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preciouslandmermaid · 1 year ago

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🕸🕷 my heart is a hornet's nest 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven’s daughter)

Rating: T

Summary: It's been thirteen months since Kraven was killed by Venom. Despite everything, you're still in the city and helping a nerd - named Peter - in his garage try and save the world. It's hard to ascertain where your old life as a hunter ends and your new life begins. Somedays you can't even tell if you're moving forward or not. But, the pull you feel towards Peter is magnetic. And it's bound to end in catastrophe if you pursue him.

Even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around. He can't risk it. He can't risk you. And the long nights in his garage are really, really starting to wear at him.

Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?" / "Do I look afraid?"

tags: enemies to Lovers/enemies to friends to lovers, no use of y/n, secret identity, unresolved romantic tension, first kiss, light angst, slow burn, mutual pining !!

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

Kraven snaps your name like a whip.

“You’ll oversee this one, huntress.” he says without looking away from the screen.

A mixture of pride and trepidation curdles beneath your skin. Kraven is trusting you, but he trusts plenty of his hunters. You lick your lips. The transfer of Martin Li. You promise Kraven that you’ll put the team together and leave before the hour.

No one questions Kraven’s decision. You don’t get special treatment purely because you’re his blood. In fact, if you look closely (which you won’t), you’d say that Kraven treats you worse than his other hunters. He expects—he demands – more of you.

There will be a target on your back when Kraven completes his hunt and finds a worthy enough predator to kill him. But that’s nothing new. You’ve had a target on your back since you were young enough to understand the way of the world; predator and prey, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed.

You lift your arm-- THUNK!—the throwing knife hits its bullseye.

“Huntress,” a hunter named Erik approached you, “you want five VTOLs?”

THUNK! This one is a little off-center and you blame Erik for distracting you. You exhale, balancing your weight, and lining up your shot. Erik is bold. Kraven named you the leader of Li’s abduction. He shouldn’t be asking questions. Your eyes narrow.

You pivot on your heel, fast as a viper’s strike, and flashing silver spins through the air. It’s beautiful.

Erik makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Your throwing knife wobbles from where its pinned Erik’s hood to the wall. His eyes flick to the blade. He’s lucky you didn’t miss. Otherwise the blade would’ve sank into his throat or he would lack an ear for the mission ahead.

“That’s what I said,” you yank the knife from the wood, freeing him, “wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Erik says, voice tight and clipped, and his eyes darken. You know he is loyal to Kraven, not you. If he managed to kill you – Kraven would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t mourn you. Nature is cruel and so is your father. You sheath your throwing knives while keeping one eye on the hunter.

Erik hasn’t left which means he could be planning his next move. You tense and wait for the inevitable blow. Come on, you think, try it. You’d be happy to fight off your frazzled, nervous energy. You should probably conserve your strength in case things with Martin Li go bad.

Erik nods, “huntress,” and leaves.

You roll your shoulders and return to the weapons cache. I’ll bring Martin Li to Kraven and he’ll have his wonderful fight. He’ll achieve his dream.

Nothing will go wrong. Nothing could. You’ve been planning this for months.

******

Peter wobbles to his feet, his head ringing. Whoever these guys are—they’re serious. The tech they’re using is insane. Invisible drones. Laser swords. What’s next? A few giant mecha-robots intent on crushing Harlem? He shouldn’t think about it – he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He stares into the face of the capable, dangerous stranger with smoke burning his nostrils and scalding his throat.

Dark soot clings to your clothes, your expression venomous and focused, furrowed and tight. The light frames you, bouncing off the east river in sparks, and refracting over the small throwing knives clutched between your knuckles. She’s fast, like really fast. Fast enough that he’s concerned you have a spider-sense of your own. Who the hell are these guys? Miles kicks a drone in mid-air and metal-on-metal crunches together like a compacted soda can.

Peter jumps before the blade can slice through him. It whistles through the air, hits and – literally bounces! -- off a metal pole. His lenses widen. He twists his body. His nerves ignite with impending danger, but he’s in the already dodging the first blade.

He’s Spider-Man.

He can’t stop physics.

Your second blade cuts through the air and burns when it cuts his shoulder. He lands on his feet, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth, and resists the urge to check the injury. She can’t have that many knives on her!

Your lips quirk, “are you afraid of me?”

“Do I look afraid?”

“Hard to say,” you make a gesture around your face, “with the mask and all.”

“Where’s yours?” he propels through the air with his webs slung behind him, “I thought--” you deflect his punch, “most bad guys—” you stumble backward when he kicks your chest, but recover quickly, “want to keep their identities a secret.”

“I have no shame in who I am,” your leg swings over his head.

“So uhhh...who are you?” he quips. His palms land flat on the cold, metal surface and his spine curves, his body moving like a question mark, and avoiding the onslaught of your assault.

“Serious question!” he says a little louder this time while your silver knife dances through the light as it carves his webs into flimsy pieces.

A burst of green flares flash against the gray smoke. His heart flips. The raft jolts to the side. They’re going to drag the ship underwater! The heavy-duty spears punch through the metal as if it was made of tissue paper.

“We gotta get this ship free!”

Peter spares a final glance over his shoulder and you leap from the other side. Are you landing on another boat? A life raft? Are you going to swim away? He has no clue. He can’t spare any further brain cells on it though. He slides down the tilted raft toward the giant spears that function like fish-hooks into the industrial, military transport raft.

***

It’s been approximately thirteen months since Kraven met his end.

You’ve found that keeping count provides some strange, twisted comfort. You wake up, check your calendar, and strike another tally mark into the wall. It feels good to carve the line into the sheet-rock, little flecks of white catching on your thumb and falling like cremated remains onto the hardwood floor and clinging to your socks.

Sometimes you run into old hunters, vying for territory, and hoping to claim some scraps that Kraven left behind. Many, however, fled to Kraven’s homeland to play out the tragedy of a power vacuum and continue Kraven’s legacy.

None of them have impressed you. Not the ones that have sought you out, hoping to kill Kraven’s kin, and earn glory. And definitely not the ones who you’ve run into accidentally. Those are the worst. They’re cowards. They’re mice. You stumble upon them, trying to eat the crumbs off Kraven’s table, and your retribution is swift and bloody and a pain in the ass to clean up.

You wonder what Peter Parker would say if he knew. You pull your sweater over your head. Peter, the nerd running a research foundation out of his garage, happens to be your only...well, friend is the wrong word...but he’s your only something in this city.

You aren’t supposed to have ‘somethings’. Attachments, as Kraven would call them. Attachments made you weak. You thought it was hypocritical for your father preach this advice when he had a wife and multiple children. Not anymore though, you finish lacing up your boots, everyone’s dead now except for me.

The cassette clicks with a satisfying ‘CLUNK’ into the player and you slide your headphones over your ears. The player was a gift from Peter. No. Gift is the wrong word. It’s on a loan.

“What’s this?” You cradled the cassette player, “it looks ancient.” You twisted the sharp-grooved circles. They remind you of strange teeth. You click the play and pause button. It’s clunky. It’s right-angles and lackluster chrome and the buttons make noise.

It’s the antithesis of the technology you grew up with around Kraven.

You love it.

Peter rolls his chair over to you, “it’s not ancient. Maybe vintage. God, do we call it vintage?” he sounds so baffled that you almost smile, “you know, record players and vinyl are making a big comeback so it’s only a matter of time before Walkman do too.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, “do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not using it obviously.” He smiles, “I think I have a few cassettes lying around and there’s no shortage of music shops in Brooklyn.”

Your fingers tighten around the device. The wild part of you, the part that Kraven nurtured through violence and toxic loyalty, wants to throw the device on the ground. See how sturdy it is and compare it to the tactical, military-grade equipment you grew up with. How many pieces will it break into? A dozen?

You gaze into Peter’s earnest face. His eyes are warm, light mahogany. There are soft lines that kiss the corners of his eyes. You think when he is old, he will have many wrinkles around his eyes, and it takes a second longer than normal for your lungs to refill.

“I’ll borrow it,” you say, unable to accept his random kindness, “and return it before our work is done.”

“Great!” Peter coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, that sounds good.”

The cassette clicks, whirring warm in your palm, and switching the song. The subway rushes past in a gust of tepid, moist air that smells both stale and greasy. You scan the crowd. The citizens range from individuals wearing jean jackets with sewn patches, to baggy street wear, to plastic bags on shoes, to gym athletics and smart watches.

Someone gets on the train wearing a camouflage parka. Your spine stiffens. Your fingers twitch to the weapons hidden inside your coat. Do I know your face? You shift your body and peer at the subway windows, allowing the ghostly transparent reflection to reveal the stranger’s face.

As you wait for the right angle, the right lighting, you consider your options. Tail them out of the train—could be a trap, but their numbers are never that high. Get close, press the blade to the artery in their thigh, let them see your face before you sink the blade in and leave on the next stop. The timing would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for you. Bail on Pete and spend the next several days tracking the stranger until you’ve found and confirmed their hideout. An ambush. Quick and silent.

The stranger coughs into their sleeve and your fingers fall away from your knife.

You’re glad Pete isn’t here. You’ve never traveled together and you likely never will. It’s safer that way. It keeps him out of your personal life.

“That’s the problem with attachments,” you mumble to yourself, “you start wondering what they might say if they knew you.”

*****

Pete rubs his eyes with his fists, “do you hear birds or is that just in my head?”

You don’t lift your head from the microscope, “it’s birds.”

He yawns. There have been plenty of late nights in his garage shared with you, but this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because of the mercurial light flickering along the planes of your face.

Maybe it’s the notes by your hands, the edges of your fingers smeared black from ink.

Maybe it’s the unplugged headphone wire dangling from your throat and brushing ever-so-often against your exposed collarbones.

Shit. He blinks, looking away. He can’t get mixed up. He’s grateful to you. You donated the notes first, but then pieces of Kraven’s equipment, and then...you came around more and more. You wanted to see what he was doing, wanted to see his progress, or ‘see how helpful your notes are.’ He likes it. He likes having you around.

But, even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to risk you too. And it’s not because you can’t fight. To him, you’re finding your place outside of Kraven’s shadow and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around.

The sequences before him blur into gibberish. He peeks up through his hair back to you.

Your name is the first word out of his mouth, followed shortly by “you’re bleeding!”

“I tried to catch the sample,” your voice is laced with frustration, “I can’t believe I dropped it.”

“It’s fine,” he opens the first-aid kit that’s stowed beneath the desk, “let me see.”

***

You blink at Peter. Earnest, helpful, kind Peter. You cradle your hand to your chest. It stings, but you’ve faced hornets stronger than this. The tiny shards of glass bounce colorful reflections from the holiday lights strung around Peter’s garage. The wild voice tells you to dig the shards out with your nails.

The blood is starting to stain the hem of your sweater.

Peter doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch away. His offered hand holding the gauze doesn’t shake.

You swallow. Why isn’t he shying away from the woman made of shrapnel? Doesn’t he know you’re lethal?

“What?” his eyebrows lift, “are you afraid of me? Or is it medical care in general?” soft humor folds into his brown eyes, “I promise my co-pays are reasonable.”

His words shatter the stiffness of your muscles.

You say, “do I look afraid?” you extend your bloody hand to him.

His fingers curl lightly and gently around your wrist. He flushes the wounds with water before plucking the glass out with a pair of tweezers. His brow furrows in concentration. Your neck prickles and a tingling sensation travels down your spine.

You’ve seen his furrowed brow a hundred times. However, you’ve never experienced it as the subject. Peter holds an antiseptic wipe between his long fingers. His touch is unbearably gentle and you wish you had something to compare it to.

“This might hurt a bit,” the soft, low rumble of his voice is strangely intimate.

The words fall out of your mouth, “I’m used to it.”

“Are we going to unpack that?” He slides the wipe across your angry, throbbing skin.

“No,” your lips twitch, “unless you have a psychology degree I’m unaware of.”

You’re fascinated by the way his fingers move along yours, light and precise, carefully wiping away the blood and wrapping your hand in gauze.

He says, “maybe it’s time for a career change.”

You smile. “What career?”

Peter chuckles, “okay, I walked into that one.”

His eyes lift to yours and his jaw slackens, like he’s finally caught the creature stalking him in the woods, and his fingers twitch on your wrist. The charged moment hangs undisturbed in the air, sending signals through the ether and rearranging the flow of blood in your veins.

His cheeks flush rosy and sweet. The pink hue reminds you of that pivotal morning a few months ago when Spider-Man gave you a sunrise and Pete’s number and a hope for a different future. Your fingers curl into his. And the carefully wrapped gauze prevents you from feeling the warmth of his palm. The wild voice tells you to rip the bandages off and run home. Your knees bump into his.

There’s always so little distance between you.

It’s a small garage, after all.

You tilt forward and hear Pete’s sharp inhale. There isn’t a moment of hesitation. Not for you. You know when to strike, when to move, and when to hide. It’s been drilled into you since birth. Hesitation is a lack of courage, in confidence, and you’ve never lacked either of those.

Peter’s mouth collides with yours.

Your ever-present and paranoid guard slips and you close your eyes to savor it—savor him.

The pliant softness of his lips melds into yours and your exhale shudders between your lips. His hand slides from your throat and holds your cheek, his thumb pressed into your cheekbone, and your hip bumps into the side of his workbench when you stand.

Peter remains on the stool, his neck arched, and his lithe legs part for you to enter the space between them. The thrill illuminates your chest like a red flare against a black sky. His lips play against yours, eager and a little clumsy, and you clutch the front of his wrinkled cotton shirt.

He mumbles your name.

“Shh,” you nose skims along his, recapturing his lips, because you think words might ruin it. The hanging lights flash their merry little dance. There’s fragments of glass under your boots. Ink stains your fingers, blood stains your sweater, and Peter’s tongue stains your lips.

You’ve experienced blood lust. You’ve felt it pounding through your ears and sharpening your focus into razor-thin virulence. You’re familiar with the excitement of a good hunt, a worthy opponent, a well-matched fight. Spider-Man, you think, I’ve felt this with him. But those were mixed with violence, and blood, and bruises.

This – this moment with Peter – is wholly different. Your heart pumps the same blood, pushing it through arteries and valves, but your hands move to caress, to clutch, and stroke through the fine strands of his hair. Your lungs tremble, not in pain, but in elation. The passion rolls through you in waves of syrup and brushes your skin like branches of fir.

Peter’s phone buzzes – loud and incessant – and he groans before tearing his mouth from yours. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright, and his chest heaves with hungry gulps of air. You’re glad to know you aren’t the only one affected by the strong pull of – whatever this is – between you.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta--” he lifts the phone from the table, “hello?”

You watch Peter’s face while he talks on the phone. He’s too expressive. He’d make a terrible hunter. And probably a bad poker player, too. You want to kiss him again just for the hell of it. And feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your palms, feel his breath mingling with yours, his tongue and the blunt force of his teeth.

“I have to go out, um, do you want to come with?” he tilts his chin toward the garage door, “we could – uh – get something to eat along the way?”

You hands twitch at your sides. Your coat, draped on the desk chair, is laden with hidden pockets for knives and darts and small vials of poison. An arsenal for protection, an arsenal for vengeance, the truth of your soul. A soul that Peter cannot – should not – bear witness to.

“Can’t.”

His expression deflates, but he recovers with an easy-going smile.

He shakes his head, “that’s cool,” and says, “another time then.”

You make a noncommittal sound.

***

You finish setting up the tripwire at your apartment door and wipe your palms on your sweatpants. The windowpanes glisten with raindrops, painting the empty corners dark blue, and blurring the myriad of ever-changing traffic lights.

You scratch beneath your ear, upsetting your headphones, and flop onto the couch. The cassette whirs like a little hamster running through its wheel as the song fills your head and blocks out the honking below. You’ve grown to like the city of noise, the city that never sleeps. It’s a concrete jungle. A unique hunting ground.

Tap, tap, tap --

You jerk upright and your head whirls to the noise. Spider-Man perches on the ledge of your window, his red and blue suit shiny and dripping. You cautiously close the distance and begin to disarm the trap before unlatching it. It creaks noisily as it slides open and old paint chips cling to the windowsill.

The cool wet air is tinged with the scent of exhaust fumes.

“Weird time to visit,” you say.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He slips through the window like a salmon and lands soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

You’re going to have to move. You don’t want Spider-Man keeping tabs on you.

“But this isn’t a social call,” he continues, “I need your help with something.”

You lift one eyebrow, “I’m not a mercenary,” then you add, “and even if I was, I doubt you could afford me.”

Spider-Man laughs. “It’s nothing like that!”

You fold your arms across your chest. Spider-Man gives you the vague details of a criminal that he’s had trouble tracking down, could use your expertise, and fighting skills, and so and so forth. It’s a good pitch, you’ll give him partial credit for effort, but you’re not interested in becoming a vigilante – or a hero.

“So, what do you say? We’ve teamed up before.”

Against the symbiote. But, your motivations were selfish. You weren’t helping Spider-Man or trying to save the city. You were weakening Venom.

“No thanks.”

“What?” His lenses widen, “seriously? After my whole speech and everything?”

“Try a power point next time.” You shrug, “I’m retired. No more fighting for me.”

Spider-Man glances around your apartment and there’s evidence of your hypocrisy across every surface. A case of black, tactical arrowheads sits on your coffee table. There’s several target posters hanging on the wall across from your couch with pockmarks embedded into the paper. There’s unfinished gadgets and an open toolbox on the floor near the kitchen where you like to eat breakfast and tinker.

“You’re a bad liar,” there’s a smile in his voice, “just this once, huntress, that’s all. For old times sake.”

You muster the energy to glare at him, but it lacks true heat. “You mean the old times when I was actively trying to kill you?”

Spider-Man shrugs languidly, “we all have bad days.”

That wildness, the hunter that lives inside you, under your skin and in the marrow of your bones is grinding its teeth and trashing into your ribs. It’s hard to determine where you begin and the hunter ends or if they’re destined to forever be intertwined.

You’re a wildcat, unable to be truly domesticated and all your attempts have been in vain.

But, then you remember the warmth of Peter’s lips, his gentle hands, and genuine laughter. You tell yourself, there is room for softness inside of me, for even tigers can purr.

You tell Spider-Man to wait while you get dressed.

“One time,” you hold up a finger, “that’s it.”

“One time.” he agrees with a nod.

Together, you rush into the monotone rain-soaked evening for your first hunt since Kraven’s death.

#spider man x reader #spider-man x reader #reader insert #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #enemies to lovers #insomniac spider man x reader #insomniac peter parker x reader #no use of YN #marvel reader insert

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irifai · 6 years ago

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vipercachev2review-blog · 6 years ago

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vipercachev2-blog · 6 years ago

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chad-valorant-enjoyer-and-writer · 3 years ago

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[ 2nd's journey ]

A Valorant-Fanfic made of the next generation and its problems.

Omega-Earth created a time-travel device to destroy Alpha-eath's agents while they least expected it. The 2nd's are now desperately trying to protect their predecessors from any threat that comes their way.

Sequel to [ Gilded Gold and Harmless Poison ]

Part-2

Tags:

Multi-work series, moderate language abuse, a few adult themes implied, parent-child fluff, etc. (Tags will be added along the way)

The ride to the Valorant base was contemplatively quiet, apart from Cypher replaying the footage over again.

"For the last time, Chamber are you sure that your radianite tech aren't accessible?"

Chamber was in the verge of prying chyper's mask. "Yes. For the last time! My tech is still in its prototype stage and I'm the only one who has it."

Brimstone and KAY/O were piloting the plane while viper, Chamber and Cypher are in the back.

"If so, how can we explain this?" Cypher added, rubbing his temples.

Chamber was in a splint, administered by Viper, because he sprained a ligament from the impact. "What else could it be? A time traveler the future?" Chamber groaned, both in pain and in frustration.

"That would be improbable, because you gave me your word your radianite tech would be for private use only!" Brimstone hollered from the cockpit.

Chamber pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes that is true. With my tech I nthe wrong hands, no one in this world would be safe. What do you think Cypher?"

Cypher just stared at both of them blankly. "Pardon me what?"

Viper just sighed. It was going to be a long ride.

---

The team immediately break away and separate into their own paths. Chamber went to Brimstone, Cypher called Kay/O for something, and viper to her lab.

She earlier proposed to test the blood sample for any data. She sampled the blood under the microscope first to see.

She plugs it into the machines and leave it to run for a few hours.

"Cross referencing the data might provide leads as to whom could've stolen Vincent's tech." She said worried.

His radianite tech is currently under heavy surveillance, rightfully so. Its undetectable through most of the world's secrutiy measures, hence why he was such fear mercenary, because no one could se him coming.

Someone with skills, equipment and probably a better version of his deployables could mean trouble. And they have one on the loose. This was already pain.

---

Cypher rpulled KAY/O into his room. "Okay, KAY/O please run me through on how you got here."

KAY/O titled his robotic head. "I am from a alternate time line that came along through a portal made by chamber– now destroyed."

Cypher nodded. "Alright, that is the same story you explained when we first found you." He rubbed his temples. "Do you have record of that day?"

A portal that opened through different realties and time would have a powerful signature. If they could cross-reference the data–

KAY/O nodded. "I understand where you're getting to, if we cross reference the data of that day to a week ago, we can shed some light on the incident."

Cypher was typing away as KAY/O plugged himself to the computer.

---

Chamber rode like a borderline madman in a golden SSC tuatara, drifting around police and civilian cars alike. He's zooming around Miami traffic to get to an office building now destroyed.

He exits the shining car and covers it over with a sheet, to blanket it and blend it in the dark. He got permission from Brimstone to search his old hideouts and safe houses. Probably whoever Silver, he has some sort of connection to his previous research.@

Chamber scours his desks, his data caches, his lockers, his armouries– nothing. This safe house in Miami was the last one. Nothing ties Silver to him. Nothing!

"This is preposterous... Nothing makes sense!" Chamber yelled, echoing in the empty building.

***

Viper was in the middle of mixing concoctions when the machine chimed annoyingly. "Finally."

She printed the results and just was outright confused. "What–"

Her eyes ran down through the page. "I dont believe this."

She inputs the same information again and waits again. "there has to be a mistake."

---

It was a new day and Silver was in a shipping boat headed for The united Kingdom. A gold bar passed underneath the table of a corrupt politician– then boom! A new identity. Silver's new name: Vincent Henry.

"A French-American orphan. Entrepreneur." He chuckled, taking a drag out of a crate of Cuban cigars. "What do you know? The same cigars that ole' Brimstone smokes are Cuban. This is a good opportunity indeed."

---

Brimstone was in his office writing mission reports when Four agents burst in at the same time.

"Brimstone! He's a time traveler!"

"Brimstone! Silver is Chamber's son!"

"Brimstone! I can't find a trace of his existence!"

The three look at each other. "What?"they look at Brimstone, who just plugged his ears. "Did you hear that?" they asked, speaking over each other.

Brimstone frowned. "One at a time."

Viper raised he rnahd and slammed papers on Vincent's face. "He's yours." She muttered angrily, walking out.

Chamber checked the papers, surprised to see the DNA test, even more surprised that its his son. "W-Wait! Mon amour!"

Cypher and KAY/O were giddy and excited. "Okay, so here's the just of it. Me and KAY/O cross referenced the energy signatures from when he traveled here and Silver's appearance!" Cypher summarized. KAY/O nodded, almost human like. "He's a time traveler Liam! Isn't that cool?"

Brimstone nodded slowly before sighing. "Okay. Dismissed."

The two unlikely duo kept chatting on as they left the room.

Chamber rushed after Viper who just walked, still somehow out-running him to her lab. "Mon amour, talk to me, why are you upset?"

To be continued.

#valorant #fanfic #valorant chamber #valorant viper #valorant fanfiction

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likopinina · 3 years ago

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Top 10 fun activities to do with your fellow detectives

eat cold ravioli straight from the can

recite Icelandic poetry

run after a wild boar through a forest at night

feed cat

convert your filing cabinet into a survival cache

infodump

establish what bird species lives in a tower

collect droppings of said birds and use them to protect an old lady in the woods from vipers

overthink

mansplain, manipulate, malewife your way through the investigation

#serious crime squad #commissaire adamsberg #commandant danglard #fred vargas #a climate of fear

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the-hoarse-bard · 4 years ago

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We awoke at dawn to begin our journey north to Jacobstown. Just now I'd remembered hearing over the radio that Jacobstown was an old ski lodge and had been occupied by Super Mutants. I wonder what Doctor Henry would be doing in a place like that? I hoped he was okay. With that thought, we set off on our long trip.

The sun rose as we made our way north of Vegas, where we found an old farmstead. I spotted movement in one of the buildings, so I crouched down low, and whispered to Rex, "Stay..." I peered through Ratslayer's scope to get a better view. It was a group of Vipers, judging by the patterns on their leathers. I also spotted a sizable looking cache of food on the far side of the barn. I held my breath, and picked off one of them with a headshot.

The remaining pair quickly scattered from around the fire and dove for cover on either side of the barn entrance. Rex growled in the direction of the barn, I reminded him, "Stay, Rex." One of the Vipers' legs wasn't covered by the barn wall. I fired a shot at the leg, causing the viper to fall over into view of the barn doorway, where I shot off his head.

The final Viper was playing it smart. She stayed in cover, blind firing out the barn door with a pistol. Unfortunately, it was really blind as she had no idea where I was positioned. Finally, I heard her shout an insult at me and peek around the corner. As soon as she did, I headshot her, taking her head off. I stood up, and gestured to Rex, "C'mon, they're all gone."

Seems I'd misjudged the size of the cache, but it was still a good amount for three small-time Vipers. There was another of those star bottlecaps, even. I gathered up the meds and a bit of the food and Rex and I got on our way.

#story post #Will #fallout new vegas #vipers

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ryttu3k · 5 years ago

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Timeline of all events during Night Road! The dates with an asterisk are all set, the rest is more or less extrapolation. Note that if you do the Reremouse mission last, there is a discontinuity where the text and in-game dates don't match up.

The two sets of three missions (St Basil’s/Scheffler/KXG and Cinderblock/Biosphere/Reremouse) can be done in any order, just sticking with the order I did for my main run with Pyre. Also has some notes on Raúl as ghoul because he’s the best meeting him is the most complicated. (For the other ghouls, you meet Vani at KXG and Elena at the pawn shop in Tucson. All three have individual missions that can be done at any point in Tucson, along with other activities and date options.)

November 1st Evening: The Courier departs El Paso

November 2nd (*) Morning: The Courier's car breaks down. They barely manage to get into an abandoned gas station before sunrise. Evening: The Courier encounters the now-wight Modian, along with Raúl and his family. They barely escape, and start the walk to Tucson.

November 3rd (*) Morning: The Courier arrives in Tucson and manages to find some temporary shelter before sunrise. Evening: After a really bad day in a clothing bin/old truck, the Courier arrives at the Tucson Elysium and meets Lettow. They are assigned their new jobs, get a car, and find a temporary haven in a parking garage.

November 4th (*) Morning: A little before sunrise, Julian shows up for the first time in ten years. Dick.

November 6th (*) Evening: The Courier leaves for Camp Scheffler, spotting Raúl there (if he's still alive). After an encounter with Elin Olivecrona's ghoul, Nilay, the Courier explores the camp.

Over the next several days The Courier explores the camp, potentially helping free prisoners, meeting Raúl, and making contacts amongst the Anarchs.

A few days after arrival Evening: The Courier is finally summoned to see Olivecrona, and she learns that the SI are on the way. Julian confronts Olivecrona. If working with Raúl, he and the Courier kill Nilay. The Courier can carry out other actions now to help with or hinder the evacuation.

The day after Morning: The evacuation takes place. Shortly before sunrise, the Courier can explain who they are to Raúl. Evening: The Courier (and potentially Raúl) return to Tucson. The Courier goes to the Viper and types up a report on what happened.

The day after Morning: The Courier returns to their parking garage haven. During the day, they dream of Aila and being shot down.

Over the next several days Tucson activities - stat improvements, cars, havens, et cetera.

November 15th (*) Evening: The Courier leaves Tucson for Kiowa Xenogenetics.

November 16th Morning: The Courier is stopped by Carlos and sent to deliver a package to an airfield, encountering Donati for the first time. En route to KXG, they see modified sheep, and arrive at the facility just in time to get into their trailer. Evening: Dr Takahashi's party. The Courier meets Vani, then Dr Caul. After reading the message, Dr Caul kills Sonam (and potentially others). Dr Caul asks the Courier to remain for a few days while she works out a message to Lettow.

Over the next several days Exploring the facility.

November 18th? Evening: Giselle takes the Courier to the Snow Room. Dr Caul makes an offer to the Courier to help her fake her death.

November 19th? Morning: The Courier is attacked by the SI. Evening: After the SI clears out the mobile home park, the Courier returns to Tucson and writes up everything that happened.

A few days later Evening: One of Dove's retainers asks the Courier to meet Lettow around midnight.

The next day Morning: Around midnight, the Courier meets with Lettow and briefs him on the events at KXG, and gets paid for the two jobs. That day, the Courier dreams of Aila's first meeting with Lettow. Evening: Tucson activities.

November 22nd (*) Evening: The Courier leaves for Phoenix and St Basil's hospital. They encounter the SI and Agent Donati at an AutoZone, then arrive in Phoenix at 9:40 PM. After getting into the hospital, the Courier meets Pattermuster and is briefed on what's happening in the hospital, then meets the other inhabitants.

Over the next several days The Courier gets a feel of the hospital.

November 24th Morning: Rita May is killed, and Pattermuster is stuck with her body over the day. Evening: Pattermuster arrives around 7 PM and announces Rita May's death. He and the Courier investigate and work out that Stercorius is the killer. Stercorius is dealt with.

November 25th (*) Evening: The Courier prepares to break into Carelli's office.

NOTE: This places Night Road during 2020, as it’s explicitly mentioned as being on a Wednesday night.

When the hospital is done as the first mission, the Courier leaves Tucson on the evening of the 6th and the office break-in is on the evening of Wednesday 11th. As the second mission, the Courier leaves on the evening of the 15th and the break-in is on the evening of Wednesday 18th. And as the third mission, the Courier leaves on the evening of the 22nd and the break-in is the evening of Wednesday 25th.

This means the time actually spent in St Basil’s is variable, since the day of departures vary, but the mission is always set on a Wednesday in November 2020.

November 26th Morning: At midnight, the Courier breaks into the office. If successful, Pattermuster invites the Courier to learn from him over the next few days.

A few days later Morning: The Courier returns to Tucson around 3 AM and gets paid. Evening: Julian shows up at the Courier's haven and makes his offer. Riga summons the Courier to the Viper. Dove requests the Courier investigate the Viper for spies.

The next day Morning: Lettow finally shows up. One of the spies escapes with information. Lettow interrogates the Courier about Aila, then gives them three more missions.

November 30th (*) Evening: The Courier leaves for Biosphere Zero.

December 1st Evening: The Courier arrives at Biosphere Zero, encountering the explorers.

December 2nd Morning: The Courier finds the hole where the cache once was. During the day, Tex is killed. Evening: The Courier awakens to find that Tex has been killed.

December 3rd Morning: First investigation, potentially second death. Evening: Second investigation, potentially third death.

December 4th Morning: Continued - second investigation, potentially third death. Evening: Antonio gets better maps. Third invesigation, potentially fourth death.

December 5th Morning: Continued - third investigation, potentially fourth death. The Courier finds a sign reading 'SPILL ZONE'. Evening: While exploring the Spill Zone, the Courier encounters Lampago.

December 6th Morning: Lampago encounter continued. The Courier and Antonio (and any other survivors) part ways, spending the day in a barn. Evening: The Courier sets back off on the way to Tucson, avoiding a fire en route.

December 7th Morning: The Courier arrives at the safe house. Evening: The Courier goes through the cache information, then is picked up by Carlos.

December 8th Morning: The Courier arrives in Tucson two hours before dawn and goes through the cache information. Evening: The Courier delivers the cache to the Viper. Tucson activities.

December 9th (*) Morning: Tucson activities. Evening: The Courier arrives at the Viper to find it shut down for health violations, then leaves for Dallas.

December 10th Evening: The Courier arrives in Dallas. Julian shows up and tells the Courier that the bouncer at the Cinderblock is SI.

Over the next few days The Courier investigates how to get into the Cinderblock safely.

A few nights after arrival Evening: The Courier goes to the Cinderblock and meets D'Espine, who makes her offer.

The next day? Morning: The Courier gets bad information to the Cinderblock SI bouncer and returns to the Cinderblock to get D'Espine's information.

A day or two later Evening: The Courier leaves Dallas.

The day after that Morning: At the safe house, Nadia scans the information for Julian. Evening: The Courier arrives back in Tucson. Riga summons the Courier to the Viper and is confronted by Lettow, but interrupted by Dove, who says they can reopen.

December 14th (*) Evening: The Courier picks up equipment and leaves for California.

December 16th Morning: The Courier arrives at the Desert View Motel to find the results of Modian's massacre. Lettow and Julian arrive, argue, and are interrupted by Modian, who Lettow kills. The Courier, Julian, and Lettow spend the day in the motel. Evening: Lettow and Julian argue. A lot.

December 17th Morning: Lettow and Julian keep arguing. The Courier, Julian, and Lettow spend the day in a cave. Evening: The Courier awakens to find Lettow and Julian hanging out drinking some nice blood. Dicks. Julian and Lettow continue arguing.

December 18th Morning: The Courier, Julian, and Lettow decide on a plan (after arguing) and fight Reremouse. They shelter in a trailer / in the mines. Evening: The Courier and co return to the Desert View Motel and leave.

December 19th Evening: The Courier arrives back in Tucson, finds the badly wounded Alexander, and unintentionally absorbs the 2100 serum.

December 20th Morning: After escaping the SI, the Courier dreams of Aila and Lettow.

DISCONTINUITY: If the Reremouse mission is performed last, the Courier doesn't return to Tucson until the evening of the 19th/morning of the 20th, and has at least one more daysleep, meaning chapter 11 should start on the evening of the 20th. However, the in-game text places it on the evening of the 18th.

December 18th (*) Evening: Riga summons the Courier to confront Lettow and Julian, and the Courier is forced to decide between them.

December 19th Morning: The Courier raids the Viper with Julian or Lettow, and fights and kills Donati. Lettow departs for the Middle East. The Courier leaves Tucson.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm night road #vtmnr #vtmnr spoilers

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robotslenderman · 5 years ago

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I have more Lettow-as-Elisa’s-Sire headcanon

So as mentioned before -- when he couldn’t find out who took Elisa in after her time by herself, he decided to step back and just let it be. Partly because he didn’t want to piss off an unknown enemy, partly because “eh, she’s got her own life now, why uproot that?”

He did occasionally check in on her, but he always thought she was fine so he didn’t step in.

Since she’s his childe, he has a photo of her in that room with his mementos. It’s a photo he took on the night that Elisa reunited him with Riga. Elisa is in her vet nurse scrubs, looking absolutely amazed by Riga, who’s perched on her arm. Of course, Riga is a heavy bird so Elisa couldn’t keep her arm up for long, but she was able to lift her arm enough for the photo.

Elisa would note it during the meeting where Lettow confronted her about Julian, and say she thought he hadn’t recognised her -- Lettow would say, “How could I forget? Riga liked you, although she did object to her rescue.” Later on, it’s one of the pieces Elisa puts together when she realises Lettow was the one that sired her.

Dove totally gave Lettow a hard time about abandoning his childe. Lettow did occasionally pull some strings behind the scenes to help out Elisa from time to time, but rarely, and mostly left her to fend for herself. It’s a Gangrel thing, he told himself. It’s how their clan does things, he told himself. And I think he really did believe that he was doing the right thing by her, letting her learn on her own.

He overestimated how well Elisa was doing. Like, a lot. He’s an elder, and it’s been a long time since he was a neonate so he doesn’t remember how scary it was -- but she was terrified and barely getting by. He thought she was fine. She was not fine.

It was only when the SI was becoming a huge pain that he started to give in to Dove’s nagging and realised that, hmmm, maybe he should bring her back to Tucson so she’s at least nearby, because he’s not sure she’ll be able to survive on her own while all this is going down. And with the Beckoning getting harder to resist, he wants to set things up so that she can get by while he’s gone -- not that he intends to let her rest on her laurels, but he just wants to make a few arrangements so that if she’s ever in dire straits she can still get by even if he’s not there, make sure she has some resources she can “accidentally” stumble upon.

Dove nagged him as to whether he was going to be honest with her. Lettow just told her that he had no intention of forcing his way into Elisa’s life, so he’d just see if they developed a friendship organically and then take it from there.

So this ratty Gangrel covered in mud and blood shows up to the Viper in a hunger frenzy. She’s incredibly paranoid and suspicious of him and the Camarilla, and while not outright hostile, was clearly not happy to be dealing with him. “Sending me out to get destroyed is poor form, Prince.” “I won’t break any legs for you.”

The sunny, cheerful vet nurse who’d happily nattered on about her beloved animals and how much she liked Riga? Gone. Completely gone. It was like a feral animal had come into his Elysium instead of a well groomed show pet.

Dove asked him if she was anything like what she’d been like at her embrace.

Lettow admitted, “Not at all.”

Dove said, “Yeah, I don’t think she’s ‘fine’ either. You probably should’ve been more involved.”

Lettow had nothing to say to that.

Since Elisa did not warm up to him at all initially, he decided not to tell her. She was always angry, a far cry from the kind and generous nurse who’d gone out of her way for him that night many years ago, who cared so much about reuniting him with Riga. He kind of feels like he killed her in more ways than one because of that.

So he decided to just distance himself and let it go. It’s her life now, hers to do with what she pleases. He’ll drop her name with a few important people so she can survive once he’s gone, but after that it’s all in her hands.

Then Dove drops the bomb: the reason why he caught a familiar scent the night of Aila’s destruction? Dove found out Elisa was there with Julian.

And he finds out Elisa was the one who diablerised Aila, not Julian.

And then their relationship completely changes -- with the SI closing in, Elisa goes from sullen and resentful to stepping up and doing everything she can to help him circle the wagons. She was clearly and visibly devastated that she let him down by failing to get Jasper’s cache. During the Reremouse mission he saw her laughing and smiling, and she even said she respected him because he’d gotten involved personally. She got D’Espine’s intel without a problem.

So now he’s like... okay, they have a relationship now? One that could potentially become a good friendship, maybe she should know?

But by then the Beckoning is almost deafening and the SI are surrounding them.

And he confronts her about Aila, because that kept troubling him. And when he asks her why she did it -- and she looks at him and tells him she was terrified and on her own and struggling to survive and wanted to do anything it took to get an edge --

That was when he finally realised that

fucked

up.

He left Elisa alone. He didn’t check in thoroughly enough to find out how badly she was struggling. He didn’t help her learn how to not just survive, but live in kindred society.

And losing Aila was the price he paid for abandoning Elisa.

He didn’t have the heart to face Elisa after that and tell her the truth. He asked her to risk herself to help burn down the SI, but while Elisa was half convinced he was going to let her die -- he fully intended on her survival. She was not going to die in there.

Elisa said goodbye in the hangar. He gave her the location of his cache and told her to use it. She refused -- “You might need it when you come back.” He didn’t think he’d come back, but she refused to entertain this notion. Then she hugged him, much to his surprise, and burst into tears and told him how sorry she was about Aila, and how she knows it’s so cheap coming from her murderer but she’s so sorry.

Lettow told her it wasn’t her fault. She was a fledgling who was alone and scared -- her sire should have been with her. If she was guided as she should have been, it would never have happened. It wasn’t her fault.

Elisa caught on here (because “why the fuck would he randomly bring up my sire?”), although Lettow didn’t realise it. But she said, “It was my choice, Lettow. And I have to live with that.”

And he tells her -- don’t. “I forgave you. You need to forgive yourself, too.”

“Only if you promise you’ll come back.”

“Alright.” He laughs at that. “I promise, then.”

“Then so do I!”

And then he flies off ~ and spends five hellish years in the Middle East but that’s another headcanon for another time.

(And Elisa asks Dove that evening, “Is Lettow my sire?”

“Did he finally tell you, did he?”

“No. But I could hear it in his voice.”)

#VTM #VTMNR #VTMNR spoilers #Lettow Kaminsky #Elisa Mulgrew #headcanon

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coolreviewsofproducts · 6 years ago

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Viper Cache Review

What Is Viper Cache ?

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Viper Cache performs even better than some more expensive plugins like WP Rocket. Additional features available too. You can get it with bonuses and money back guarantee through the link below: https://bit.ly/2Z22hz0 Or you can take a look at more detailed review https://prodigitalguru.com/viper-cache-review/ https://www.facebook.com/pg/Viper-Cache-Review-112482246914751/ https://www.facebook.com/pg/Viper-Cache-Review-112482246914751/about/ https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=112553326907643&id=112482246914751 https://www.pinterest.com/prodigitalguru/viper-cache-review/ https://www.pinterest.com/pin/771241504933132974/ https://www.pinterest.com/prodigitalguru/

#viper cache #viper cache review #what is viper cache #viper cache reviews #viper cache bonuses

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moddersinc · 6 years ago

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Patriot Viper VPN100 PCIe M.2 SSD Review

Before keyboards, mice and other accessories, Patriot was a flash memory based company. It originally started with RAM and then started to release USB flash drives and eventually started producing SSDs and gaming peripherals. Patriot's Viper product line is considered their top of the line products and meant for those discerning consumers that demand the best. The Viper VPN100 PCIe M.2 SSD is Patriots next entry into the M.2 PCIe drive market. The VPN100 comes in capacities from 256GB all the way to 2 TB and is covered by a 3-year warranty. This drive features a massive heatsink and the drive boasts a 3450 MB/s read speed and 3000 MB/s write speed. The VPN100 uses the latest Phison E12 controller that is PCIe Gen 3 x 4 capable and supports the latest NVMe 1.3 specification. FEATURES: • Phison E12 Controller • 2280 M.2 PCIe Gen3 x 4, NVMe 1.3 • DRAM Cache: 512MB • External Thermal sensor • Heatshield design • Extreme high performance • Operating Temperature - 0° ~ 70°C • TBW: 800TB • 4K Aligned Random Read: up to 700K IOPs • 4K Aligned Random Write: up to 480K IOPs • Sequential Read (ATTO): up to 3,300MB/s • Sequential Write (ATTO): up to 2,200MB/S • Sequential Read (CDM): up to 3,300MB/s • Sequential Write (CDM): up to 2,200MB/s • O/S Supported: Windows® 7*/8.0*/8.1/10 *May require driver Packaging Patriot's packaging for the Viper VPN100 is eye-catching. On the front of the box, there is a large graphic of the drive. The actual drive capacity is noted by a sticker also located on the front. The back fo the box contains the specifications of the drive in multiple languages. There's also a front flap that can be opened. Inside the flap, Patriot gives you some information on why the company thinks this drive is the one for you as well as goes into a little more detail on the cooling features of the drive. On the opposite side, you can get a peek at the actual drive housed in a plastic shell.

Upon opening the box, you'll be presented with a plastic shell with the Viper VPN100 drive encased within.

A Closer Look at the Patriot Viper VPN100 The most prominent feature on the drive is the large heatsink applied on top of the controller and memory ICs. The heatsink is made of aluminum and features 10 vertical slots for airflow and the Viper logo in the center.

From the side profile, you can see the heatsink is fairly tall on the Viper VPN100, measuring in at 10mm. That's great for everyone except for those that would like to put this in their laptop. In most cases, this drive won't fit.

On the back of the drive, Patriot put a sticker indicating the drive's capacity and other pertinent information. You can see here that our test sample is the 512 GB version.

After initial testing, I decided to pull the heatsink off the VPN100 to get a look at the controller and memory ICs below. The picks that come in the iFixIt kit were essential to removing the heatsink. I slid the pick between the heatsink and and the modules below it. Good lord, whatever thermal pad they used took forever to clean off from the ICs. Using some isopropyl alcohol and some elbow grease, I still wasn't able to get all of the adhesive off of the ICs. It was stuck on pretty well.

The Viper VPN100 has ICs on only one side. The controller, DRAM, and flash are all located under the heat sink.

The controller for the Viper VPN100 is the newest Phison PS5012-E12 controller. The controller is PCIe 3.0X4 with NVMe 1.3 protocol support. The E12 (non-c variant) can support up to a max capacity of 8 TB. Sequential speeds of 3200 MB/s read and 3000 MB/s write can be obtained using this controller.

Two 256GB 64-layer BICS 3D triple-level cell chips labeled TCBBG55A1 which, are manufactured by Toshiba. The write endurance is rated at 800 TB which is pretty massive for a 512 GB SSD.

Finally, the DRAM is a Nanya 512MB memory chip that is used for caching.

Test Setup & Results Component Product Name Provided By Processor Intel Core i7-8700K (Retail) Intel Motherboard Aorus Z390 Pro Gigabyte Memory G.Skill SniperX 2x8GB @ 3400MHz 16-16-16-36 (XMP) G.Skill Drive Patriot Viper VPN100 512 GB NVMe SSD, Samsung 240 EVO 256GB SSD Patriot/Samsung Video Card Zotac Geforce GTX 1080 mini Zotac Monitor BenQ EL2870U 28 inch 4K HDR Gaming Monitor 3840×2160 @ 60 Hz Case DimasTech EasyXL DimasTech Power Supply Cooler Master Silent Pro M2 1500W Cooler Master Operating System Windows 10 x64 Pro with latest patches and updates All of these tests were performed before I removed the heatsink. Additional testing was done after the heatsink was removed. The first round of benchmarks was run with an empty drive. The second round of benchmarks was run with the drive over 75% full. Each benchmark was run three times and we recorded the best overall scores for this review. There were no less than 20 minutes between each benchmark to give the drive time to cool down and rest. A quick side note. The threaded Q-depth tests on the Anvils Storage Utilities named the drive as a Toshiba drive, However, it had the correct letter and capacity. ATTO Disk Benchmark The ATTO Disk Benchmark utility was designed to measure regular disk drive performance. However, its more than capable of measuring both USB flash drive and SSD speeds as well. The utility measures disk performance rates for various sizes of files and displays the results in a bar chart showing read and write speeds at each file size. The results are displayed in megabytes per second Both the fresh out of box and the 75% capacity tests are almost identical with the 75% test just barely ahead. The ATTO tests were able to get extremely close to the manufactures advertised speeds. AS SSD Benchmark AS SSD Benchmark is a simple and portable utility which helps you measure the effectiveness and performance of any solid state (SSD) drives connected to your system. It will test “Seq”, “4K”, “4K-64Thrd” and Access Time. In the end, it will give your SSD a score. 4K tests the read/write abilities by access random 4K blocks while the Sequential test measures how fast the drive can read a 1GB file. For AS SSD, we run the SSD benchmark and the Copy Benchmark. Empty Drive: 75% Capacity The AS SSD tests came back with 2247.75 MB/s read and 1984.01 MB/s write on the empty drive for the sequential tests. 4K results were 45.63 MB/s read and 117.71 on the write and earned an overall score of 5302. The tests with the drive at 75% resulted in 2250.58 MB/s read and 1982.07 MB/s write in the sequential tests. 4K resulted in 55.40 MB/s read and 146.20 MB/s write speeds with an overall score of 5302. Each of the tests fell a bit short of the manufactures stated sequential read and write speeds. Anvil’s Storage Utilities Anvil’s Storage Utilities is a powerful performance measurement tool for both traditional hard drives and SSDs. The tool can monitor, and test read and write speeds on hard drives while also providing information from the Windows Management Instrumentation (WMI) that provides basic information about the disk and its parameters, including partitions and volumes. The ANVIL SSD benchmark resulted in sequential read speed of 3281.40 MB/s read speed and 1984.50MB/s write speeds on the fresh drive with an overall score of 15698.26. The VPN100 at 75% capacity yielded a result of 2301.12 MB/s read and 1984.50 MB/s write speeds and for the first time in our testing scored lower at 14835.12 overall. CrystalDiskMark 5.2.1 CrystalDiskMark is designed to quickly test the performance of your hard drives. Currently, the program allows to measure sequential and random read/write speeds. Crystal Disk Mark is where we see the closest sequential read and write speeds to what the manufacture published. The empty drive resulted in 3469.9 MB/s read and 2101.1 MB/s write speeds. When the drive was filled up to 75% of its total capacity, the read speed came back at 3472.0 MB/s and 2105.3 MB/s on the write speed. 4K speeds were good as well at 966.7 MB/s read and 1952.7 MB/s write on the empty drive compared to 1065.3 MB/s read and 1939.8 MB/write speed when the drive is filled to 75%. Conclusion and Final Thoughts First, let's get some additional testing out of the way. For this drive specifically, I really wondered if the heatsink was necessary. The drive is fast and from the results so far, meets the specifications listed. I reinstalled the drive in an open slot below the GPU with no heatsink installed, including the SSD covers that come with the Aorus Z390 Pro motherboard and I ran through some tests once more. The results were similar to the results that were obtained with the heatsink installed. During this test, I also pulled up AIDA 64 to monitor temperatures as the controller has a max operating temperature of 70°C. During the non-heatsink tests, I saw a max temperature of 50°C and 53°C during an extended write test using HDDTune. With the heatsink installed, I observed temperatures of 45°C during our standard test suite and an absolute max of 47°C in the extended write testing. Take into consideration these tests were performed on an open test bench and not in a standard PC case or a laptop. Even then, I would think it would be safe to say the SSD would keep temperatures down below the throttling threshold.

The Patriot Viper VPN100 is armed with the latest controller from Phison and the latest 3D NAND from Toshiba. The pairing results in great speeds for the drive. In my testing, I was able to easily eclipse 2 GB/s write speeds and 3 GB/s read speeds. I do feel the packaging on the Viper VPN100 is slightly misleading. The box does say up to 3000 MB/s write however, that's only on the 1 and 2 TB models and yet those specifications persist on the smaller capacity drives as well. You'll have to dig into the product documentation for the actual specifications. Shame on me, as I did make the fatal mistake of believing the box vs reading the product documentation when I first started testing the drive. The Viper VPN is a fast and stable drive. I continue to try to heat it up and get it to throttle but as of yet, I have been unable to do so with the heatsink off. So, if you feel like pulling that massive hunk of aluminum off, you can slide this drive into your laptop. As of this writing, the Viper VPN512 GB model can be had for $83 on Amazon with the 1TB slightly more at $145. Combine the pricing with the speeds and you've got a drive that is hard to beat. Read the full article

#nvme #Patriot #PCIE #phison #SSD #Toshiba

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riverpheonixs · 7 years ago

Photo

The moving episode my friend experienced with River Phoenix Later I will write in this blog, but I also lived in USA for a short period of time as a training actor (I will write about it too). Originally, I was housed in the United States by a friend, Paula. I met this friend, Paula, and she met River Phoenix as a child (° Д °), great envy. Paula was born in a place called Tacoma in the United States (by the way, it was also in Tacoma that I stayed) and the colossal "I Love You to Death" starring River Phoenix was shot in Tacoma. So it looks like Paula went to see the shooting, of course, and there was River Phoenix!!! The picture of the time is here (The first one in the post)

Because it's decor in the room the forehead reflected a little, I'm sorry. And another (The second one) She asked me if I knew him. "No doubt, River Phoenix!!" To be honest, this is an amazing photo. It is an image that has not been disclosed in the world. Once in the past I received a message with this photo with River Phoenix in USA. I was surprised "What is this picture!!" And at this moment Paula seems to have been stopped by a guard as she tried to approach River Phoenix while he took a pause. Well, this is normal in a public place. However, River Phoenix, who realized this, said "No problem, okay" to the guard, he seems to have attended her nicely with a photo shoot and signed an autograph. What a nice person, River Phoenix!! When I took this picture of Paula, I listened to this episode, needless to say, I became more fan of him. I became aware of him and loved him after he passed away, but he continues to live in the hearts of people all over the world, and his films will last forever. Movies are wonderful. He was also famous for being a vegetarian, and it seems he never wore clothes made of animal skin. Even when he was in Japan, he did not accept any animals at all, so he would not eat them. It looks like he could not eat soup, even if it had a tuna or something. That "Mominoki House" in Japan is a vegan restaurant. I heard it was his favorite. I think the world was surprised that he died of drug overdose. "If the drugs were made from animals instead of plants..." There were Hollywood actors who mourned his death by saying such a thing. Of course it's something I do not know, I know it should not be embellished. This fact will continue forever. But I do not think there's any need to deliberately exploit that part. Although it is said that he died in front of the Viper Room, club run by Johnny Depp. He was also known for donating a tremendous amount to organizations that aim to protect animals like PETA. River Phoenix would appear in the movie "Interview with the Vampire" if he had not died. He would be the interviewer who would interview the vampire played by Tom Cruise, but the role went to Christian Slater. And it is said that Christian Slater donated his cache of this film to the organizations that protected animals that River Phoenix supported. It's incredible. Christian Slater is also amazing, of course, it's also a story of how River Phoenix was respected. His younger brother Joaquin Phoenix is now a recognized actor in Hollywood. I wanted to see the collaboration of the brothers. Or him acting with Leonardo DiCaprio I think I would go crazy with joy. Although it is no longer possible, River Phoenix and his films will continue to live on me. Well, until next time... PS: I found this story in this japanese blog and decided to translate it. I’m not very good in translating japanese texts, so if you see something wrong let me know.

#river phoenix #japan #i love you to death #paula

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philosopherking1887 · 7 years ago

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Prince of Darkness, Part III

My 666-follower giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard, which I originally intended to be between 1000 and 2000 words, is now more than 7000 words... and I still have one part left. This is even worse than the time my 2500-word giveaway fic for @darklittlestories came out at 5200. Length limits are seriously not my thing.

Part I, Part II

————————————

Thor was beginning to think he might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her (he called himself her “advisor,” which seemed odd considering that she held no political power) had given his implicit permission.

So it came as a complete surprise when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode, “Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?”

Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full measure of her fury and disappointment?

He emerged from the room where he had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.

“Mother, I did not expect to see you,” he said cautiously.

“Thor, my son,” she said, her voice thick, and rushed forward to embrace him.

“Mother, I don’t understand… I thought you blamed me for Father’s death, had forbidden me to return…”

Frigga drew back with a look of consternation. “Who told you that?”

“Loki. He came here to see me, two days ago now.”

Frigga shook her head frantically, a hand straying toward her mouth. “No, Thor, your father is still alive, though he did succumb to the Odinsleep after putting it off for so long. But Eir and I have had to wake him before his strength was fully restored.”

“What? Why? Why would Loki lie to me? Mother, what has happened at home?”

Frigga closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she answered, and how had Thor not noticed the redness around her eyes? “Loki is… missing. No one has seen him for two days. Which might not be a cause for alarm, except that…”

“…he was King while Father was Sleeping. And Heimdall has seen nothing?”

“Nothing of Loki, no. He has known for some time that Loki can conceal himself when he wishes, but we assumed it was only some foolish love-affair he wanted to keep secret… But what he has seen is even more troubling. Jötunheim is awake again, showing an energy and rebuilding at a pace that can only mean…”

“…the Casket,” Thor filled in. “Where is it?”

“Not in the Vault. We looked, General Tyr and I, and it seemed to be there. But on a hunch, I shielded my hand and tried to touch it, and it vanished. An illusion.”

Thor’s mind insisted there was only one way to put together the information he was receiving, but his heart refused its verdict. “They must have captured Loki, forced him to call off the Destroyer…”

“Oh, Thor…” Frigga’s voice cracked. “You must speak with your father. Call Mjölnir and we shall go at once.”

“Mjölnir? But I could not lift her…”

“Your father has lifted the banishment. This is too important, and we need you.”

Thor raised his hand and reached out for his weapon… and she answered. After a few moments he realized that he needed to go outside so that the hammer would not come crashing through the glass doors.

Having Mjölnir back in his hand comforted him… but the worry he felt for Loki was too sharp and pressing for even her presence to offer much relief. He bade his Midgardian friends a hurried farewell, thanked them for their help and hospitality, promised to come visit them when he could. Then, with Mjölnir’s aid, he and Frigga flew back to the Bifröst site, she called to Heimdall, and in scarcely an instant they were back in the Observatory… in the place where, barely four days ago, his world had fallen apart.

Horses were waiting for them on the bridge. Thor was still wearing the Midgardian clothing Jane had lent him; after fumbling a bit, he tied Mjölnir to the belt loop of his jeans so that he could mount.

The time they spent traveling passed at once too swiftly to recall and too slowly to bear. At last Frigga led him into the chamber where Odin had Slept. He was still reclining in the great golden bed cushioned with furs, drinking some revitalizing potion from a silver goblet at his bedside.

Thor knelt by his father’s bed and took his hand, feeling the dormant strength beneath the fragile papery skin. “I am sorry, Father. Sorry for my defiance, my arrogance… tell me how I can help my brother.”

There was pity in Odin’s gaze when he said, “I don’t need you to help him. I need you to stop him.”

The words chilled Thor to the spine like the wind in Jötunheim. He carefully withdrew his hands from his father’s, stood and backed away a few steps. “I don’t understand.”

“Thor, we should have told you, we should have told you both,” Frigga said; if his mother were not usually so dignified and composed, he might have called it an outburst.

“Should have told me what.” His fear settled like a block of ice in his stomach, radiating cold through all his limbs.

“Loki is not our son by birth,” Odin said, his voice too calm, too neutral. “I found him as a baby in Jötunheim, at the end of the war. He was born too small, so Laufey—his father—left him to die.”

Thor could not believe what he was hearing. “That’s impossible. Loki is not a Frost Giant. He looks no different than any of us…” He stopped. But Loki did look different from everyone in his family; Thor had even teased him about it—the dark hair, the long nose, the lean build—and jokingly called him an Elven changeling.

“He’s a shapeshifter; it’s a rare trait among Jötnar, but not unheard of. He shifted to an Aesir form as soon as I picked him up, sensing a possible provider. And he stayed that way until… something happened during your idiotic excursion to Jötunheim. He went down to the Vault to try holding the Casket; I saw what he was doing and went to stop him, and he confronted me.” Odin’s eye clouded for a moment, as he drifted into troubling memory. “That was when I fell into the Sleep. He was angry, irrational…”

“How could he not be angry?” Thor interjected.

“He would be dead if not for me!” Odin snapped, and lying there in his nightgown wrapped in furs he seemed more like a querulous old man than he ever had before. "But how did he repay me? He stole the Casket and took it right back to Laufey.”

“Laufey is dead,” Frigga put in, her voice brittle. “Heimdall has seen that too. There was some sort of power struggle with his sons…”

“Maybe Loki betrayed that father, too. Better to have the viper in someone else’s nest...”

“Loki isn’t a viper,” Thor said through gritted teeth.

“Blood will out,” Odin said as if he hadn’t heard, his eye burning into Thor’s. “I should have known. The boy was always a liar and a sneak…”

“Odin!” Frigga cried, anguished. “He’s our son!”

“Not anymore.” Odin’s pronouncement carried the weight of a disowning.

“He’s still my brother,” Thor said with quiet vehemence.

“You can believe that all you want, but you’ll still fight him when he comes with a Jötun army to assail Asgard.”

“He won’t,” Thor insisted.

“You think returning their greatest weapon to them will be the end of it? No, Thor; he has chosen a side and it isn’t ours.”

Odin was half right. When the Jötun army came to Agard, Loki wasn’t with them. But it was plain that they had an insider’s knowledge of the palace, the city, the land. They destroyed hidden stores of food so that the city would not be able to withstand a siege; they blockaded the entrances to a secret fortress in the mountains so that the people could not take refuge there and raided caches of weapons so that the populace could not take up arms. To their credit, Thor thought, it seemed that they tried to minimize civilian casualties: the aim was to humiliate Agard’s rulers, not to make enemies of its people.

Odin sent an emissary under a white flag to the camp the Jötnar had established in the mountains, bearing a missive that read, “Odin All-Father demands that you turn over the traitor Loki Laufeyson.” The emissary returned, frightened but unharmed, with a reply, written in large letters on his white flag: “Odin Father of Lies does not seem to be in a position to demand much of anything. The traitor Loki Laufeyson conveys his warmest regards to Frigga All-Mother and invites her to send a message when she wishes to discuss terms of surrender. She has the word of King Helblindi that she shall not come to harm. Jötunheim has no quarrel with Vanaheim, but remembers ancient alliances before the Realms submitted to Asgard’s tyranny.”

Odin was furious; Frigga said nothing. He did not even ask whether she planned to take Loki up on his offer. Thor thought that might be a mistake. Once his parents might have thought and acted as one… but Frigga had been quiet and distant since Odin had disowned Loki. Thor realized that it would not surprise him if she acted on her own contrary to Odin’s wishes—not only as Queen of Asgard, jointly responsible for the Realm’s well-being, but as All-Mother of the Nine Realms and a princess of Vanaheim.

As Thor led skirmishes against the Jötnar, he wondered always if he would encounter Loki: he looked for a shorter, slighter figure among the hulking giants; he half expected at every moment to come face to face with his brother, to confront that face he knew better even than his own… but would it be icy blue, now, the crystal-green eyes turned to red? Would he know his brother in such a guise, by anything else but his stature?

He asked Heimdall at every opportunity for news of Loki. He was no longer concealing himself; he was in Jötunheim, contributing his magical skill to its rebuilding with the aid of the Casket. Meanwhile, the Jötun army laid siege to Asgard, and Thor knew that Asgard could not long hold out. Odin stubbornly insisted that he would not yield; Frigga grew ever more quiet and distant. Thor wondered how long it would be before she accepted the invitation to negotiate a surrender.

Four months after the invasion of Asgard, the stalemate was disrupted when Heimdall brought news to the royal family: a Jötun force had invaded the northern reaches of Midgard, near the site of their incursion more than a thousand years before. Loki was at its head.

“I must go,” Thor told his parents, and neither of them disputed it.

He assembled a cadre of his most trusted warriors: Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral, and the Lady Sif, along with a handful of the Einherjar he knew best. He asked Heimdall to locate an Agent Philip, son of Coul, who might be able to rally Midgard’s own forces to her defense; Heimdall told him that Coulson and a contingent of Midgardian warriors were already in the region where Loki and his soldiers had arrived.

So Heimdall sent Thor and his chosen companions to the far north of Midgard. In many ways, Thor thought, it was like the desert where he had first landed: barren of vegetation as far as he could see, with only the stark beauty of mountain crags rising from the empty expanse, the harsh dry air cut through by winds that roared and shrieked like berserkers that scented blood.

The Jötnar were at the edge of the land, where the ice met the sea. Coulson was there with his Midgardian agents, clad in their strange black cloth armor over the bulky layers that protected them from the cold. Two strange warriors were with them, one in a suit of red and gold metal armor that wholly enclosed his body, another in lighter red and blue armor with a silver star on his chest and on his blue-and-red shield.

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Blake… or is it Thor?” Coulson greeted him.

Thor skipped over the pleasantries. “We are here to aid you in defeating the Frost Giants. Tell us what we must do.”

“I think you might have come to the wrong party,” said a muffled voice from the red and gold armor.

“I don’t understand.”

“Thor, allow me to present Mr. Tony Stark,” Coulson said, gesturing to the man in the metal armor. “And Captain Steven Rogers.” The blue-and-red warrior nodded. “And your friends are…?”

“Lady Sif and the Warriors Three: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all, but it’s actually looking like defeating won’t be necessary,” Coulson explained with his usual understated equanimity. “Director Fury is waiting for confirmation from the World Security Council and the UN, but it appears we’re going to be able to come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement with those—” Monsters, he had been about to say. But Loki was one of them; he always had been. “With those invaders?” he finished lamely.

“They describe themselves as immigrants seeking a better life,” said the warrior with the shield, Captain Rogers. His voice was stern, almost accusing.

“Is that what they are?” Volstagg scoffed, and Fandral laughed. Thor held up a hand to silence them.

“They said their homeworld was devastated by war a thousand years ago and deprived of the resources to rebuild. By your world, interestingly enough,” Coulson added mildly. “They’re just now starting to restore their own planet, but it will take some time for their society and economy to recover. Some of them think they’d fare better here.”

“And so they might,” Thor acknowledged. “But what of the Midgardians… the humans who live here now?”

Stark made an exaggerated show of looking around, swiveling his helmeted head while its expression remained frozen. “Are there some I didn’t know about?”

“Not right here,” Sif interjected impatiently. “In your Realm.”

“The government of Norway seems quite amenable to the arrangement,” Coulson said. “As are the governments of Greenland and Denmark. They’ll have to put it to a vote in their respective parliaments, of course, and maybe even a referendum, but a military response doesn’t seem to be on the horizon.”

“What is the nature of this ‘arrangement’?” Hogun asked, matching Coulson’s imperturbable neutrality.

“As you may be aware, Earth’s climate has been dangerously warming due to unfortunate energy-capture practices…”

“That’s a really euphemistic way of saying ‘human stupidity,’” Stark put in.

“…and the Jötnar have offered us a way to protect the Earth from some of the effects of that warming. Or maybe even reverse it entirely.”

“They want to settle on the glaciers and ice sheets of the Arctic and Antarctic,” Captain Rogers explained, seeming annoyed by Coulson’s vagueness. “No one lives there anyway.”

“That is blatant penguin erasure,” said Stark, puzzlingly.

“Don’t forget polar bears,” Coulson added, deadpan as ever.

“No people live on the glaciers and ice sheets. They’ve assured us that they have only peaceful intentions toward the surrounding populations. They’ll trade, of course, but respect human territorial sovereignty.”

The Asgardians exchanged skeptical glances; Volstagg even snorted aloud, and Thor glared at him.

“And in return they’ll use their magic Casket prevent the ice from melting,” Rogers finished, with a glare of his own.

“It’s not magic, it’s energy transfer,” Stark muttered.

“It’s really a win-win solution for everyone,” Coulson said. “They’ll get an environment that works for them, protect the local ecosystems, and stop sea level rise. Hunting and fishing rights will have to be worked out, but in light of the benefits…”

“I must warn you that the promises of Jötnar cannot be trusted,” Thor said.

“Funny, that’s exactly what they said about you Asgardians,” Coulson replied, neutral as ever.

Sif growled low in her throat; Thor wasn’t sure it was voluntary. “Was there a man among them who was smaller than the rest—about my height?”

“Yes, the one who spoke to us on their behalf was just the size of a tall human. The others seemed not to speak any human languages. I wondered if they choose their ambassadors to avoid intimidating the locals.”

“No,” Thor said sharply. “He is the only one of his size, or one of very few; the Jötnar kill the rest at birth. He grew up in Asgard, so he is the only one who has knowledge of the All-Tongue. That is why he was their spokesman.”

“That and the ‘silver tongue,’” Fandral contributed. “He can be very persuasive.”

“You seem to know this guy pretty well,” said Rogers, sounding suspicious.

“He was raised as my brother.” A knot seemed to form in Thor’s throat even as he said it, and he half-choked on the last word.

“Wow, this is some real George R. R. Martin shit,” Stark commented. He muttered something to himself; Thor thought he made out the word “fucking,” but he couldn’t be sure. Coulson gave Stark a reproving look.

“If you have a way to send him a message… would you tell him that his brother wishes to speak with him? That I have no desire to fight him, only to talk.”

“Of course, we can do that,” Coulson replied graciously.

“And I thought I’d been to some awkward family reunions,” said Stark.

————————————

Note: Yeah, I thought the conversation between Thor and Loki deserved its own part. I hope it won’t get too much longer...

#my fanfiction #loki fanfiction #thor and loki fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor #loki #canon-divergent au #loki and laufey #odin's a+ parenting #odin #frigga #laufey

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alittlestarling · 7 years ago

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Welcome Home, Good Hunter

Their quest into the Hinterlands to meet with the rebel mages doesn’t go as planned and an upsetting discovery brings Roz and Vincent closer.

Read on Ao3

Part 1

Part 2: The Hinterlands

“Can you hear that?” Roz pulled gently on the reins of her mare as they crested over the final few hills, dipping lower into the valley.

“Hear what?” Vincent asked, her ever-constant companion in the last week as they made their way from the mountain pass and into the heart of Ferelden. Where Roz was uncertain in her riding, Vincent was a natural, murmuring gently in a foreign tongue that she didn’t know to soothe his steed as they trekked onward. The mere fact that he was there, that this wasn’t a fever dream, was still hard for Roz to believe. Staring was hard as well and she had tried to keep her gaze from lingering too long on him.

Instead, she smiled as she gazed out along the vast expanse before them. “Quiet,” she replied after a moment, relishing the sounds of nature instead of fighting that had so often surrounded them in these hills. With the encampments gone for both warring sides, the survivors in the Crossroads could enjoy a little peace before they rebuilt their lives in the hills.

Patting her mare along the side of her neck, Roz couldn’t stop herself from giving what might have been a far-too-early sigh of relief. Fewer fires to put out, less time placing themselves into the crosshairs of danger and more opportunities to see exactly what the people needed here.

What they truly needed.

Leading the way, Roz glanced over her shoulder as they trekked down the steep incline their horses seemed to take with greater ease and confidence than she would have. Vincent had, of course, come along, but he wasn’t the only one. Iron Bull held up the end of the group, shooting the breeze easily with Varric and, right in the middle, Vincent’s older brother, Rolfe, had been flirting with Cassandra at a steady clip since they left Haven.

Though they had only just begun to grow closer, Roz could tell that, despite the rebuffs and irritated sighs, Cassandra wasn’t completely indifferent to the lighthearted teasing and flirting Rolfe offered. Resistant, stubborn to admit it, but Roz didn’t think anything with Cassandra came particularly easily. Especially when it came to close relationships, not just romance.

“Do you think your brother will tire of flirting with Cassandra?” Roz leaned in conspiratorially, glancing back a moment to let her gaze linger over Rolfe riding alongside Cassandra.

“I doubt it,” Vincent had leaned in close, the warm scent of cedar and salt making her dizzy a moment. She tried not to think too hard as the pair of them shared a moment; his laugh was low, rumbling from his chest while Roz stifled a giggling snort before straightening along her saddle again.

“He has his work cut out for him,” Roz shook her head with a little laugh. “She’s a tough one to crack.”

“And my brother isn’t so easily dissuaded, so long as she hasn’t outright rejected him.”

“It doesn’t seem that way,” Roz snickered lightly but leaned back away from him, straightening once more. “I wouldn’t discount his chances just yet.” Besides, despite her tough exterior, Roz had caught a glimpse of what she had discovered was a rather delightfully dirty romance novel during their first night on the road to Redcliffe, sworn to secrecy once Cassandra realized her secret was out.

Without the threat of attack looming over them, the people of the Crossroads looked a little less world-worn, the weariness gone from their postures. Tents had been set-up for those still transitioning and efforts to rebuild homes that had burned in the fires were underway.

Even with their need to reach the rebels in the village, Roz couldn’t just leave without making sure things were doing alright.

“Rosalind,” Cassandra gently interjected as Roz finished dropping herbs off with a healer that had finally taken up residence in the small camp (with a quick chat about some tinctures that could be brewed with spindleweed that grew in abundance along the creek nearby), “we should make our way towards Redcliffe.”

“I know, I know,” Roz blew a small strand of red that had strayed from her usual braid, the small wispy hair refusing to stay put, “I just have a few more things to look into.” The caches had been marked, food was being distributed and the land may have been safer to hunt on now, but Roz felt the itch to simply do more. Their worlds had been torn apart, flipped off their axis, and if she couldn’t help with the smaller things, how could anyone trust her to help with some of the larger, more overwhelming tasks that stretched before her?

As if to counter her thoughts, her mark sparked and she curled her palm tightly into a fist to extinguish the green light that constantly haunted her.

Her mood soured slightly as she passed along a letter from a templar; despite her own, personal feelings towards the establishment, she wasn’t about to let anyone’s last words to someone they loved go without remark. Vincent noticed, stepping into stride behind her after she’d finished recruiting Ellandra to their cause.

“You seem troubled.” It was a statement rather than a question, an opening for Roz to speak her mind if she decided to. Finding the words, however, were hard, especially when her own feelings were a mixed bag these days.

“I don’t understand how anyone in the Circle could have a romance with a Templar,” she began, dropping her voice low, pausing to pluck fresh elfroot from standing water beside them. “All the Templars I knew were…well, no, let me start again.” Frowning, she started over, trying to find any shred of tact she had left for the order.

“Not all Templars were terrible, but enough of them knew how to abuse and use their powers to benefit themselves. I’ve seen too many of them remain passive while others held the leash over mages tighter than necessary.” An image unbidden came to mind, those last moments before Alderis was dragged away playing before her. She shook her head, as though she might be rid of them if she tried hard enough. “Perhaps she was lucky. I just can’t understand it.”

“The more I hear about the Circle, the less I like it,” Vincent commented gruffly. “I can’t imagine spending my life living in fear of my gifts.” He glanced to her, holding her gaze a long moment as he added, “And neither should you have gone through such a thing.”

“I survived it. Not everyone did.” Perhaps it was easier in the long-run to lie about her involvement with the rebellion, especially when it helped gain allies to continue to help them seek to bring peace to the regions once more. But it still stuck to her tongue, the bitter pill she had to swallow after lying to Ellandra about exactly where she stood with the rebellion. It was the one thing she didn’t say aloud in those moments, glancing about the Crossroads once more.

Peace, relative quiet and stability. They’d be alright for now. “Come on,” She turned, Vincent falling easily into step with her again, “Cassandra’s been eager to get to Redcliffe. As am I.”

As they mounted back onto their horses, Roz sent a quick prayer to the Maker, her own quiet hope a burning ember in her chest.

Maker, please, please, please, let me find friends among them.

��Something’s not right,” Varric was the first to comment once they’d made their way down to the docks along the lake. Roz’s mind was reeling, piecing together information that didn’t quite make sense. From the first moment they set foot in the village, Roz could feel the unease rolling off the villagers. They whispered behind their hands, eyes wide with uncertainty but that was expected, especially when she considered that they hadn’t anticipated the Inquisition to arrive there at all.

“I don’t understand it,” Roz murmured, playing with the folds of her tunic, pacing back and forth along the shoreline. “We saw Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux,” She shot a quick glance to Cassandra and Varric. “I’m not imagining that, right?”

“No,” Cassandra agrees, her own expression grim, sitting on a nearby rock. “I saw her, too. There is something afoul here.”

“If we believe the ‘Vint,” Bull interjected with a dissatisfied grumble, “magic’s to blame.”

Roz closed her eyes tightly, lips pressed together in a thin line as she let out a huffing breath. “Perhaps,” she murmured after a moment, allowing herself to catch her temper in time. Bull, she was realizing the longer they traveled together, didn’t have a high opinion of magic. While she couldn’t discount his suspicion towards the Tevinter mage who had just happened to be there with a far-fetched explanation, she knew better than to write it off completely.

Nothing felt right here. Tevinter was on their doorstep, had indentured the Grand Enchanter herself and, if she believed that time had been altered? Well, the implications were too vast for her to name. She felt a headache coming on, pressing the bridge of her nose with a muted sigh.

“I don’t think you’re going to like my decision, Cassandra,” Roz turned to face the Seeker, pulling her into private conversation as the others peeled away from them.

“Oh?” Perhaps she was gruff and a little too blunt, but at least Roz knew she could be honest with Cassandra, regardless if they shared the same viewpoint on the situation. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t think we have time to seek out the Templars.” It was a relief, in a way, knowing that she wouldn’t be walking into the viper’s nest. Even with support, Roz couldn’t shake the fears that rested in her bones, the knowledge that she had often known through her life with the Order. “With everything we’ve seen today, we have to act, and soon, before things spiral out of control here.” If things fell apart here, it would spread; all the good they had done would be destroyed and the people they had helped would have to flee for their lives once more.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” Cassandra tilted her head, pausing as though to parse out a thought, “but I do not think we should act without the facts. And we do not have any facts from the Templars that abandoned their post in Orlais.”

“But how can they possibly help us close the breach?” Roz snapped back, “Shall we go chase down Lord Seeker Lucius, who I might remind you isn’t our biggest fan, and convince them to, what? Wave a sword at the breach? Compel it to close itself with the power of smite?” The comments clawed from her throat before she could stop them, pacing once again before the Seeker.

“I know what people say, how they view me and all others like me. They did in Orlais and they will do so again if I try to reach them. I know,” she held a hand out as Cassandra made a move to interrupt, stopping for Roz to continue, “not all of them, but enough of them seem against us. To them, we’re a danger that needs containing, a threat that needs to be brought to heel again.” Enough of them wanted to stop the Inquisition before Roz had found herself in the middle of it, never mind now that a mage had the gall to be “chosen” by Andraste.

“You should not judge the Order too harshly.” Cassandra added softly once Roz had finished rambling off all the reasons not to seek out the organization that did not want them.

“And yet that’s exactly what they do to me.” Roz offered a sad sort of smile, the truth of her words seeming to sink slowly into the Seeker. “I do not see that changing anytime soon, Cassandra, do you?”

Tense silence followed and, had they been given a moment longer, perhaps Cassandra would have come up with a different opinion, a new way of looking at things despite what Roz felt in her gut was true. The Templars weren’t the way to go and she just knew that it was a waste to leave things precariously as they were here.

Varric’s voice, however, broke the spell, calling out from down the shoreline. “Seeker, Rosebud, you two might want to see this.” Roz felt her own guard go up at the apprehension in his tone, taking careful strides away from the spot she’d been pacing to approach what she had assumed was an abandoned home along the water’s edge.

The moment she stepped inside, the very air seemed to change. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer wrongness of it all. Magic rippled from the shelves, the strange whispering echoing in her ears that accompanied any discovery of the strange skulls in the countryside.

What she saw before her were those exact skulls. Dozens of them lining the walls, a few piled along the ground. A bundle of cracked and shattered skulls lay in the corner, abandoned in their lack of usefulness. A shiver ran down her spine, stuck in the doorway a moment longer before she dared to reach out. Her fingertips grazed across the nearby skull, snapping her fingers back quickly at a tingle that slithered down her hand upon contact.

Vincent wasn’t far, his own eyes gazing warily at the skulls before him. “Magic,” he muttered, their gazes meeting for a brief moment; Roz nodded in agreement, struggling to take another full breath as she turned.

“You’re right,” It was Rolfe, however, who found the answer, papers held firmly in his grip. “What do they mean by ‘tranquil’ in these papers?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Roz was dizzy, her stomach coiled and knotted, nausea rising up hard and fast along with horror and grief hot in pursuit. “No,” She whispered, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch the nearest skull. “Oh no, no, no, no.” Faces of those she had known flashed before her eyes, the unspeakable horror of this acting as a sinking pit in her stomach.

“Rosalind?” Vincent had a hand on her elbow as she swayed a moment. His touch was warm, grounding a moment as she turned to him, her mouth opening to try and find her words.

“Poor sods,” Varric murmured.

“Not like the Tranquil were doing much with ‘em.” Bull’s comment cut through the air and Roz felt all the breath leave her lungs with a sharp hiss. The grief, the sorrow, the anguish all burned swiftly into anger that she’d felt mounting since they arrived in the region. There was nothing gentle in her as she abruptly pulled away from Vincent and his comforting grasp on her. Instead, she whirled on Iron Bull with a snarl.

“You have no right to say those things,” Roz growled, heat rolling off her in waves. Despite their height difference, she walked to him, one finger against his chest, blue eyes hard as steel. “They were people. Their lives should have been their own. You do not get to judge them.” Her teeth gnashed together as she let out an angry huff, adding, “You are not better than them.”

Still shaking, she continued, “I’d think over my next words carefully, The Iron Bull.”

Tense silence followed and, had she been in a better mood, Roz would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. She was no match in height to him, aware that she barely came up to his chest. But he met her gaze levelly, his own expression hard (and, if she were right, a hint of surprise), neither of them moving from their spot.

“Boss.” He rumbled and the moment broke. Roz pulled away swiftly, turning on her heel.

“I’ve seen enough here. I’m done.” But there were words still unspoken, caught in her throat as she stepped back out into the open air. I don’t want to be here anymore.

For the first time in a long while, Roz let herself slump by the fire, the weight of the world pressing hard against her shoulders. Guilt and grief were warring internally as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her body. It didn’t fit all the way, made for a slim cot and not a plush body, but there was still something comforting in the act itself. As though she could make a cocoon of it, keeping the world at bay a moment longer instead of letting the chaos and the anger eat her from the inside out.

Exhaustion was a constant companion but sleep hadn’t come. Instead, Roz had pulled herself from her cot, slipping to sit by the fire. The sounds of Lake Luthias were almost comforting, the waterfall and chirping of crickets making the world seem a little softer and perhaps more peaceful than it felt in her mind.

Every single one of the skulls they had come across, each ocularum, was from a tranquil that had been killed. The thought made her sick, her stomach continuing to knot and roil in her gut. How many of them had they seen? How many had been lost when the Circles fell? Was he-

It was the one question she didn’t want to answer, squeezing her eyes shut to will the thought away. Spots blinked before her vision when she opened them again, disoriented for a brief moment. Any answer to her own lingering doubts would only add more guilt to her already troubled mind; no answer was better than the alternatives that were far more likely than the idea that he may have survived it all.

“May I join you?” Vincent’s voice murmured quietly from her side, causing Roz to jump. The blanket slipped a bit from her shoulders as she attempted to wrap it closer around her body again.

“If you like.” Running a hand across her face, letting the blanket slip again, she frowned into the fire. “I’m afraid you’re not seeing me on my best day,” Roz sighed apologetically, unable to lift her gaze from the fire. Everything felt like a constant fight the last few weeks, growing more and more apparent the last few days as the time to make a choice loomed ever closer on the horizon.

“You’re allowed to have feelings about it all, Roz,” Vincent reached out, a hand gently resting upon hers, “you’re only human.” The contact was brief, but she felt it again: a soft shiver rolled down her spine, but this was a pleasant sensation, as though stepping into a warm bath. It was gone as quickly as it came, her own expression confused before she shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s what they want from me.”

“Aye, but what do you want? It can’t just be about them and their needs. You’re the one they call Herald and you have more power than you think you have.”

Roz snorted, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips. “Don’t tell them that. I think the idea of a mage in power scares them, even if they don’t admit to it aloud.” She twisted, reaching for the blanket edge that kept slipping. Vincent reached for it instead, lifting it to her shoulder. The action paused in his hands, a frown shifting his features.

“They have you sleep with these scratchy things?” He questioned, experimentally rubbing the fabric between his fingers in obvious distaste. “How can you get comfortable with this scratchin’ and itchin’ at you all night long?”

“I’m certain they’re made to be more utilitarian than comfortable,” Roz commented dryly. “Honestly, I think the fact that we even have supplies really shows just how far we’ve- wait, where are you going?” Right in the middle of her sentence, Vincent stood abruptly. She watched with a strange curiosity as he moved away from the fire, all but stalking back towards the tent he had set up with Rolfe earlier in their evening.

Vanishing into his tent, he reappeared looking a little ruffled in the firelight, carrying something she couldn’t discern in his hands. “Here, this should be better.” He was careful with his movements, gently placing a sleek, soft pelt across her shoulders. Not before, he course, he helped pull the other blanket off of her.

“Oh.” Roz felt a sigh bubble up from her lips, marveling at the softness and the warmth that encompassed her effortlessly. “Maker, this is lovely.” She paused, adding softly, “Thank you. You didn’t have to-”

“Aye, I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

It was the earnestness that caught her off-guard; cynicism followed her every step when it came to anyone getting closer with her. The members of the Inquisition she was learning to trust, but part of her always wondered how much they wanted from her.

Roz pressed her cheek against the softness of the fur, closing her eyes again. “Still, thank you.”

The silence was interrupted only by the flowing water and crackling fire. Then, so softly, Vincent asked the question that had Roz’s stomach coiled in knots once again. “What does it mean to be made Tranquil?”

She didn’t speak for a few, long moments, eyes opened again as she stared into the fire. Her frown deepened as she tried to think of a way to explain it easily, but she knew there was no easy way to do that.

“If a mage is a danger to themselves or others, Templars have the choice to use the Rite of Tranquility upon them,” Roz murmured, bitterness lacing her words as she lifted her gaze from the fire, meeting his. “It means they are cut-off from the Fade. They become shells of themselves: docile, able to enchant, but unable to be who they once were.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “Not all who are made Tranquil are dangerous. I’ve seen it used as punishment as well.”

“So those skulls belonged to-”

“Mages who had been made Tranquil, yes.” Roz paused, her face screwed up in an attempt not to weep at the fresh onslaught of emotion that welled up in her throat. It was a wound that she didn’t know would heal, a scar that kept opening every time she thought it was closed.

Vincent met the statement with horrified silence, his own expression darkening in the glow of the fire. He muttered what Roz could only assume was a curse in his native tongue. “To be cut-off from your true self,” he muttered, “must certainly be a fate worse than death.”

“Yes,” Roz murmured, her voice thick as she pulled the pelt tighter around her shoulders, “it is. And to see them and know that they’re not truly there, all of their light just…gone.” She swallowed hard again, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’ve known those made Tranquil.” Another statement of fact came gently from his lips and Roz swore she could feel his gaze on her as she stared directly into the fire.

“Yes,” She whispered, blinking back tears unsuccessfully. “Some I didn’t know very well, but others…” She trailed off a moment, brushing a hand across her cheek with a sniffle. “Someone I loved was made Tranquil.” It was the one story she had never truly told amongst her new companions, uncertain how to even begin. But Vincent reached out, tentatively, his hand resting over hers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” He reassured her gently, “if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Roz gave him a watery smile, “but I think I want to.” The truth was a hard burden to bear alone and, even though she knew this changed nothing of what had happened, there was a small part that needed to simply speak the words into existence.

“His name was Alderis, and I loved him desperately.” And so she spoke, weaving the story in soft tones about her mentor who had turned into her dear friend and then lover. How smart he had been, how passionate about their freedoms, how kind he had been to her and others.

“He wanted our freedom as much as anyone in the Circle,” Roz confided, “and perhaps not all of his methods would have been viewed upon with kindness from the Chantry.” Blood magic never was, but that was part of her story that she kept tucked away. “Suspicions were flying and everyone was tense in the Circle in the weeks leading up to it. In the end, I think it was easiest to make Alderis an example, if not to stop him from preaching of just what we might gain from autonomy and life outside the Circle.”

Those last moments Roz knew she’d never forget. The classroom where they were working with a few of the newly Harrowed students before the door was shoved open. Alderis had been smiling a moment before they grabbed him, the Templars showing no mercy as Roz surged forwards. She’d been stopped and charges were laid at their feet.

“I don’t know why I was spared yet he was not.” Her voice dropped so softly, shaking her head as a few errant tears slipped down her cheeks. “None of it made sense.” She had her suspicions that her mentor, Lydia, had kept her from the same fate, but that had meant little when faced with the results of the rite done on Alderis. Blank eyes, a monotone voice and the mark on his forehead for everyone to see.

Taking up his mantle in the search for their freedoms had seemed easy comparably. Her grief had turned to rage and resolution in the face of rebellion.

“I heard few survived the uprising at Ostwick. I don’t know if he or the others found their way out.” Roz had planted the seeds, pulled away to the Conclave when her friends and comrades in arms rose up against the Templars. The story had been spun to sound peaceful, as though a compromise had been sought by both sides. It was an effort to keep the peace; Roz knew the truth, though, clutching tight the hope that her students and friends had made their way from that place in one piece.

His hand squeezed hers, fingers gently lacing between hers to hold tightly to her. “That sounds like it’s been a heavy burden to carry, Rosalind.” And that was the truth, murmured to her by the campfire, thousands of miles from the only place she had known as home. She let out a sharp, soft laugh, bitter and sorrowful as she sniffed hard again against more tears.

“Sometimes I prefer to think he died that day when they cut him from the fade,” Roz admitted, her features twisted again in grief as she continued in a broken whisper, “It was kinder to me, as selfish as it sounds. I’d rather remember him with life and passion. I can cherish his memory of what was rather than what they made him.”

“If you found him tomorrow, would you still care for him the same way as before?” He asked her and the question had her pause, deep in thought as she stared at the fire.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe not?” There were too many factors at place in her mind, wondering exactly how she might react to finding him again after all that had happened. “In the end, I feel he was a dear friend to me, a companion to share ideas with. If he were alive, if I found him, I would want to make sure he was safe and cared for, not left to the whims of the world and those who would exploit him.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “I’d owe him that much.”

Alderis had given her hope, a spark that had grown into a fire that burned inside her. There would always be an ache for what could have been or what she could have done, but nothing could change that. And, while she wouldn’t say it aloud, Roz had long since come to peace that nothing could sway her from the path she walked now. She had been willing to die for the rebellion, yet she had been offered the chance to live and see parts of it some to fruition.

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it was a start.

They sat in quiet, his hand still intertwined with hers. His thumb rubbed soft, soothing circles along the back of her hand, a gentle comfort that left her with feelings she couldn’t quite put to words. And maybe now wasn’t the time to do it, not with her emotions raw as they were.

There was relief in having shared though, a wave of it washing over her with a suddenness. There were tears again as she leaned against Vincent’s shoulder, her cheek pressed against him, but there was no sorrow in them this time. His hand slipped free and Roz nearly pulled back, afraid she’d overstepped, but instead he tucked her close, an arm resting gently at her shoulder.

“Thank you for listening,” Roz murmured thickly against his shirt.

“Of course, Rosalind,” He whispered against the crown of her head, “of course.”

Roz didn’t remember going back to bed, but she woke with the pelt still tucked gently around her. She pressed her nose against it, breathing it in, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months. The sounds of the camp waking up and the scent of rashers being cooked on the fire were enough to draw her from the tent at last. An idea had struck her late in the night that wouldn’t leave her alone, swiftly rubbing the last winks of sleep from her eyes as she exited her tent.

“Iron Bull,” Roz called, arms wrapped tightly around herself, “can you come with me?”

They walked in slightly awkward silence; it wasn’t a long trek back to the ledge, but the moment seemed to linger on and on. Roz knew she didn’t want to apologize for getting mad, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were. Instead, she had a different idea.

The skull sat upon the strangely carved pedestal at the edge, the faint whisperings of magic brushing against her ears.

“What do you need, Boss?”

Roz tilted her head a moment, gesturing to the skull. “I need you to help me get this unstuck.” She blew a strand of hair from her face, adding quietly, “I don’t think I’m strong enough physically to get it to move without a little help.” When she used them, they only rotated so far and never had she been able to shift and adjust it. With her smaller hands to pry it a bit and Bull’s strength, she assumed they might make a go of it.

The request seemed to surprise Bull, who raised a brow and then nodded. “Sure.”

As she had predicted, the effort took both pairs of hands to remove it. Roz whispered some ice magic into her fingertips, turning the base brittle in an attempt to get it off without completely shattering the skull. There was a small crunch before Bull had it in his hands, finally, after a few minutes of their work.

Bull held the skull aloft a moment, the light filtering through it a moment, magic slowly dissipating from it once it had been removed from its place. Only when it dulled again did he hold it to her, letting her gently lift the skull from his palms. Roz wished she knew how to describe how she felt to him, the hurt that came with the discovery, the pain at knowing that she may have known these people. She swallowed hard though, cradling it close to her.

“You told me about Seheron,” she began softly, meeting his gaze with misty eyes, “and the people you lost. Know the pain that you felt, the kind that led you to the Re-educators, is the same pain I’m feeling right now. I wish I didn’t know this, but I do and I have to live with it.” There was no turning back from this new information, no pretending it didn’t exist or changing how they discovered the cabin. Now she knew and she could try to do something good with it.

“I get it, Boss,” Bull rubbed the back of his shaved head. But even the spy didn’t have the right words to truly encompass everything Roz was feeling or to untangle the complications that surrounded her heart in that moment.

“What’s done is done,” Roz intoned gently, “and now we can move forward.” She gazed back out to the expanse of the land that stretched out before them from the spot. “I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We continue to pull the shards from the field, but after we’ve marked their locations we take the skulls and give them a proper burial. They deserve that.” She didn’t know how or where, but they would be laid to rest.

Bull had a hand resting between her shoulder blades, a weight that pulled her from the depths of her emotions. There was a moment, soft and quiet as she smiled at him sadly. “Some of our brightest were made this way. I hope something like this doesn’t have to happen again. I hope to change it.” Perhaps the pair of them would never see eye-to-eye, but an understanding passed between them as she walked back into the camp, finding a spot for the skull and a map marked with the locations of the others in the region.

“I’ll only be a few moments,” Roz argued with Cassandra as the pair of them trekked up the sloping incline to the top of the lake, “I don’t need an escort to gather spindleweed and blood lotus.” They’d be leaving the region soon enough and Roz already knew the Adan would appreciate more stocks to add to his stores back in Haven. She had her own concoctions to test out, but first she needed ingredients to work with beyond what they’d already gathered.

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra followed dutifully behind Roz as they crested the hill. The banks of the lake were teeming with plant life and Roz was careful each time she stepped further to the water’s edge to gather what she needed.

Lost in her own thoughts, Roz hummed gently to herself as she plucked and picked and moved closer to the edge of the waterfall. Their camp was well within sight and there was a soft swell of encouragement to see most of their party relaxing in the late morning sunlight. And then her gaze drifted to the lake below.

“Oh.” Nearly dropping her satchel, Roz felt all the breathe leave her lungs, eyes wide as she caught sight of the brothers below. The mist and water kept much shrouded from her eyes, but there was quite a lot for her to see. And, Maker, it was a sight that she couldn’t help but drink in.

Both brothers, swimming and splashing in the lake below. Completely and utterly naked.

“Roz, what have you-” Cassandra began but Roz grabbed the Seeker’s arm to tug her down and out of sight before they could be spotted in their peeking.

“Shh!” Roz jerked her head down, unable to stop the rising heat in her cheeks as she glanced back down at the bare forms of Vincent and Rolfe in the water.

To her surprise, Roz caught Cassandra blushing when she realized exactly what they were watching. “Oh!”

“Yes.” Roz let out a slow, shaky breath, her eyes tracing the whorls and tattoos that decorated Vincent’s chest and shoulder. She had seen some peeking out from under his clothing, but nothing with quite so much detail as she saw in the moment. Water dripped down Vincent’s shoulders, flexing and stretching as he swam away from Rolfe’s splashing. It was innocent, playful as the brothers sent water flying at one another, Rolfe’s baritone laugh and an undignified squawk from Vincent when he was dunked under.

She swore softly, swallowing hard. “I…Andraste’s frilly knickers, we shouldn’t be doing this, should we?”

“Probably not,” Cassandra muttered, though she made no move to leave just then. Despite her own apparent indifference towards Rolfe when they were together, the Seeker was very quiet now, her eyes fixed on Rolfe below. Roz glanced to Cassandra and then back down to the lake below.

There wasn’t any harm in this. It wasn’t like they planned to do it again. She cleared her throat, settling down, allowing herself a few moments longer to enjoy the view and the wild workings of her imagination. Cassandra broke the silence with a gruff murmur.

“We’ll never speak of this to anyone.”

“You have my word.”

#dragon age: inquisition #fanfic #mage inquisitor #female inquisitor #verse: welcome home good hunter #my writing #vincent trevelyan #rosalind trevelyan #otp: sometimes home has a heartbeat #now cross posted to ao3 omg

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worldsload154 · 4 years ago

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Razer Synapse 3 Download Mac Os

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Razer Viper Mouse Driver, Software Downloads for Microsoft Windows and Macintosh OS. Razer Viper is a direct result of collaborations between their engineering team and the team Razer e-Sports gamers they would get direct feedback and contributions on what they want in a mouse for professional gaming use.

Razer Synapse 2.0: Supported Operating System: Version: Supported Languages: Mac OS X 10.9 - 10.13. V1.83.16: English. Supported Products: Destiny 2 Razer DeathAdder.

Razer Synapse 3: Supported Operating System: Version: Supported Languages: Windows 7 64-bit (x64) Windows 10 64-bit (x64) V1.0.148.188: English. Chinese Simplified. Chinese Traditional. Portuguese Brazil. Supported Products: Supported Modules: Razer Abyssus Elite D.Va Razer Abyssus Essential.

Aug 26, 2011 Razer hurry up and make synapse 3 Mac OS X compatible. Or at least add more support for newer keyboards to synapse 2. It is very frustrating to have to keep booting into windows to customise my key binds and stuff and very annoying that my huntsman elite and blackwidow elite RGB keys simply do not work/ are not customisable within OS X!

If you’ve ever used a Razer gaming keyboard or mouse, or any other Razer peripheral with your Mac, you will have installed Razer Synapse. This tool allows you to configure settings on Razer devices, such as allocating functions to the buttons on mice, adjusting sensitivity, and creating macros from keyboard combinations.

While Razer’s support for Windows versions of Synapse appears to be very good, that’s not necessarily the case with the Mac version, which tends to lag behind when it comes to new features and upgrades. Or, you may have installed it and want to keep using it, but have noticed that it’s causing problems for your Mac, maybe by crashing or hitting performance. It’s possible, then, that if you’ve downloaded Synapse for the Mac, you may have decided that it’s not worth using it, perhaps because you now use a Windows machine to configure your Razer devices. If that’s the case, you should uninstall it. The rest of this article will show you how to do that.

How to uninstall Razer Synapse on your Mac

The easiest way to uninstall Razer Synapse on a Mac is to use its own uninstaller, if you have it.

Go to Applications>Utilities and look for ‘Uninstall Razer Synapse.’

If you find it, double-click on it and follow the instructions when it launches.

If you can’t find the uninstaller, you can uninstall it manually.

The first thing you should do is quit any running processes — while you’re doing that, you can check whether Synapse is the cause of any performance issues your Mac is having.

Go to Applications>Utilities and double-click on Activity Monitor to launch it.

Look through the list of running processes for anything with ‘razer synapse’ in its name.

If you find one or more processes, take a look at their RAM and CPU usage and compare it with other processes, that will give you an idea if it’s hogging resources.

When you’re ready, select each Razer Synapse process in turn and press the Quit Process button in the tool bar.

Quit Activity Monitor.

Once you’ve deleted running processes, you can move to the next stage and delete the application.

Go to your Applications folder and look for the Razer Synapse app.

When you find it, drag it to the Trash.

Click on Finder in the Dock and choose the Go menu.

Select Go to Folder and paste this location in the box: /Library/Application Support/Razer

Drag the Razer folder to the Trash.

Repeat step 4, this time paste: ~/Library/Cache

Locate the file ‘com.razerzone.RzUpdater’ and drag it to the Trash

Repeat step 4 again and navigate to: /Library/FrameWorks

Remove the following files:

RzAudioSettings.framework

RzSkinToolkit.framework

RzStorageSDK.framework

Now, navigate to: /Library/Extensions/

Remove: RazerHid.kext

Did you know?

You can uninstall apps much more easily and quickly using a dedicated uninstaller like the one in CleanMyMac X. It removes all the files associated with an app with one click, removing the need to locate and remove files manually.

Here’s how it works: Sims 4 must have mods for realistic gameplay xbox 360.

Download and install CleanMyMac X (free trial available).

Double-click it in your Applications folder to launch it.

Choose Uninstaller from the left hand sidebar.

Locate the app you want to uninstall, in this case Razer Synapse.

Check the box next to it and press Uninstall.

That’s it! CleanMyMac will now uninstall the app and remove all the files it placed on your Mac.

Another option, if you’re not sure you want to uninstall Razer Synapse, is to reset it. That may solve any problems you’re having with it and allow you to keep it. You can do that in CleanMyMac X, using the Uninstaller tool. At step 5, above, when you’ve checked the Razer Synapse app, click on the dropdown menu labelled ‘uninstall’ and choose ‘reset’. Then press the Reset button at the bottom of the window.

Remove Launch Agents

You will also need to remove launch agents that Razer Synapse installs:

In the Finder, click on the Go menu and choose ‘Go to menu’

Paste the following into the text box: /Library/Launch Agents

Look for the two files listed below and drag them to the Trash

com.razer.rzupdater.plist file

com.razerzone.rzdeviceengine.plist

4. Empty the Trash

Tip:

CleanMyMac X can also remove launch agents quickly and easily.

It works like this:

Launch CleanMyMac X.

Choose Optimization in the sidebar.

Select Launch Agents.

Locate the launch agents you want to remove and check the box next to them.

Press Remove.

Type in your user password when prompted.

The last step is to remove the certificate Razer Synapse leaves in your Keychain.

Go to Applications>Utilities.

Launch Keychain Access.

Choose My Certificates.

Look for anything with ‘Razer’ in its name.

Press the Delete key.

Quit Keychain Access.

If you prefer to be really hardcore and use the Terminal to uninstall apps, you can do that, too. However, as with doing anything with Terminal, you should only do it if you know how to use Terminal commands and know what each one does. Use these commands:

Go to Applications>Utilities and launch Terminal.

Type the following commands to remove Synapse launch agents. Press Return at the end of each line:

launchctl remove com.razer.rzupdater

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launchctl remove com.razerzone.rzdeviceengine

sudo rm /Library/LaunchAgents/com.razer.rzupdater.plist

sudo rm /Library/LaunchAgents/com.razerzone.rzdeviceengine.plist

3. Remove the kernel extensions with this command:

sudo rm -Rf /Library/Extensions/RazerHid.kext

Techstream software id keygen. 4. Drag the Razer Synapse app from the Applications folder to the Trash.

5. Remove files from the Application Support with the following commands:

sudo rm -rf /Library/Application Support/Razer/

rm -rf ~/Library/Application Support/Razer/

6. Remove files from the Library Frameworks folder with these commands:

sudo rm -rf /Library/Frameworks/RzAudioSettings.framework/

sudo rm -rf /Library/Frameworks/RzSkinToolkit.framework/

sudo rm -rf /Library/Frameworks/RzStorageSDK.framework/

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7. Restart your Mac.

Razer Synapse is a utility application for Razer’s range of gaming peripherals including mice and keyboards, and allows them to be configured on your Mac. However, Mac support lags behind that on Windows and you may decide you want to uninstall it, especially if you no longer use it. There are several ways to uninstall Razer Synapse on a Mac, but the easiest is to use CleanMyMac X.

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