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Raspberry Pi OS: The Ultimate Guide
Understanding the inner workings of your Raspberry Pi OS installation can dramatically improve its performance and efficiency. This guide delves into optimizing your device, starting with a surprising aspect of image flashing – the space utilized by decompressed images. We’ll explore how sparse file systems, combined with tools like `bmap`, minimize flash times and SD/eMMC wear, making your…
flash time 116
(1997. continuation from 115)
Welp. I got caught, didn't I? So Tseng of the Turks brought me to his office.
I don't really think it's "his office", though. There's no personal anything here, and it's really empty and clean. I've heard rumors that Tseng likes his privacy, and often doesn't really want to be found. So, I guess it checks out that he would use a loaner office.
Rude, another Turk, is here too. He's watching the door.
"2nd-class Strife," Tseng begins, terse as ever. "I would like you to explain why you were around the Turks break room at oh-nine-hundred hours."
I fidget in my lap. "It was a mistake, sir," I reply. "I was following a group to training, and I, ah...I think I got behind the wrong group somewhere...t-took a wrong turn behind someone with more clearance than me..."
"I see," he says. "Why did you stay to eavesdrop, then? You could have simply asked for directions."
Fuck, why didn't I do that? Well, too late for that now. I figure my best bet is to just be honest. That's what Mom would tell me, anyway. My hands are starting to sweat beneath my gloves. "Sir, I...I..."
Tseng waits patiently. My mouth is stuck. "I-I'm from Nieblheim, sir," I blurt out. My accent twangs and I hate it, but it'll sell this whole pathetic thing. "I-it's a hick town, you learn to listen to everything, 'cuz everyone's in each other's pockets..."
My anxiety is making me want to cry, and I swallow it back. If a Turk knows you have sensitive information, they'll just kill you. Who knows if what I heard is sensitive enough...
Luckily for my sake, Tseng finds this amusing. "Well, I don't think I need to tell you not to get yourself mixed up in this again," he says. "But I should inform you that a piece of information regarding 1st-class Rhapsodos is somewhat classified. Can you tell me what it was?"
And a quiz? Give me a break! I wrack my brain. "Uh...was it...n-not the marijuana thing, uh...was it...he's adopted?"
He seems disappointed, as if he was maybe hoping that I had not heard that bit. "Yes, that. Please do not discuss it with anyone else outside of this office. As I mentioned to my colleagues, Rhapsodos himself is not privy to this information. He was adopted at birth, so he truly has no idea. As far as we know, this has been a very well kept secret. It's impressive that Shotgun was able to dig it up at all."
He folds his hands on the desk. "To ensure your compliance in this matter, you will be under mild surveillance. You share a close relationship with 1st-class Fair, and..." He tilts his head. "He doesn't seem the type to keep his lips sealed."
I swallow hard. "R-right."
"If all goes well, you will hardly notice," Tseng says, as if he's trying to reassure me. I'm not reassured in the slightest. But, I'm also not getting fired. "You're dismissed. Rude, please escort him out."
"Th-thank you, sir."
I nearly trip as I get up from the chair, and I follow Rude outside. To my surprise, Zack is there waiting for me. "Yo!" he exclaims, and I jump out of my skin. "Everything cool? What did Tseng want?"
"N-nothing," I say on instinct. "Just...got lost today..."
He rubs my back as he pushes past Rude and guides me out to the elevator, completely oblivious of him. "You okay? You're a mess right now, I can tell."
"I'll tell you when we get home," I say, and glance back at Rude. He gives me a warning look from beneath his sunglasses, but he doesn't protest. Just the basics. Got it.
"If anyone gives you a hard time, they've got me to answer to, all right?" he says, puffing out his chest a bit. "I'll tussle with Tseng, he looks like he could use a little tusslin'."
"Fair," Rude warns.
"I'm joking! Really!"
My boyfriend, who has terminal foot in mouth disease, laughs to himself, while I shrink into his side on the elevator ride down. Times like these I could really use a cigarette...
(C.)
flash time 115
(1997.)
I'm really good at getting lost in this place. I was supposed to go meet up with the other 2nds, but I might have gotten off on the wrong floor and taken a wrong turn. And I think I wandered through a security door with another group that I don't actually have access to...
Anyway, there's a huge break room that has a couple windows on the side at the corner, and it's full of Turks. It must be their break room...I slow down and peer through the window from the corner, just out of sight.
okay i HAD to do something for @sephesisweek--i wasn't able to participate for the whole thing, but i got this prompt out for devotion. taking a chance on exposing this side of fandom to my little AU that has gripped me for the past 7 years. pseudo modern 90s AU/band AU with some details changed. enjoy! -@supershadsy
flash time 114
(1997.)
"You really make me work, you know that?" he says, nearly chewing on his cigarette. He didn't even bother changing out of his uniform--just threw on his company jacket and dragged me out of the Shinra building. "Covering your stupid ass."
I grin. "You know how it is with ol' Tseng. He needs a little kick every once in a while. Need to wiggle the stick in his ass a little."
"But smoking in his office while you're supposed to be training 2nds?"
"They were fine. I had them doing squats. Angeal's 2nd loves doing that shit."
His eyes are like daggers, and it makes my adrenaline soar. Mako soaked and full of electricity. I love it when he's pissed off. Especially when I'm the culprit. "I don't think that counts," he grumbles through his teeth.
I wave my hand. "It's fine. We go way back. You saw, just a slap on the wrist and we're free to go."
"Didn't he try to kill you once?"
"Oh, sure. That's what Turks are for."
He pinches the bridge between his nose, fully exasperated, then shakes his head. "I think if you took your job more seriously, Tseng would want to kill you less."
I waggle my finger. "He should be happy that I haven't hot-boxed the executive suite. Or lit it on fire." One day, maybe. "Anyway, are you coming over tonight?"
He has to think about this. This usually happens when he cleans up my messes--he gets to reevaluate why he hangs out with me the most, and not any of the suits or goodie-goodies up in HQ. He could have anything he wants, and I mean anything--he's the darling, the strongest SOLDIER anyone's ever seen. If I didn't know any better, it's like they made him in a lab to wear the uniform and wield that stupid long katana.
And yet, he is wearing the earring I gave him. The black feather. And I'm wearing its pair.
"Gen?" he says.
I haven't been paying attention. "Huh?"
"I said yes. I'll come over."
He stops walking to look at me and take the cigarette out of his mouth. The air has a chill in it, enough to see your breath, and the steam mingles with the smoke. The sounds of the city rush in my ears, but I don't perceive anyone around us. It's just me and him on the sidewalk.
"Sounds good," I reply. My ears feel like they're on fire.
He points with his cigarette between his fingers at me. "But, don't do that shit again. Please."
"Sure, I'll try." No promises. I look at him, then the cigarette, and then take it from his fingers. He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but he doesn't.
I take a drag. I don't take my eyes off his.
He watches my lips as I blow the smoke off to the side. I feel intoxicated by the attention. That's right, look at me...
...devotee.
I smirk as I hand the cigarette back to him. He snatches it back and immediately puts it back in his mouth. Interesting.
We're silent as we complete the walk back to our building. This feeling will melt away when we're at my place, in the warmth of my apartment, and I put a record on. But, I'll savor this.
(G.)
flash time 113
(1998.)
Seph is a phenomenal guitar player. A pretty good singer. But he's a terrible frontman. Doesn't matter too much though--the audience is hanging on every word he sings, every note he plays.
Sweat rolls down his brow--these lights are fucking hot, and I can't imagine how Tifa must feel. I'm the same as those saps on the floor, though...I can't take my eyes off him...
Tifa hits a fill and starts pounding on her drums harder. She can feel it picking up, so can Zack--he's practically screaming at the audience, with better stage presence than stone cold fucking Sephiroth. This whole place is alive, I'm alive...
I grin at the ceiling, the house lights blinding me...
I pluck a turnaround on a fill and start stalking Seph. He's completely lost in his playing, playing a solo that leans on the wah pedal. He's steady, even with his fingers flying, face completely shielded by his hair. I creep closer, closer, pausing only to whip the cable behind me for slack. He feels me and looks up from his guitar. There's a beautiful daze in his eyes.
He leans over. "Do you wanna take it out?" he shouts close.
I shake my head. "No way, man, keep it going." I twirl my hand above my head to signal the same to the others. In the corner of my eye, they both agree.
I grin at Seph, then turn my back to him and lean against him. He smells like sweat, cigarettes, deodorant, and that fruity-ass shampoo he uses to make his hair look the way it does. Delightful. I sway a little, and he pushes back against me. Musically, we're starting to fight each other--I can't help but be a little busy, and he won't back down either. I have to keep up with him. He has to keep up with me. That's how it is. That's how it's always been.
This, more than anything, is the most that we will ever be. Here, now, in this ten fucking minute jam in a shoebox venue where the crowd's only three feet below us.
The closest it's ever come to this feeling has been life or death, swords at the neck--you feel alive, but you're a monster, it's kill or be killed out there. Blood on your hands, blood on your sword, adrenaline and mako the only thing keeping your heart beating. That's hell.
This though...
This is as close as you get to the gods.
(G.)
flash time 112
(1992.)
This church isn’t like the one back home, but it’s just as run-down. Mid-afternoon on a Thursday means there’s barely anyone here, but I can see a few people gathering in the pews. These doors are always open...something I found out when I had to drag Gen somewhere after his 3rd class celebratory bender.
There’s a confessional booth, but it doesn’t look like it’s being manned. I don’t care. I shut the door behind me and sit with a sigh.
“Sorry, I...” I start. “It’s okay. I don’t care if no one hears it, I just...”
I stare at the scuffed wood in front of me, wonder how many others have sat where I have. Confessed any amount of...well, anything.
I clear my throat again. “My best friend and I, we’ve been together like glue since we were in high school. We’ve been through a lot of sh--I mean, crap together...” Better not swear in front of the priest. Or God. Or whoever. “And like...he’s one of the only friends I’ve got.
“Now though...well, we’re both, er, we’re both in SOLDIER, and he’s got someone new he’s really...really fond of. It’s not like a girlfriend or something. He doesn’t date girls.” My heart stops. “F-forget I said that. He’s just eccentric. And there’s someone new in his life, and they spend all their time together now. They’re on missions together, they hang out together...”
I sigh. “I just wish we could hang out like we used to again.”
The truth is, I’m jealous. I know Gen was obsessed with me too, in a way that wasn’t healthy at all. Especially when he kept trying to make a move on me when I told him no. So him having someone else to put that...energy towards should be a good thing in theory.
But we’re still friends. He’s still my best friend. So why--
“Wow, that’s sad--”
“Ahh!” I yelp, jerking back and shaking the booth. It’s a young girl’s voice from the other side of the wooden mesh. What the hell?! Someone was actually listening?!
She pulls it open with her chin in both hands. “Sorry Mister SOLDIER, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.
She has bushy brown hair with huge green eyes. She can’t be more than...well, she’s probably older than she looks. At least in high school herself.
“Sure, well...” I didn’t really want to put a face to this, let alone some random girl... “I’m gonna get going then...”
“Hey, wait! Maybe I can help!” she says, waving one hand. “Like, uh...what did you guys used to do together in school? To hang out?”
“Well, we were in jazz band together...”
“Maybe you can start doing that again!” She becomes animated. “Ooh, what instrument do you play?”
I don’t think she’s trying to come onto me. It’s happened to me before--especially with teenage girls. No, I think she’s genuinely excited. “I play drums. My friend plays bass.”
“See! Easy. You just start a band!” She is quite proud of herself. “Problem solved!”
I can’t help but laugh...what a strange kid. Still, it isn’t a bad idea. Gen always talked about getting a band together. Didn’t he say Seph played guitar? Wonder if he would be willing...
That way the three of us could hang out, without it being a work thing. I’ll never forget our tour with the three of us...but who knows when that’ll happen again.
I turn toward her with a nod. “You know what? You might be right,” I say. “If anyone asks for me, I wasn’t here.”
“Sure thing! But I don’t even know your name.”
“All the better.”
I step out, stretching a bit--those booths are so cramped. They’re not made for Banora men. To my surprise, the girl comes out too, running over. She’s wearing overalls and a pink t-shirt, her transparent pink jelly sandals squeaking with every step.
“Hey, one more thing,” she says. “Do you know those guys in the suits?”
“You mean the Turks?”
“Yeah. There’s a guy with red hair I keep seeing hanging around. Can you tell him to leave me alone? I can take care of myself!”
Oh God, is this girl under Turk surveillance? I don’t need to get wrapped up in that. Time to go. I’m 99% sure she’s talking about Reno, though, so... “I’ll pass on the message,” I say.
(A.H.)
flash time 111
(2001.)
It’s been a long three months.
The desert was bleak and empty, and I was basically a bodyguard while the rest of the reconnaissance dug up corpses from the war. Unsure why they couldn’t get a SOLDIER from one of the sleepier towns, but we have more 1sts to spare. Not many, even with Cloud now, but still.
But, I drew the short straw, and I will oblige.
Zack is still on base when I roll in. He greets me with a smile, but he looks tired. “Hey man, you made it back,” he says. He holds his hand out, and I take it...and then he grasps it and pulls me in for a hug. I should have expected as much. “How was the tour?”
“Boring,” I reply. “A lot of...sand.”
He laughs. “Well, shower up and rest up. Are you right back in it tomorrow?”
“I believe so.” It will be Thursday, so I assume yes.
“Good. I did a double, so I’m sleeping in. I’ll do nights the rest of the week.”
I nod, and start looking around behind Zack. “What? You looking for Gen?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. “He already left. Should be home by now if you wanna catch him. And hey...” He steps closer. “Kick him in the dick for me. Please.”
That makes me snort. “Was he that bad?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
We wish each other good night, I change in the 1sts locker, and head home.
It’s not as if we lose contact when one is on tour. Pagers aren’t as useful, but he can call if he’s on base using the military phone. He actually sent me a few letters, scrawled in red pen. Last month he even sent me a mix tape...I had to get a Walkman shipped over in order to listen to it. I’m glad I didn’t play it over the stereo, because the last quarter of side B was dubbed over with him masturbating...
I can hear him practicing when I get on our floor. The bass amp is vibrating the floor. I pass by Reno’s apartment just as he opens the door. “Yo!” he says, “1st-class Seph! Hey, can you tell Genesis to fucking turn that shit down?”
“I’m on my way,” I reply.
I make my way over and lean my head against the door. I am so tired. I didn’t even realize it myself until I got right here, to this very spot. The bass vibrating from his amp, to the door, to my forehead, is somewhat soothing. What will he say when I walk in? “You’re late”? “The prince of darkness returns”? “Want a blunt”? It could be anything.
But it will be him. I hate that I missed him. He’s such an asshole.
There’s a pause, so I knock. “What?!” he yells.
“It’s me,” I say, standing up straight.
I can hear the squeal of feedback as his bass clatters to the ground. Frantic fumbling as he releases the lock, flings the door open. Of course, I’m hit with that familiar wave of incense covering up weed smoke.
He’s a bit disheveled. He’s wearing my flannel, again, and the squint in his eyes says he’s already had a bowl. But he’s looking at me, right at me...blue eyes shimmering with mako...
Gen smiles at me. “H-hey. Hey.”
The back of my neck is tingling and it feels like my heart is in my throat. I suppose this is what...what it feels like when you haven’t seen your partner in three months. It makes my skin crawl. I’m not sure how I feel about it. But I am certainly feeling something.
“Did you forget I was arriving today?” I decide to ask.
He half laughs, half sighs, and grabs me by the wrist, yanking me inside. He kicks the door shut, then embraces me in a tight, tight hug.
He’s warm. Like fire. I hold him close. Not as if I have any choice in the matter...
He says something into my chest, but it’s muffled and I can’t hear. “What?”
“I missed you,” he mumbles.
“Yes, your tape told me as much.”
He glances up at me with a wicked grin. “You liked it?”
My mouth twists in a few different ways, but he’s satisfied, and hugs me again. I rest my chin on his head. “I missed you too,” I say quietly.
He lets me go just to grab me by the collar and kiss me. He tastes like cigarettes and weed, but I find myself delighting in it. It could only be from him, after all. My shoulders relax, and I’m melting into him...
He pulls away and touches our foreheads together. “Seph,” he whispers.
I hum in reply. He will do this, sometimes. When he wants to say “I love you”, but can’t. He will bite his lip, he will hesitate, and nothing will come out.
It’s understood.
He looks down and pulls at his black shirt under my flannel. “Dude, you’re fucking dusty.”
I roll my eyes. “Idiot, I just got back. I’ve barely had time to change. Everything I own is fucking dusty.”
He chuckles, and it infects me. I decide to break this moment fully, even as he links his hand in mine. “Also, Zack told me to kick you in the dick.”
He barks at this. “Did he? Yeah, that checks out.”
That dopey, stoned look is starting to settle on him. He tilts his head back and looks at me. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says, earnestly.
Warmth fills my chest once again. “Me too.”
He squeezes my hand.
“Wanna smoke?”
(S.)
flash time 110
1997.
I go into the kitchen for a drink. Seph turns down the music a little bit now that we’re not actively fucking. I still feel hazy and loose. It’s comfortable. It’s like I’m living in a warm sock.
I’m shirtless with just my dog-tags and boxer briefs on. I get distracted with the carton of apple juice in my hand and drag my fingertips down my chest. Fuck. I gotta set a timer so I can go at it again. Or maybe Seph will pass out and I’ll just jerk off...
I take a long drink. I can feel it go down my throat into my stomach. Right now, the feeling is delightful. I was so thirsty. Fuck. I go to put the juice down and nearly miss the counter. Back out...
Out in the living room, Seph is sprawled out on the couch with a towel over his crotch. His eyes are half open, slits that reveal the glow of his turquoise eyes.
It’s electric.
