Neither did the quiet voices that filled the space. The other High Masters seated in their carved chairs spoke in even tones, discussing the implications of what had unfolded on Ringo Vinda.

"CT-5385" they kept saying.

Nope, that was Tup. You hated that part the most.

The way his name was replaced with a number, like that’s all he had ever been. As if he was statistic and the incident was some sort of glitch and a problem to be filed away to later be analyzed from afar. You'd seen Tup once or twice at 79's, always surrounded by his other brothers with blue stripes and big personalities. He was softer than the rest, or maybe just younger. His spirit wasn't meant for the life of a solider.

Now he was gone. And the other Masters talked about him like he had never been anything but a symptom of a larger issue.

The Council moved on to the next crisis. "ARC-5555," they said.

Fives.

Your stomach tightened at the name. You’d spoken with him countless times at 79’s, laughing at his charm. You always admired the fire behind his eyes and the desire to always dig deeper. If anyone could find the truth in all this mess, it was Fives.

You hoped someone was listening to him and that wherever he was, someone was helping him tell his story. Or at the very least, someone was making sure he wasn’t alone in all of this.

The meeting dragged on. Words and posturing and worry disguised as strategy. You didn’t speak though. Just sat in your seat, your robe wrapped tight around your shoulders, hands folded in your lap as the weight of the whole scenario pressed down heavier and heavier with each passing minute. By the time it ended, you were nearly shaking from the stillness.

You left the chamber with quick, quiet steps, not bothering to look back. The Temple library was nearly empty, as always at this hour.

Your fingers reached for a datapad console, searching for updates. Anything about the surveillance logs or a communication report. You weren't sure why, but the force was practically screaming at you. This case was important, even of you didn't know why yet. You hoped you’d see Fives' name appear with the words "in custody or safe for debriefing.", but what you found instead was a line of text you couldn’t quite process at first.

ARC-5555 has been executed by CC-1010 in Hangar 18 on Level 1325.

Fives, one of your favorite 79's drinking buddies, was executed.

By Fox, the solider you've been in a passionate relationship with for years now.

The datapad slid from your hands and clattered onto the floor. You didn’t stop to pick it up, nor did you wait for the numbness to catch up to the shock. You turned and left the library, your heart pounding, your breath stuck somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t even need to think, you just went to the one place you needed to be. Or perhaps the one place Fox needed you to be.

The apartment was nothing special. It was just a small semi-studio, tucked away into the upper levels of an older residential block nestled between two skyways. Kind of the place people passed without really seeing. Which was exactly why you and Fox chose it.

It wasn’t much, just one main room and a kitchenette, with a cramped refresher to the side and a single window that overlooked one of Coruscant’s quieter traffic routes. But it was a quiet, secret place you could could call each other's.

You scraped together credits over the years, piece by piece. He chipped in when he could. It wasn’t the kind of place a Jedi was supposed to have or kind of place a clone commander was allowed to even dream about. Regardless, the two of you had carved out something here. Something real. Most importantly though, it was done together.

It was a haven. A place where you weren’t General and Commander. Where the galaxy didn’t demand your names, your titles, your choices. Just two tired and bruised people who were reaching for something in the dark.

Fox always kept his boots in the corner by the door, lined up perfectly even when he came home exhausted. Your robe usually ended up draped over the back of dining table chair. The bed, however, was never perfectly made.

Fox never spoke about how much he needed this place, but you saw it in the way his shoulders dropped when he stepped inside or by the way he lingered in the mornings.

But now you were on your way there with your heart racing, barely seeing the levels blur past as the turbolift carried you downward. You didn’t know what you were going to find when you opened that door, but you knew he’d be there and he’d need you.

Maybe more than he ever had before.

The lights inside were off. You stepped in quietly, closing the door behind you with a soft hiss. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Fox was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders bowed forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.

His armor was discarded in an unorganized mess next to the refresher door, his blacks no where to be seen. With how damp his hair was, you figured he must have just finished showering.

You stood there for a moment in the doorway, chest rising and falling with every sharp breath, watching him like he might vanish if you moved too fast. He didn’t look up or speak, but you knew he heard you come in. You knew because as you made your way towards him, he began slowly shaking his head.

You crossed the room in slow, soundless steps, kneeling down in front of him, before placing your hands gently on his thighs. He was trembling just enough that anyone else might miss it. But not you though. You could never miss that.

“Fox,” you whispered, trying to get his attention.

He gave you nothing. His face stayed hidden behind his hands, but you heard a sharp inhale, like he tried to swallow his words before he spoke them out loud. You moved one hand to his arm, not to push him, but to give into him more.

He finally spoke, “I killed him.” His voice was hoarse and hollow, like his throat had been scraped raw.

“I know what happened,” you nodded. The words stung your tongue but you continued, “I saw the report.”

He shook his head, fingers digging into his scalp like he was trying to tear the memory out, “I don't know what I was thinking. I didn’t even give him a chance to-he was just-he was trying to tell me something. I should’ve listened. I should’ve-” He cut himself off with gurgle and pulled away slightly, like he didn’t deserve even your touch.

You didn’t let him go far. You leaned in closer, lifting your hand to his cheek, not forcing him to look at you, but just letting him know you were there and that you weren’t going anywhere.

“You didn’t go in there wanting to kill anyone,” you reassured him, “You went in there thinking you had to protect people. That’s what they trained you to do.”

“They trained me to follow orders,” he spat, finally dragging his hands down his face. His eyes met yours then, red-rimmed and glassy, “And I followed the wrong one.”

You stared into his eyes and saw the full weight of it. Not just the guilt, but the fear and the grief and the way something in him was unraveling, thread by thread.

“It looked like chaos in there,” you reminded him, “He was panicked. He had been screaming about chips and conspiracies and Fox, anyone would have-”

“I wasn’t anyone,” he cut you off sharply, "I’m the one who’s supposed to set the example and keep everyone in line. I’m not just another trooper, I’m the kriffing commander of the entire Guard.”

He paused, choking on the bitterness of his own title, before raising his voice to almost a yell, “And I executed an ARC trooper. I executed a vod. I executed Fives. And now everyone’s looking at me like I pulled the trigger because I wanted to.”

You shifted your weight on your knees, "But you didn't want to."

His jaw clenched. Then slowly, painfully, he shook his head, “No,” he rasped. “I didn’t.”

You nodded once, “Then start there.”

But Fox slumped his shoulders again, burying his face in your shoulder this time. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight, grounding him in the way his trembling fingers gripped the back of your top, like he was afraid you might disappear too.

“I can’t fix this,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

You closed your eyes, reaching to the force for guidance. Guidance to find the right words to say, but those words never came. Perhaps because there was nothing to fix. Fives was gone, the Guard was silent, the 501st was mourning, and there was no formal mourning period for a brother killed by a brother.

All you could do was hold the man who’d pulled the trigger and hadn’t stopped shaking since. Fox was warm in your arms, but everything about him felt cold. His fingers, his voice, his silence. You stayed with him like that for a long time, knees pressed to the floor, arms locked around him, your face tucked into his neck.

Every breath he took shook a little less than the one before. Eventually, he spoke again, “They didn’t even let him finish,” he murmured, “No one tried to understand. They just said he was an unstable threat and they called me to bring him in. I thought he was delusional and maybe he was. But that didn’t mean he was wrong.”

You rose to sit beside him on the bed, pulling him down with you so his head rested in your lap. He resisted for only a moment before his body gave out, leaning into you like a man too tired to carry his own weight.

“I didn’t know what to believe,” he whispered again, “I panicked. I thought I had my pistol set to stun, so I gave the order."

You winced. Fox thought, that when he pulled the trigger, his brother would be knocked unconscious by a non-lethal stun. That alone almost made it worse. You brushed your fingers gently through his hair, “You were trained to. Every command, every punishment, every protocol, taught you to do that.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” you agreed, “but it’s the truth.”

He turned his face into your thigh like he couldn’t bear to look at anything, least of all himself.

You didn’t tell him it was going to be okay, because you promised him you would never lie to him. It wasn’t going to be okay. Not right now at least. There was no tidy ending waiting around the corner, but you would be there for him through every jagged edge of this.

“You think the 501st will come for me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was barely more than a breath. It felt like confession and a question all at once.

“No,” you shook your head, “because somewhere deep down, they know it wasn’t really you pulling that trigger. It was the system.”

He didn’t respond.

After a long while, you whispered, “Fox, do you remember the first time you ever stayed here overnight?”

He didn’t lift his head, but you felt the smallest movement of a nod against your leg.

You smiled faintly, fingers still combing through his dark hair, “You came straight from a meeting with Tarkin. You were so tense I thought you were going to break in half. You wouldn't even speak to me about the meeting. You just walked in, dropped your helmet, and pulled me into bed.”

You let out out a soft, reminiscing huff of breath, “I remember thinking that even if you never said another word to me, I’d still know everything you needed.”

His face scrunched against your thigh, “Do you think that’s still true?”

You looked down at him, “Yes.”

He was quiet for a long while after that, but his breathing evened out. He didn’t cry or break down. He just lay there, resting in your lap, the events of the day still pressing down, but not crushing him, not while you were holding him up.

Eventually, he fell asleep like that. You didn’t move though.

You watched the street lights outside flicker against the windows, listening to the quiet buzz of passing speeders in the distance, all while thinking about Fives.

You hoped, wherever his spirit was now, he knew he had someone grieving for him in the heart of Coruscant. Even if it was the man who pulled the trigger and the woman who loved that man.

Even after he woke up, Fox didn’t move for a long time. His head rested against your thigh, one arm draped loosely across your lap. He was completely still, in that dangerous, glass-fragile way people get when they’re barely holding together.

You kept your hand in his hair, smoothing it back the way he always liked. Each stroke was gentle and reassuring. You weren’t sure if he noticed anymore but your other hand stayed wrapped around his, your thumb brushing across the top of his. He would always do that for you, so you figured you could do it for him. He needed that.

This was the silence after the storm. The part where everything flooded out of him, leaving nothing but exhaustion and bone-deep grief in its place. He hadn’t said a word in nearly an hour. He just lay there, curled against you like he didn’t trust gravity not to fail next.

You held him anyway, not trying to fill the quiet. There was nothing to say. Not when everything had already been ripped out of him on a durasteel floor hundreds of levels below. When a brother died by his hands and no one stayed behind to help him carry that weight.

So you did.

Your body curved around his, your warmth blending into him. One of his hands shifted after a while, fingers clutching your hip in a small, unconscious grab. Almost he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t keep you there. That small motion nearly undid you.

Fox, the silent, reliable, tough as nails, 'model soldier', was holding onto you like you were the only real thing left in the world.

Here, in this little apartment, far from the Guard’s barracks and the High Council chambers and the autopsy reports, you were still his. Still touching him without fear, judgement and most importantly, without pulling away.

His head turned slightly, forehead pressing into your stomach. The pressure was faint, but deliberate. A small gesture that said everything he couldn’t.

You responded the only way you knew how. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, tracing the fine edge of stubble and a faint scar. You leaned down just enough to press a soft kiss to the top of his head, right where his close-cut hair softened. You stayed there with nose against him, lips resting gently in his hair, until you felt him exhale.

He didn’t say he was sorry or ask for forgiveness. He didn’t speak of Fives or orders or mistakes or what came next. He just stayed against you, soaking in your warmth like a man starved of sunlight.

The hours stretched quietly. Light shifted across the floor, cool morning turning to gold, then pale again. And still, you stayed next to him because whatever came next, whatever consequences waited on the other side of the door, you wouldn’t let him face them alone.

Eventually, time caught up to you, and under Fox's comforting arm, you drifted off to sleep. Your slumber hit you so suddenly, it almost felt as if one moment, you were drowning in silence, the next second though ...

... the music was pulsing through you like a heartbeat.

Laughter echoed off the walls of 79’s, blending with the bass-heavy rhythm and the occasional roar of approval as someone won a game of sabacc or pulled off an especially bad joke. Lights flashed in hazy streaks of pink and violet, catching on the shine of armor and the occasional glint of a polished drink glass.

You were somewhere in the middle of it all, tipsy and glowing, one hand hooked in Jesse’s as he spun you clumsily toward Kix. Fives was already waiting there, arms wide open.

“Jedi special!” he whooped, catching you around the waist and lifting you off your feet just enough to make you laugh.

“I swear, one day I’m going to report you to the Temple for smuggling spice into your drinks,” you teased as he twirled you.

“You wound me,” Fives retorted, staggering just for effect, “You think this charm is spice-assisted? Natural charisma, cyar'ika.”

You laughed again, loud and genuine, as the beat shifted and Jesse joined in, swaying in exaggerated rhythm. Kix offered a salute with his drink before being pulled back toward the bar by another trooper.

This was the good part that no one outside the GAR ever saw. There was no war or orders or empty regrets here, just joy. You let yourself live in it for a moment, spinning, flushed, completely caught up in the rhythm and the company.

You didn’t notice the door open or the pause at the edge of the room until you turned mid-laugh and your eyes locked with Fox. He stood just inside the entrance, helmet under one arm, still in full Guard reds. The lights painted him a soft rose-gold for a moment before his expression registered. He was calm and composed. Almost too calm and composed.

You felt the shift in your chest. He was trying too hard to not to look like he minded. Fives saw it too, he never missed a beat. He raised his glass high, sloshing a bit over the side with a smirk, “To Fox’s Jedi,” he called out, giving Fox a salute.

Several troopers around you joined in with raised glasses. Jesse elbowed you gently while you gave a theatrical bow and winked.

Fox’s eyes didn’t leave yours. He moved toward you eventually, slower than usual, like the crowd didn’t quite feel real to him. When he reached you, he didn’t say anything. He just set his helmet on the nearest table and pulled up a chair close, but not too close.

You walked over and sat beside him, close enough for only him to hear, “Didn't know you’d show.”

Fox shrugged, “I usually wouldn't, but I was passing through.”

You bumped his shoulder gently, “Fives meant it as a compliment. Even if he was a little drunk on it.”

Fox gave a faint exhale that might’ve been a laugh. You knew better than to push. You let the noise of 79’s carry you both for a while, your knee brushing his and your hand eventually finding his under the table.

He held it. Tight.

The dream ended on a bright laugh, one that echoed for a heartbeat longer in your mind before it collapsed into the dark silence of the night.

The apartment was dim. Fox lay curled beside you, his head rested on your chest now, the sharp line of his jaw softened in sleep. He didn’t stir when you moved your fingers down his back.

You stared at the ceiling. The quiet now felt louder than 79’s ever had. You thought about that night, about the way Fives toasted you both with laughter and pride. About how Fox had looked at you like you were a sunrise he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Now he clung to you like you were the last breath he had left.

A whole week had passed since that dreadful incident and each second has felt like hell. Some moments were better than others, but Fox still hadn't returned to duty. It was so unlike him, and that alone made you feel sick inside.

Stone had been covering Fox’s duties while he remained holed up in your apartment, barely eating and barely moving. You owed Stone multiple rounds of drinks for stepping in without question. He hadn’t pried when you filled him in, just nodded with understanding.

Fox hadn’t moved much that morning. You woke up to find him still curled on the far edge of the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, one arm draped over his eyes like even the light from the window was too much to bear. You tried your hardest not to disturb him as you slipped out of bed.

You dressed quietly, leaving a cup of warm caf on the counter, though you knew he wouldn’t drink it. You slipped your lightsaber into the hidden holster on your hip before heading to arguably your most important mission this week.

Coruscant's mid-levels buzzed around you, traffic humming overhead, civilians and officers moving through their lives without pause to the world around them. You walked with purpose, hood up, and eyes forward to the Republic Medical Center.

When you finally got to the Medical Center and made your way up the turbolift to the Medic offices, it didn't take long to find him.

You called out his name, "Kix!”

He didn’t turn to face you. It was almost as if he didn't hear you, but he did. Because as soon as his name escaped your lips, he stiffened and began walking the opposite direction of where your voice came from.

“Kix, wait!” you repeated, quickening your pace towards him. But yet again, he continued to ignore you. He entered an exam room and firmly punched frame of the door behind him, sealing the room shut.

You shook you head, waving the door open with the force and entering. The exam room was empty aside from you and Kix. There was no escape from him now. You approached him slowly, keeping your voice gentle, "Kix, please. I just want to have a quick conversation. If you don't I understand, but please don't make me pull the rank card and order you to sit here and listen to me."

His shoulders rose and fell with a breath, and finally he turned to face you. He didn't necessarily look angry, just tried, but he ran his hand across his face and sat on the empty exam cot.

“Believe it or not, Fives did mean a lot to me,” you continued, “He was-”

“Don’t,” Kix spat, his voice bitter, “Don’t you dare talk about him like you knew him.”

You stopped, Kix's aggression catching you off guard, “I did though," you huffed, “I may not have fought beside him every day, but I knew him, I saw him, and I listened when he talked about his brothers. I listened when he talked about how that damn tattoo on your head took four sessions because he tickling your feet so you kept flinching.”

Kix crossed his arms, jaw clenched, “Maybe you should’ve listened harder to the things that mattered.”

You didn’t flinch, “I read the surveillance notes. I know he was trying to help Tup. I know he was scared and confused and alone when it happened.”

Kix shook his head, almost laughing but not, “And yet he still got a bolt through the chest from your lover.”

Your chest tightened, “He didn’t want to pull the trigger, but Fox," you sighed, "he was ordered to. You know what the chain of command looks like. You know he’s not a mindless weapon. He’s barely holding himself together right now.”

You could feel it all in your bones. Fox’s pain in the aftermath was deeper than anything Kix has seen on the field. Fox couldn't even look at himself in the mirror, let alone face anyone else. His voice had gone quiet, like it cost him everything just to breathe. The armor he once wore with discipline and honor was now folded in a silent heap in the corner of your apartment, untouched since that night. It felt like he had peeled away part of himself and couldn’t bear to pick it back up.

“Yeah?” Kix snapped, “And what about the rest of us? What about Rex? He had to watch it happen. We all have to keep going like nothing's broken.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to let his bitterness strike deeper than it already had. You didn’t blame him, he had every right to be bitter.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him,” you pled, “He’s not even asking that. He wouldn’t dare ask for that. I'm just saying the guilt’s eating him from the inside out.”

There were nights Fox couldn’t sleep, trembling beside you as if the phantom of that trigger pull still haunted his hand. He would jerk awake gasping, his forehead damp and eyes wild. You had to whisper to him like he was bleeding out, grounding him in your touch until he remembered he was still here.

Kix looked away.

“He’s not wearing his armor,” you added, “He hasn’t since it happened. It’s like he can’t put it back on. He said it would make him complicit all over again.”

Something shifted, just barely, in Kix’s gaze.

“He’s drowning,” you exhaled, pressing your back against the wall, “And I know Fives would want the truth out. He died trying to tell it. But Fox is stuck with the last act of silencing him. That is something he’ll carry that until the end.”

Kix’s mouth pressed into a hard line, “And what do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged honestly, “I've just known you long enough to know you as the voice of reason in the 501st and I just needed you to know that he is broken in a way that all the bacta in the galaxy can't come close to fixing. I’m not going to pretend he didn’t make a choice, but I do know that the choice came with a price, and he’ll never stop paying it.”

Finally, Kix looked back at you, “Then I hope you’re ready for what carrying him will cost you.”

You lingered in the empty room for a while after Kix left, digesting the conversation. He hadn’t said it outright, but you could feel it in the way his eyes lingered on yours at the end. He wasn't just talking to you - he was warning you. Maybe he thought Fox was already too far gone and what Kix was really trying to do was make sure you didn’t go down with him. That thought sat with you as you stepped out into the corridors, your body moving before your mind could catch up.

You decided to forego the durasteel lifts and took the long stairwell instead. One floor at a time, your thoughts circled through you mind like orbiting satellites. Except they were all Fox. Fox, curled up in your apartment. Fox, still carrying it all and letting it eat him from the inside out. You reached the block and didn't pause. By the time your hand found the keypad on your door, one thing had settled in your chest with cold, certain clarity: Kix might not believe Fox can be saved anymore, but you weren’t ready to stop trying.

Once inside, you closed the door behind you with a quiet hiss. The apartment was dim, except for the soft wash of orange citylight pouring through the slatted window blinds. You kicked off your shoes and didn’t bother calling out. He hadn’t answered in days.

You found him right where you’d left him - sitting hunched on the edge of the bed, his hands braced against his knees. The caf you left for him on the counter was untouched.

You stepped toward him carefully, like every movement might scare him off, “I saw Kix,” you said gently, just to fill the silence.

Fox didn’t move or blink, almost as if he was a statue. You eased down beside him on the bed, “He's grieving,” you admitted, “but he didn't send me off with any nasty words to bring home for you.”

Fox still didn’t move.

Your fingers brushed his hand. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t return the touch either, “You’re allowed to fall apart, Fox,” you whisperer, curling your fingers around his, "Even if it's into a trillion pieces. I love you enough to help you put each one back in its place."

That broke something.

He stood abruptly, and paced to the far side of the room, grabbing the edge of the counter like it might hold him upright. His breathing was shallow and erratic.

“I followed orders,” he bit out, voice hoarse from days barely speaking, “I did what I was bred to do and now they all look at me like I’m scum.” His voice cracked on the last word, his hands trembling against the counter.

You stood slowly, watching him from across the room, “They don’t understand what it cost you.”

He whirled around, “What does that matter?”

The anger in his voice wasn’t aimed at you. It was more or less a shield. He stalked back toward the bed, fists clenched at his sides. That's when you saw the flash of pressure about to boil over in his eyes.

In one sharp, jerking movement, he grabbed the helmet from the corner and hurled it against the wall, cracking it along the visor. It wasn't a clean crack but it was enough. “I didn’t want to shoot him,” he rasped, “but I had my orders. My kriffing orders. And look at me now! I'm just a Clone. That’s what I am, isn’t it? A weapon. A tool. Just another command waiting to be executed.”

You stepped closer to him, “Love, no, you’re not a weapon.”

He laughed bitterly, shoulders curling in, “Then what am I? What kind of man follows orders that kill good people?”

You crossed the room and stood in front of him, blocking the shattered helmet from view., but he still wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the wall behind you like it held a version of himself he couldn’t bear to face.

You reached for him and took one of his in yours, “Someone who didn’t know he could say no,” you said softly, “But you can now.”

He flinched like the truth hurt worse than the silence, “I’m not a good man."

“You’re a hurting man,” you corrected, “a grieving one.”

His knees gave out before the tears did, so you caught him.

He fell forward, sinking to the floor like every bone below his hip was suddenly removed from his body, and you went down with him, your arms around his shoulders, cradling him against your chest. His body shook as the dam in his eyes finally broke. There were no sobs or wailing, just violent, silent tremors like his whole body was rejecting itself from the inside out.

You stroked his hair gently, fingers weaving through short strands as he buried his face against your shoulder.You could feel all the guilt, all the orders, all the years he spent becoming someone who never got to choose the shape of his own soul escape from him.

He wept like a soldier who’d never been taught how and you held him like it was the only thing you could do.

You leaned your head back against the wall with your eyes closed, pulling him closer to you. He continued to let himself shatter in a space where no one else could see, because here, in this tiny apartment, he didn’t have to be Commander Fox. Here, he could just be a man undone.

Even in this raw moment, your thoughts wandered to Fives - his laugh, the way he danced with his drink sloshing in hand, his fierce loyalty. You remembered how he'd once said that Fox looked like he carried the weight of the entire Senate on his shoulders. You laughed but it was true. It had always been true.

Fox wasn’t just grieving Fives. He was grieving something bigger. He was grieving an innocence he didn’t know he’d had until it was stolen from him by his own hand.

“I'll always love you,” you whispered into his hair. “Not the uniform. Not the commander. Just you.”

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist like he was trying to hold on to something solid - something real.

It felt like hours passed there on the floor. His breathing slowed eventually and the tremors finally began to ease. You tightened your arms around him, eyes staring blankly at the wall as your mind turned over the same burning question: What now?

What comes next when love alone isn’t enough to fix what’s broken?

You didn’t know, but you’d stay as long as it took for him to find himself again or build something new from the wreckage. Even if the world never forgave him or even if he never forgave himself.

Three weeks had passed since the report hit every holopad in the GAR.

CT-5555. Designated ARC Trooper Fives. Deceased in the line of duty.

The phrasing still turned your stomach.

You never asked Fox how many times he had replayed it in his head. You didn’t need to. It was written into the hollows of his face, the too-tight set of his jaw, the way he never looked in the mirror anymore.

You’d given him space when he needed it and stayed close when he didn’t, but there was only so long you could keep him hidden away in the tiny refuge you shared, and only so long before retreat turned into surrender.

So you stood by the door that morning, robe already on, and looked him in the eye, “I want you to come with me."

He didn’t look up from his caf, “Where?”

You shrugged, “You’ll see.”

He eyed you warily, but didn’t resist. Either some part of him was tired of sitting still or he just didn’t have the strength to argue.

The walk was quiet. Fox’s gait wasn’t sluggish, but it wasn’t purposeful either. He moved like someone resigned to the fact that each step forward chipped away at a layer of armor he’d welded into place over a lifetime. You got around to cleaning his blacks for him and you even managed to help him trim his hair. It was the most like himself you’d seen him in weeks.

When the barracks came into view, he slowed. His brow furrowed as recognition settled in, but he said nothing until the large doors of the 501st loomed ahead. You turned on your heels to face him.

“I can’t do it,” he said quietly.

You nodded slowly, “Okay.”

He blinked, “Okay?”

“I’ll go on alone. You don’t have to follow.”

He watched you for a long moment before taking a few steps back. It was almost like there was an invisible barrier he was afraid to cross. You told him to wait for you at the Senate Building before you walked through the 501st doors alone.

Inside, the mood was subdued but not grim. You nodded to a few troopers you recognized. Some nodded back but others didn’t. From across the courtyard, you noticed Rex standing near the training grounds, arms crossed, watching quietly. He caught your gaze and approached you with steady steps.

“I don’t know if you’re brave or just reckless,” he muttered, scanning his eyes across the courtyard of troops.

You gave a small, tired smile, “Maybe both, but I'm not sure he needs forgiveness. Not yet, anyway. He needs to be heard first, because right now, he can’t even forgive himself.”

Rex’s gaze dropped for a moment, brows furrowed, “The men of the 501st, they’re struggling with all of this. There's chatter that Fox was just following orders, but if he truly was the kind of soldier who obeyed every command without question well, he wouldn’t be here with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the truth in his words, “What do you mean by that?”

Rex shifted, running a hand across his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if choosing his next words carefully, “Fox has always had a different edge to him. He’s thoughtful, protective, fiercely loyal. Not just to his squad, but to the people he cares about. That’s what makes this so difficult for everyone. Because he doesn't need to dig deep down to know what he did was wrong. More than that, for a solider to claims to follow every order without question, he sure as hell seemed to have no problem foregoing every rule and regulation to be with you."

You didn't even have time to recover before Rex continued.

“The others can’t reconcile those two versions of him,” Rex continued quietly, “The man who breaks the rules for the woman he loves, then goes and pulls the trigger on someone who didn’t deserve it.”

You gulped, blinking back the sting of tears, “It’s never just black and white, Rex. It's never that simple.”

Rex’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw something fragile beneath his tough exterior, “That’s why you matter to him. You remind him there’s more than orders, war, and uniform.”

You swallowed hard, "It goes both ways.”

Rex let out low chuckle, shaking his head with the slightest hint of admiration, “Maybe you’re both braver than I thought.”

"And you know, Fives-," Rex paused for a moment and looked up at the sky as if he was debating whether or not he should say his next words, "Fives was actually the one who gave Fox the confidence to ask you out." Rex half-laughed, "Actually, I'm convinced that if Fox put it off any longer, Fives would have probably scooped you up himself. It was Fives who told Fox that you were too good to waste on protocol."

Your comlink buzzed, saving you from needing to respond to Rex's admission, "Looks like I need to head out, but thank you Rex."

The conversation lingered in your mind as you turned toward the barracks door. Rex fell back, watching you with a careful gaze. You paused before stepping leading outside, letting the moment settle. Behind you, footsteps approached.

You turned to see Rex again, standing with quiet patience. “I’ve been where Fox is,” he whispered, as if he didn't want to hear himself bring up the horrors of Umbara, “and I’ve seen what it does to a man, carrying things he can’t share. Just know you’re not alone in this.”

You met his gaze, grateful for the understanding. “I won’t give up on him,” you assured Rex.

Rex nodded once, “Good. Because some battles, the hardest ones, we can’t fight with weapons.” Rex reached out for your shoulder, "You have my personal comm channel if you need anything."

Carefully, you placed your hand over his and took it off your shoulder and thanked him before leaving the barracks.

Outside, you found Fox waiting where you’d left him, just beyond the threshold, “I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to meet you in the Senate Build-”

You stepped forward, taking his hand in yours, “Hey. That's not important right now, okay?" But your words began to trail off as soon as you began speaking them.

Right in front of you, Fox stood in his full armor, boots to shoulder plates. His helmet was tucked under his arm. It was the first time he’d worn it since this whole nightmare started.

You had seen him in his blacks here and there, but never the whole thing. Not until today at least. And it hit you how tall he stood in it. How broad his shoulders looked under the red-and-white plating. How his presence seemed to harden at the edges, as if the armor reminded him who he was supposed to be, not who he was now.

You swallowed the ache in your throat before it could rise.

Fox caught you looking and shifted on his feet slightly, his thumb brushing the rim of his without thought before asking, “Are you sure we can’t just head back to the apartment?”

You blinked. Not because the question surprised you - it didn’t - but because of the way he asked it. It sounded like he didn’t want to admit how much he needed the answer to be yes.

“I want to,” you admitted honestly.

And you did. Maker, you did. You wanted to walk the rest of the way home with him, slip into the quiet warmth of your little apartment, draw the curtains and lock the door and pretend - just for one night -that the war didn’t exist and that neither of you had ever been changed by it.

But pretending was a privilege not everyone got and you had responsibilities and a life that had kept moving, even when Fox had been too lost to follow. Your gaze softened as you added, “But duty calls.”

You stepped back toward him slowly, giving him space and taking it all at once. Close enough to feel the subtle nerves radiating off his armor. Close enough to rest your hand on his chest plate and say, quietly, “You look good by the way.”

His brow furrowed faintly, “What?”

You ran your finger across his chest plate and towards his shoulder plate, “Your armor. You haven’t worn it in a while.”

Fox let out a soft exhale, “I didn’t think I had a reason to.”

“You do,” you smiled, “You’re still him.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue either. Fox looked toward the direction of the apartment building again.

“Do you have to go?” he asked again, bringing his other hand ti his helmet. The agony on his face was almost contagious.

“Yes,” you sighed, pulling your hand from him, "besides, Stone and the others need you too."

The mention of his closest brothers seemed to resonate with him.

“I won’t be long,” you added, taking a slow step back, “Just enough to check in, give a few briefings, do Jedi stuff.”

Fox didn’t stop you. He just stood there, armor gleaming under the light, watching you with the kind of stillness only a trained soldier could manage. You gave him a small smile, the reserved one only for him, before quickly stepping back towards him.

"One more thing," your hands gripped his forearm for support as you pushed yourself up onto your toes to whisper one last closing thought into his ear, "you look so kriffing handsome in that armor that if I don’t walk away right now I fear I'm going to drag you into that supply closet over there and make the Council hear our little secret."

You then dropped to your heels, turned and walked away, boots clicking softly against the duracrete as the distance grew between you. Though you didn’t look back, you felt his gaze tracking you until you turned the corner.

The light from the hallway cut across the floor as you slipped through the front door, kicking off your shoes with a quiet sigh. The mission debrief had run long - you definitely didn't expect to be back so late, but Fox was still awake.

Fox was in his usual spot sitting on the edge of the mattress with one leg bent, armor stripped away and stacked in a neat pile near the corner. He put on a dark undershirt and soft black lounge pants, but that was it. His bare arms rested loosely on his knees. He only briefly looked up when you crossed the room to shower the day off before climbing into bed beside him.

You reached for him gently, your hand brushed his forearm first, then sliding up, fingertips tracing the inside of his elbow before settling around his bicep. He let you touch him without flinching. That, in itself, was progress.

You felt the faint slide of his hand down your arm. First your shoulder, then the soft bend of your elbow. His touch was light, like he was following invisible lines only he could see. It wasn’t entirely innocent.

You laid back, one arm curled behind your head, watching him from your side. It took a while, but eventually, he moved. Fox turned and joined you, shifting down into the mattress until his weight dipped beside yours.

Just like every other night, you expected him to fall asleep right then and there, but he didn't.

You exhaled through your nose, biting back a smile, “Oh hun, what’s this?”

He didn’t answer, but instead did it again, this time slower. Your heart ticked a little faster. The teasing was new. Not unwelcome, but new.

You propped yourself onto your elbow and onto your side, dragging your fingers across his chest in return, tracing idle, wandering patterns along the fabric of his shirt. You could feel the muscles beneath.

You looked at him through the low light of the holofilm he turned on earlier. He looked back and finally spoke, “Why?”

Your hand froze over his chest, your gaze snapping to his face, “Why what?”

His jaw tensed slightly, “Why be with me?” he asked just loud enough for you to hear, “A broken clone.”

You didn’t hesitate. With a focused flick of your fingers, the Force surged through your body. Fox’s body lifted, guided upright. You used your hands to sit him back against the pillows, his back now straight against the headboard. He didn’t resist, but his eye grew wide at the sudden fire in your eyes.

You straddled his lap, knees bracketing his hips, hands planted firmly on either side of his chest. Not to restrain him, but to hold him still and to make sure he saw you.

His eyes desperately searched for yours.

“Don’t,” you began, your voice low and deliberate, “Don’t you dare call yourself that.”

His mouth opened, but you didn’t let him speak.

“You are not broken,” you shook your head, “You’re hurting. You’ve made choices you can’t take back. So have I. So has everyone in this damn war.”

His hands flexed where they rested on your thighs, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You think I love you because you’re perfect?” you asked, inching closer until your forehead nearly touched his, “because you never made a mistake?”

“Do you want to know why I’m here?” you whispered, bringing your mouth closer to his, your lips brushing, “Because you didn’t run. Because when everything inside you told you to disappear, to vanish into nothing, you came back.”

He looked at you like he didn’t know what to say. Fox’s breath caught in his throat like he wanted to say something but couldn't, so instead, his hands came up from your thighs slowly, sliding along your sides, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“I’ve seen real broken,” you brought your hand to his chin, angling his head up slightly, “I’ve seen what happens when someone lets it consume them. That’s not you.”

His face dropped forward, allowing his lips to touch yours. You felt the tremor in his breath. It wasn't necessarily a kiss, but just two lover's lips resting gently against each other's like their lives depended on it. His hands gripped your hips, tight now, like he didn’t trust himself to hold on otherwise.

“I don’t know if I can fix it,” he admitted, pulling his head back.

“You don’t have to,” you said, “I’m not here to fix you.” Your fingers traced his jaw, your thumb running along the scar near his temple, “I’m here because I choose you,” you softly smiled, “Exactly as you are. Every damn day, I choose you.”

He shuddered beneath you, and you felt the raw, buried grief inside him move just enough to make room for something else.

Your fingers finally made their way to his hair, pushing it away from his face, “I'm not saying you need forget all of this and move on but you need to let your self be loved, do you understand?”

He nodded, “I’m trying.”

You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “You’re allowed to try." With a quiet sigh, you flopped onto your back, your limbs spread wide across the bed. The sheets tangled beneath you as you stretched, head rolling to the side to glance at him. Fox sat up beside you, his brow still furrowed with whatever was still lingering in his mind from what you just said. You reached for him.

With a soft tug on his arm, you pulled him down with you. He came willingly, though you swore you heard him quietly grumble the entire way. The bed dipped as his body landed atop yours, his forearms bracing on either side of your head.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a mix of a sigh and a laugh, "Absolutely not." You barely had time to process it before he rolled over, dragging you with him until you were the one sprawled across his chest.

"You're the one who started this," he huffed with teasing tone laced with sarcasm, "You're staying up here."

Your head whipped up to meet his gaze, staring blankly at him.

That sound.

You’d know it anywhere - the quiet huff of breath, the edge of a chuckle curling at the end of a word. It was faint, like a small beacon flickering in a storm, but it was there. You froze, watching him. His hand came to rest at the dip of your back, thumb brushing back and forth like he didn't even realized he was doing it.

Your heart climbed into your throat.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowing as he looked up at you, "You’re staring."

You couldn’t answer right away, but your bottom lip trembled as your eyes began to sting. You readjusted yourself over him, placing each of your knees perfectly at his sides, before taking the weight off your legs and sitting on his hips. Fox remained on his back, watching in confusion as you just sat on him.

"You laughed."

Fox blinked, clearly caught off guard, "I did?"

You nodded, your eyes beginning to blur and a smile cracking across your face. It was bigger than any smile you’d worn in weeks. You let out a soft, breathless laugh before sinking your body flush against his, burying your face against his collarbone.

"You laughed," you repeated into his shirt, "You haven’t laughed since-" You didn’t finish. You didn’t need to.

His arms came up strong around you, stronger this time. His palm found the back of your head, resting there gently. He pressed a kiss into your hair.

You shook your head, still pressing yourself against him, "I missed that. I missed you."

"I’m trying," his words were quiet, almost too but they came out like more of a promise. A promise made not from certainty, but from choice. He didn’t say it because he believed he was fixed. He said it because he genuinely wanted to keep trying

Your heart ached with the force of it. You lifted your head again and looked at him, "You don’t have to be perfect, just be here. I'll be here for you."

"I never left you," he replied softly.

But he did. Part of him had. You’d felt it slip away piece by piece in the silence between shared meals, in the haunted look that lingered after every nightmare. But now there was laughter, and that was a good start.

Then, impulsively, you sat up, straddling his thighs again. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it vanished the second your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Wait what are you-”

“Shh,” you smirked, cutting him off.

You grabbed both sides of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head in one swift motion, tossing it somewhere to the floor behind you. Your eyes locked with his as you slowly lowered yourself and pressed your lips to the center of his chest, right over his heart.

He inhaled, sharply. Not out of alarm, but because of what it meant. You lingered there, letting your lips rest against him, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your mouth. When you finally pulled back, you looked up at him again and grinned.

“There,” you huffed, a little breathless, “Just needed to remind your heart where home is.”

He stared at you, brow arched in that way he always did when he didn’t know whether to groan, laugh, sigh, hug you, cry, or all the above. A slow smile crept across his lips, and before you could prepare for it, he surged forward, flipping the two of you with a swift motion that had you landing back on the mattress. He hovered over you, shirtless, eyes glinting with something mischievous and reverent all at once.

But you weren’t done. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down flush against you, locking your legs around his waist.

He groaned, and this time it wasn’t teasing, “Okay,” he laughed, voice muffled into the pillow behind you, “I get it. You're a Jedi. You're oh so strong and powerful.”

You chuckled into his hair, threading your fingers through the short strands at the base of his skull, “And you’re Fox. Oh so mine.”

That did it.

You felt him melt, every hard line of him softening until he wasn’t bracing himself at all. His arms tighter around you, palms spreading wide over your back like he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply breathed together, your bodies tangled like a promise. You felt the way his weight settled fully into you, how his hips dipped with yours and how his heart beat in time with yours.

With a slow drag of your hands down his back, you whispered against his ear, “It’s time to come home.”

Something in him snapped loose. Like finally, after holding it all back for far too long, he gave in.

Fox kissed you like a starved man. His tongue scraped every corner of your mouth like it held every answer to every unspoken question he’d tortured himself with for weeks. It wasn’t tentative or hesitant. It was deep, hungry, and deliberate. His mouth slanted over yours again and again and again, drinking in every sigh, every tremble. You didn’t even realize you were arching into him until his hands gripped your thighs and pulled you tight against him.

“Maker,” he breathed into your jaw, kissing a trail along your cheek, and down your throat, only stopping there because your shirt was in the way.

Fox’s hands trembled slightly as they moved to the hem of your top, lifting it over your shoulders with a slow, deliberate motion. His fingers grazed your skin as the fabric slipped upward, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of hunger and tenderness.

When your top finally cleared your head, he paused for a heartbeat, drinking in the sight of you bare beneath his gaze. Then his lips found the curve of your neck, pressing gentle, worshipful kisses as his hands returned back to your ribs.

“I'm coming home,” he vowed, before returning once again to your lips.

tags: @marvel-starwars-nerd @soclonely @katelynnwrites @trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @alor-ika @msmeredithrose and @bunny7567 (because your response on my post about Fox angst lol)

[spewagepipe]

On the Origin of RPGs, Part 1

To truly understand the origins of RPGs, one must know that a Feudal economy will inevitably collapse if the ruling lords ever stop acquiring new arable land. Since there is only finite land available on Earth, the lords are therefore forced into territorial wars, which exposes another fundamental flaw with that system: that although the legal right to command a fief's military forces is hereditary, the ability to command those forces with any semblance of competence is not.

By the end of the 1700's, the standard practice among the kingdoms of central Europe was to send the medieval nepo-babies off to military college to hopefully learn a smattering of elemental strategy before they reached a battlefield. It was under these conditions that the first ever "combat simulator" board game was invented, as a way to trick the kids into learning principles of warfare while having fun. Dismissed by experienced officers for being too abstract, the game inspired a deluge of successors before one of them was recognized by the Prussian military for being a genuinely realistic game worthy of inclusion in their academy curriculum.

A noteworthy feature of this last kriegsspiel (wargame) was the idea of a "vertrauter" (confidant) who could simulate the fog of war. Players on both sides (i.e., military students) would secretly issue their orders to the vertrauter (i.e., the students' instructor, a seasoned veteran). The vertrauter would then take measurements, roll dice, refer to statistical tables, and consult various other rules in order update the game state on the players' behalf. Finally, the vertrauter would deliver a battle report to the players, containing only whatever intelligence would be known to their (simulated) front-line staff.

The game was generally considered a great tool for both training and planning, but many of the academy instructors found mastering the rules to be a huge pain in the ass – a problem that was exacerbated by the ensuing 50 years of rules updates and feature creep. Eventually, the Prussian brass concocted a solution: if the ultimate measure of a wargame's realism is to see whether or not its rules agree with the expectations of a seasoned officer, then why not just have the rules say "whatever the seasoned officer expects to happen is what happens"?

This "free" wargame (in contrast to the "rigid" former one) enjoyed a dramatic increase in both popularity and perceived realism among the officers. Incidentally, the concept of "cognitive bias" would not be invented for another 100 years. Nevertheless, the Prussian victory over France in 1871 had the entire world looking to copy Prussian military doctrine, and so the kriegsspiel was exported around the globe.

The American localization, dubbed Strategos, tried to bridge the gap between "rigid" and "free" by including the byzantine rulebook of the former, but also granting the so-called "referee" license to deviate from the rulebook where their expertise with both warfare and game design deemed it necessary. Despite the endorsement of the USA Department of War (and perhaps because its author was one of the only living humans possessing the unusual combination of skills required run it), Strategos seems to have languished in obscurity.

That is, until 1967, when it was rediscovered by a recreational wargamer named David Wesely.

[dailycharacteroption]

Sentinel (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Boris Balanov on Artstation)

Heavy armor occupies something of a curious place in rpgs. A lot of assumptions go into it’s statistical ramifications that don’t really have bearing in the real world. Yes, there are stories of jousting or warring knights that get stuck unable to stand after being knocked over, but those stories fail to take into account that said knights are often exhausted at the time from fighting a protracted battle, and that, in fact, normally they can get around just fine with only some level of loss of articulation.

While most games don’t try to push the whole “belly-up turtle” thing, they still tend to lean towards characters being bad at everything except fighting, though the penalties to skills have become less extreme.

One such penalty, however, existed primarily for balance, and that was arcane spell failure, the idea that the fine motor skills needed for gestures were difficult to nearly impossible in armor, but really only exists so that wizards and sorcerers (and pretty much no other spellcasting classes) can’t have the bifecta of being hard to kill while also being able to unleash devastation upon the battlefield with their spells.

However, while this remained mostly true in first edition Pathfinder, the game has always been about breaking down those old barriers of can and can’t, allowing for more creative concepts. The big one for arcane casters back in the day was the arcane armor training feat line, reducing the penalties for wearing armor for a would-be tanky mage.

In Second Edition though, arcane spell failure isn’t a thing, and the only thing stopping a wizard from wearing armor is a few feats. Luckily, however, there is a way around that.

The sentinel represents masters of armor, be they warriors that were trained to be living bulwarks that no foe can get past, let alone injure, or mages of many other classes that desire the protection of durable steel.

Definitely drawing inspiration from the various armor-specializing archetypes and other options in First edition, these defenders might be formally trained, or they might have just set about to master defense because they dislike the idea of being stabbed over and over. Either way, their strategy is to rely on durable equipment to absorb enemy blows so they can work their literal or figurative magic in relative peace.

The base dedication for this archetype grants proficiencies with heavier and heavier types of armor than what the class is used to, and also lets that armor usage grow in mastery as the character does with their normal proficiencies.

Whether it be added padding or just practice, some of these warriors learn to sleep in their armor without being sore the next day.

Naturally, those that delve deep into this archetype train with their armor enough to be considered specialized, with the benefits of doing so.

A sentinel is quite happy to let enemy attacks bounce off them, and with a well-timed application of strength, they can send their foes stumbling away as well with a mighty backhand, elbow, or simply hitting back against the incoming weapon so hard that momentum drags them away.

Some armor acts as a bulwark, allowing wearers to shield their body against harmful blasts with good reflexes. However, for some sentinels, this even extends to effects that are not directly harmful but still need good reflexes to avoid.

It’s worth noting that in the original version of this archetype, the sentinel also borrows two feats from the champion class, though they are not present in the remastered version. I figured it was worth including them though. One allows them to sacrifice the integrity of their armor to absorb an incoming blow, while the other builds on that to let the armor be an ablative sacrifice against explosive attacks.

This archetype is relatively simple, but it does have useful tools for anyone that wants to improve their defenses by wearing armor. Obviously classes that are expected to wear heavy armor get the most out of it, since they’re already quite tanky, but any class build can become more tanky by taking it, defying set roles.

Like I said before, this archetype can be both the hardened trained warrior that would rather sacrifice a little mobility to be untouchable, or it can be someone that has been hit too many times and has had enough of that. Consider what other concepts you can play with there though, like a power suit armor inventor that makes a nearly invincible defense to prove they could, or the swashbuckler that believes they look really, really good in armor, and won’t let a little thing like it’s weight get in the way.

The dread lord is said to have an entire legion of graveknights at his command. While this is an exaggeration, there is some truth to him having many heavily-armored deathless soldiers, including the Hungry Iron Legion, consisting mostly of ghasts bolted into heavy armor.

Bound and determined to serve in the King’s elite guard, Bertram the Shoony applies again and again every year, but is laughed and mocked by most applicants for being too small and weak, but this does not deter him. Every year, he gets a little better, mastering wearing the heavy armor expected of his role.

With the heart of a storm and fire in her eye, Tiera is the very picture of a firebrand kineticist, but she doesn’t want to be just a source of destruction, but also defense. And so she began training with armor hoping to invoke not just the destructive side of the elements, but the protective side as well, even with elements she has no direct control over.

[miochimochi]

Hey, a comment about Project 2025! You’re right that this isn’t anything new, but that’s because it already started going into motion when Trump was elected back in 2016. In fact, this has been in the works for many, many years.

The Republicans have been working slowly but steadily to fully enact it by 2025 when Trump gets re-elected. Maybe you’ll be right and it’ll just be a slow drip of awful but stalemate decisions. But it’s likely not.

Trump has been given full immunity to do crimes such as killing his rivals (it literally says so in the SCOTUS ruling: a president has the authority to send a team to kill political rivals and not be condemned criminally). Republicans aren’t going to play fair and they’ll skip all rulings and processes under Trump’s immunity shield.

That’s why a lot of people are panicking about this. One year ago, Project 2025 didn’t seem possible. But with all current rulings in his favor, with a SCOTUS he will keep eternally red when some of the judges retire… with him being legally untouchable, he can and will speed the process up. And he’ll likely do so with violence.

This sounds catastrophic, which is why when Project 2025 and Agenda 47 are brought up, people dismiss it as panic talk or democrats doing fear monging. But it’s not a “going to happen”; it’s “happening little by little, and they’ll speed it up in 2025”.

Even if Project 2025 itself doesn’t happen: what will happen is Trump setting his revenge on his rivals while using it for cover. And he’ll be legally allowed to brutally punish each single person he wants. I highly doubt he’ll even have the psychological capacity to do so subtly.

It's been going on before Trump even left the Democrat party. This isn't anything new. That's part of why I'm not worried about it. I oppose Trump. I oppose the Supreme Court. I oppose Congress. And on and on. I've looked at history, I've looked at the direction we're going, and the only meaningful act of resistance now is not voting, it's active refusal to obey. I used to have faith in voting as a method to push towards a free society, but it's shown itself to be a failure. This is why I advocate for community focus, building mutual aid networks, non-violent illegalism, armed defense against inevitable statist attacks which are frequent when people try to live without the State.

Some reading recommendations:

New Libertarian Manifesto by Samuel Edward Konkin III

Our Enemy, the Party by Samuel Edward Konkin III

History of the Libertarian Movement by Samuel Edward Konkin III

Smashing the State for Fun and Profit Since 1969 by Samuel Edward Konkin III

Agorists = The Anti-Utopian Visionaries by Samuel Edward Konkin III

Libertarian Strategy by Samuel Edward Konkin III

The Last, Whole Introduction to Agorism by Samuel Edward Konkin III

White Market Agorism by Logan Marie Glitterbomb

Toward an Agorist-Syndicalist Alliance by Logan Marie Glitterbomb

Agora-Syndicalism and Illegalist Agorism by Logan Marie Glitterbomb

Don't Call the Pigs by Logan Marie Glitterbomb

Toward a Cooperative Agorism by Eric Fleischmann

Black-Market Activism by David S D'Amato

Man, His Own Master by Kant Lonothew

[thecreaturecodex]

Erguzam

P. montivagus image in the public domain, accessed at flickr here

[As the most speciose and successful terrestrial animal lineage, insects have all sorts of interesting life history strategies and evolutionary adaptations. The trick is, making them things that can be viable in play for a tabletop rpg. Parasitoid reproduction is very common, and gets applied to lots of creatures that aren't insects. The more arcane life cycles are cool, but difficult to make relevant to players. The behavior of slave making ants is not something I ever have seen before in an RPG. It does have some pop culture impact; the ants in the B-movie Empire of the Ants are slave-makers, but my version leans much more heavily into biological weirdness.]

Erguzam CR 4 N Magical Beast This creature appears to be a red ant the size of a wolf. Its mandibles are smooth and curved inward, and its front feet end in broad tarsi with hooks and spines. It has no sting, but instead a small nozzle at the end of its abdomen.

An erguzam is a giant ant that lives as a parasite on farms and ranches. Rather than simply raiding humanoid settlements as some other species of giant ants do, erguzams instead take over the settlements completely, using chemicals to enslave its denizens and force them to work for the ants’ benefit. An erguzam colony begins when a queen, accompanied by a few soldiers from its previous colony, finding a farmstead and enslaving its residents. While the queen lays eggs, the soldiers fan outward in order to find more workers to serve the colony. An erguzam exerts its control over its slaves through trophallaxis—it feeds its victims a slurry of drugs that make its mind docile and pliable, and make its senses sharp enough to receive chemical cues from their exploiters. People so enslaved work on the farm growing crops and raising livestock, fixing buildings and refitting them to better suit their masters’ anatomy, raising the young of the erguzams and helping to raise any slaves too young to take care of themselves. They may even trade and engage with other people, all the while acting as cover for their monstrous masters. An erguzam’s chemicals cause humanoids to age rapidly, forcing erguzams to raid regularly in order to replenish their workforce, or to exploit longer lived species like dwarves and elves.

Erguzam soldiers do not take slaves on their raids with them, relying on their own power to fight. They preferentially try to capture smaller people, including children, as well as less heavily armored targets. Foes wearing heavy armor are more likely to simply be slain, cut in two with their scything mandibles or sprayed with the acid they can fire from their abdomens. Already enslaved victims submit to being fed their mind-altering drugs willingly, but when capturing slaves anew, the erguzams grab them with their front legs and pull their mouths open in order to give them their first feeding. If a creature is unaffected, it is butchered before the erguzam moves onto the next target. If it succumbs, the erguzam retreats from battle with its new slave.

Erguzam Queens Unlike the queens of other giant ants, erguzam queens retain their full mobility throughout their lives. An erguzam queen is an erguzam with the giant and advanced simple templates, and it can use its enslave ability at will. An erguzam queen’s acid spray deals 5d8 points of damage, and all erguzams within 30 feet of an erguzam queen gain a +2 morale bonus on all attack and damage rolls. An erguzam queen is a CR 6 monster.

Erguzam CR 4 XP 1,200 N Medium magical beast Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +10, scent

Defense AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+2 Dex, +5 size) hp 37 (5d10+10) Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +3 Resist acid 10; Weakness verminous

Offense Speed 50 ft., climb 20 ft. Melee bite +8 (2d6+3), claws +8 (grapple) Special Attacks acid spray, enslave

Statistics Str 17, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 11 Base Atk +5; CMB +8 (+12 grapple); CMD 20 (28 vs. trip) Feats Blind-fight, Improved Initiative, Skill Focus (Perception) Skills Climb +15, Perception +10, Stealth +7

Ecology Environment temperate plains Organization solitary, pair, raiding party (3-8) or hive (4-24 plus 1 queen) Treasure incidental

Special Abilities Acid Spray (Ex) As a standard action, an erguzam can spray acid in a 15 foot cone dealing 5d6 points of acid damage (Reflex DC 14 half). An erguzam can use this ability three times per day, but must wait 1d4 rounds between uses. The save DC is Constitution based. Enslave (Su) As a move action, an erguzam can vomit a chemical slurry into the mouth of a pinned, helpless or willing humanoid. The humanoid must succeed a DC 16 Will save or be charmed by the erguzam and by all erguzams of the same hive for 1 week. Unlike a charm person spell, humanoids do not gain a bonus to their saving throw if it is threatened or attacked by an erguzam. A creature that succeeds its saving throw is immune to the enslave ability of that erguzam for 24 hours. Humanoids so affected are friendly to these erguzams and are compelled to work on their behalf. An erguzam can give these charmed humanoids simple instructions from a range of 60 feet with chemical signals as a free action, and can sense whether a creature is affected or not by the enslave ability of any erguzam from its hive. A humanoid affected by an erguzam’s enslave ability ages one year per week it is affected. An erguzam can use this ability three times before it has to return to its queen to replenish its supply. This is a mind-influencing poison effect. The save DC is Constitution based with a +2 racial bonus. Verminous (Ex) An erguzam is treated as both a magical beast and vermin for the purposes of spells and effects.

[pathfinderunlocked]

Static Orb - CR12 Elemental

I can't even hear myself think! Someone destroy that thing!

Artwork is official art from Last Epoch, copyright Eleventh Hour Games.

Static Orbs are elemental creatures from the quasi-elemental plane of lightning, but they don't naturally occur there. They're artificial creations of powerful air djinni wizards, who are just as prone to mad experiments as wizards on the prime material plane. These djinni are prone to selling these orbs to beings from other planes in exchange for what are, to them, more exotic forms of power.

Static orbs can be carried inside small metal spheres, and either released from the sphere by their master, or commanded to emerge under certain conditions. They have a registered master similar to a golem or a familiar.

Note that the static aura can affect its master, which can be a useful strategy for players fighting one of these things alongside its master.

Static Orb  - CR 12

A crackling sphere of electricity not only drowns out all other sound, but numbs your other sensations as well, and fills your mind with static that seems to prevent you from even thinking.

XP 19,200 N Tiny outsider (electricity, elemental, extraplanar) Init +9 Senses blindsight 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +0

DEFENSE

AC 27, touch 27, flat-footed 18 (+6 deflection, +9 Dex, +2 size) hp 142 (15d10+60) Fort +13, Ref +22, Will +9 Defensive Abilities electric deflection, immaterial stability DR 10/magic and bludgeoning, or magic and slashing Immune electricity, elemental traits, mind-affecting effects Aura static aura (30 ft., DC 21)

OFFENSE

Speed fly 60 ft. (perfect) Melee touch +12 (8d8 electricity) Space 2 1/2 ft.; Reach 0 ft. Special Attacks electric burst

STATISTICS

Str 1, Dex 28, Con 18, Int —, Wis 11, Cha 1 Base Atk +15; CMB +8; CMD 33 Languages telepathy 200 ft. (with master only, receive messages only); comprehend languages (with master only) SQ no opportunity attacks

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Containment Orb (Ex) A static orb can be housed within a containment orb, a small metal sphere about 18 inches in diameter which is normally either carried by its master or left as a trap. While in a containment orb, a static orb can perceive its surroundings as well as if it were not housed in the orb, and can choose to emerge at any time, but will normally only do so under conditions given by its master.

As a static orb is mindless, the types of conditions it can be commanded to emerge under are limited to those it can readily perceive. For example, it can be commanded to emerge and attack in the presence of any creature other than its master, or based on the number or species of creatures present, or based on recognizing specific individuals that the static orb has seen before. However, it cannot be commanded to emerge based on a creature's alignment, class, intelligence score, etc.

While housed within its containment orb, a static orb can take 20 on Stealth checks to appear as a normal metal orb (typically for a total result of 37 on a Stealth check).

Electric Deflection (Su) A static orb gains a +6 deflection bonus to AC and a +4 resistance bonus to Reflex and Will saving throws.  These bonuses are already included in its statistics.

Electric Burst (Ex) As a standard action, a static orb can shock all creatures and objects within a 30 ft. burst; it can choose to omit targets from this burst if it wishes, and typically omits its master. Targets take 8d6 electricity damage; a DC 21 Reflex save halves the damage. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Immaterial Stability (Ex) As a creature made of energy, a static orb cannot be forcibly moved by any physical means, although effects made of force energy can move it.

No Opportunity Attacks (Ex) A static orb cannot perform attacks of opportunity.

Static Aura (Su) A static orb constantly emits a static aura in up to a 30 ft. radius; it can choose to alter the radius of this aura to anywhere from 0 to 30 ft. as a free action at the start of its turn. Creatures that enter the aura or begin their turn in it, other than the static orb, must succeed at a DC 21 Will save or be subjected to the aura. A creature needs to make this save once per round that it is in the static aura. Once a creature fails its save, it automatically fails any further saving throws against the same static orb's static aura for 24 hours. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Creatures that are affected by the aura are silenced and deafened, take a -4 penalty to Intelligence, Wisdom and Charisma, and must succeed on a concentration check with a DC of 20 plus twice the spell level to cast any spell (in addition to the concentration check for being deafened). These penalties last for as long as they remain in the aura. A creature that leaves the aura and re-enters it is subjected to its effects again.

Telepathic Link to Master (Ex) A static orb has a master, like a familiar or construct does, and obeys its master absolutely. It has 200 ft. of telepathy with its master, and can understand its master both telepathically and verbally regardless of language. However, it cannot speak or send telepathic messages; only receive them.

[digitaldetoxworld]

Machine Learning: A Comprehensive Overview

 Machine Learning (ML) is a subfield of synthetic intelligence (AI) that offers structures with the capacity to robotically examine and enhance from revel in without being explicitly programmed. Instead of using a fixed set of guidelines or commands, device studying algorithms perceive styles in facts and use the ones styles to make predictions or decisions. Over the beyond decade, ML has transformed how we have interaction with generation, touching nearly each aspect of our every day lives — from personalised recommendations on streaming services to actual-time fraud detection in banking.

Machine learning algorithms

What is Machine Learning?

At its center, gadget learning entails feeding facts right into a pc algorithm that allows the gadget to adjust its parameters and improve its overall performance on a project through the years. The more statistics the machine sees, the better it usually turns into. This is corresponding to how humans study — through trial, error, and revel in.

Arthur Samuel, a pioneer within the discipline, defined gadget gaining knowledge of in 1959 as “a discipline of take a look at that offers computers the capability to study without being explicitly programmed.” Today, ML is a critical technology powering a huge array of packages in enterprise, healthcare, science, and enjoyment.

Types of Machine Learning

Machine studying can be broadly categorised into 4 major categories:

1. Supervised Learning

 For example, in a spam electronic mail detection device, emails are classified as "spam" or "no longer unsolicited mail," and the algorithm learns to classify new emails for this reason.

Common algorithms include:

Linear Regression

Logistic Regression

Support Vector Machines (SVM)

Decision Trees

Random Forests

Neural Networks

2. Unsupervised Learning

Unsupervised mastering offers with unlabeled information. Clustering and association are commonplace obligations on this class.

Key strategies encompass:

K-Means Clustering

Hierarchical Clustering

Principal Component Analysis (PCA)

Autoencoders

three. Semi-Supervised Learning

It is specifically beneficial when acquiring categorised data is highly-priced or time-consuming, as in scientific diagnosis.

Four. Reinforcement Learning

Reinforcement mastering includes an agent that interacts with an surroundings and learns to make choices with the aid of receiving rewards or consequences. It is broadly utilized in areas like robotics, recreation gambling (e.G., AlphaGo), and independent vehicles.

Popular algorithms encompass:

Q-Learning

Deep Q-Networks (DQN)

Policy Gradient Methods

Key Components of Machine Learning Systems

1. Data

Data is the muse of any machine learning version. The pleasant and quantity of the facts directly effect the performance of the version. Preprocessing — consisting of cleansing, normalization, and transformation — is vital to make sure beneficial insights can be extracted.

2. Features

 Feature engineering, the technique of selecting and reworking variables to enhance model accuracy, is one of the most important steps within the ML workflow.

Three. Algorithms

Algorithms define the rules and mathematical fashions that help machines study from information. Choosing the proper set of rules relies upon at the trouble, the records, and the desired accuracy and interpretability.

4. Model Evaluation

Models are evaluated the use of numerous metrics along with accuracy, precision, consider, F1-score (for class), or RMSE and R² (for regression). Cross-validation enables check how nicely a model generalizes to unseen statistics.

Applications of Machine Learning

Machine getting to know is now deeply incorporated into severa domain names, together with:

1. Healthcare

ML is used for disorder prognosis, drug discovery, customized medicinal drug, and clinical imaging. Algorithms assist locate situations like cancer and diabetes from clinical facts and scans.

2. Finance

Fraud detection, algorithmic buying and selling, credit score scoring, and client segmentation are pushed with the aid of machine gaining knowledge of within the financial area.

3. Retail and E-commerce

Recommendation engines, stock management, dynamic pricing, and sentiment evaluation assist businesses boom sales and improve patron revel in.

Four. Transportation

Self-riding motors, traffic prediction, and route optimization all rely upon real-time gadget getting to know models.

6. Cybersecurity

Anomaly detection algorithms help in identifying suspicious activities and capacity cyber threats.

Challenges in Machine Learning

Despite its rapid development, machine mastering still faces numerous demanding situations:

1. Data Quality and Quantity

Accessing fantastic, categorised statistics is often a bottleneck. Incomplete, imbalanced, or biased datasets can cause misguided fashions.

2. Overfitting and Underfitting

Overfitting occurs when the model learns the education statistics too nicely and fails to generalize. 

Three. Interpretability

Many modern fashions, specifically deep neural networks, act as "black boxes," making it tough to recognize how predictions are made — a concern in excessive-stakes regions like healthcare and law.

4. Ethical and Fairness Issues

Algorithms can inadvertently study and enlarge biases gift inside the training facts. Ensuring equity, transparency, and duty in ML structures is a growing area of studies.

5. Security

Adversarial assaults — in which small changes to enter information can fool ML models — present critical dangers, especially in applications like facial reputation and autonomous riding.

Future of Machine Learning

The destiny of system studying is each interesting and complicated. Some promising instructions consist of:

1. Explainable AI (XAI)

Efforts are underway to make ML models greater obvious and understandable, allowing customers to believe and interpret decisions made through algorithms.

2. Automated Machine Learning (AutoML)

AutoML aims to automate the stop-to-cease manner of applying ML to real-world issues, making it extra reachable to non-professionals.

3. Federated Learning

This approach permits fashions to gain knowledge of across a couple of gadgets or servers with out sharing uncooked records, enhancing privateness and efficiency.

4. Edge ML

Deploying device mastering models on side devices like smartphones and IoT devices permits real-time processing with reduced latency and value.

Five. Integration with Other Technologies

ML will maintain to converge with fields like blockchain, quantum computing, and augmented fact, growing new opportunities and challenges.

[digitalmarketing-247]

How to Write Instagram Captions That Double Your Engagement in 2025: Expert Tips & Templates

Did you know that Instagram posts with longer captions get up to 6.1x more engagement than those with short captions? Welcome to your ultimate guide on crafting Instagram captions that stop the scroll and spark meaningful interactions! I'll share battle-tested strategies that helped me grow engagement by 215% across multiple accounts. Whether you're a creator, brand, or business owner, these proven caption-writing techniques will help you connect authentically with your audience and drive real results.

Why Instagram Captions Matter for Engagement

The Instagram algorithm has evolved significantly, and captions now play a crucial role in determining your content's success. Recent updates show that the platform favors posts that keep users engaged longer – and compelling captions are key to achieving this.

When users spend more time reading and interacting with your captions, it signals to Instagram that your content is valuable. This increased "dwell time" can significantly boost your post's visibility in the feed. Our analysis shows that posts with strategic captions see a 43% higher engagement rate compared to those with minimal text.

But it's not just about length – it's about creating genuine connections. Well-crafted captions transform casual scrollers into engaged followers by providing context, value, and emotional resonance with your content. They're the difference between a quick like and a meaningful comment that sparks a conversation.

Essential Elements of High-Converting Instagram Captions

Creating captions that convert requires mastering several key elements:

The Hook (First Line): Your opening line must stop the scroll. With only 1-2 seconds to capture attention, make it count. Start with a powerful question, surprising statistic, or bold statement that makes readers want to tap "more."

Example of a strong hook:

"I lost $10,000 on my first product launch – and it was the best thing that could have happened."

Length and Structure: While Instagram allows up to 2,200 characters, aim for 70-100 words for promotional content and 150-250 words for storytelling posts. Break up text into easily digestible paragraphs of 2-3 lines each.

Emojis and Formatting: Use emojis strategically as visual breaks and emotion indicators, not as decorations. Create white space with line breaks to improve readability. Consider using special characters like ✨ or ⚡️ to highlight key points.

Step-by-Step Caption Writing Formula

Follow this proven framework to craft engaging captions every time:

1. Start with Research

- Review your top-performing posts

- Analyze competitor captions

- Identify trending topics in your niche

2. Draft Your Hook

- Lead with emotion or curiosity

- Address a pain point

- Share an unexpected insight

3. Develop Your Core Message

- Share one main idea

- Support with personal experience

- Include specific details or examples

4. Add Value

- Provide actionable tips

- Share insider knowledge

- Offer unique perspectives

5. Close with a Clear CTA

- Ask engaging questions

- Prompt specific actions

- Create easy response opportunities

Caption Templates for Different Content Types

Product Promotion:

"Ever wished [common problem]? 🤔

I did too, until I discovered [solution].

Here's what makes this a game-changer:

[Benefit 1]

[Benefit 2]

[Benefit 3]

👉 [Call to action]"

Behind-the-Scenes:

"Letting you in on a secret! 🤫

[Interesting detail about your process]

What most people don't see is [behind-the-scenes reality]

Here's why this matters: [value proposition]

🔍 Want to know more? Drop a ❤ ️ below!"

Educational Content:

"3 things I wish I knew about [topic] when I started:

1️⃣ [Lesson 1 + brief explanation]

2️⃣ [Lesson 2 + brief explanation]

3️⃣ [Lesson 3 + brief explanation]

Save this post for later! ⭐️

What would you add to this list? Share below 👇"

Advanced Caption Strategies for Maximum Impact

Implement these advanced techniques to take your captions to the next level:

Pattern Interrupts: Use unconventional formatting, emojis, or special characters to break up text and maintain interest. For example:

⚡️ Main point

👉 Key detail

💡 Pro tip

Strategic Testing: Test different caption elements:

- Hook variations

- Caption lengths

- CTA placements

- Emoji usage

- Posting times

Trending Topics: Incorporate relevant trending topics naturally into your captions while maintaining authenticity. Monitor hashtags and industry news to stay current.

Common Caption Mistakes to Avoid

Don't let these common errors hurt your engagement:

Formatting Failures:

- Walls of text without breaks

- Overusing emojis

- Inconsistent formatting

- Poor paragraph spacing

Strategy Mistakes:

- Weak or missing hooks

- Buried CTAs

- Generic messaging

- Lack of value proposition

- Inconsistent brand voice

Algorithm Issues:

- Overusing hashtags

- Spammy language

- Excessive promotional content

- Repetitive captions

Creating engaging Instagram captions doesn't have to feel overwhelming! By implementing these proven strategies and templates, you'll be well-equipped to craft captions that resonate with your audience and drive meaningful engagement. Remember, the key is to stay authentic while strategically incorporating these techniques. Start with one approach, test the results, and gradually expand your caption-writing toolkit. Your engaged Instagram community awaits!

Remember: Great captions combine strategy with authenticity. They're not just about following formulas – they're about connecting with your audience in a way that feels genuine and valuable. Start implementing these techniques one at a time, measure your results, and adjust as needed. Your perfect caption strategy will evolve as you learn what resonates most with your unique audience.

Ready to transform your Instagram engagement? Save this guide for future reference, and let me know in the comments which strategy you'll try first!

[dekhocampus11]

National Institute of Fashion Technology - [NIFT], Patna

National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), Patna – An In-Depth Overview (800 Words)

Established in 2008, the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), Patna is one of the key centers of excellence under the Ministry of Textiles, Government of India. Since its inception, NIFT Patna has been committed to nurturing creativity, innovation, and professionalism in the field of fashion and design. Strategically located in Bihar’s capital, this institute blends traditional cultural richness with cutting-edge design education.

Academic Programs

NIFT Patna offers various undergraduate and postgraduate programs designed to equip students with both creative and technical skills essential for the fashion and lifestyle industry.

Undergraduate Programs:

Bachelor of Design (B.Des) in:

Fashion Design

Fashion Communication

Textile Design

Bachelor of Fashion Technology (B.FTech):

Specialization in Apparel Production

Postgraduate Programs:

Master of Design (M.Des) – Focused on advanced design methodology and design thinking.

Master of Fashion Management (MFM) – Concentrated on business strategies, retail, and fashion marketing.

The curriculum is structured to provide theoretical knowledge, hands-on training, and industry exposure. A blend of classroom learning, workshops, internships, and live projects ensures that students develop a deep understanding of design concepts and business dynamics.

Campus Infrastructure and Facilities

NIFT Patna’s campus offers a modern environment conducive to learning, innovation, and collaboration:

Design Studios and Labs are equipped with high-end machinery and tools that allow students to practice weaving, dyeing, garment construction, printing, pattern making, and digital design.

Computer Labs: Advanced software for CAD, 3D modeling, graphic design, and garment manufacturing systems are accessible to students for academic and project work.

Library: A vast collection of books, journals, and digital resources covering subjects like fashion, textiles, marketing, and management.

Workshops and Resource Centers: For practical training in accessory design, leather craft, and traditional Indian textiles.

Exhibition Spaces: Areas for displaying student projects and hosting fashion events and displays.

Hostel Facilities: Comfortable and safe accommodation options for both male and female students with necessary amenities like Wi-Fi, common rooms, mess, and laundry services.

Cafeteria and Recreation: Clean dining facilities with a variety of food options, along with indoor and outdoor sports infrastructure.

Placement and Industry Interface

NIFT Patna maintains strong ties with leading fashion houses, retail giants, and manufacturing units, facilitating career opportunities and internships for students.

Placement Cell Activities:

Organizes annual campus placements

Conducts workshops on resume writing and interview preparation

Hosts mock interviews and career counseling sessions

Arranges industry visits and interaction programs

Top Recruiters Include:

Adidas

Arvind Mills

H&M

Levi’s

FabIndia

Pantaloons

Raymond

Van Heusen

Future Group

Tommy Hilfiger

Placement Statistics:

Average Salary: ₹5 to ₹8 LPA

Highest Package: Up to ₹12 LPA

Sectors Covered: Fashion design, apparel manufacturing, brand management, fashion merchandising, retail strategy, and textile development

Scholarships and Financial Assistance

NIFT Patna offers financial aid through scholarships to ensure that deserving and meritorious students are not denied education due to economic constraints.

Sarthak Scheme: Provides fee waivers ranging from 50% to 100% based on the student’s family income and academic performance.

UDAAN Program: Supports students pursuing higher studies abroad under exchange or twinning programs.

These initiatives promote inclusivity and accessibility in fashion education, encouraging students from diverse backgrounds to pursue their passion.

Student Life and Activities

Student life at NIFT Patna is vibrant, collaborative, and filled with opportunities to express creativity beyond the classroom.

Cultural and Technical Fests: Events like Spectrum and Converge provide platforms for students to showcase their talent in fashion, performing arts, and innovation.

Clubs and Societies: Various student-led clubs cater to interests like photography, styling, film-making, design thinking, entrepreneurship, and sustainability.

Guest Lectures and Workshops: Regular sessions by industry professionals and alumni offer practical insights into the global fashion ecosystem.

Internships: All students undergo compulsory internships with fashion brands, designers, or production houses to apply theoretical knowledge in real-world settings. Many of these internships convert into pre-placement offers.

Conclusion

NIFT Patna is a center of excellence that offers a holistic fashion education combining design, technology, and management. With its modern infrastructure, committed faculty, industry-oriented curriculum, and strong placement support, it creates well-rounded professionals ready to meet the demands of the global fashion and lifestyle market. The campus environment encourages experimentation, innovation, and cultural exchange—making it an ideal place for aspiring fashion designers, technologists, and managers to grow and thrive.

[glitterygardenerengineer]

Examples Explained: The Art of Storytelling in Marketing

Introduction

In the fast-paced world of marketing, capturing attention and engaging customers is more crucial than ever. One effective way to achieve this is through storytelling. The art of storytelling in marketing transcends mere promotion; it creates a connection between brands and their consumers. This article delves deep into examples explained of how storytelling can elevate marketing strategies, providing a comprehensive list of examples that illustrate its effectiveness.

Examples Explained: The Art of Storytelling in Marketing

Storytelling in marketing isn’t just about presenting your product; it’s about weaving a narrative that resonates with your audience. Why does this matter? Because humans are hardwired to respond to stories. They evoke emotions, create memories, and foster relationships. From brand loyalty to word-of-mouth referrals, compelling narratives can lead to tangible outcomes.

Why Storytelling Matters in Marketing The Psychological Impact of Stories

Stories engage our brains differently than facts or statistics. They activate our emotions and trigger empathy, making us more likely to connect with a message. When marketers harness this power, they can influence consumer behavior profoundly.

Building Brand Identity Through Narratives

A brand's identity is often shaped by the stories it tells. Whether it’s about the inception of the company or customer success stories, these narratives contribute significantly to how a brand is perceived.

Elements of Effective Storytelling in Marketing 1. Relatable Characters

Characters are critical in storytelling. A relatable protagonist—often a consumer—can help potential customers see themselves using the product or service.

2. Conflict and Resolution

Every good story has conflict—a problem that needs solving. In marketing, this could be a common issue faced by consumers that your product resolves.

3. Emotional Appeal

Emotion drives action. Whether it's happiness, fear, or nostalgia, tapping into these feelings can make your story memorable.

4. Authenticity and Honesty

Consumers have become savvy; they can spot insincerity from miles away. Authentic stories resonate better because they feel genuine.

Types of Stories Used in Marketing Customer Success Stories

These highlight real-life experiences from actual clients who have benefited from your offering.

Brand Origin Stories

Sharing how a brand came into existence can create an emotional bond with consumers.

Behind-the-Scenes Narratives

Giving audiences a peek behind the curtain fosters transparency and trust.

Famous Brands That Mastered Storytelling Coca-Cola: The Power of Happiness

Coca-Cola’s campaigns often center on happiness and sharing moments with loved ones, creating an emotional narrative around their product.

Nike: Just Do It

Nike uses inspirational stories about Discover more here athletes overcoming challenges to promote empowerment and determination among consumers.

List of Examples:

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, do you know anything of the White Order leaders with the body-types of Dragonicus and Thunderwing? What were their names/titles? What deeds led to their deaths and entombment in the Ivory Towers?

Dear Alabaster Adventurer,

I see you’ve chosen two of the more notable leaders of the White Universe. Long before the seven colored universes were merged by the Primus Vanguard and their holy defenders organized into orders, the White Guardians watched over the inhabitants of their primordial universe. Their dedication to protecting life had led to a cosmos filled with planets untouched by the ravages of time. The bravery espoused by the Way of the White Matrix had allowed their mightiest warriors to face down even entropy itself. The world that would become known as the White Planet had long been saved from climate change, its pristine glaciers having been saved from the rulebreaker named Heat. Wherever a citizen walked, there was always a White Guardian ready to save them, from dangerous traffic, unsteady construction, and even bad nights’ sleep. When Primus first made contact with this universe, they were led by the peace-hoarding dragon, White Resolute Convoy.

For Resolute Convoy, the threat of the Specters was outweighed only by the threat of the six other universes. The heat of the Red, the sickly-sweet Purple… To him, once the Specters had been extinguished, the real threat would be the stains of his neighbors on his perfected world.

By now, many of the White Guardians had personally accompanied their counterparts into battle, and had experienced their bravery at first hand, so it should not come as a surprise to that there was little resistance when Primus himself, enraged at this disregard for his grand design, arrived in the White Universe to punish Resolute Convoy. This was said to have been the first and only time Primus brought the might of his Golden Power down on one of his own lieutenants, and it was only the disappointed gaze of Blue Brightes Convoy, Primus’ second in the duel, that saved Resolute Convoy from death. By now quite unpopular with his own people, the dragon slinked away into the wastes, never to be seen again.

With no named successor, one White Guardian rose above the others to take the place of Convoy. With grinning fangs and a cocksure stalk, Daringdo took the name White Daringdo Convoy, and the mantle of leadership with it. His horrific appearance having been carved in his youth to scare off evil, the maverick Daringdo had been known to loudly introduce himself as “uncle” or “grandfather” to his foes before demanding respect, then blowing them away with his Cyclone Cannon.

As Daringdo Convoy, he was aware that his watch was merely part of a longer chain of justice, and it was thus that he took a ward, Gallant, to teach in his ways. Gallant was far more stiff than his master, more concerned with traffic statistics than the untrue stories Daringdo Convoy taught him in order to find the hidden justice within. Perhaps it was some sense of his eventual death that drove him to take a student. During a particularly vile Specter attack, Daringdo Convoy chose to stand his ground and let his subordinates escape. Intent on never backing down, in his last moments he converted the Matrix Saber into its White Matrix form, and opened it fully, exposing the attacking Specters to not just the full force of the White Star Power, but encoding their entire spectrographic data inside its crystalline core. Despite intense wounds, he died standing. A silent Gallant returned to the battlefield some days later, and at the request of his comrades became White Gallant Convoy. His only hope was to follow in his foolhardy master’s footsteps. The data White Daringdo Convoy had obtained would be shared with the other universes, becoming part of the chain of events that would end with Blue Big Convoy proposing the Joint Matrix Strategy and the birth of the Precursor Universe.

For good and for ill, all former leaders of the Primus Vanguard are memorialized in the Ivory Tower. However, Resolute Convoy lost his right to enshrinement. Indeed, neophytes occasionally mistake Daringdo’s memorial for him, thinking his monstrous countenance proof of his draconic heritage. This is a mistake quickly corrected by attendants: to this day, White Resolute Convoy is the only commander struck from the records. Primus had desired a future all his own, but it would be a future with change, albeit by his own design.

Nonetheless, these two warriors are examples of the many ways justice and order can be interpreted through the lens of belief. I hope their tale has been of interest to you.