#god knows I’ve got plenty more resources for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

umbran6 · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts Houses for the Heroes of Olympus, Apollo, and Meg.

I’ve seen a lot of people do this, so I thought I should do this and explain as to why I wanted them there. Spoilers are abound through Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo as I explain my reasoning.

Percy Jackson: Hufflepuff. Look, I know a lot of people place him in Gryffindor. That’s a reasonable outcome one can reach, considering his feats could be considered immensely brave. However, Percy has often participated in his quests out of a sense of loyalty towards those he loves, whether it’s his mom (The Lightning Thief), Camp Half-Blood (The Sea of Monsters), Annabeth (Both The Titan’s Curse and Battle of The Labyrinth), and in The Last Olympian, all of them. What really pins him in place is when he willingly fallis to Tartarus alongside Annabeth by the ending of The Mark of Athena, which is a remarkable yet insane feat of both love and loyalty. He also has a work ethic, which is revealed during The Tower of Nero. Rather than just go straight to New Rome and live a happy life, he went to a hellish military school just so he could graduate from there with a high school diploma. If that’s not a work ethic, I don’t know what is. Loyalty and work ethic are key Hufflepuff traits, and Percy has shown all of them.

Annabeth Chase: Slytherin. Annabeth has often shown a lot of intelligence, but also a lot of resourcefulness and cunning during her time in the series. She literally tricked both Arachne and Nyx in what were impossible situations, and her goals are extremely ambitious, with her wanting to become an architect so she could build something that could last a thousand years. She also has a lot of Ravenclaw traits, to the point she repeated Odysseus and listened to the Sirens so she could learn what she desired the most. However, that was only once, and most often she used the knowledge she was given in resourceful and cunning ways, such as during the Last Olympian where she used the statues from Daedalus as a way to defend Manhattan. Needless to say, in my opinion she is a Slytherin first and Ravenclaw second.

Jason Grace: It’s quite tricky, considering we don’t get to see any key defining traits, but I have decided to put him in Gryffindor. Jason’s shown plenty of bravery, fighting Giants and Titans during his quest, but he also has honor and chivalry, which he shows during Blood of Olympus, and later on, The Burning Maze. Specifically, in the scene where he makes a deal with Kymopoleia, promising to make shrines not only to her, but to all of the hundreds of minor gods of Greek Mythology. As we later see during The Burning Maze, Jason was completely willing to honor such a deal, working on the shrines even while he was living the closest thing to a normal life one could achieve as a demigod. And of course, we can’t ignore the fact that he was brave to fight Caligula just so his friends could escape.

Piper Mclean: Slytherin. This is because during most of the time we’ve seen her, Piper fights dirty. She doesn’t stab a monster in the dagger, but charmspeaks the monster and stabs him in the back while he’s distracted. When claiming the position as Cabin Counselor in the Aphrodite Cabin during The Lost Hero from Drew, Piper uses the rules against her to get the position, rather than straight-up fighting her at the very beginning. Furthermore, rather than fight Khione upfront during the House of Hades, she bides her time and stalls the goddess until she can find a way to win. Though she has some traits that could go along with the other Houses, Slytherin tends to stand out the best. The only way she isn’t Slytherin in terms of traits is that she lacks ambition — we never see her have a higher goal beyond the quest, or any plans for what she’s going to do after everything’s done. Overall, she’s Slytherin through her actions, not her words, ironically.

Frank Zhang: Gryffindor. This is because Frank performs a lot of actions that are by any standard, brave, and often selfless and self-sacrificial. Specifically, a lot of the sacrifices he performs throughout the series. In Son of Neptune, he was willing to be the distraction against the Laestrygonians so that Percy and Hazel could start their escape plan. He was literally willing to burn his own life force (his stick) so that Thanatos could break free despite the very large risk it posed to him. He even stood in the way of a Giant, pushing him all the way to the Canadian border. And as we learn in The Tyrant’s Tomb, he was willing to repeat his sacrifice if it meant Caligula and Commodus were killed. Frank is a Gryffindor through and through, though he does have some minor Ravenclaw traits such as his use of tactics against his opponents, way of making plans, or recalling ancient Roman history.

Hazel Levesque: Once again, this was another difficult one. Mainly because Hazel is split right down to the middle between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. On one hand, she was so loyal to her mother that despite the fact that the lady got them into this mess, Hazel willingly sacrificed Elysium so her mom wasn’t punished. On the other hand, she was also willing to sacrifice herself so Alcyoneus couldn’t rise again despite the fact that it would lead to her and her mom’s death. Finally, I decided she deserved to go to Gryffindor, because of the fact that she willingly went towards the quest to rescue Thanatos in The Son of Neptune despite the fact that it was very likely that the god of Death would take her back to the Underworld. That takes immense amounts of bravery, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but she’s also putting herself at immense risk of being dragged down to the Underworld.

There are some Slytherin traits, such as when she made a plan to trick Sciron during the House of Hades, or the plan to trap Nike. However, Hazel’s a lot more defined by her bravery and empathy, which are more Gryffindor traits. If she had more ambition, a big goal after the quest it could be understood, but overall her Gryffindor traits are more prominent. For example, let’s compare how she got to Praetor and Octavian got to Praetor, and later on, Pontifex Maximus. Octavian often used a lot of word-twisting and dirty tactics to get his position, and only got there because Reyna left her post so she could help Jason. In comparison, the legion willingly raised her on a shield and collectively voted her into the position due to her bravery during the fight against Tarquin in The Tyrant’s Tomb.

Leo Valdez: There have been arguments over where he should go. All of them want him in one house or the other, but the most convincing ones were either having him in Slytherin, or in Ravenclaw. And I can definitely agree with both — Leo has shown immense amounts of intelligence and cunning throughout the series. He’s also intelligent in the sense that he created the Argo II, multiple weapons, the Holographic Scrolls, and even Buford.

However, after looking through his actions, I found that he leans more towards Slytherin. Although his façade of cheerfulness and humor was used to disguise trauma, he also used said humor to make himself appealing towards bullies so they didn’t beat him up. He often used his cunning to morph himself to social situations such as his façade as a jokester to look less threatening in comparison to others.

During the times we see him fight, he’s also the one to not only play it smart, but also using tactics and dirty tricks, rather than focusing on swordplay or his own fire powers. The only time we see him go ham with his pyrokinesis is when he’s fighting Khione during The Lost Hero. Furthermore, in The Mark of Athena, rather than straight-up fight the nymphs and Narcissus to get the celestial bronze he needed to make repairs, he uses himself as a distraction and has Hazel manipulate the bronze in a place where she can’t be seen, which is a plan that needs a lot of manipulation of the opposing parties.

What finally acted as the nail in the coffin for me was his plan to defeat Gaea during Blood of Olympus. It involved a lot of manipulation of both enemies and allies, and in the ended it succeeded so brilliantly that everybody got what they wanted, with none of them being aware of the plan until Frank and Hazel explained it, and they were the very few people in the know regarding Leo’s sacrifice. Developing such a plan takes immense amounts of cunning and ambition, which are both Slytherin traits. Although he may be chaotic, mischievous, and annoying, Leo is the guy you don’t realize is a Slytherin until it’s too late.

Nico di Angelo: The thing about a guy who was pretty much a loner throughout most of his time in the series is that it’s hard to tell what values he has. Ergo, we should look at his actions rather than his own words. Nico, although mainly dominated by his naïveté during his younger years, has shown himself to be extremely brave. For example, there was him openly defying his father by saving Percy from his imprisonment, and later actively convincing Hades to stop his vow of neutrality and fight alongside the Olympians in The Last Olympian. Finally, there’s his excursion to Tartarus and later his willingness to transport the Athena Parthenos during Blood of Olympus. Nico willingly went there to see if the Doors of Death were over there, and later transported the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood even if it meant he would fade into the shadows forever. All feats are insanely brave, and therefore I argue that he should go to Gryffindor.

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano: Hufflepuff. Most of Reyna’s actions aren’t inspired by bravery, honor, or chivalry, though from a certain point of view they are brave. Reyna often performs most of her actions out of loyalty for those she cares about, almost in a Percy-ish kind of way. Her interrogation and cold nature towards Percy in Son of Neptune? Suspicion that he would be a threat to Camp Jupiter. She metaphorically fought against Octavian’s power advances because she knew his own ambitions wouldn’t help New Rome. Willingness to cooperate with the Greeks before the Eidolons screwed up everything? She believed that it was best for New Rome. Willingness to brave the Mare Nostrum all by herself? Both her loyalty to Jason and that she believed that waging war against Camp Half-Blood was not the best for the legion. Her loyalty and ethic just make her a shoe-in for Hufflepuff.

Apollo/Lester Papadopoulos: Oh boy, he’s kind of at an in-between when it comes what house he should be in. If we were talking about him pre-Lesterfication, I would honestly say Hufflepuff, but he takes a good chunk of those traits and turned them into a darker way. He defeated Python because the snake monster had chased his mother off of Delphi. He alongside Artemis murdered Niobe’s kids because the goddess insulted Leto by saying she was better than her. When Asclepius is murdered by Zeus, he retaliates by murdering the Cyclopes who made the weapons. And finally, he punishes those who broke their vows He shows loyalty, but in a lot of darker ways that we don’t expect. He’s got Hufflepuff morals, but they’re in a darker, more warped way than we expect.

If we’re looking at him post-Lesterfication, I would still say Hufflepuff, but now he does it in a brighter way and is also more Gryffindor. He was more willing to sacrifice himself if it meant saving those he cared about, such as when he willingly tried to kill himself during The Burning Maze if it meant Caligula would stop holding his friends hostage. He was also willing to commit more honorable gestures such as bringing Jason’s body to New Rome during The Tyrant’s Tomb. He was even willing to own up to his mistakes right in front of a god who had every right to hate him if it meant Meg and Reyna could be spared. He’s still a Hufflepuff, but he’s a more idealistic and less warped version of the values he had before he became Lester.

Meg: In a way, she’s pretty much like Apollo. She’s a Hufflepuff, but in all the wrong ways at first. We see this in The Dark Prophecy when its clear that during that time, she was more loyal to Nero of all people rather than her fellow campers, to the point of accepting Nero’s gaslighting if it meant she could see the positive view of him. However, she’s also loyal to Apollo and her father, which we see in The Burning Maze because the main reason she guns for Caligula is because she often compares him to The Beast aspect of Nero, the person who killed her dad. She in the end is also willing to accept and finish her father’s legacy, planting the seeds that eventually become the Meliai. Tower of Nero is when she gains the will to stand up to Nero after support from Apollo and her friends, and is later on seen taking care of the other children Nero abused. In the end, she’s a Hufflepuff despite the fact that she may not look like it.

Now, before you guys getting up in arms about there being no Ravenclaws, in my opinion the house is a lot more knowledge-focused, whether its discovering more knowledge, but also using it in a more academic and experimental way. Considering we don’t see this attitude or its corresponding values too much during the stories that we see since they’re more save-the-world mission focused. While Slytherin does have an intelligence-centric value such as cunning, its more focused on using such intelligence to manipulate and trick others, while Ravenclaw uses such intelligence in the discovery for knowledge.

125 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

INTO SILENCE – PART SIX

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Featuring: Emmett x Reader x Others

Words: 3,335

Warnings: Pregnancy, Smut, Supernatural Themes, Angst, Illness

SPOILER WARNING – If you haven’t seen A Quiet Place Part 2, this part might have some spoilers!

***It’s a boy/girl****

After your encounter with Emmett’s brother, you were being processed by one of the female soldiers at the camp.

She asked you many questions, wanting to know whether you ever killed someone and why and whether you had been charged with any criminal offenses before the invasion.

She then went on to ask you some more personal questions, about your brothers and about the child you were carrying.

You explained to her that the baby was Emmett’s child and, just as you did, you broke out in tears. You knew that he might not survive his injuries and you were frightened, wanting to spend all the time you could with him, by his side.

You explained to the woman that Emmett had promised your father to get you and the baby to the camp safely so that his grandchild can have a better life. That’s why you made the journey.

After all that you had been through, you didn’t want to lose Emmett but you knew that his chances weren’t good. His brother had told you.

‘Listen, I think we are done here. You seem like an honest person Y/N. I would like to run some medical checks and then I will take you to the infirmary, alright?’ the woman suggested and you agreed with a quick a nod.

You followed the woman to the medical facilities where you saw Jackson sitting in the waiting room. There was no sight of Jonathan, Marie or Sean.

The woman then escorted you upstairs into a small dark room where she spoke to one of the nurses who had just arrived.

‘I cannot believe that you have medical staff here’ you said surprised and the nurse advised you that there are only one doctor and three nurses, one of whom was a vet nurse before the invasion.

‘I do have some training as a midwife, from before, so I was asked to have a look at you and your baby’ the woman then said with a warm smile before asking you to take a seat.

She proceeded to ask you about your medications and when you told her about them, she took in a sharp breath.

‘We don’t have any of these on site and your pregnancy…’ the woman went on to say and you interrupted her.

‘I know. I have enough medication until I am about 34 weeks. This was all I could find in the different pharmacies that I have visited’ you explained.

‘This is a high-risk pregnancy; you do understand this right?’ the woman then said and you nodded again.

‘Right. Does the father of the child know about your condition?’ she then went on to ask and you immediately broke out in tears again, shaking your head. You never told Emmett about your health and how the pregnancy might affect you.

The woman inhaled sharply again before taking your blood pressure and conducting a general medical examination before disappearing into another room.

‘Now let’s look at the baby, shall we?’ the woman said as she returned, pushing an ultrasound machine into the room.

You were surprised by the equipment and the woman quickly explained that this was all they had, a simple machine.

You lifted up your shirt, exposing your small baby bump before you felt the cool jelly being squirted onto your stomach.

Together with the nurse, you looked at the screen of the ultrasound machine and there it was, your baby, wiggling around happily in your tummy.

The baby’s heartbeat was strong. You were about 17 weeks and, in so far as the nurse could tell, everything looked fantastic.

‘It is a little bit early and don’t quote me on this as I could be wrong, but do you want to know what you are having?’ the woman asked and you nodded eagerly, tears running down your face.

‘A boy…you are having a little boy’ the woman said pointing to the obvious little indication of the baby’s gender on the screen.

You thanked the nurse for her time and she was kind enough to print out a photo from the machine for you which you could take to the infirmary which was where you went next.

The nurse accompanied you downstairs and to the room where Emmett was in. He was in a coma and his breathing was supported by a simple oxygen machine.

You began to cry again as soon as you saw him, covered in large white bandages across his chest and right arm.

His left arm was hooked up to a blood transfusion and his brother sat next to him, starring across the room with empty eyes.

‘He’s having a transfusion?’ you asked surprised as Sean had earlier told you that they couldn’t determine Emmett’s blood group with the equipment they had available and that they had no o-negative blood left.

‘Your brothers have given blood. They are both o-negative, just like you’ Sean explained and you let out a sigh of relief.

‘So, he will be fine?’ you asked but Sean just shuck his shoulders. He couldn’t answer your question but, with the blood transfusion, his chances were much better than before.

‘We have put him on a blood transfusion and morphine. I am slowly lowering the dosage allowing him to regain consciousness, I guess. But he’s been out for a while, so I don’t know’ Sean explained.

‘Do you want me to take over?’ you asked and Sean nodded, explaining to you what you needed to do.

‘I know, I was half way through my medical degree before the invasion. I’ve got this’ you explained.

‘You will be a good resource for the camp then’ Sean said as he got up and let you take a seat next to Emmett.

You immediately leaned over Emmett, kissing his forehead and holding onto his hand as you sat down.

Your actions caught Sean by surprise. He still didn’t know what the relationship was between you and Emmett.

‘The baby…is it my brother’s?’ Sean asked carefully, not wanting to insult or upset you as you were clearly much younger than Emmett.

‘It’s boy and, yes, he is Emmett’s son’ you said with a warm smile.

‘I did not expect that’ Sean said surprised, causing you to chuckle as you wiped your tears away.

‘I love him so much and I need him to fight. We both do’ you said with a deep sigh before starting to cry again.

‘Well, he’s a fighter and now that I know that he’s got plenty to live for I have a good feeling’ Sean said as he handed you a tissue, causing you to nod and smile briefly. Sean thought that Emmett was on his own, having lost Nora and his son. But now, having a child with you, this changed everything.

Sean left shortly thereafter, allowing you some privacy with Emmett.

You adjusted his medication down as per the schedule and then began talking to him, telling him about his son inside of you and how strong he is. His heart was beating fast and he was growing well.

You loudly fantasised about what he might look like and how he will be smart and strong with Emmett’s blue eyes and full lips.

‘He needs you, Emmett. He needs his father. I need you too’ you whispered as you rested your head on the uninjured side of his chest.

Just as your head was resting against him, listening to his heartbeat, you could feel his arm besides you twitch gently.

You scooted up, sitting down and observing the movement of his arm and hand. One twitch was quickly followed by another.

‘Emmett?’ you asked as you could see his fingers move and listen to the sound of his breath change.

But he didn’t answer you and you held onto his hand tightly, his fingers moving slightly against your palms until, more suddenly, you could feel his hand grip onto one of yours.

‘Emmett’ you sobbed, hearing him take in a deep breath through the oxygen mask as if he was trying to get it off and away from his face.

Then his entire arm moved, his breathing became heavier and you could see that he was trying to reach for the mask but couldn’t quite get there himself.

You removed the mask quickly after ensuring that the oxygen monitor was still connected to his index finger and, as soon as you did, he let out a cough and inhaled sharply.

His eyes began to blink just as his breathing calmed back down and you caressed his face with both of your hands.

‘Emmett, please’ you whispered, your tears running down your face and onto his.

‘You are crying’ Emmett mumbled, barely auditable, as he felt a few of your tears run down his face and onto his lips.

‘Oh my god Emmett’ you cried, his words sending a smile across your face at the same time.

‘Don’t cry. It’s bad for the baby. He needs a happy mommy’ he mumbled, again barely audible as his arm reached for your back gently.

‘You know it’s a boy?’ you asked somewhat surprised, your smile widening.

‘Hmm yeah’ Emmett responded quietly as his eyes began to open very slowly, flickering open and shut.

‘You told me’ he mumbled, drowsy from the morphine and you couldn’t help but press your salty lips against his in a haste while your hands were still caressing his face gently.

‘I love you so fucking much, you know that?’ you asked, looking into his deep blue eyes as soon as your lips drifted apart.

‘I love you too’ Emmett whispered; his voice still strained.

He tried to move, but the pain was too intense and the machinery he was hooked up to prevented him.

‘I need to get your brother’ you said just before kissing him again, forgetting about being careful and causing Emmett to shriek in pain.

‘My brother?’ he asked quietly, still struggling to speak as his whole body was aching.

‘Yes, he is here. Your brother is here’ you smiled before giving him a kiss on his forehead and asking one of the others outside the room to get him for you.

As you were waiting for Sean, you told Emmett about the ultrasound and showed him the picture, causing him to smile for the first time and running his hand over your stomach.

***Recovery***

Emmett had spent about a week in the infirmary and today was the day where he could finally come home with you.

You had been assigned a small house within the community yesterday evening after spending the last few days in the community’s dorm facilities. It had three bedrooms and you were sharing it with your brothers, Marie and Emmett.

‘Well, we will get you cleaned up, I will dress your wounds again and then you are ready to go home’ the nurse said just as Emmett came back from the shower inside the medical facilities wearing the new pair of jeans his brother had given him.

This was the first time you saw the extent of Emmett’s injuries after the sutures had been placed and his right arm and chest were heavily scared, featuring a total of eight large claw marks from the creatures.

‘Home?’ Emmett chuckled. He knew nothing about the houses and facilities inside the community.

‘Well, brother, I had a room all set up for you in our little house but Y/N here insists that you stay with her’ Sean joked as the doctor evaluated Emmett once more before discharging him from the infirmary.

‘House? You’ve got a fucking house?’ Emmett said with surprise.

‘So do you. It’s not much and you have to share it with Y/N, her brothers and Marie, but it is a house’ Sean explained, causing Emmett to raise his eyebrows in disbelieve.

‘We even have a bed, hot water and a really cool kitchen with an oven’ you said with excitement.

‘A bed and an oven?’ Emmett said, still somewhat surprised and you nodded.

‘And, I have gotten you a little welcome present’ Sean said just after Emmett’s wounds had been dressed and he put on a t-shirt.

‘A razor?’ Emmett chuckled, causing Sean to smirk and point at Emmett’s beard.

‘Yeah, we won’t be needing that, thanks’ you said, taking the razor out of Emmett’s hand and handing it back to Sean.

‘It is getting a bit grey though’ Emmett said, looking into the mirror besides the medicine cabinet.

‘The beard is staying Emmett. I like it’ you winked.

‘You’ve heard her. She’s the boss’ Emmett said to Sean before you made your way back to where you were going to live.

***Welcome Present***

‘Welcome home’ you smiled as Emmett took a quick look around the house.

‘Where are your brothers and Marie?’ Emmett asked, noticing the silence in the small house.

‘At work’ you smiled.

‘Work?’ he asked curiously, unsure what you meant by that.

‘Jackson is working with the animals the community keeps, Jonathan is fixing the plumbing and Marie is working at the local veggie patch’ you explained.

‘So, we are on our own?’ Emmett smirked and you nodded eagerly.

‘Good’ he said before crashing his lips on to yours without warning.

The kiss was uncontrolled, wildly passionate and wickedly wanton, making your toes curl. His lips were hot, his taste like sweet sin as your tongue curled around his, responding just as wildly. You heard his groan, felt him hard against your stomach almost instantly, pressing into your softness.

‘You should rest’ you murmured, as his mouth pulled from yours, blazing a trail of lust down your slender throat.

‘I’ve been resting in the infirmary for a fucking week now’ Emmett chuckled before his hands ran over your breasts and his lips began to trail down your neck.

‘Oh Emmett, I fucking missed this’ you whispered.

‘We’ve got a bed now, so we might as well use it’ Emmett said just as he nibbled on your neck gently.

‘Hmm sounds perfect’ you moaned, his fingers pulling at the tie of your cotton dress as you guided him to the bedroom.

He walked you backwards until your thighs touched the bed and your cotton dress pooled at your feet, leaving you only in white cotton panties. Emmett stepped back, his eyes roaming over your slender curves, lingering on the round fullness of your breasts and your small baby bump.

In a haste, Emmett got undressed, ignoring the tenderness of his wounds before walking towards you, pressing his body against yours.

He groaned at the way you felt, your soft breasts pressing into his chest, his cock rubbing against the yielding flesh just beneath your stomach.

‘Touch me Emmett, please’ you begged, desperate for his touch. It has been so long.

‘Lie down’ he instructed, a smile running over his face and you complied with his request almost instantly.

His hands immediately found your legs, starting at your ankles, rubbing upward with gentle strokes. His fingers then found the sensitive flesh behind your knees, caressing you with tender touches. He bent his head, his lips finding the soft skin of your inner knee, moving upward until your legs were parted, his hands holding your thighs.

Then, finally, he hooked both of his index fingers into the hem of your cotton panties and pulled them down swiftly.

Before you knew it, one of his fingers stroked through your wetness, playing around your slick, yearning opening, teasing you with tiny flicks of his finger against the hard nub of your clit. Your body twisted under his hands, your fingers twining into the soft coverlet beneath your naked flesh. Emmett heard your whimpers and tiny cries, let them wash over him as the pleasure he created washed over you.

He bent his head, his lips traveling towards your treasure until, finally, his tongue lapped at your sweet folds, pulling and suckling on your inner lips before finding your clit. He sucked gently upon the hard bud of nerves, listening as you keened your pleasure, the wet spendings that told of your ecstasy flooding his mouth.

‘I am glad I didn’t let you shave this beard off’ you moaned as you could feel the tingling from his soft hair in between your legs.

Emmett smiled against your mound as he continued to lick you, making love to you with his tongue.

Your hands were in his hair, your eyes closed, your face twisted in a grimace as he brought you to climax.

‘Oh god Emmett, yes’ you moaned loudly as your legs began to quiver almost instantly and you approached your high. There was no reason to stay quiet and you came louder than you ever did before.

‘Fuck’ Emmett growled, turned on by your moans as he kissed his way back up your body gently and it didn’t take him long to line himself up with your entrance, desperate to feel you.

He could feel the heat of your wetness against his cock and you cried out as he finally pushed in to you, stretching you so wonderfully, filling you slowly until you thought you’d go mad with the sensations.

Your hands caressed his chest gently, stroked his back and then slid down to his slowly moving buttocks and slipped over them.

Your mind was spinning with the pleasure he was thrusting into you, growling much louder than usual.

You could smell the scent of his skin mixed with the heady scent of arousal and sex that permeated the room.

Your body moved under him, your hands grasping and holding him, feeling your need spiral until you were jerking up against him, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even tighter. His lips found your, his tongue a wild flame inside your mouth and then he pulled away again, his eyes glittering as he stared down at you.

Emmett thrusted inside you, his cock plundering your depths even as you pushed against him. He heard the keening cry, felt your velvety wet sheath contract around him, the muscles milking his cock. Your hands were claws, your nails digging half moon welts into his back.

‘Oh my god Emmett, keep going, fuck yes’ you moaned as you could feel another climax approach you hard and fast and, just as you came, pleasure engulfed him too. Relief flooded him as he felt his cock swell and then rope after rope of hot cum shot deep inside of you. He held himself rigid above you, his body shaking with tension as he emptied himself.

And then he collapsed, barely holding his weight off you. His arms shook, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath and calm the racing of his heart.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked, worried that Emmett may have pulled a stitch or two.

‘Yes, I am now’ he chuckled as he lifted his head, feeling your hands stroking slowly down his back, gently, tenderly holding him.

‘Uhm, next time close the door’ you suddenly heard Jonathan say as he walked past. He still felt somewhat freaked out by the fact that you were involved with Emmett.

‘Sorry, it’s just…the heat of the moment you know’ you yelled out before scooting beneath the doona with Emmett.

‘That is so fucking disgusting. I don’t want to hear about it’ Jonathan said with a laugh before welcoming Emmett home.

But the security and comfort you were both feeling wasn’t meant to last very long and you knew that you had to talk with Emmett about your medical condition and the pregnancy, preparing him for the inevitable.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey janelongxox @uchihacumdump

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @chocolatehalo

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #a quiet place #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place fanfic #emmett x reader #emmett smut #Emmett #a quiet place part 2 #a quiet place imagine #a quiet place smut #a quiet place ii #a quiet place part ii

197 notes · View notes

ive-always-been-a-pirate · 2 years

Text

Malware & Misteltoe: A CS-SS Fic Gift (1/2)

Happy holidays, @pirateprincessofpizza! I’m your CS-SS for the @cssecretsanta2020 event. It’s been fun picking your brain and creating this CS dynamic I’ve been thinking about since I finished reading the book Attachments by Rainbow Rowell. Thank you so much for being patient with me and this crazy weather where I live. I apologize for the delay in posting, but I hope you’ll enjoy this little fic! This is part one (because @optomisticgirl is an awful, wonderful enabler) and I am hoping to post the second part by the end of the year. Happy reading!

Summary: Killian Jones never wanted to work in internet security, but he can’t deny that Emma Swan makes it more entertaining than he imagined possible. He first fell for her over an email that wasn’t meant for him and now that he’s totally in love with her, how is he ever supposed to admit it?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.7K

Killian was probably the only person in the world who loved Monday mornings at the office. He quickly realized after the first snowfall in December that he was definitely the only one who could bear those early arrivals at work once winter struck. He’d determined that his preference was rare long before he’d taken his current tech job at The Daily Mirror, but rolling into the empty parking lot at seven and being one of the first to snag a hot cup of coffee were simple pleasures he’d truly started to appreciate since joining the company. Maybe it was because he was always an early riser or maybe it was because his job didn’t leave him with a whole lot of other enjoyment.

It was probably both.

Sure, the conference room almost always had the bagels he liked and his job restrictions were minimal, but Killian dealt with his fair share of frustration at work. They were constantly running low on colored ink in the printers and very few of his co-workers ever seemed to read the weekly office memo he sent out courtesy of the human resources department. The sandwiches he packed for lunch would often disappear from the break room fridge and the woman one cubicle over - an eternal optimist named Mary Margaret - never stopped humming.

Oh, and he got to deal with employees and their abrupt emails - including the one that popped up on his computer screen the instant the machine booted up the Monday after a lazy weekend.

Hey Jerk,

If you’re going to run software updates over the weekend, give me a heads up. My desktop icons are all out of order now and it’s super annoying. Don’t worry - I’ll let you fix it after our meeting today. Hope you brought bearclaws!

-Emma

He didn’t actually have to read the sender’s name to know it was from her. He’d learned to recognize that sarcastic, blunt wit a long time ago and though it was often prefaced with ‘you idiot’ or ‘dear dummy’, it never failed to bring a smile to his lips. Swan, he swooned silently as his fingertips hovered over the keyboard. Taking a quick sip of his now lukewarm coffee, Killian glanced at the clock on the wall to his left. He had forty two minutes until their regularly scheduled staff meeting - and as he began locating the number for Downtown Donuts and Pastries, he prayed to the workplace gods that they still delivered.

He’d first fallen for her over an email that wasn’t intended for him - well, at least that’s kind of how it went. Killian had wound up in Boston post divorce from Milah, his wife of five years, and had accepted a job at a local newspaper while broken-hearted and nearly broke. Working in office internet security and crashing on his best friend Robin’s couch wasn’t at all where he imagined he’d be at the ripe old age of twenty eight, but he had grown to accept it. He spent plenty of time convincing himself that there were worse things, though he wasn’t sure exactly how many jobs could possibly be less glamorous than being a professional tattletale.

The work was easy for the most part - debugging the network, keeping the company website up to date, and monitoring employee emails in reference to the compliance policy. That last part was the only task that really bothered him at times, but then again, it was the only way he’d managed to meet Emma Swan at a company that employed roughly two hundred people.

She was a writer, a fact he’d learned from the staff directory, and also a diehard Yelp subscriber - but she hadn’t told him that last bit. Her emails had. Well, at least one of them had - the first one he’d intercepted. He still remembered what it had said and he knew if he managed to forget, it was saved in the Favorites tab of his own inbox. He’d never seen someone be so professional yet so passionately threatening in a mere six sentences and while the firmly worded message had been meant for a nearby dive bar, a few flagged phrases had provided him with a copy for review.

Emma Swan calling Aesop’s Table ‘a pathetically poor excuse for a pub’ was the beginning for him - and since then, his job had become much more amusing.

It wasn’t totally his fault that he’d turned into such a skeezy online spy. It was his job to read her email - well, sort of. It was his job to send her a warning or a memo about proper use of her company inbox, but in an office that was all ink stains and deadlines that didn’t apply to him, Killian had found skimming her messages to be the most interesting part of his work day.

He had pieced her together through the words she typed and the dozens of times a day she hit the send button. He grinned at the back and forth banter she had with a workplace friend named Ruby and facepalmed his way through her exchange with some random buyer of a bike she once tried to sell on Craigslist. He tried not to get too excited that they might have things in common when she got ticket confirmations for movies he’d recently seen. He couldn’t help the way he swooned when she got personalized thank you messages from an animal shelter for her monthly donations. The whole thing prodded his guilt from time to time, but he reminded himself that she’d been briefed with the Mirror’s email rules and he was only doing what he’d been hired to do.

Okay, maybe a little more than what he’d been hired to do.

In all fairness, he didn’t read all of them. He made a conscious effort to skip over anything that looked too personal - though he had accidentally still learned that she’d yet to get her yearly flu shot via a reminder from the corner pharmacy. He’d also gathered that she had a rather overprotective brother named David who usually visited on holidays and liked to check in a few times a week by dropping a line or two. It was actually a message from that older sibling that had led to Emma finding out about his snooping.

Apparently, wishing her a ‘happy birthday’ in the breakroom after seeing it in an email from her overly excited brother had been an impulsive move.

She’d been mad and maybe even a bit embarrassed at first which led to her taking every step possible to avoid him. She dodged him in the elevator an unfair number of times and her inbox went silent, not that he even had the courage to take on that part of his work after the way she’d glared him down post celebratory greeting. His job became bleakly boring overnight and after two weeks of battling his guilty conscience in the office, Killian decided he’d burned his bridge - or maybe saying he’d set flame to his firewall would have been more poetically proper. He helped craft a job listing to post for his replacement and had barely started packing up his cubicle when she showed up behind him, her beautiful reflection in his blank computer screen nearly startling him right out of his desk chair.

You can’t quit - that’s what she’d told him as he clumsily dropped his paper box full of minimal belongings on the floor. There was something about the way she said it too. It wasn’t quite a demand, but it definitely wasn’t just a suggestion. It was almost like she felt bad or maybe even a little bit responsible for his choice to seek employment elsewhere and she’d shown up to make sure he didn’t follow through.

He decided he liked - like really liked - her in that moment and he was quite positive that his stupid smile had told her so. He knew he should have introduced himself long before the moment she tracked him down that day, but what would he have said - ‘hi, I’m the guy who monitors your email and I also might be in love with you’?

Not a chance in hell.

He pondered the idea of sticking around as he put up an offer to buy her a cup of coffee that she parlayed into a hot chocolate with a pastry after work instead. They’d chatted through rush hour, the cars outside the corner bakery’s glass door whizzing by as they made almost too comfortable conversation. It was - but shouldn’t have been - amazing to Killian how much easier it was to learn about her in person and it didn’t take long to fill in the blanks on a few remaining questions he had about her.

She was hoping to write a book one day, but didn’t mind her current job. She also took a few night classes at the small university up the street - which explained the sporadic messages he’d noticed from their tuition office - and she loathed celebrating her birthday, a fact she mentioned with a knowing smirk. He knew she wasn’t angry as he studied the curve of her mouth, but when she folded her arms casually, he realized she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

There was something to be said for persistent investigative journalism and Killian learned quickly that Emma was a master of that craft. She interrogated him until closing time, asking him about everything from the scar beneath his eye to how the hell he’d ended up being an internet narc for a living. He’d been honest about all of it because yes, she definitely deserved that much, but also because he had never met someone as easy to talk to as Emma. That probably should have been his first clue - he’d violated her privacy and now, he was liable to fall for her.

Worst job ever, he’d thought to himself later that night as he deleted the ‘help wanted’ ad he’d posted on the company’s website only hours earlier. He really needed to find a new career path - okay, eventually.

_____________________________________

Of course, that was nearly three years earlier and leaving the Daily Mirror for something a little more dignified had yet to happen. Not much had really changed since the day she’d confronted him over the rim of her cocoa mug and the things that had….well, he didn’t exactly mind those little details.

His work was the same and while he still didn’t find it to be the most wonderful way to make a paycheck, Emma had managed to make it even more bearable. She now forwarded him her more obnoxious junk mail like the store credit card offers and the funding inquiries from a variety of Nigerian princes. She constantly sent him bogus work orders requesting he adjust the volume on her computer speakers or delete the program virus she’d obviously contracted by clicking on those pop-ups he’d warned everyone about in his weekly memos. She had also clearly filled Ruby in on his ability to read their correspondences as the pair of them often ended their emails to one another with ‘have a nice weekend, Killian!’. It all should have irritated him, but it didn’t - and she certainly made him smile more than anything else did these days.

It wasn’t as if she was the only good part of his life though. Several pieces of his day to day world had changed for the better since he’d initially accepted the skeptical job at the semi-popular newspaper. He had finally managed to abandon his best friend’s couch for a modest apartment a few blocks from work and he’d recently joined a nearby gym that served as an outlet for his frequent stress. He’d made peace with his failed marriage and even gone on two dates, though neither had been with the woman who made his work hours more pleasant.

He’d been attempting to accept that - the likely truth that he would never strike that chord with her - and while it became trickier each day, perhaps one day he’d be okay with that too.

Killian was trying to avoid silently calling himself a liar by the time he strolled into the conference room for the morning meeting, his eyes finding hers after he briefly lingered in the doorway.

She grinned once, biting her lip as he rolled his eyes. They didn’t speak as he took the seat across from her and he settled with the knowledge that their battle of the workplace wits was carrying on without a second thought. Making a show of taking out her phone, she typed a few keys and he raised an eyebrow at the quiet alert sound from his own device.

Ignoring me then - I see how it is. Talk about unprofessional.

He shook his head subtly as he pondered a reply, trying to ignore the way she kicked him under the conference room table. She loved to taunt his attempts to keep their online conversation civil and this day’s bright and early quips were no different. Killian allowed his thumb to tap a response, barely hitting send as their boss entered the room.

Apologies, lass - as always. I promise I’ll stop by to sort out your technological woes once we’re out of here. Of course, assuming you truly can’t do so yourself.

She sighed in return, deciding not to shoot him a quick answer before stowing her phone face down on the table. Bad form, he thought as he pouted over the fact that they wouldn’t be exchanging any further messages until after the staff agenda was addressed. He tapped his phone’s screen the moment the meeting ended and tried not to be too excited about her name popping up on the screen.

I probably could, but someone’s got to make sure you do more than just sift through employee emails all day. There’s a mysterious looking announcement from some explicitly rated website for you sitting in my saved folder, by the way.

Bloody hell, he smirked as he watched her leave the room once they were dismissed. If this job wouldn’t eventually be the end of him, perhaps Emma Swan and her teasing ways might be.

With his luck, that would likely be it….stupid internet security be damned.

_____________________________________

She’d made sure to be away from her desk when he stopped in to fix her very minor computer issues. It wasn’t totally unlike her to take that route. They talked here and there, but digital correspondence was where most of their communication thrived. He’d actually grown to expect and enjoy her snarky emails and steady text messages since that day she had told him to stay at the Mirror. He sunk into her chair, changing the height and clearing his throat before beginning his work. The adjustment in seating settings would likely be something he’d hear about later that day, but he couldn’t resist - much like he couldn’t keep himself from changing her screensaver to a collection of Disney villains and deleting all of the junk mail they both knew violated several company policies.

If he couldn’t work up the courage to seek her out in their busy office building and tell her how he felt, the least he could do was continue this little daily war they kept engaging in. If it was anyone but Emma, he might even consider it to be flirting.

Keep dreaming, he thought as he clicked out of the program he was navigating on her computer.

It was only once he completed the virus scan and a detailed cleaning of her keyboard - because hey, he was a nice guy sometimes - that he caught sight of the flyer she had posted up on the bulletin board to the side of the monitor. He had the same one tucked away in the beat-up canvas messenger bag he kept his laptop stored in.

Office Holiday Party. December 22nd. Seven o’clock. Sign up for the yearly Secret Santa exchange when you RSVP.

Killian felt his heart pound a little harder as he glanced over the red and green text for the hundredth time. He had been debating whether or not he was actually going to attend the office celebration since he’d first seen the invitation in the break room nearly two weeks earlier. His desire to interact with company employees outside of work hours was pretty minimal, but seeing the festive looking flyer displayed in her workspace courtesy of a red push pin suggested that Emma would be in attendance. His skin prickled slightly as his newly acquired motivation to put the party on his schedule grew. Of course, it was nothing like any of the dozen dates he’d imagined taking her on, but it wasn’t work - and maybe that was a start.

The concept of Secret Santa was one he had little personal experience with, but Killian tapped his fingers on the desk as he wondered who on the staff roster might have already selected her name. Sure, he had no idea what he could buy for her that would fall within the specified price limit, but the opportunity to give her something a little more thoughtful than the deep fried donut he’d brought her that morning was far too appealing.

Wait a tick, he thought with an amused smirk as he glanced down at the desk. His hand reached for the dark plastic frames, noticing the sporadic smudges on the glass lenses. He’d seen her wear them once before, her eyebrows furrowed over the rims as she’d been editing late one Friday night in the office. With her pen between her teeth and the blue light of the monitor illuminating her focused face, Killian had been quite distracted and nearly strolled right into the elevator doors on his way out.

The glasses felt smooth between his fingertips as he slid them into the side pocket of his bag. The memory was a simple one, but he couldn’t help the warmth that spread over his cheeks as he searched her desktop for a post-it note.

See you at the festivities, Swan - and stop downloading Christmas songs on your work computer. Piracy won’t earn you any points with Santa.

Clicking the pen he’d been writing with and laying it by her desk phone, Killian pressed the sticky slip of paper to her monitor with a grin. Now he just had to figure out what the dress code might be for the party he hadn’t planned on attending.

______________________________________

Killian had been pleasantly surprised to learn Elsa Frost, the lovely lass with the iced coffee addiction in the corner office, had been given charge of the party guest list. She was typically frigid with others in the building, but Killian had helped her sort out the source of her computer freezing issue a few months earlier. That had led to a tentative comradery between them - one that had resulted in Elsa knitting him a blue and white striped beanie that he actually kind of loved.

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He’d barely mentioned the party while he stopped by to refill the paper in her printer when she had all but demanded he attend. It had taken a bit more sweet talking to get her to spill the Secret Santa details, but he’d eventually managed to switch things around so Emma was the name on his shopping list.

Of course, one of said compromises was promising his supervisor’s secretary Belle that he would fill in at her book club in January - but that would have to be future Killian’s problem.

Standing near the open bar just past the seven o’clock start time, it was quickly becoming apparent that Killian of the present had other issues. Glancing around the dimly lit, decked out office, he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d thought this Christmas party wouldn’t be full of work tasks in the making. The night janitors Leroy and Clark had decided to use a company computer to search for ‘seasonal striptease’ videos and the new copier had fallen victim to a few tipped over cocktails. It was pretty obvious that the alcohol that hadn’t been spilled was the driving force behind Ruby and the other graphic designers taking drunken selfies in a nearby cubicle. Killian could only pray the pictures wouldn’t end up online as he tried to block out the sound of Sinatra exclaiming ‘Let It Snow’ over the office speakers.

“Well look who decided to come down from Mount Crumpit for the night.”

The voice was full of surprise yet still smoothly sweet and Killian tried not to smirk as he turned to face its owner. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, contrasting with the knit emerald sweater that was keeping her warm. He tried not to feel underdressed in his blue button down and dark jeans, but Emma Swan was sure making holiday casual look stunning.

“Not sure what you mean, love,” he countered as suavely as he could manage. “You’re the one clad in green.”

“Fair enough,” Emma shrugged with an amused smile. “Just surprised to see you I guess. I thought you weren’t coming.”

Recollection prodded him as she handed him a fresh drink. He’d told her over email a couple weeks ago that he wasn’t planning on attending any holiday gatherings that weren’t held during the day. She’d teased him about being a Grinch, a taunt she was now referencing as she stood before him. It was one of the things he’d grown to like most about her - that smart, sassy sense of humor she possessed and used in nearly every exchange they had.

“For the record,” she chimed in, her lips curved yet cautious. “It’s good to see you outside of my inbox, Jones.”

“Ah, well,” he chuckled with a tip of his drink. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

“Well, I do, but I’m surprised you know the expression. I figured cyber security never sleeps.”

“You aren’t wrong there, Swan,” Killian laughed, peering around the room. “But perhaps it should. The number of after hour policy violations going on in this place right now could keep a man busy until well after the new year.”

He couldn’t help but point over her shoulder at the inebriated group of their co-workers currently trying to hack into the new editor-in-chief’s Facebook account. Emma grinned at the display, waving to Ruby with a disbelieving shake of her head. It was the few interactions like this one they’d had that made Killian wonder why they didn’t do this more often. It felt so natural and easy to banter with her like this.

“I guess reprimands will be in order after the holiday,” Emma commented. “Is that why you’re standing over here by yourself? Because you’re hoping they won’t see you?”

“I suppose if that was my goal, you could say I’m not doing a very good job,” Killian returned. “After all, you found me.”

Her eyes sparkled with a multicolor pattern from some nearby Christmas lights as the muted red of her lips made her soft smile that much more breathtaking. Killian nearly forgot where they were as his eyes met hers, the connection between them suddenly thick with tender tension.

“Yeah,” she said after a pause, her voice breathy and gentle. “I guess I did.”

He wanted to kiss her in that moment. He wanted to tell her how much better she made his workdays and confess that she was his main reason for staying at the news office. He had so much to say, but Emma beat him to the punch.

“Let’s grab a cookie,” she suggested before clarifying. “The sugary kind, computer man.”

_____________________________________

“I’m just saying-“ Killian stated, brushing crumbs off his hands. “-that the Grinch never actually hated Christmas, Swan. He just disliked people and preferred the company of his dog, which is understandable.”

Emma covered her mouth with a giggle, leaning back on the rolling chair she’d pulled into the almost empty room. The party had dissolved into liquor laced karaoke and while Killian didn’t mind the occasional drink, he wasn’t about to belt out any Christmas carols. Before he could share his desire to avoid the spotlight, Emma had commandeered a plate of gingerbread cookies from the snack table and nudged him toward the vacant office down the hall.

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” she finally said. “It’s a decent point though I guess. Here I thought your issue with Christmas was just the repetitive music.”

“Ah, speaking of music,” Killian replied, pulling a small package tied with a red bow from behind his back. “Thought you could use some legally procured holiday tunes.”

Emma raised an eyebrow as she took the gift, her curiosity obviously piqued by the simple wrapping. Killian tried not to feel too foolish as she opened the square parcel. He was nearly positive that he wasn’t doing this whole Secret Santa wrong, but the adorable smirk spreading across her face made him wonder if that was okay.

“I guess this is you saying you’re my Secret Santa?”

“Well, no,” he smiled before handing her the pair of glasses he’d taken from her desk. “But this is.”

“Hey, I’ve been looking for these!”

“Swan, you are always looking for those.”

She rolled her gaze before slipping the frames over her nose, her cheeks pink with amusement. She immediately set to reading the track listing on the back of the case holding the gift he’d spent the afternoon creating.

“I have to say it’s been a while since I’ve been given a mixtape,” Emma offered, peering at him over her glasses. “You’re quite the traditionalist, aren’t you?”

“I figured I was merely doing a service by making sure you weren’t listening to that bloody Mariah Carey song anymore on company time,” he taunted with a waggling eyebrow. “Besides, you can’t go wrong with Bing Crosby, love.”

“You’re just full of surprises,” she replied with a happiness he hadn’t seen before. “Is there more?”

More, Killian thought as the word echoed through his head. There would always be more when it came to Emma Swan and while he’d known that himself for a while now, he wasn’t sure how to admit that to her. The air around them seemed to still as he watched her tilt her head quizzically. He wasn’t sure when she’d slid her chair nearer, but as her knee bumped against his, Killian felt a comfort in the closeness that he hadn’t known in years.

This was it - his moment. After everything and nothing they’d been through, he’d been gifted this tiny instance to tell her the truth. He’d imagined how this might go many times, but sitting in the building where he had fallen for her was strangely right. He knew what he needed to do.

“Emma, I-“

“Emma! Come on!”

Killian felt his entire body freeze as he processed the loud, inviting command coming from the makeshift stage up the hallway. Ruby, he realized as he watched Emma turn toward the beckoning call. He couldn’t stop the labored sigh that escaped his lips as he watched her stand slowly.

“I guess I should see what that’s all about,” Emma said wearily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “She’s never had the best timing - or tolerance.”

Killian felt the seconds slip through his dexterous fingers as he smiled sadly, knowing that perhaps he’d missed his window. Emma clutched the CD case loosely as she moved toward the small doorway.

“Killian,” her voice offered, a hint of nervousness in her tone. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

The simple sentiment hung in the air as the office door shut behind her, leaving Killian to slump in the leather desk chair with a groan. As he glanced toward the exit, he immediately noticed that something had fallen from the top of the doorway to the ground when she’d left. It didn’t take long to piece together what it was or just how appropriate it was for his now lonely night.

Mistletoe. Dammit, he thought as his forehead fell onto the cold desktop.

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs secret santa #cs gifts #killian jones #emma swan #cs christmas fics

51 notes · View notes

findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 3/2021) - The Burger is a Lie

Tubbo moves past the denial stage of grief into anger. After creating a grave for Tommy, he decides that someone needs to be held accountable.

It’s time for some good old-fashioned detective work.

---

VOD LINKS:

[Ponk’s VOD was deleted so unfortunately I can’t recap it since I didn’t see it :( ]

Tubbo

Foolish

Awesamdude

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

---

- Tubbo walks down the Prime Path with plans to build Tommy a grave in Snowchester.

- He doesn’t even know why or how it happened. Why was Tommy in prison?

“I want to blame someone -- I’m angry! Who’s to blame?”

- He wonders who set off the TNT to trap Tommy in there.

- Tubbo reaches Snowchester and finds a small ice island just outside the border to set up a gravesite. He makes a patch of grass, a wooden bench, puts down some flowers. He makes the gravestone out of wood.

“Tommy’s favorite block was literally oak wood. (laughs) He was a simple person, chat. He was a simple person.”

- He places a sign.

“In the Memory of Tommy. He was taken from us too soon.”

- He puts cobblestone around, and puts down a jukebox.

“This was meant to give closure, chat. This was meant to just give closure, but instead I’m just feeling more and more mad."

- Tubbo places down some lanterns and a Prime Log. He has a moment on the bench.

“Alright...so...what now? I’m pissed, dude. I don’t know how this was allowed to happen. I don’t know how this was allowed to happen. Receive his stuff from the prison -- no, I’m not going in that thing for a very long time.”

- He decides he needs someone to be held accountable. He wants to launch an investigation.

- He goes under the McPuffy’s and plans to make a little room to gather all the information in one place, and also a place to go in an emergency. Like a panic room or a bunker. No one should know about it until they have enough information to convict someone.

Tubbo starts building.

- He doesn’t even want to go into Tommy’s house, not even for supplies.

- He grabs a lectern for the room and starts writing. A storyline is needed.

The Crime:

- Murder

The Timeline:

- Tommy Visits Dream.

- Bomb gets set off.

- Tommy was Trapped with Dream.

- Tommy is The Crime is committed.

- Start with number two...where? Where were the bombs set off? Because if it was all a ploy, then Sam is the one to be held accountable.

- Tubbo goes to the prison to check around the perimeter. The sound of the bombs came from above, but Tubbo remains skeptical. That could have been a ploy to cover up the tracks.

- Tubbo finds a patch of the shoreline where a water level is missing. He assumes that someone was just gathering sand there, not that it’s explosion damage.

- Tubbo flies onto the top of the prison and notices that there’s snow missing where the snow biome should encompass. A small area of a few blocks -- they must have been tampered with. Tubbo documents the evidence.

Evidence:

Tommy was trapped inside because of an explosion “outside” ..

Around the outside of “Pandora’s Vault” there was no evidence of explosion damage.

However on the roof of the Vault there is evidence of an explosion. We can tell this because of the snow pattern on the roof of the prison.

However snow can be broken by TNT from inside the Vault. But I suspect that the TNT was detonated outside.

- Now, Tubbo needs to go and find out who has access to stocks of TNT. Who has the majority of the world’s TNT? Well, there was a country that used to exist on this server. And who was responsible for its destruction?

Tubbo visits L’manhole.

“Technoblade, Dream, and Philza. Suspects number two. We’ve moved on from Sam. Suspects number two and three, sorry -- Technoblade and Phil.”

“Everyone’s a suspect, chat. Guilty until proven innocent, I’ve always said.”

- And doesn’t Technoblade owe Dream a favor? Tubbo declares him suspect two.

- Tubbo runs to Technoblade’s house. There’s not much of anything out of the ordinary.

- He goes inside and looks through the chest, finding one with plenty of gunpowder, about half full. What looks off about it, though? What is missing here?

“Chat, where is the rest of the gunpowder, chat? Where is the rest of the gunpowder? It’s a fair question...Techno uses it for potions? No, no, hear me out. If chest was at least filled up to here, okay, that is four stacks and a half of gunpowder, okay? Each gunpowder is three splash potions. Three splash potions. So that’s over twelve stacks of potions! Potions that are not stackable! And in this establishment, there are not enough chests to hold twelve lots of sixty-four un-stackable potions. Rockets? Yeah, that’s another good call. What else is a good call? TNT. Let’s keep looking.”

- He continues to look through the chests, then exits. Suspect two has all of the materials to commit the crime.

- Suspect three? No sand, not enough gunpowder.

- He starts to leave.

“‘Check Ranboo?’ I mean it’s not gonna be Ranboo, is it? It’s not gonna be Ranboo. Yeah, he has access to all the stuff, but I doubt he even remembers it’s there..."

- He does a quick search anyway. The person who committed the crime must have not been prepared. They gathered the sand outside of the prison -- that’s what the missing shoreline must have meant.

- He notices Ranboo’s plan signs and reads them. He goes down into the basement but the vault door is shut, so he doesn’t find it. He assumes chat is talking about Pandora’s Vault.

“There is sand that has been mined outside the prison. The TNT was crafted rash. Technoblade doesn’t do rash, he does planned and calculated. Suspect two, three and four. I’m gonna presume they’re innocent right now, except for suspect two.”

- Technoblade could’ve supplied someone else with gunpowder. He wasn’t online during the explosion, but who was? Foolish and Ranboo.

“‘Big Law?’ Yeah, I’m back. I’m back in it again. I suppose you could say that...I’m on my A game right now.”

- Was Jack Manifold online at the time? No. Just Ranboo, Foolish, Dream, Tommy and Sam. Foolish lives in a desert. There’s a vast supply of sand in a desert...but was he streaming at the time?

- This does not look good for suspect number four...

- He returns to the bunker to get his evidence straight and places down signs.

Who Caused the Explosion?

Techno Owes Dream A Favor

Techno Has Gunpowder Missing

Sand Disturbed Outside The Vault

Techno Was Not Online @ The Time Of Explosion

Ranboo & Foolish Were Online @ TOM [time of explosion]

Foolish has access to sand

Ranboo has access to gunpowder

Sam lock Tommy In The Vault

Dream is in the Vault

TO DO:

Find out who visited Dream

Interview more players to get big picture

- Who visited Dream? So far, Tubbo only knows Tommy. Who else would ever want to visit Dream except for Tommy?

- A dono leads Tubbo to realize that TNT can be planted beforehand with a timer. Sam could have planted the TNT with a timer. It could have all been Sam. It could have even been Dream with a contingency plan...but how could he have known Tommy would visit? Because of the favor? Did Techno convince Tommy to visit?

Why did Tommy visit Dream? Closure? Did anyone give him that idea?

- Tubbo decides he just needs more information.

- He sees the McPuffy’s...is it a coincidence that, as soon as Tommy got put in prison...burger shops started popping up on the Dream SMP?

- Maybe this happened because of the BURGERS.

- Could it have been Jack Manifold, wanting the hotel for himself?

“Nah, Jack’s way too dumb for that.”

“The burger is a lie!”

- Maybe the Egg has something to do with it? Tubbo goes down into the Egg Room and shouts at the Egg to ask for answers. He leaves the Egg Room with no more answers, wondering if he’s about to leave the anger phase and head into bargaining instead.

- Ranboo works on his Conflict Resolution Pit after months, planning to finally finish it at long last.

- Ranboo looks at the chest by the pit and finds...a Manberg war shield? Whose is that? He isn’t sure what the shield means.

[Fun Fact: According to Karl about the banner’s design, the black represents all the colors combined, meaning “Unity.” The red is “the blood of our enemies.”

“It’s unity unless you go against us.”]

- Ranboo continues resource-gathering and building.

- Sam works on his creeper farm! He also answers several questions. Here are a few!:

* Are Sam Nook, warden Sam and Awesamdude all different people?

Sam Nook and warden Sam are different people, but the warden is not a separate character from normal Awesamdude. They are the same person. Sam Nook is the only separate character. This will be explained more in the future!

* Why is Sam’s pickaxe named “Warden’s Will Breaker?” Does it have anything to do with breaking the prisoner’s will?

“Mayhaps, mayhaps...”

* Isn’t it a little strange that he’s building a creeper farm?

“Well, I’m the king of creepers so they should be excited to die for me.”

- Ranboo asks if he can shoot Sam. Sam says yes (in game)

- Ranboo shoots Sam in the face. Sam turns majestically and stops moving. Ranboo is confused and is worried that Sam might not be alive. Sam’s computer is suffering.

- Ranboo tries to get Sam to move.

“Oh my god he’s been completely paralyzationizitated.”

- By Sam’s request, Ranboo tries to push him to safety.

- Sam has been bound to the y-axis! He starts seeing through Ranboo’s stream.

- Ranboo tries to drive Sam in a boat but he starts seeing colors.

- Sam dies on the Prime Path. Ranboo makes a marker sign in remembrance of where he died by paralyzationizitation.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

207 notes · View notes

that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

Text

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

80 notes · View notes

evanescentjasmine · 4 years

Text

Writing Egypt and Egyptian Characters: Rusty Quill Gaming Edition

I’ve finally caught up with the Cairo arc of Rusty Quill Gaming, which I was anticipating and dreading both. Fiction set in my country usually reduces it to a caricature of itself, especially when it takes place in the Victorian era, but considering everything they’ve said in their metacasts I was hoping Rusty Quill Gaming was the exception.

It wasn’t.

I’m aware the game world plays fast and loose with history and setting, but the problems in this case are more than just inaccuracies. However, because I want to help fic writers and artists be able to portray Hamid and his family well, this resource will be split into two parts. The first part will tackle details I’ve been asked about with regard to the setting; it may touch on things RQG went wrong, but I’m writing it primarily as a resource for artists and writers. The second part will be my criticism of RQG, and why I found the Cairo arc actively harmful. This includes discussions of Orientalism and some racist text.

I should also preface this by saying I’m not a historian. Everything I say in this resource is a combination of what I grew up with and what I remember from school, supplemented by Google and guesswork. I’ll be explaining my thought process throughout, which can help you see what’s actual history and what’s my extrapolation.

Part One: On Egypt

Historical Context:

Figuring out the history of Egypt in RQG terms is a bit complicated, so bear with me because this will take a while.

In real-world history, Egypt was a Roman then Byzantine province from 30 BC to around the mid 600s AD, at which point the Arab conquest swept through and Egypt became Muslim.

What this means is that when the Meritocrats took down Rome and took over the world, Egypt was still a Roman province. That gives us a several hundred year gap before the Arabs that may have maintained the same culture? Or morphed a little back to some pre-Ptolemaic Ancient Egyptian, given their Meritocrat, Apophis, is named after a great Pharaonic serpent?

Either way, given Hamid’s name and the fact they live in Cairo, the city built by the Arabs, we can assume the Arab conquest still happened somehow, despite having a Meritocrat in Egypt. Maybe a Meritocrat out there is Arab and settled in Egypt for a bit with or before Apophis? Maybe it took a couple-hundred years for the Meritocrats to get all the previous Roman areas under control? Maybe there was a whole war and the Arabs won and settled and eventually they got to a truce or got absorbed into Meritocratic lands?

Many Muslim dynasties ruled throughout the period from the mid 600s to the 1500s. Given the lack of Islam in this world, probably the Arabs were unified by some Pre-Islamic deity/deities and brought them over as well, because I refuse to just sweep everything under the broad Greek God rug.

In the 1500s, another Muslim dynasty took over--this time, from outside of the country, which is why it’s considered separate from all the rest. At this point, Egypt became part of the Ottoman Empire until the 1800s, which is when the Mohammed Ali dynasty started to try and secede and rule independently. And there was a brief blip of the French occupation for two years around then as well.

And, of course, we can’t forget about British colonisation, which started in the late 1800s with a veiled protectorate.

Presumably, since France and Britain are also Meritocratic and it seems like Apophis is currently ruling, we can disregard everything from the Ottomans onward. This changes, or should change, a ton, because Ottoman rule informed a lot of things from fashion to slang to nobility and so on.

What we’re left with is most likely a Cairo that is still Arab but with much more Pharaonic influence, as Apophis is in charge, as well as continuing Greek influence due to the Gods. I am not a Coptic Christian, so I cannot speak to how these changes in history and religions would affect the Coptic language and culture, but no doubt it would still be around.

There would also be a bigger, more long-standing connection to other Meritocratic countries. This explains why Hamid was British-educated and so many people speak such good English without a British occupation to create the power disparity that would make that necessary to rise in Egypt and such a mark of status.

However, this presents several confusing and contradictory aspects of the world building:

Why doesn’t this go both ways? Why aren’t there people in England and France who know Arabic or are influenced by Egypt? All we get is that the Tahan family are big. That’s it. If these countries are equals, it sure doesn’t look like it.

If Apophis is pharaonic and Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous...why would they hollow out a pyramid to put a bank inside? It’s a tomb. It’s made to bury dead kings in a way that follows possibly still-existing cultural and religious beliefs. It’s the equivalent of someone building a bank inside a mausoleum. It’s bizarre.

Relatedly, if Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous, why is Carter mentioning the Rosetta Stone? Why would the knowledge necessary to translate hieroglyphics have been lost?

I mention these questions so fic writers can keep them in mind while writing and, of course, it’s entirely possible to create a workaround. For example, maybe the Rosetta Stone is supposed to be translating something else, like an ancient hidden magic?

Describing Cairo:

I want to make one thing very clear: Cairo is not, despite Alex’s description, like Vegas. While we do certainly have hotels and casinos, to reduce the city to only that is very harmful for reasons I’ll go into at the end of this resource.

Cairo is a very old city with a mix of architectural styles and is very heavily Muslim in real life. In Arabic, its tagline is often “city of a thousand minarets,” so clearly RQG Cairo will be fairly different. Given Apophis’ influence, Ancient Egyptian styles might be more prevalent in Cairo, but very likely not in the form of pyramids unless those pyramids were for the dead. In real life, some buildings do incorporate Ancient Egyptian flavour, usually just in the form of lotus columns or hieroglyphs. These would only be found in public institutions, however, or, frankly, tourist-bait.

Residential buildings tend to be clustered very close together and, since it’s an old city, streets are crowded and winding as the city keeps building on itself and spilling out of its previous bounds. Estates do, of course, exist, but I’d suggest against using Bryn’s example of Alhambra as a setting for the Tahan home. Alhambra is a palace fortress in Spain and, although it’s Andalusian and therefore influenced by Muslim architecture, it’s very different than anything in Egypt. It’s as absurd as saying a posh British character lives in a house that’s basically Versailles and leaving it there. I’ve included images of some Egyptian residential estates below, all from the 1800s to early 1900s.

And here are some photos of Cairo in the 1800s:

As you can see, not quite Vegas.

A fic set in Cairo can certainly still have the Cairo strip with all the casinos, since that’s an aspect of canon, but a place like that would probably be geared more to tourists and foreigners than locals. So long you’re aware of this while writing, and that Cairo would exist beyond it, you should be fine. It might also be worth having characters explore the actual city.

Weather:

The stereotype is that Egypt is just hot and sand year-round. It isn’t. The further south you go, the hotter it will get, so that Upper Egypt (which is in the south, yeah), is hotter than Lower Egypt, which is where Cairo and Alexandria are. Alexandria, by virtue of being on the Mediterranean, has fairly cold (for us) and rainy winters and mild, humid summers. Cairo gets very occasional rain and has harsher summers but is also dryer.

And, of course, a thing to remember is that even in the depths of the desert, the morning might be quite warm but the night will be quite cold as well.

Sandstorm season (called khamaseen) takes place from April - May but in the middle of Cairo it’s more of an annoyance than anything else.

Language:

Since they speak Arabic, it’s important to note that spoken Egyptian Arabic is very different from written Classical Arabic. Egyptian is a mishmash of Arabic, Coptic, a bit of Greek, and a bit of French (and, in the real world, some Turkish too) all smashed together. Accents differ from city to city, and Cairene Arabic is best known for the fact we pronounce the letter jeem as geem (so all soft Gs are turned into hard Gs) and tend to replace the letter qaf with a glottal stop.

This means that a Cairene wouldn’t be called Jamal, they’d be Gamal. A Cairene would pronounce burqa as bur’a.

Since religion plays a big part in language, RQG Egyptian Arabic may be a bit different. For instance, the greeting most people associate with Arabic is “Assalam alaykum” but that’s very specifically Muslim or at least associated with Islam, and might not have been as wide-spread given...y’know, that Islam doesn’t exist. I’m not saying it’s incorrect to use, just explaining the context.

Alternatives could include “Sabah/masa’ el-kheir” which means “Good morning/evening,” and “Naharak/Naharik saeed” which is, “May you have a good day.”

Fashion:

Although this didn’t really feature in RQG, I’ve received a lot of questions about the period’s fashion and honestly it’s my favourite thing ever so I probably would have touched on it anyway. I’ll only go into broad strokes, as there are plenty of regional variations and, again, I’m no expert

Women

Egyptian women covered their heads and sometimes their faces not out of religiosity but out of a cultural expectation of modesty. This may well have come about as a result of the Arab/Muslim cultural majority, as to my knowledge this wasn’t the case in the Greek and Roman periods, but women of all religions covered their heads so that would likely still be the case in RQG’s Arab Egypt.

This isn’t with the hijab we know today. It may have been a cloth or kerchief tied over their heads and then the melaya laf (which is larger cloth, almost a sheet) that they wrap around themselves and over their head, as follows:

The black face-covering was called a burqa or bur’a (not the same as a Muslim burqa, which serves similar modesty functions but is a separate thing) or a yashmak and may have been opaque black, white, or netted, such as in this picture:

Underneath the melaya they would be wearing a long, loose, patterned dress:

Upper class Egyptian women tended to wear Western dresses with a white yashmak that covered their faces and heads. A yashmak is Turkish, however, and without Ottoman influence this style and name might not have caught on in Egypt.

Men

While the melaya laf and yashmak have disappeared from Egypt, the traditional men’s gallabeya and ammama, or turban, are still seen widely today. The gallabeya (or jellabiya, outside of Cairene Arabic) is a long, loose garment with wide sleeves and no collar. It’s in muted, neutral colours, usually lighter ones like white or beige in the summer and navy blue or grey in the winter. You’ll have seen examples of it in the pictures of Cairo above, and here’s another one:

Middle to upper class men and civil servants, however, tended to wear English suits with a tarboosh, or fez. Since fezzes were also a result of Ottoman rule, RQG Egyptians might not wear them.

And yes, impressive moustaches were also very much the fashion.

Names:

The running joke is that Hamid’s name is unnecessarily long, but my name is longer, and I don’t think that’s particularly unusual. We don’t usually go around introducing ourselves with all of them, admittedly, and I’m not sure whether Hamid does this as a way to indicate he’s overly fancy or because Bryn doesn’t realise it, but four names is not long. My ID boasts five, and I know of at least one more.

Arabic naming conventions use patronymics for all children, regardless of gender. What this means is that my name and my brother’s name is identical except for our first.

Mine is Jasmine + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name

And my brother is also First name + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name.

Egyptians do not typically have last names, but an important family may all choose to identify under a name and use that as their last, such as the Tahans. In my case, I use my fifth name as my last name and introduce myself in everyday life as Jasmine Fifth Name. Notably, my brother does not, and goes by First name + Dad’s name instead. This isn’t unusual. On paperwork, however, we still have the same name.

Additionally, Egyptian women do not take their husbands’ last names in marriage, nor do children take any of her names.

I’m not sure why, according to the wiki, Hamid’s sisters seem to have taken their mother’s name. Following Arabic naming conventions, they would all be First Name Saleh Haroun al Tahan, and their father would be Saleh Haroun al Tahan. A possible workaround might be that halflings have their own naming conventions that mean daughters have matronymics and sons patronymics.

A note to podficcers: please google name pronunciations beforehand because Alex and Bryn’s are actually often wrong. Ishak, for instance, is not pronounced Ee-shak. It’s Iss-haaq or Iss-haa’, because of quirks of the Egyptian accent I mentioned earlier.

Part Two: Criticism

I understand it can be difficult to portray a country different from yours with accuracy. I understand the RQG crew will not have had the perspective on Egypt and Cairo that I do by virtue of living here. I do also acknowledge that I’m sure none of this was actively malicious or on purpose.

But it doesn’t have to be on purpose to hurt, frankly, and given how often the RQG crew have talked about their responsibility with a game that’s intended for an audience, I expected better. Bryn has spoken about not wanting to fall into stereotypes for Hamid and, to be fair, by being a non-religious fancyboy Hamid does neatly avoid the religious zealot and the noble (or ignoble) savage routes. Unfortunately, he falls into another, which was hammered home by the portrayal of Cairo and the Tahans as a whole.

Our first glimpse of Cairo, after the sandstorm clears, describes it as “basically Vegas,” with hotels and garish casinos catering to the rich all along the “Cairo strip.” From then on, our only other images of Cairo are vast estates and a pyramid in the desert.

The only named Egyptians we meet are the Tahan family, who are introduced through an absurdly lavish estate compared to the palace fortress of Alhambra, a gambling problem that apparently runs in the family, murder, and corruption, as the head of the family who has already covered up a crime for one son then turns himself in to protect the other.

Then, to top it all off, Hamid is apparently utterly incapable of understanding why letting his brother get away with murder is an issue until the paladins point it out.

Do you see the pattern, here?

I understand this was aiming to be a criticism of the rich and powerful, but the fact remains that the Tahans are the only representation of Egyptians we get. While this may not be harems and hand-chopping levels of Orientalism, the image presented is of Cairo as a den of excessive wealth and vice, and Egyptians as corrupt and immoral.

This isn’t new.

The Middle East and North Africa (as well as India and China and everywhere else considered “the Orient”) has often been tied to images of wealth and overt splendour, usually hand-in-hand with the Oriental despot and corruption. This view went beyond just fiction and influenced the policies with which we were ruled.

Cromer, Consul-General of Egypt, wrote books called Modern Egypt. He had this to say about us:

“The mind of the Oriental, on the other hand, like his picturesque streets, is eminently wanting in symmetry. His reasoning is of the most slipshod description. . . . They are often incapable of drawing the most obvious conclusions from any simple premises of which they may admit the truth.”

In his opinion, our inability to follow logical reason led to us being inherently untruthful and, therefore, immoral. Similarly, British statesman Balfour was of the belief that:

“Lord Cromer’s services during the past quarter of a century have raised Egypt from the lowest pitch of social and economic degradation until it now stands among Oriental nations, I believe, absolutely alone in its prosperity, financial and moral.”

Egypt was under British colonial rule from 1882 - 1952.

You can see, I hope, why a storyline focused on an Egyptian family’s corruption in an Egypt characterised almost entirely by its casinos and one lavish mansion was very uncomfortable. The fact Azu was one of the people trying to explain morality to Hamid keeps it from sliding into a clear East vs West dichotomy, but the fact remains this is a British show featuring British players and this is the story they chose to tell.

The rest was just salt in the wound, really.

I expect mispronounced names and pyramids and jokes about camels in most media, but rarely do the makers of said media then go on to pat themselves on the back for doing their “due diligence” on a metacast about sensitivity.

I see weird naming conventions and mispronounced names and “basically Vegas” and “crocodile steak” and “camel’s milk froyo” and I do not see due diligence.

I see a setting that barely looked past Cleopatra and I do not see due diligence.

I see a storyline that shows only excess and immorality and corruption and I do not see due diligence.

I see a disregard for me and mine, and I do not appreciate it.

Literature I’ve referred to in writing this criticism:

Orientalism (1978), by Edward W. Said

Orientalism in the Victorian Era (2017), a paper by Valerie Kennedy

Orientalism in American Cinema: Providing an Historical and Geographical Context for PostColonial Theory (2010), a thesis by Samuel Scurry

Popular Culture, Orientalism, and Edward Said (2012), an article by Robert Irwin

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #resource #criticism #orientalism #representation #long post

1K notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble.

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place.

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet.

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.”

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip.

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did.

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again.

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected.

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned.

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

#jasonette july #first aid #jasonette #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #gotham #original content #bamf marinette #sassy marinette #miraculous ladybug #maribat #dcu #red hood hears of a mystic healer and decides to check her out

1K notes · View notes

somecunttookmyurl · 3 years

Note

sorry if there was another part of this post/those tags that i didn’t see but… i don’t think that doctor was trying to say that doctors know more about drugs than pharmacists do?

i’m an md also, i graduated from medical school a few years ago. and that person is right. we do learn about pharmacology and drug mechanisms and interactions in medical school. at my school (which was broken up into long blocks by body system), this was all integrated into everything else we were learning, meaning it was on every test. and it’s continued to be on every test i’ve taken since graduating. the point isn’t that we know more or even nearly as much as pharmacists about pharmacology, but that we know enough that someone who completely ignores the concept of drug interactions or the idea that different patients may metabolize certain drugs differently is a bad doctor. and i’m sorry that you’ve run across so many of them

the thing about medicine is that there is so much to know about human anatomy and physiology and disease that it’s basically impossible for any one person to know it all. medical school lays the groundwork, but there’s a reason we specialize, and spend 3-7 years in additional training in our particular field. it’s important to know what you don’t know (which is a lot, no matter what kind of doctor you are or how long you’ve been practicing). that means consulting with pharmacists when prescribing a new med or changing a dose whenever possible, just like you’d consult, say, a nephrologist when treating a patient with kidney disease. but when there isn’t a good pharmacist available, it means looking up that information yourself. i may not remember every single drug that interacts with warfarin, for example, off the top of my head, but i sure as hell know that it’s a long list and i better check everything else a patient is taking before prescribing it

anyway, good pharmacists are an incredible resource and i wish we had more of them at my hospital. and if you can’t admit that there are things you don’t know, medicine is not the field for you

yeah i've had like. no joke. 2 good doctors in 31 years. and one of them i don't even get to see again it was a one-off. but i am surgically attached to my GP until one of us dies and by god i hope i go first.

(incidentally those 2 doctors are the only ones i've ever met who even knew that differing drug metabolism on different pathways was even a thing like at all. my old psych straight up said "never heard of that, don't think that's true" even when i was presenting him with literal medical journals to the contrary like okay buddy good talk let's never do this again. i wish so much this was an uncommon experience bc i for one am tired of giving the TED talk)

readmore bc this got long

the fact you guys don't learn stuff to the same depth as pharmacists was really like my entire point. i mean, sure, you have some knowledge on it but normally pretty limited to within whatever field you practice. you've only got a limited number of brain cells. if you did have all that knowledge then pharmacy wouldn't exist as a separate degree in the first place.

so a doc coming onto that like "oh we do know side effects and get tested on interactions" is uh. i mean do you? a little, sure, but there's a limit to that knowledge by design. it's really the pharmacists who know, you know? they're the experts on it, and it kinda struck me as "i did a bit of training on this so i know everything" which is an attitude i encounter.... a lot with doctors, sadly. along with the assumption a patient can never know anything about their condition/have any input or ideas of any value/that there may be gaps in their own knowledge.

[also along with complete lack of intellectual curiosity which always baffled me like "welp, don't know what that is goodbye forever" do you not... want to know? not even a little bit? god why are you even here. if all you wanted to do was flowcharts and tick boxes there are plenty of careers in the data entry field. not quite sure why you went to medical school my man]

you sound like a good doctor. hold onto that. sadly you're more the exeption than the norm, as pretty much anybody with a chronic illness or unusal presentation/response can attest. also women, and POC.

if you've got it in you to keep at it without having a nervous breakdown (rather have you in the field than out of it babes) absolutely chew out any other doctor you catch acting like a Supreme Unquestionable Being Who Can Never Be Wrong though.

honestly? i think, genuinely, most do start out like you (you said you only graduated a few years ago right? so you're still new really) and... at some point along the way they become fucking insufferable.

i don't know if it's burnout bc it's a stressful job, or if having power over the health & wellbeing over other people eventually goes to your head, or you get stuck in "what i learned 20 years ago is still unquestionable" or "i've been doing this for years pfff i don't need to check things anymore" complacency or what but there is for sure SOMETHING that changes in a whole lotta doctors. hold on to how you practice now. be one of the few who STAY like that 10, 20, 30 years from now. please. stay curious, stay cautious, stay sharp.

i don't hate doctors (i say it jokingly, true, but don't take it personally) but i have absolutely met enough of them that don't listen, or check, or investigate that i heavily side-eye a new one until they demonstrate otherwise. you're listening to me and working with me and checking things? cool! i'm still gonna double-check anyway because even good doctors make mistakes,

but a good good doctor doesn't take offence at that anyway. i mean. it's my health you're in charge of here. remaining alive and not hospitalised is generally preferable.

hey, maybe it's a bit harsh to judge from a couple tags but coming onto a post saying that pharmacists are the real drug nerds here and doctors have limited knowledge about that (with a heavy dose of complacency a lot of the time, tbqh) so please make sure stuff is checked with "we do know about interactions we get tested on it" sent up a HUGE "i can't admit when there are gaps in my knowledge and can't handle being questioned" red flag.

#my GP went absolutely OFF once about specialists having god complexes and it was a delight #but there is a lot of that going around and like. taking offence at being questioned or checked?#bro i ain't trust ANYONE implicitly that goes double for someone making health decisions bc you CAN'T know everything? you just can't?#AMOUNT who think they do though mein gott #man if i trusted doctors implicitly and blindly i would honestly be dead 3 times over from the fuckups #good doctors exist they just get progressively more rare the longer they stay doctors #it's like a pokémon evolution but bad #FUCK GO BACK #my fav psych appointment was when there was a trainee present who knew more than the man WHO HAS BEEN A CONSULTANT FOR 20 YEARS #bc he is simply allergic to acquiring knowledge and back in the stone age we did not know this particular thing i was talking about

51 notes · View notes

interact-if · 3 years

Note

HALLOOOOO! first of all, let me just say what amazing work you mods are doing! this blog has been a huge help so kudos to all of you! thank you for your hard work!!! 😁😁😁😁

on to my question...what would you, since some of you write IFs as well, suggest to those who wants to start writing one? i really, really want to write one, but i guess i'm really intimidated by the thought of coding. also, how did you choose your medium? what made you choose ChoiceScript or Twine?

sorry for the long ask. 🙏

i hope you all have a good day!

Thank you!!

I'll start us off by saying that yes, coding isn't easy, but don't be daunted! Take it one step at a time, use your resources, ask for help, and you'll learn how to do it to a point where it comes a lot easier to you while you're writing!

I started Smoke & Velvet (now When it Hungers) in Cscript without knowing anything about coding in that language and I've learned a ton since then! I'm now transferring over to twine, facing the same daunting, overwhelmed, feeling I had when I first opened up the cscript tutorial :'D

W3schools is a great resource, so is freecodecamp and mimo, if you want to start diving in to html, css, and javascript (start with html, then work your way up, start small, read code line by line instead of looking at it as a whole lest you become overwhelmed).

I chose Cscript at first because that was my only interaction with the IF community at the time. I didn't even know that twine existed, and had been lowkey wanting to write a game for years before taking the dive.

Going into twine now is challenging but I've been having a lot of fun with creating a unique format that has more accessibility options and features, like save slots, back buttons, sound, music, and other things that amplify gameplay.

There's still a long way left to go for me, but it's been a journey worth having and the community has been pretty wonderful for the most part. Be patient with yourself, with your writing, with your learning, and surround yourself with fellow writers and readers who support you and encourage you but also remind you to take breaks and drink plenty of water :D

- Roast

Alright, I’m not even going to sugarcoat this since I’ve been really open about this on all of my blogs, but I am writing all of my future games on Twine and translating my ChoiceScript WIP (Greater than Gods) to Twine as well. This is merely because I genuinely disagree with Choice of Games as a company, and as someone who does want to monetize my games I didn’t want it to go through them.

Now, maybe you don’t have that much of an issue w CoG or you don’t want to monetize your games, so my justification won’t mean much to you. Coding-language wise ChoiceScript is kind of friendlier since it’s less overwhelming than Twine when you first take a peek, but as long as you’ve got someone to ask (which you can find plenty in our Discord servers!) I believe that starting off with Twine and getting the hand of it can be good! The hardest part is adjusting to different languages so changing halfway (and translating one to the other) makes it overall trickier.

Also, personally, I didn’t even begin to code until I had a good chuck of the story written since I couldn’t get the ChoiceScript extras running on the computer I used to have. My vote is that if code overwhelms you, then postpone it as much as you can and let the story take you at first, just focus on the parts you love.

Yet, to be fair, after reading what Dani said.... all advice is subjective LOL so what might be the answer for me might just be problems for you and viceversa, the best advice will always be fuck around and find out

- Cruz

Currently I’m using CS, though there will be Twine in the future as well!

Initially, I didn’t really even know about the other side of IF (itch.io/Twine), so I went with what I’d heard of (CS). Ultimately, CScript is beginner friendly due to the fact that you’re not adding on the additional challenges of UI (user interface)/styling, etc, and it lets you get acquainted with algorithmic thinking, which I think is probably what people struggle with the most when getting started—cold, hard computer logic. Building that foundation is very useful if you don’t have previous coding experience.

As for tips for those getting started, these are mine (as someone from the CS background). Take these with a grain of salt; not everyone works the same way, but this is what works for me and what I find valuable, but I know that some of the other mods work in opposite ways, for example, LOL.

If you know nothing else, know the key middle point/event of your story AND how your story ends. This is super important, not only for your story, but also for coding. Because IF is about branching and converging, all those branches have to go somewhere, and at some point you’re going to have to pull them back together a bit before you send them branching back out again. Knowing these two points will save you a LOT of pain with coding and planning your branches AND with managing the feasibility of your project. Ironically, many people tend to start with the beginning of their story. But knowing where you’re going will really save your bacon.

Map your code for your chapter before you write the chapter. Yep. I said it. I’m in the minority here, I know that most folks don’t do this. But if you can do this, it means (A.) you’ve got a really clear plot map of your chapter, so writing it will be a piece of cake and (B.) you’ve really fleshed out exactly what’s happening/the various causal relationships, which means your code is probably going to be neat and concise. Plus, coding first is a whole heck of a lot easier than adding the code in afterward, when you have to hunt through walls of text to find where the various code lines should be added. I know it sounds bonkers. I know. Really. But if you can manage the planning well enough to pull it off, it’s well worth it. (It’s also worth noting that doing this lets you test your code a lot faster/first, which can also be useful when you’re first getting started. But might not be everyone’s cup of tea, heh.)

For CS, if you know of a WIP that has a feature you’d like to use in your game, code dive and see how that author did it. For example, if a game has a function to randomize the shirt color of a certain character every time you meet them and you’d like to do something similar, take a look at that person’s code! Odds are you can learn more than that. Look at different authors’ coding styles and see what neat tricks you can learn. And if you don’t know how to code dive come DM me LOL.

Lastly, on a more general note, the two big WIP killers are the fraternal twins Scope and Planning; that is to say, when the scope gets out of hand and there isn’t enough planning, that tends to be when WIPs die because the author starts to feel overwhelmed and/or demoralized. So, from the very start be intentional about planning. I know plenty of authors say they don’t plan but. I’m telling you now. PLAN. LOL.

Oh, also, if you do use CS, CSIDE is a program that’s dedicated to editing Choicescript and great for light testing and the like.

I need to shut up now because I’ve typed too much but if I’ve left you with more questions than answers you’re welcome to come hunt me down on my personal blog!

- Dani

I don't have much experience with Twine yet (but heavily considering switching) aside from fiddling around, and the other mods have given their two cents on CS that I already think so I'll mostly just stick to giving advice on writing an IF as a fellow beginner!

From what the other lovely mods have said, planning is your bestfriend! It's very easy to get swept up in the idea of making your own IF project but it does tend to be more overwhelming down the line without proper planning.

You can use mind-mapping tools, or draw one! I'm partial to bullet point outlining but it can be a little tedious as the chapters become more complex with branching.

So, sit yourself down and do some outlining. This is a general advice a creative writing teacher of mine has given me: ignore the beginning, skip to the ending. And it makes a lot of sense. Because as a writer, you'll get hung up on how you want your story to start. We are, to some extent, perfectionists with what we write.

So ignore the beginning, and instead think of how you want your story to end. Trust me, while you're at it, you'll get so many ideas/prompts of what you want to put in the middle. The beginning is easy pickings once you have the foundation of an ending laid out. Writing is a separate matter entirely, but y'all already know that.

Now let's talk about organizing! If you feel like you'll remember an idea later on, trust me, you won't. Write it down, write it all down. OneNote is my go-to with organizing my thoughts/prompts/ideas with my current project.

It's uploaded on a cloud and you'll also be able to access it on your phone! The sticky notes feature come in handy as well. Also, it's a good place to back up your code-formatted chapters/assets!

Lastly, please be kind and patient with yourself! There will be learning and writing frustrations, but it's normal. It happens. Don't beat yourself up too hard over it. Writing is a complex process, but also very worth it.

I mean, I get it. I constantly fall down the rabbit hole of, "If this rough draft isn't perfect then that means I am a horrible writer," which is absolutely not true!

Remember to take care of yourself in the process of writing. Figure out your limits because burning out and losing passion for a project can happen. Above all else, writing shouldn't feel like a chore, it should be fun!

- Nines

Goodluck, and have fun!!

Ko-fi link | Discord | Reddit | Featured Authors Interest Form

#if: resources #if: writing advice #interact-if asks #anonymous

85 notes · View notes

sockablock · 4 years

Text

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...?#critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

1K notes · View notes

marvelsimp · 3 years

Text

THE NEW KID: Landing

THE NEW KID MASTERLIST Ch. 3

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Peter x Lesbian!reader (Platonic duh), Avengers & Reader Warnings: swearing, Description: Reader has just joined the Avengers so they decide to throw her a birthday party. Reader’s Powers: Healing, telepathy, and empath. Word Count: 2,737

“Peter! You got me into the avengers!” you scream whacking your best friend with a pillow.

“You’re welcome!” he laughs shielding his face from oncoming attacks. You end up tackling him causing him to land on his bed. “Why are you attacking me? This is so RUDE!”

“HAHA! Too bad.”

“STOP. STOP” he laughs causing you to stop almost instantly. He sits up and looks at the clock, it reads ‘3:57’. “How about we go back down to the game floor we can play some more laser tag or mess around with the VR stuff?”

“Sure but didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to show me the lab?”

“I forgot about that!” he stood up and reached his hand out to help you get up, you accept. Peter leads you out of his room at Avenger’s Tower to go to the elevator then up to the lab. “So, this is it!” he says taking you up some stairs.

The space is huge, where you just entered from is where the Quinjet lands, where the med lab is, and where the avengers keep their gear for missions. As you walk up the stairs you see several platforms and ‘bridges.’ To your right you see a platform full of tools and stations cluttered with different projects.

“Most of its taken up by Mr. Stark,” Peter explains, “He’s constantly working on upgrading and improving all of our suits.” He leads you towards the back of the area, “This is where I usually work. I’m usually the one to work on my suit, especially during breaks. I’m trying to figure out a way to improve the capacity of my web-shooters.”

You nod, Pete lets you look at his formulas and blueprints. You give him a handful of suggestions and ask him a few questions. He listens intently to each suggestion and question. He then has a quick ‘aha’ moment and writes a few things down for later. You can’t believe that you now get to help him with this stuff in person.

“Oh,” he says suddenly. He points to an empty part of the lab next to him. “This is your station, you can put anything there and use any of the tools, under supervision. Mr. Stark isn’t a big fan of us being up here without him or Dr. Banner but he made an exception for today.”

“Wait… slow down.”

Peter looks up at you, he’s slightly confused.

“I get to work up here, in the Avenger’s lab?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “What did you not understand about the part that you’re an Avenger now?”

“I don’t know… I guess that it just didn’t click.” You look around the space trying to figure out what you’ll do. You then remember some of the old projects that you had to scrap because you didn’t the resources, you’ll probably have to start from scratch… wait your stuff is here. You let out a gasp and your eyes get a little wider. You almost run out to get your old blueprints but Peter grabs your wrists.

“Y/n, slow down. Where are you going?”

“Sorry, I got ahead of myself. I just remembered that I have my old blueprints still and that I can work on that stuff here.”

He smiles at you, he’s happy you can feel it off of him. That was the first time since you got to New York that you had felt pure joy and he could feel it, too. His smile shrinks a little, “Like I said Mr. Stark doesn’t really like us up here without someone with us.” You nodded in understanding.

“Now let me actually take you to the med lab, I think that Dr. Cho will want to meet you.” He took you back down the stairs and opened the doors to the Med Lab. Dr. Cho was sitting down busy at work looking through some papers and looking at something on the screen in front of her. “Dr. Cho.”

She looked up from her work and looked at Peter then at you. Her eyes grew wide, “Oh, I completely forgot.” She stood up walking over to you and reaching her hand out. You accepted it shaking her hand, “I’m Y/n.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “Stark told me about you and your powers. I’d love to do some testing later once you’re settled.”

“I’d love that too. I’ve done a little bit of testing on my own, but I’d love to learn my limits.”

She nodded, she seemed excited. “I have to get back to my work now, but I will see you later.”

You and Peter exited the lab then went back down to the game floor as you had planned earlier. You both walked down the hallway and entered the game room. In one of the corners was Steve and Bucky, Bucky was hunched over on an old arcade version of Mortal Combat while Steve had his hand on the brunette’s back and he was laughing his ass off at the stern face of the “tinman.” Steve almost instantly turned around when you and peter entered but he couldn’t stop his laughing quite as quickly.

You smiled and waved at them. You turned to Peter, “What do you wanna play?”

“Smash Bros?”

“Minecraft?”

‘You always want to play Minecraft,” he whined.

‘And you always want to play Smash Bros!”

He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could.

“Fine!” you laughed

“Yes!” Peter quickly set up the game.

“FINISH HIM” you could hear from the old Mortal Combat Bucky was playing.

You took that as your cue, “Do you guys want to join us?”

Steve looked a little surprised, he turned to Bucky waiting for his answer. “Sure, how do you play?” he and Steve walked over and joined you and Peter on the large couch.

“It’s kind of like Mortal Combat.” You went on to explain the game and gave recommendations as to who they should pick.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed after losing to the two super-soldiers who had never even played the game before today.

“Language,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“Sorry” you squeaked out.

Steve’s eyes widened realizing his mistake, he said it out of habit assuming it was Bucky who said it. Bucky let out an earth-shattering laugh. While you were mortified that you had screamed ‘fuck’ in front of some of the Avengers not once but twice in one day. Once Bucky stopped laughing and caught his breath he turned to Peter, “Do you curse this much? I swear I’ve never even heard you say ‘crap.’” He did, just not in front of the avengers. Peter’s whole face had turned red causing Bucky to laugh again.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Steve said over Bucky’s continual laughing.

“What are you saying sorry for?”

“I thought it was Buck who said it so out of habit I said ‘language.’”

You smiled, “You don’t mind me-“

“Of course not.” Steve looked at his watch and then turned to Bucky who had finally stopped laughing, “Buck, maybe it’s time we head up.”

“It was nice playing with you guys,” you smiled.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do it again,” said Bucky.

“You’re an Avenger now, doll. Plenty of game nights.” Steve smiled walking out the door.

“Bye.”

Peter stood up. “Do yooou wanna play in VR?”

“Yes!”

“I know we’ve only been on this for half an hour but do you wanna grab some food?” Peter asked you.

“Umm, sure I could use some food.”

You and Peter walked back to the elevator taking it back up to the communal living space. As the elevator rose you felt the excitement rise not only in Peter but in some people on the floor you were headed to. When the doors opened it was darker than last time then you heard “SURPRISE” being shouted at you from all over the room and the lights turned back on. You jumped back a little then erupted into giggles. Directly in front of you were Ned, MJ, and May. While the Avengers were spread around the room, which included some of those that weren’t at lunch. There was a large banner on the wall that read “Happy 17th Birthday, Y/n!” There were streamers and balloons everywhere, along with some confetti that was spread along the ground. “Happy Birthday!” Ned, MJ, and May said in unison all grouping together for a group hug that caused you to giggle once more.

“Thank you.”

Peter grabbed your hand and led you over to a group of people near the dining table. There was Pepper Potts with a little girl holding onto her hand, with a man, woman, and a teen girl that was maybe a year or two younger than you and Peter. Pepper was the first to notice the two of you so she turned and smiled at you grabbing the others' attention.

“Hi,” you said looking back over the group.

“I’m Hope,” said the brunette woman reaching her hand out.

You recognized her but couldn’t remember how and as you shook her hand you let out a slight gasp, “Pym?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Sorry, I’m way too invested into sciency things.”

The man next to her let out a chuckle, “I’m Scott.” He gently put his hand onto the teen next to him, “and this is my daughter Cassie.”

She smiled at you, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You were kinda confused as to who these people were, relating to the Avengers.

Peter whispered in your ear, “Think about it,” it was like he was the telepath.

After a second or two of staring at them, you let out, “Oh! You’re Wasp and Ant-man.” Neither one of them were known to the public as that but they were the only masculine and feminine pair, so it made sense. Hope let out a, “Yeah” while Scott just grinned impressed. You finally turned to the woman you were very excited to meet, the CEO of Stark Industries.

“I’m Pepper,” she went for a hug that you accepted. Once you were released from the hug she put her hand on the shoulder of the little girl hiding behind her. “This is Morgan, Tony and I’s daughter.”

You kneeled to be at the girl’s eye level, “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” she said in the quietest voice possible.

You just smiled and stood back up. “It’s an honor to meet you all,” you said turning to each one in the small group, “I can’t believe that I’m even here.”

“Don’t worry,” Scott said, “We’re still getting used to it.” Hope nodded in agreement.

Thank god, that eased your anxieties a little. “Come on, Y/n. There are still more people you gotta meet.” He led you across the room where Tony and Colonel Rhodes, aka War Machine, were talking, Col. Rhodes seemed annoyed. As you walked you passed Bruce, Sam, Bucky, and Steve who waved as you walked by. Bruce stepped forward, “Hey, Y/n!”

You stopped and turned to him.

“Thor wanted to tell you sorry that he couldn’t make it, ya know family business. And he wanted me to tell you ‘Happy Birthday’ from him and Loki.” You smiled and laughed at the “and Loki” part. “Tell them ‘Thank you and that I understand. Oh, and that I wish him luck with his brother’”. Bruce chuckled at your response. He turned and returned to his group while you continued to follow Peter.

“Come on, Tony, another teenager,” you could barely hear Col. Rhodes say.

Tony just saw you two walking towards them, he pointed his head at you which caused Col. Rhodes’ demeanor to change almost instantly.

“Hey,” Tony said smirking at you and Peter, “How you feeling?”

“Uhh, I’m still in stock,” you laugh rubbing your neck.

“Don’t worry, kid, that will wear off.”

“I’m Rhodey by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I won’t be able to stay for long I was told about this morning. I wasn’t even told there was a possibility of a new Avenger until then either,” he looked annoyingly at Tony.

“Oh, I... don’t worry it’s an honor just meeting you guys.”

“Y/n,” yelled Wanda who was over in the kitchen.

“Well, that’s me,” you commented pointing your thumb towards the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Yeah, Happy Birthday, kid.”

You and Peter headed to the kitchen.

“That was kinda tense,” whispered Peter in your ear.

You nod in agreement as you enter. Wanda is standing next to the counter eating some chips with Nat and a man you recognize as Hawkeye. But more importantly, you spot some brownies. You quickly grab one, “Hey.” Wanda smiles and hugs you before you sit on one of the stools.

“Hey, Y/n/n, adjusted yet?” Nat joked.

“Nowhere close,” you breathe out.

Nat elbowed the man standing next to her. “I’m Clint.” He put a fist over the chip bowl.

You let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump. “You’re Hawkeye, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at the codename.

You continue to eat the brownie and happily smile at your best friend. He takes a seat next to you and spins your chair as you take the last bite of it. When you look up, there she is Captain Marvel with a gift bag in her hand. You choke on the brownie spitting it out in your hand then throwing it away. Peter looks up in concern at you, you simply point at her and he erupts in laughter. Nat, Clint, and Wanda were first concerned when you choked on your food but are now very confused. You turn around away from the center of the room, putting your face in your hands.

“Y/n, you okay?” Wanda asks.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out.

Clint throws a chip at Peter, “Bug, explain.”

Peter calms down. “Y/n has a hu-“ he corrects himself, “is a huge fan of Carol.”

Nat catches on instantly, the other two don’t but are accepting of the answer.

“Peter!” you say shoving him almost causing him to fall from his chair, but he holds on to the seat. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” you whisper angrily in his ear, “Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs looking behind you, so you turn around and to your surprise, Captain Marvel is right behind you. You open your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Y/n.exe has stopped working.

Reboot?

Rebooting.

Peter gives you a little shaking you a little. “Earth to Y/n,” he whispers in your ear. Everyone, EVERYONE takes note of this. Some understanding your behavior instantly while others put it down as you just being a “big fan.”

“Hi,” you blush.

“Hi,” Captain Marvel smiles at you.

“I, um, I’m a, I’m Y/n,” you finally stutter out.

“I’m Carol,” she smirks. You put your hand out for her to shake but instead of returning the handshake, she puts the gift bag she was holding into your hand. “Peter told me you were a big fan, so I got you something.”

You smile and hit Peter for telling her. “Thank you,” you barely get out as she walks away.

“Hey!” you hear from across the room. “Since everyone’s met Y/n let’s sing happy birthday!” you finally recognize the voice to be Tony’s, “Head to the Dining table!”

You’re still standing there stunned, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” Peter says grabbing your arm, “Now let’s get some cake.”

Peter leads you to the Dining Table and then to a cupcake tower full of different types of cupcakes with a lit candle on top reading ‘17’. You take a deep breath to collect yourself. You look around you and you’re overwhelmed with how much you can feel all of them caring for you even though you just met most of them today. You wish your parents could see this… no you wish that your parents loved you enough where you wouldn’t even be in New York right now, but they don’t, and you have to live with that. “Thank you, for all of this,” you say looking mostly at Peter but also at the others. “Usually, I would spend my birthday with just my parents and this year I thought it would be Peter, May, MJ, Ned, and I. But I never could’ve predicted to be with any of you much less as your new teammate. I don’t know what else to do besides saying thank you.”

Next Chapter

Arrived

#the new kid #the avengers #peter parker #peter parker x platonic!reader #avengers x lesbian #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #marvel x reader #marvel #self insert

97 notes · View notes

buckybarnesdollface · 3 years

Text

Mountainside: Chapter 1

Summary: What happens when the quinjet goes down in the Austrian Alps and reader gets snowed in with Bucky at the safe house he brought her to in the mountains?

Warnings: Female reader, just fluff in this chapter

“It’s not much farther,” Bucky urged as I stopped to clutch at a stitch in my side. Our quinjet had been shot down somewhere in the Allgӓu Alps in Austria by a HYDRA drone, and we had been wandering the snowy mountainside for what felt like hours now. The snow was deep, and with every step I took I sunk into it up to my knees. My left arm hung limply at my side, having been injured in the crash, and my legs burned from trudging through the deep snow. I had only been wearing my jumpsuit when we crashed, and although Bucky had insisted I take his jacket I was still chilled to the bone. My teeth chattered, my fingers and toes were numb, and my chest ached with every ragged breath I took as a result of the frigid air and my physical exhaustion.

“Easy for you to say,” I snapped weakly. “Your body can withstand a hell of a lot more than mine.”

“I offered to carry you.”

I shot him a disparaging look. “I may not be in great shape right now, but I still have my dignity.”

“Let me know what your dignity is worth when we reach the safehouse and you can’t even move because your legs are like lead,” Bucky replied with a shrug, and then he trudged ahead of me, leaving me to glare at his back as I mustered up the strength to keep going.

Truth be told, I was grateful that it had been Bucky on this mission with me. He was strong, smart, resourceful, calm in a crisis, and he knew this area well from when HYDRA still controlled him. If it wasn’t for him, even if I had managed to drag myself out of the wreckage of the jet, I would have had no idea how to navigate the mountain to get to the safehouse, let alone that there even was a safehouse nearby. So, despite how frustrating it was to see how easily he was handling this while I felt like death, I was glad to have him as a companion.

I almost cried in relief as we broke through the trees and the safehouse came into sight. It was just a small cabin nestled in the trees on the mountainside, but right now it offered a place to rest my aching body and warm up and it might as well have been a goddamn castle.

“Thank god,” I groaned, sinking to my knees in the snow. Bucky turned and cocked a dark eyebrow.

“You realize now you probably won’t be able to get back up, right?” he pointed out, and I shrugged.

“I don’t even care. We made it. I’ll crawl the rest of the way if I have to.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and then he was slipping his hands under my arms – careful not to jostle the injured one – and hauled me back to my feet. “If you won’t let me carry you, at least let me help you,” he insisted. “Lean on my shoulder.”

Too tired to argue, I leaned heavily against Bucky’s side. His arm slipped around my waist, and truth be told he all but held me upright as we made our way to the cabin. He pressed a button at the door and then leaned in close to the speaker.

“Sergeant James Barnes,” he said in a clear, even voice, and then I heard a lock click. Bucky turned the knob and pulled me inside, stomping the snow off his boots on the mat. I tried to do the same, but as Bucky had predicted, my legs felt like lead. “Stay here,” he told me, and then he was grabbing a chair from the small kitchen table, setting it in front of me. He helped me sit before kneeling in front of me and lifting one of my feet to rest it on his knee.

“What are you doing?” I asked warily.

“Helping you. You can barely move, you’re so cold and stiff, and if you don’t get these boots off you’ll end up with frostbite.” His fingers were deft as they untied my laces, and then he gently took a hold of my calf and slid off one boot, then the other. Next, he peeled off my wet socks, and I felt my cheeks heat up as he examined my bare feet.

“The skin’s white – That’s an early stage of frostbite,” he said. “It won’t do damage, but it’ll be uncomfortable. I’m gonna start a fire before we do anything else so I can at least get you warmed up some.”

I watched as he stood and crossed the room to the small fireplace, arranging kindling and then logs expertly in the hearth. He lit a match, carefully lowering it to the kindling, and within a moment the fire was crackling. He came back over and helped me off the chair and over to the couch. The heat the little fire gave off was a relief after the biting cold of the mountain air, and I let out a soft sigh as I leaned towards the warmth.

“Not too close,” Bucky ordered, shoving me back into the couch gently but firmly. “If you warm up too fast it’ll put your body in shock. It has to be gradual.”

“But I’m freezing,” I whined.

“Taking off that wet jumpsuit would help.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “And do what, sit here in my underwear? I have nothing else to wear, Barnes.”

With a sigh, Bucky pulled the fleece sweater over his head, and then tugged off the blue Henley underneath as well. I coughed uncomfortably, shaking my head.

“If you think that you stripping down is going to make me want to –”

“The shirt is for you,” Bucky grumbled, tossing the Henley to me before pulling the sweater back over his head. “Put it on until I have time to search for more clothes.”

I blushed, caught off-guard as Bucky turned around so I could change. With clumsy fingers still numb with cold, I managed to pull down the zipper in the front of the jumpsuit and shrug the damp material from my shoulders. As soon as my skin was exposed to the air I shivered, and then quickly pulled Bucky’s Henley on over my head, wincing as I lifted my injured arm. The shirt was still warm from Bucky’s supersoldier body heat, and it smelled like mountain air, smoke, and the lingering scent of his body wash he’d used that morning. I pulled it tight around me briefly, grateful to be wrapped in something warm and dry and soft, and then stood and shimmied my legs out of the jumpsuit, letting it drop to the floor. Because Bucky was a good deal taller than me, the shirt fell to my mid-thigh, covering my underwear. Satisfied, I sank back down onto the couch, crossing my legs and shoving my hands under my arms to try and warm them.

“Okay, I’m decent,” I said wryly, and he turned back around. Something unreadable flashed through his eyes as he looked at me, but it was gone in an instant and then he was coming over to pick up my discarded jumpsuit and hang it over a chair by the fire to dry.

“Feel any better?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Bucky grunted his response, heading to the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards. He came back with a first aid kit, and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. “Let me see your arm,” he said, and I frowned.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scratch –”

“(Y/N), you’ve been holding it weird and babying it ever since I pulled you out from the wreckage. It needs to be looked at, so let me see it.”

Something in his tone told me not to argue with him, and I held out my left arm so he could gently roll the sleeve of his Henley up to expose my bicep. He frowned, brows pulling together as he turned my arm over lightly to examine the extent of the damage.

“It’s not broken,” he finally said, “but it’s pretty badly bruised and that gash is going to need to be cleaned out and stitched up.” He pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the box and soaked a wipe with it before meeting my eyes. “This is going to sting, are you ready?”

“I just survived a plane crash and a trek over a mountain,” I scoffed. “I think I can handle a little rubbing alcohol.”

Bucky shrugged, and then dabbed the wipe lightly over my wound. I clenched my teeth, hissing through them, and reflexively pulled my arm away from him. Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow, lips quirking up at the corners, and I glared at him.

“Not a word,” I grumbled. His eyes sparkled.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Mhmm.”

Once he was satisfied the wound was clean, he threaded a needle with the nylon thread in the first aid kit and then gave me an expectant look. “Are you going to be okay with the actual stitches?” he asked wryly, and I scowled.

“Just hurry up and get it over with, Barnes.”

Bucky was very meticulous as he stitched up my wound, almost professional in his movements. I wondered if he had learned this particular skill in the war, or if it was something he had picked up during his time with HYDRA. Or maybe it went back much further than that, to the days when Steve would pick fights with guys twice his size and instead of telling his parents he had to go to the doctor again for stitches, Bucky learned to stitch him up himself. The thought had me struggling to suppress a grin, and Bucky looked up at me with a furrowed brow.

“Something funny?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“It’s nothing,” I replied, and he shook his head before continuing his work.

When Bucky finished, he cut the thread with his teeth and then wrapped a bandage around my bicep to cover the stitches. He sat back but narrowed his eyes as he looked at my face. “You got hit in the head,” he pointed out, lifting his flesh hand to run his fingertips just above my eyebrow. I winced; I hadn’t even known there’d been a cut there. “You could have a concussion,” Bucky continued. “Do you have a headache? Ringing in your ears? Blurry vision?”

I shook my head. “Bucky, I’m fine,” I insisted, slightly exasperated. “Contrary to what you may believe, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve had plenty of field experience, and plenty of injuries to go with it. If I had a concussion, I would know what signs to be wary of.”

“Let me see your eyes,” he demanded, as if he hadn’t heard me. He held a little flashlight, and I sighed. He shone the flashlight in my eyes and then sat back as he clicked it off. “You’re not concussed.”

“Which is what I already told you.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “You may think I’m overreacting and being overbearing,” he said, “but if you had been in this game as long as I have, you’d understand why I’m being like this. Back in the war, as a sergeant I led a firearms team of four men. If one of those men got injured, even something seemingly minor, it not only hindered the whole team, but the injury could also progress into something worse depending on the conditions we were in.” He frowned. “I lost good men to things as mundane as a broken finger or a cut on their leg. So if I’m taking the time to make sure your injuries are taken care of, it’s because I’ve seen things go downhill fast and I’m trying to get out of the habit of losing teammates.”

I blinked, at a loss for words. To say Bucky and I didn’t speak would be a lie – We talked quite a bit, but it was usually about missions or things Bucky was still trying to learn about the twenty-first century, or Steve. He had never once talked about his time in the 107th. I could tell now why he hadn’t; his eyes were hard, but held a heavy sadness in their depths. I bit my lip.

“I’m sorry I’m being so difficult,” I said softly. “I think it’s just the whole situation, and because I’m the newest member of the team and still so young, everyone just assumes that I don’t know as much, or I can’t handle myself and need to be looked out for. I just want to prove that I’m just as capable as the rest of you.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, (Y/N), if need be,” he chuckled. “The point of being part of a team, though, is that you don’t have to. It’s great that you’re as independent as you are, but you don’t have to be.” He shook his head ruefully. “It took me a long time to relearn that after HYDRA.”

“Can I be honest about something?” I asked him, and he nodded.

“Of course.”

“When that quinjet went down, I…I was grateful that it was you with me,” I admitted, and then I realized how that sounded and my eyes widened. “I just mean…Out of all our teammates, you’re the best in situations like this, and if anyone was going to get us through this, it’d be you.”

This time, Bucky actually smiled. “Is that…is that a compliment? From (Y/N)? My god, did we actually die in that crash? Or has hell frozen over?”

I pursed my lips, but my grin couldn’t be concealed. “Yeah, yeah, soak it up,” I told him, “because it’s probably the only one you’re getting for awhile. They come in short supply.”

Bucky laughed. “I’ll take it. Now come here and let me clean that cut on your forehead.”

I leaned forward, and Bucky took an alcohol-soaked cotton ball and dabbed gently at the wound. I sucked in a sharp breath and his hand stilled, but I urged him to keep going. Once it was clean, he applied a butterfly bandage with a delicate touch that was unexpected for hands as large as his. His fingertips smoothed down the bandage and then he sat back.

“Your turn,” I said, and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, I’m fine.”

“That huge gash along your cheekbone says otherwise.”

Bucky frowned. “I heal quickly; it’ll be gone by morning.”

“James.” My voice was stern as I used his real name. He pursed his lips, and I continued. “It’s been how long since the quinjet crashed, and the wound is still deep enough that your layer of soft tissue is exposed. Supersoldier healing or not, it needs to be cleaned and at least covered.” I shot him a wry look. “Teammates take care of each other, remember?”

“Ouch, using my own lessons against me,” he mocked, and I grinned before soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and scooting to the edge of the couch to get closer to him. I lifted my good arm to dab gingerly at the open flesh, and Bucky sat there, unflinching, his eyes focused on me the entire time. A butterfly bandage wouldn’t suffice for a gash like this, so I applied a larger bandage to cover it and keep any dirt out until it at least started to heal.

“There,” I murmured, sitting back, and Bucky grinned.

“I’m gonna go find you some clean clothes,” he said, “and then why don’t you have a hot shower while I go outside and bring in some more firewood before it gets dark. I don’t know how long we’ll be here and I don’t want us to run out of wood.”

He disappeared down the hall to what I assumed was the bedroom, and returned a minute later with a pile of neatly-folded clothes in his hands. “They’ll likely be a bit big,” he said as he handed them to me, “but they’ll work. The water’s on, so the shower’s good to go. If you need anything, I won’t be far – The woodpile is just out back on the treeline there.”

“Alright, thank you,” I said, and he nodded before pulling his jacket on and ducking out the door. Sighing, I pulled myself up off the couch. My legs were still stiff and sore from trudging through the deep snow, but at least now I could stand without feeling like I would topple over. I made my way down the narrow hallway, where I found a quaint little bathroom. I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it, and then stripped bare and stepped under the stream.

I immediately moaned as the heat from the water seeped through my skin to warm my cold, aching muscles and bones. I stood like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in warmth, before I lathered shampoo into my hair to hopefully get the smell of smoke and jet fuel out of it. I scrubbed the blood and soot from my skin until it was pink, and then finally decided I should save some hot water for Bucky and dragged myself out of the shower reluctantly.

I wrapped a towel around my body as I wrung out my hair with another one. Upon examining the clothes Bucky had gotten me, I found a pair of black sweatpants and a wool sweater. I pulled on the sweatpants – They were too loose on my hips and a bit long, but I tied the drawstring tight and rolled up the cuffs and they were actually pretty comfy. I picked up the sweater, but then set it back down and opted to pull Bucky’s Henley back on instead.

When I came back out to the kitchen, Bucky was just coming through the door and stomping the snow off his boots, a sled piled high with firewood in tow. When he caught sight of me, the same unreadable look from before was crossing his face, but then he cocked an eyebrow.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked. My cheeks heated, and I shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Did I not give you a sweater to wear?”

“Yeah, but this one’s comfy,” I said sheepishly, and Bucky snorted.

“I know it’s comfy, it’s mine.” He shook his head. “I guess you can keep it for now.”

I grinned. “Good, because I didn’t plan on giving it back.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, and then started filling his arms with firewood to stack by the fireplace. I went to help him, but he shook his head. “No, I’ve got it,” he insisted. “You just showered, you don’t need to get dirt and sap all over yourself.”

“Bucky, let me help –”

“You’ll end up pulling your stitches if you do, (Y/N). Trust me, I’ve got it.”

I frowned, but I knew he was right. It didn’t take him long to pile it all, and then he was leaning the sled against the wall and stripping out of his jacket and boots.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” he told me. “The cupboards should be stocked with non-perishables; you should see if you can find us something to eat.”

“Anything in particular you don’t like?” I asked, and Bucky fixed me with an unexpected grin.

“Doll, I survived how many years on army rations,” he chuckled. “I’ll eat just about anything.”

With that, he went to shower and I was left to rummage through the cupboards. I was surprised to see so much – Cans of soup, canned fruits and vegetables, boxes of cereal, pasta, and an array of spices and sauces. I opted for a box of spaghetti and a jar of tomato sauce; it would be warm and filling.

As I filled a pot with water to boil, my stomach growled; with everything that had happened today, I realized that I hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before. It wasn’t unusual to go a period of time without a meal on a mission, but after that trek from the quinjet to the cabin I was famished.

Bucky walked into the kitchen just as I was mixing the sauce into the pasta. His wet hair was messy, as if he’d just run his hands through it, and he’d thrown on a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He lifted his nose to sniff the air.

“Smells good,” he remarked. “Spaghetti?”

“Yep.”

“When will it be ready?”

“Now,” I replied, dishing it onto two plates and handing him one. We sat down at the table with our food and a couple of bottles of water I’d found in the fridge, and I couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from my chest. Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know, this just feels so…domestic,” I pointed out. “You making a fire and bringing in more wood, me cooking us dinner, sitting here and eating together…”

“It’s nice,” Bucky murmured. “Everything is always so fast-paced and intense; this is a nice break.”

“Except that our jet was shot down and we’re stranded,” I said wryly, and Bucky shrugged.

“There are worse places to be.” He looked up over a forkful of spaghetti and grinned. “And worse company to be stuck with.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I chuckled, and Bucky nodded as he chewed.

“You should. For instance, if I had been stranded with Sam, I would have buried him under six feet of snow and ice by now.”

I laughed. “Why is it you two are always at each other?” I asked, and Bucky shrugged.

“Sam’s a good guy. He just gets on my nerves easily.”

“Clearly.”

We finished the rest of our dinner in comfortable silence, and then cleared the dishes. Bucky even helped me clean up the kitchen, and then I curled up in the armchair by the fireplace with a thick blanket while Bucky sank into the couch and pulled out his phone.

“I suppose now that we’re settled in, I should let Steve know what happened,” he said. He put the phone on speaker and then set it on the coffee table. It only rang once before Steve answered.

“Hello? Bucky? Is everything alright? Why are you using your cell phone, what’s wrong with your comms?”

“The comms are down, Steve,” Bucky said calmly.

“Down? Why are they down?” he demanded, and Bucky and I shared a look; Steve was going to lose it when he found out our quinjet had been shot down.

“See, that’s the thing,” Bucky said cautiously. “We may have a little problem.”

Steve’s voice was stern now. “Define little.”

“We were on our way to Russia when we were spotted by a HYDRA drone and they shot us out of the sky,” Bucky told him. There was silence on the other line for a split second before Steve erupted.

“What? How did that happen? Are you and (Y/N) alright? Where are you? How long ago did this happen? Why didn’t you call right away?”

“Steve…Steve!” Bucky cried, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Steve went full Dad mode, as Sam and I often called it. “I don’t know how they found us,” Bucky continued once Steve had ceased firing concerned questions. “(Y/N) and I are fine, just some cuts and bruises. The quinjet went down in the Allgӓu Alps in Austria, but we walked to a safehouse that was only about an hour away from the crash site. I didn’t call right away because we had to get to safety before HYDRA realized we’d survived, and then we wanted to warm up and patch up our injuries and settle in before we did anything else.”

“So you’re in Austria?” Steve asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know we had a safehouse in the mountains in Austria.”

“Natasha knows about it,” Bucky said. “She’ll know how to get here.”

For some reason, this made me frown. I found it strange that the only two people on the team that knew about this safehouse were Bucky and Natasha. Sam used to joke that they were perfect for each other, since they were both ex-assassins with rough pasts and secretive personalities. They had both sworn they weren’t each other’s type, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. My mind was suddenly filled with the idea that they had been here together before, and for some reason it left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Steve, when can you get us out of here?” I asked.

“Well…I might have some bad news for you guys,” he said, and my brow furrowed.

“What kind of bad news?”

“Nat just gave us the coordinates to the safehouse, and for starters, the closest place we could land a quinjet or even a helicopter is about six miles to the east.”

I sighed. The last thing I wanted was another hike across a snowy mountain, but if it meant I got to go home I could handle it.

“Okay, no biggie. So what’s the problem?”

Steve sighed. “Tony just checked the weather. There’s a big storm coming your way – Supposed to be the biggest blizzard Austria has seen in almost a decade. Even if we left New York right now, we’d never make it to you before the winds picked up. We won’t be able to fly out until the storm has passed, probably in a couple of days. I’m sorry, guys.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. I shook my head. “Steve, no –”

“Two days is fine,” Bucky interrupted as he spoke to Steve. “We’ve got plenty of firewood, and enough food to last probably two weeks. Take your time, Steve, we’re alright here for a few days. Don’t risk your lives when we’re safe where we’re at.”

“Speak for yourself,” I muttered under my breath, but of course Bucky’s supersoldier hearing caught it. A mixture of surprise, confusion and hurt crossed his face.

“Half an hour ago you were content,” he said. “What changed?”

My face heated, because I didn’t have an answer for him that didn’t sound ridiculous. I wasn’t even really sure what my problem was. I shook my head. “Nothing,” I told him, and then louder to Steve I said, “We’ll survive a couple of days, Steve. Be careful, but come as soon as it’s safe.”

“Hang in there,” he replied. “Hopefully the storm won’t last long and we can get you out of there.”

Bucky hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. Things were silent for a few moments, but then he fixed me with an inquiring look.

“What was that about?” he asked. I frowned, feigning confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, (Y/N). Why are you so eager to get out of here?”

“I don’t know, Barnes; maybe after getting shot down out of the sky and trekking through a cold mountain, I just want to get home,” I snapped, a little harsher than I had intended. Bucky pursed his lips.

“Soon enough,” he muttered. “We should get some rest; it’s been a long day. You take the bed; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling guilty. “Buck, you don’t have to sleep on the couch –”

“There’s only one bed, (Y/N). Just take it. I’ll be fine on the couch; that way I can keep the fire going all night.”

I bit my lip, but there was no use in arguing with him at this point. With a sigh, I unfolded my legs from under me and stood. “Goodnight,” I mumbled, and Bucky grunted a response. Frowning, I made my way down the hall to the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I pulled back the covers and climbed in, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the mattress was. The exhaustion of the day finally crashed over me, and all the thoughts of Bucky and being stuck in this cabin disappeared when my head hit the pillow and I fell asleep almost immediately.

Of course, my sleep was short-lived. I woke up an hour later, freezing despite still being fully-clothed and curled up under two layers of covers. I tried to pull the blankets tighter to myself and go back to sleep, but it was no use; the chill had already settled itself in me and wasn’t going to let go of me that easily.

With a groan, I forced myself out of the bed, swearing softly when my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. I padded my way down the hall to the living room to grab the blanket I’d been using earlier, to use as an extra layer of insulation between me and the chilly air.

Bucky was asleep when I walked in. Although it was a fairly big couch, his large frame still managed to make it look small. His head was pillowed on one of the decorative cushions, while the other cushion he held to his chest. His mouth was slightly ajar, soft breaths sounding with every rise and fall of his chest. I realized I had never seen him look so peaceful – so vulnerable and at ease. It almost made him look younger, the lines in his face erased in slumber. The fire, which now burned low in the hearth, left a warm glow across his face, casting shadows where his long lashes dusted his cheekbones, and I couldn’t help but think that he looked heartachingly beautiful like this.

I quickly tore my eyes away. This felt oddly wrong, almost like I was intruding on a private moment. He was only sleeping, but Bucky was such a reserved person that to see him in such a vulnerable state felt intrusive. I grabbed the blanket from the armchair and was just about to head back to the bedroom when Bucky spoke, making me start as the blanket slipped from my hands to the floor.

“Stealing blankets, are you,” he murmured, tone teasing and voice thick with sleep. He had just one eye open, peeking up at me. I wet my lips and shrugged.

“You weren’t using it, and I’m frozen,” I replied. “It’s a lot colder in the bedroom than it is out here, so I figured I’d grab an extra blanket to see if it helped.”

Bucky frowned, fully awake now, and he sat up. “You’re cold?” he asked, and I nodded.

“It’s fine, though. I’m sure the blanket will help.”

“Did you want to sleep by the fire? It’s warm out here,” Bucky insisted. “You can bring some blankets and pillows out here; it’s a pretty comfy couch. I’m warm anyway, so a cool room won’t bother me.”

I shook my head. “Really, it’s okay,” I insisted. “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky murmured, although he looked doubtful. I gave him a small smile before heading back to the bedroom.

Incidentally, the extra blanket didn’t work. I shifted, even curling my body up tightly, but I still couldn’t shake the chill that had settled in my bones. I knew what the quickest and most effective solution would be, but even if I could bring myself to suggest it, there was a good chance it would either make Bucky uncomfortable or he’d laugh in my face.

“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself, throwing off the covers and once again sliding out of bed. I was just about to make my way back to the living room, but when I opened the bedroom door Bucky was already there, hand raised as if ready to knock. He gave me a sheepish look as he lowered it back to his side.

“I heard you tossing and turning,” he explained softly. “You still cold?”

I nodded meekly. “Yeah.”

“Y’know, I was thinking,” Bucky said hesitantly, running a hand through his hair. “Because my body temperature is higher than the average person’s, it kind of acts like a heater. If you want – and you can absolutely say no if you don’t want to, I’ll totally understand – I…I can keep you warm.”

Bucky looked at me cautiously, and it took everything in me not to nod eagerly because this couldn’t have worked out more to my favour. I knew it was hard for him to be open like this, and to let people close; just a handful of months ago, he didn’t even like handshakes. Instead, I wordlessly opened the door wide enough for him to fit through and stepped aside.

Bucky walked into the room, hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets as I crawled back into bed. I arched a brow at him.

“I won’t bite,” I promised teasingly, and the ghost of a grin tugged at his lips as he slid into bed next to me.

I rolled onto my side, and I felt the mattress shift as Bucky got comfortable and pulled the covers up over us. Tentative, he draped his flesh arm over my waist.

“Is this okay?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Instinctively, my body scooted backwards closer to his – closer to the warmth he was radiating. “Mmm,” I hummed contentedly as I felt my own body slowly warming. Relaxing, Bucky’s arm tightened around my waist, hugging me tighter to him as my back pressed to his chest.

“Get some sleep, doll,” he murmured. My eyes were already drifting shut, and all I could manage was another hum before I was out.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky reader smut #smut #fluff #bucky barnes #reader insert #mcu #steve rogers #james buchanan barnes #cute

86 notes · View notes

queenlua · 3 years

Note

Last week you mentioned GPG has really serious problems. Could you tell me more about them? I can't find much of anything online.

first, thanks for your patience with this appallingly late reply! september hit me like a truck :P

second: huh, wow, okay, a cursory google search really failed to turn up much stuff, huh. depressing!

i'm-a talk about the summer 2019 keyserver attack, not because that's the only issue / security vuln / fuck-up the project has ever had, but because it's (1) a hilariously bad fuck-up, and (2) generally reflective of how the project deals with security concerns, and thus demonstrates that the project is fundamentally pretty unserious

so.

this gist, by one of GnuPG's maintainers, does an okay job of summarizing the problem. a brief summary:

* one of the putative purposes of OpenPGP is to provide a "web of trust" via keyservers. i know Jane Doe, i meet her in person, i verify she is who she says she is, and i sign her key; that signature gets reflected in some keyserver, which acts like a big phone book. now, in the future, if you can't personally go verify Jane Doe's trustworthiness, but you do trust me, you can trust communications from Jane Doe, and you looked all this info up in the keyserver

* "what if a malicious actor tried to overload the keyserver?!?!" e.g. what if i spam ~150k signatures on some dude's key just to fuck with the network

* the answer, in the case of GnuPG, is, "this software is shitty and bad and can't deal with that volume so it just grinds to a fucking halt"

* ...and also most the keyservers try to copy their data from each other so you can have a ~web of trust~ throughout the network, which means, these malicious keys quickly perpetuate through the entire nnetwork

* which means anyone who receives the Forbidden Key Data TM, in practical terms, has broken their fucking GnuPG install, and that whole ~web of trust~ thing we built up is now unusable

technically speaking, this is not a security lapse per se! no cryptography has been broken; no secret data has been leaked. it is, however, a fairly straightforward denial of service attack, and is probably kind of disappointing if you wanted your security software to, you know, do software things

and look, anyone can be bitten by a nasty bug. you'll never see me being like "WOW WHAT DUMBFUCKS, HOW COULD ANYONE WRITE SUCH A STUPID BUG," because, y'know, there but for the grace of god i go, and all that. if anyone tells you they're smart enough to never write a bug, they're a fucking liar. (my full-time job for a while was literally proving those people liars, and i never fucking failed, not because i am brilliant, but because all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of god. [sorry for all the god stuff; my long-abandoned southern baptist heritage comes through when i'm talking security for some reason])

however! the manner in which you respond to such a vulnerability matters:

* let's say i had discovered this bug in GnuPG. the industry standard, if i'm kind and polite, is: i disclose the bug privately to the maintainers, and they have a 90-day window during which to fix it. if they still haven't fixed the problem at the end of the 90 days, that's fine, that's their prerogative, but *i* also get to announce to the world "hey there's this bad bug, here's how i found it, and here's how to exploit it."

this is done to keep The World In General TM safer. see, i'm just some rando. if *i'm* able to find a bug in your shitty software, then it's guaranteed the NSA or Unit 8200 or some-other-super-secret-government-agency absolutely has the resources and wherewithal to find the same bug. and also, some slimy just-in-it-for-the-money hacker gang probably also has the resources to find it. by telling the company "hey, i will go public with this in 90 days," i'm lighting a fire under their ass to actually fix the problem, rather than just letting them pretend security by obscurity will save them, and if they don't fix it by then, then at least users have a prayer of finding out, hey, these dudes do not take security problems seriously, and making informed choices based on that.

there is some wiggle room in this. for instance, the fuck are cloud vendors supposed to do about something like Spectre/Meltdown? there were some shitty, not-100%-effective mitigations that could be done in software, but fundamentally the only real fix was getting new hardware, and tragically, we cannot redesign, manufacture, and ship brand new CPUs to everybody who might be affected within a 90-day timeframe. ergo, Google Project Zero pushed their disclosure deadline way out on that. but, crucially: they still went public at some point, and Intel did not cry "wah" or "no fair" or anything like that. they worked with researchers as best as they could, and once the cat was out of the bag, they offered public resources to help developers understand how their software might be affected. that's the rules of the game.

compare this to, uh, GnuPG's outrageously shitty response (from the previously-linked gist), which can basically be summarized as:

* "wah ocaml is complicated and we don't know how to maintain our own fucking software wah"

* "ten years [?!?!?!] wasn't enough time for us to fix the problem wah"

* "whoever did this attack is a hater :((((("

which. what. what the actual fuck. those are not actual reasons to not fix your sofwtare.

also, the way in which you present your software matters:

* i've thrown up shitty hobby projects on github before. if someone came to me all earnest with a CVE against them, i'd laugh, append the README to say "yo i threw this together on a weekend while i was buzzed, you should absolutely not be relying on this for anything that matters, xoxo lua." that is 100% fine! advertising THIS SOFTWARE IS NOT NECESSARILY SECURE and thus electing not to give a shit about security problems is fine.

* i've been a part of things that are... somewhere between a hobby project and Real Software TM. e.g., research prototypes that you're hoping will be widely used so you can get a better sense of desired use cases and unexpected constraints, but which you hope will be used primarily by "power users" or others who are interested in that project's specific goals.

such a project may not be able to offer the same kinds of security guarantees as Fancy Corporate Software, and that's fine, so long as they're open and honest about stuff like: what the goals of the project are, what we're sure of and what we're less sure of, how we're vetting our stuff, what our policies are when someone does report a security issue, stuff like that. there's plenty of stuff maintained on a volunteer basis that i'd generally trust because, i expect they'll notify me if there is a serious security concern to be worried about, or they have a long track record of excellence in a narrowly-tailored space, etc. that's all good.

* what you cannot, cannot, cannot do, is: claim to offer some kind of robust security solution to people in actually-precarious situations, and then not actually act like a steward of those person's interests. if you're, oh, telling Venezeulan dissidents "our [shitty hobby] software [with gaping, well-known vulnerabilities that haven't been exploited yet ONLY because no major nation-state entity has felt threatened by our code yet, but if they were so threatened, they could trivially wreck the entire project using a well-documented years-old vulnerability we can't be assed to fix because ocaml is hard i guess] is safe and reliable to use!"

...if you're telling political dissidents that? and then you get over-the-top pissed off at someone pointing out the fucking problem you refuse to fix? and somehow make it all about mememe? then fuck you, sincerely. the threat those dissidents face is not someone breaking the fucking key network. the threat is you, you personally, because you are fucking lying to them about what your software is able to do.

GOD. sorry, just. i reread that link and got so pissed again. fuck that attitude entirely. if you let people down, fucking just sit with that for a bit, okay? sit and think and do better next time. christ.

anyway.

this is a particularly gratuitous example of GnuPG maintainers being little shits, but in general they've been lackadaisical and dismissive some other times in the past when people have brought them real security problems, and then act all pissy if, y'know, people go public with said security problems. i haven't kept up with their work lately (i think maybe the community got kind of annihilated by this keyserver thing?) & i have other bones to pick with any project of that type (it's kind of taking the wrong tack entirely imho), but like, yeah, in general if a software community's response to security bugs is "oh gosh that's hard maybe we'll get to it someday," you should not be trusting that software lol

#filthy hacker shit #LONG post #honestly it took me like three times to keep this from spiraling into a fucking novel so #here's the shortest version i could manage.#hit me up for pissy computer security rants: if you really want to know #also this tone is like... probably more pissy than necessary sorry #there is some more nuance that could be had here but i just get kinda miffed when people claim to do A Security and then do the opposite

17 notes · View notes