#but these are loose defaults to use or discard as we please

[foolishquarry]

Quarry Time

Whatever lead to this moment, Max Brinly made it to the scenic Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. (Rps taking place anywhere from the start of summer camp allllll the way to epilogue.)

Good Idea: Max and Laura arrived in camp on time! Max spends the summer with his fellow counselors and discovers the dark side of Hackett’s Quarry alongside everyone else.

∘ Max and Dylan are cabin mates. “Yea, sure, Daddy Long Legs can have the top bunk.”

∘ Max doesn’t have specific responsibilities of his own, he's a floating assistant to his fellow counselors for meal times and larger group activities that need an extra pair of hands and eyes to keep younger campers in line. At some point he becomes the unofficial handyman to call when something breaks that nobody wants to bother Chris about.

∘ Max is either his usual cheerful self or deflated, depending on how Laura responds to his rejection from school. (Less impact if using the Platonic Laura AU)

∘ Max goes swimming in the lake ahead of The Bonfire and spends a little quiet time on the island’s dock. This starts the night barefoot, in wet swim shorts and a damp tee.

∘ Max is potentially bitten early in the night by Kaylee, after leaving the bonfire circle to relieve himself in the woods and getting spooked further than intended by what sounds like a large animal (Bobby scouting around the counselors). He is bloodied by the encounter either way and will narrowly escape Jedediah, who radios Travis with the assumption that Max is infected.

* This leads into car encounter, with Max’s frazzled intent being to get to his car, drive it straight to Laura and the other counselors, and get them all the hell out of whatever shitstorm he just stumbled into.

∘ Max’s car is on the camp grounds and useable at the beginning of the night. He and Laura had a late start leaving Harbinger Motel at summer’s beginning and missed the van pickup times at the car park- so they finished the drive over, parked out of the way, and took Chris’ lecture in stride. Since they’re in no immediate rush and Max’s car isn’t big enough to pack everybody in, he and Laura just decide to stick around for the last hurrah.

 *The fate of Max’s car is determinant: If Max is clear of infection, he will waste too much time fretting over what to do and give Travis time to sabotage and wait creepily in the dark back seat with a syringe at the ready for when Max gets in and tries to start the car. If Max is infected, he will immediately flee to the car and get in a scuffle with Travis that ultimately leaves Max bound in the back seat while Travis is urgently called away on the radio to deal with another issue. This means Max’s car is drivable, keys dropped in the vicinity, but eventually housing a thrashing around werewolf. Travis may or may not come away bitten from their tussle and it’s entirely possible for Max not to be released from the car until the next day.

#MaxHeadcanon #Quarry Time: Good Idea #diving deeper into specific verse #obviously can branch into infinite changes depending on where an RP jumps off from #characters forge their own custom paths and such #if a muse leads Max somewhere else before the bonfire even happens then so be it #but these are loose defaults to use or discard as we please #no reblogs pls

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

#i’m finally done after having this sitting in the drafts for about a good month... or two. 🥴🥴 #abuse apologists #pro black #activism #feminism #body posititivity #colorism #raven tracy #kehlani #rihanna #yg #asap rocky #rant #my uploads.

[detective-anon]

good decisions (m)

so, uh...I wrote some smut. never thought I could/would, but...here we are, I guess? didn’t really know what to do with it, so I’m just gonna...place it here and back away slowly. not really edited b/c I’ll never figure out where paragraph breaks go and I can’t let go of my commas; also the more I read it the worse it gets and I just want to throw it out of the window. (me: look at it but also look away??)

As life-altering decisions went, it had been surprisingly easy. Neither of them liked using the word “convenient.” Logical, maybe. Fortuitous, even.

Their mothers had set them up, of course, although they had both insisted that there was absolutely no pressure for them to see it as anything other than their first meeting as future business partners.

(“You know that I would never, ever pin your future on a man,” her mother had said fiercely, a trace of old wounds bitter on her tongue. “The company is yours no matter what, and we both know that you’re smart enough and strong enough to run it on your own once we step down.”)

They were not-quite strangers and not-quite friends, acquaintances by default who had only met a handful of times. The last time they had seen each other was years ago, when she’d been in grad school and he was still raising capital for his startup. Their mothers had sat them down to make a deal—a hefty investment in his company in exchange for her eventual takeover as CEO. Neither of them had actually been worried about a power struggle—if anything, both of their children seemed intent on forging their own paths without their parents’ help—but a shrewd businesswoman (and a protective mother) leaves no loose ends.

The date-meeting had gone well, both of them approaching it with open minds and an inevitable, unspoken pragmatism. She didn’t expect that he’d be so boyish and fun; he finally saw the sweetness and sharp sense of humor that he’d only gotten glimpses of before. One date led to another, and although there weren’t fireworks between them, there was enough of a spark to build a life on.

They’d discussed it over takeout, sitting on the floor of his living room. The official handover was happening in three months—a bit tight, but enough time to plan a wedding. Married, they’d present a united front to eagle-eyed board members and business rivals alike. Plus, he’d smiled crookedly, their moms would be happy.

It made sense. They weren’t in love, no, but they had mutual respect, trust, and affection between them, and it was more than either set of their parents had. So they’d gotten married and moved in together, existing somewhere in the space between friendship and dating. Everything had pretty much fallen in place: facing the vultures had been easier with rings on their fingers, and though dating after getting married was something their friends didn’t quite understand, it worked surprisingly well for them.

So as decisions go, it wasn’t half bad. Especially when it had led them, months later, to this moment: him propped against the headboard with her cradled in the crook of his right arm, her legs resting across his lap as two fingers of his left hand moved languidly between her thighs.

--

Weakly, she fisted the crisp fabric at his chest, letting out a soft, “Ngh!”

He slid his right hand under the hem of her shirt—his, really, a white button-down, worn out and soft from too many washings—to brush gentle strokes up and down her abdomen. “You wanna come, baby?”

She nodded with her eyes clenched shut, burrowing deeper into the comfort of his arms as her hips rocked slowly into his palm.

He pressed a kiss to the furrow between her eyebrows, carefully moving his thumb to her clit. At the first pass of his thumb, she jolted, another soft noise escaping her. He soothed her, the hand on her torso stilling just below her breasts to hold her in place. “You’re doing so good. So, so good. I’ve got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Lowering his head, he licked into her mouth. These kinds of kisses—slow, melting kisses that left wetness on mouth corners and lipstick smears on cupid’s bows—were a recent development, an overwhelming indulgence that was quickly becoming an addiction.

Everything was sticky—their mouths, her thighs, his hands—and it felt so good. His thumb rubbed figure-eights into her clit and she gasped, a quiet puff of air, into his mouth.

He chuckled softly, moving his lips up her jaw to the space behind her ear that always made her shiver, laving a wide curve with the heat of his tongue. Her breath hitched as he blew a cool breath against the wet spot that he left, eyes opening to stare at him pleadingly. In. Out. In. Out. An emptiness she didn’t know she felt, nerve endings inside and out set ablaze.

He loved it. Loved the way she pressed closer, loved the dazed pucker of her lips against the hollow of his throat, loved the slick sounds of her arousal and the soft noises that she made. The hand on her ribcage slid upward to cup her breast, thumb and index finger coming together to pinch her nipple and pull gently.

“Hnh!” Her gaze flew to her chest, the fabric hiding her view of everything but the outline of his hand as he did the same to her other breast.

“So sensitive.” His voice was husky in her ear, deep, deep, deep, doing things to her insides. The thumb on her clit slowed, then stopped. Carefully, he scraped his nail against the engorged nub. She let out a surprised huff, hips bucking. “My wife is so fucking hot.”

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through her. She felt so swollen, clit, lips, entire mound puffy and flushed with blood.

He replaced his thumb with the heel of his hand, grinding harder against her. Her breaths came faster, hitching in her throat as she chased the friction against her clit.

“Look at this, baby,” he crooned. “Look at how perfectly your breast fits in my hand. Look at how I can cup your whole pussy in my palm.”

Her thighs clamped shut around his wrist as she came, the muscles in her stomach contracting so hard that she curled into herself, locking her in place as tremors shook her body. Slowly, she unclenched, only for another spasm to hit her. It came and went in waves, gradually weakening to slow, rhythmic pulses as she shivered against his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Her body now lax, he pulled his fingers from her heat and gently ran them across her entrance, playing with the wetness there. She made a soft protest, her own hand coming down to cover his and pull him away. He acquiesced, dragging a trail of slick up her body as he brought their joined hands up to her abdomen. Pride and possessiveness ripped through him as he contemplated her dainty hand covering his, their wedding rings nestled next to each other.

“Tired?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No. Just…” Her legs shifted in his lap. “…sticky.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” He pressed kisses to her eyelids until she blinked up at him. “Think you can sit up for me, baby?”

At her nod, he guided her to straddle his lap. Deftly, he undid her buttons and removed her shirt, discarding it over the edge of the bed. A soft tug at his shirt got his attention.

“You, too,” she said, blushing. “Off.”

He flashed her a teasing smile. “Anything you want, baby.”

The top buttons of his shirt were already undone, so he tugged it up and over his head, tossing it away. Placing one large hand on her thigh to stabilize her, he leaned over to rummage in his nightstand. She took the opportunity to admire the newly exposed skin, fingertips skimming over his broad chest and the ridges of his abdomen. What a beautiful man.

The muscles shifted as he turned back to her. He had a towel in his hand—one that she recognized. It was part of a set that they’d purchased as a joke after a long day of furniture shopping and wedding planning. The towels had been the coarsest, cheapest things in the store, and they had giggled when they tossed them into the cart. They’d even gotten them monogrammed, a wedding gift to themselves. Something frivolous to curb the impetuous urges they’d resisted all day.

The towel was rolled up along the short edge, and her eyebrows drew together as she wondered why. He kept it in his grip as his hand slid from her thigh up to the globe of her ass, coaxing her up onto her knees. Her hands found his shoulders for support as he dragged the towel against her inner thighs, making her shiver at the scratchiness. Then, ever-so-slowly, he pressed it to her center.

“Look at me,” he said softly, waiting until she made eye contact with him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Maintaining eye contact with her, he moved his hands to either end of the towel and began dragging it back and forth. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as pleasure shot through her, the roughness of the fabric stimulating her clit.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He leaned forward to suck at her nipple.

Her eyes closed, head tilting back. “Y-yeah.”

“Close your legs a little more.” She shuffled to obey. The compression made the fabric press harder against the sensitive skin of her core and thighs. He made the feeling even more devastating by pulling the ends of the towel higher, abandoning his slow sawing to draw tight U-shapes against her body.

“So wet.” His eyes were glued to the space between her legs and the growing damp spot on the towel. “You want me to go faster?”

“Please,” she breathed. She was building to a smaller peak this time, a faster rush to a little death. Her head dropped to the crook of his neck as her hips began tentatively moving against his rhythm, tilting forward as he dragged the towel back.

“Ah!” An unconscious effort to alleviate the burn beginning in her thighs made her slip lower over his lap, but his strong grip kept the towel where it was, now motionless against her core and digging deep into all the right places.

He pulled away, grinning. “Why don’t you sit down, baby?”

Gingerly, she set herself down over the vee of his legs. He repositioned the towel and, with the new leverage, pulled it even higher against her. The drag was even harsher at this angle, pulling soft pants from her lips.

Her orgasm came as a shudder down her spine as she clung to him, three breathy little moans against his ear. When it was over, he caught her lips with his, coaxing them open so that he could suck teasingly at her tongue. She rested her head on his shoulder when he pulled away, watching as he unrolled the towel and brought it up to his nose. The heavy musk of her arousal filled his senses.

“Fuck, you smell delicious. Next time, I’m going to taste you.” He brought a hand to his crotch, grip harsh around the outline of his erection as he began stroking up and down.

Gentle fingers pulled his hand away. “Let me.”

She sat back on her heels, hands at his waistband. There was something unbelievably erotic about the sight of her fingers carefully undoing the fly of his slacks. He watched with half-lidded eyes as she slipped her hand into the opening and pulled out his cock.

It was rigid and heavy in her hand, smooth skin stretched over steel. A sigh of satisfaction left her lips. So pretty. So big. So hard. And all hers. She tested the weight, moving her hand over and around the length of him. Her breasts prickled as hot-cold shivers of arousal ran up and down her spine.

“Your nipples just got so tight, baby. Does it turn you on to know that you got me so hard?” His hand went to her breast, thumb flicking the pebbled tip. “Wanna suck on these pretty little things again.”

She sighed again, eyes fluttering closed before pulling away from his touch.

“Later,” she said breathily.

A coquettish smile teased across her lips as she picked up the discarded towel. She made a show of draping it over his cock, tucking the ends neatly around him. Her fist worked up and down as she stroked him through the fabric.

Parts of the towel were still wet with her arousal; other parts were drying and already stiff. The contrasting textures combined with the heat of her perfect fist were maddening. He growled, a low, guttural noise that came from deep in his chest.

Drawn to the noise, she pressed a kiss over his diaphragm, tongue darting out to taste the skin there. His cock twitched in her hold. Unhurriedly, she trailed kisses and kitten licks across his torso, down to where the edge of the towel covered his lap. She mouthed against his lower abs and licked into his bellybutton, leaving a trail of her saliva across his abdomen.

It glistened in the light, making him swear. He loved having her wetness on him. A vision of a thicker fluid against his skin made him grunt as he pictured her grinding her pussy frantically against his stomach. He wanted all the wet she had to give—the want in her mouth, the slick from her cunt, the cream of her orgasms, the saltwater of her pleasure-tears—on his tongue and all over his body. He wanted to lick her all over, smear the musk of their sweat together, cover her inside and out with his cum. He wanted both of their bodies slippery with sex, sliding against each other endlessly as he fucked her over and over and over again.

Plush lips caught his upper lip and tugged. She kissed him lazily for a few moments before tilting her head to nudge his lips open. Her tongue lapped carefully at his, sipping at his taste as the desire that had gathered in their mouths began to intermingle.

A large hand cradled her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek as the soft suction of their lips gave way. His other hand reached to interlace with hers, pulling it away from his cock.

“Get it wetter.” His voice was a low rumble as he pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.

She tilted her head, giving him a questioning look.

“Sit on it, baby.” Hands at her waist urged her down.

She inhaled sharply at the feeling of his cock against her pussy. Even through the towel, she could feel its heat, its unyielding hardness against the soft give of her center. He palmed the globe of her ass, guiding her into a slow rock against him. Once she settled into the rhythm, he began thrusting against her.

Her breasts were aching and needy. Seeking relief, she pressed closer to him, hands at his shoulders pulling him in until her hard nipples dragged against his chest with every thrust.

The flimsy fabric barrier between them scrunched up more and more until the bottom half of his cock was uncovered and sliding bare against her slit. A calculated thrust had the head catching on her opening, and she froze.

Licking a stripe up her neck, he thrust against the same spot. Once. Twice. Three times.

She moaned.

“You like that, baby?” He was panting now.

Nodding, she wiggled her hips, trying to get him to do it again.

“I’ll make it even better.” The hand on her ass slid lower. An elegant finger hooked against her entrance, pulling her open. He thrust again.

Her breath caught, and he cursed as the rim of her pussy tightened around his cockhead.

His breathing was ragged, piercing the quiet of their bedroom as her airy gasps filled his ear. They were drunk on lust, a haze of pleasure soaking into their pores and overwhelming their senses as their bodies moved together.

A wrecked little noise left her lips, and he growled in response.

“You can do it, baby.” His voice was gravel now. “Make a mess all over my lap.”

He brought his thumb and forefinger to her clit, pinching and rubbing in the same motion.

“Ah!” She convulsed against him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, desperately trying to anchor herself as her orgasm buffeted her. He felt her pussy swell and bloom around his fingertip. The bud hidden deep within her folds was emerging, unfurling to release a rivulet of creamy liquid.

“Yesssss,” he hissed at the feeling of her cum trickling onto his cock. His hips thrust harder, picking up speed as he felt his balls get impossibly tighter and heavier. She moaned with pleasure as he jostled her in his lap.

With one last savage thrust, he came. There was so much of it, spilling all over her pussy and some getting caught inside. Her hips bucked at the feeling, and she moaned softly as he slumped against the headboard.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he reared up again. A look of concentration overtook his features as he gently toppled her over onto the bed. Leaning over her, he slid his fingers over her folds, gathering as much of his semen and her cream as he could. He pushed it all into her, pressing hard against her sweet spot until her eyes rolled back and she shoved his hand away.

“Stop that,” she pouted.

Unable to resist, he nipped at her full bottom lip. He played innocent. “Stop what?”

“You’re seducing me again.” She was a vision—skin flushed, lips kiss-swollen, hair a mess around her head. If anything, she was seducing him.

“Is it working?” His hand came to cup her center as he bit teasingly at her collarbone. “Are you feeling empty here, baby? Does your pretty pussy ache?”

Somehow, despite how sensitive she was, his deep voice lit a flicker of interest. The reasonable part of her brain squashed it. “It’s going to if you keep going. And not in a good way.”

“Sorry, dear.” He feigned repentance before grinning rakishly. “Want me to kiss it better?”

Her eyes widened comically. “Oh no…I married a sex god.”

Laughing, he collapsed next to her. His arm came around her to pull her into his chest. She slid a leg between his and a hand over his heart.

“Bath and then nap?” he suggested.

“Bath and then food and then nap,” she negotiated.

“Bath, nap, then food, and I’ll change the sheets while you fill the tub.”

“Deal.”

Actually, marriage had been an excellent decision.

[biollantebutch]

authority.

He'd been here plenty of times before. In his own mind, he was sure it had some sort of odd fixation on him, some reason to send his life into disarray just so it could have an excuse to drag him under again.

a discussion over tea, and some aesthetic disagreements.

Something about the way it stared at him always made Cameron's heart catch in his throat. Its expression always defaulted to either a disapproving glare or a faraway, glassy-eyed disinterest, and if it this trend was ever broken, he was sure he wouldn't be alive to see it. The silence in the room hung in the air like a woolen blanket, and the eye contact remained unbroken.

It chittered thoughtfully. Brought the ornate teacup to its mouth with a single long, dextrous tendril. The movement was practiced, too smooth to have any weight- like gravity had no hold on it. For all Cameron knew, the cup could've been empty. Something to toy with him, leave him in suspense even though he already knew the outcome. It wouldn't have been here if everything was running smoothly. Instead, he sat, trapped in a room with no doors or windows or really much of anything besides a single velvet armchair and a wooden coffee table with a polished, glossy finish. It sat on the floor before him, coiled into a loose pile with the unflappable grace of a lazing python. Any pretense of having any form underneath the stretched, warped skin of its gown was entirely discarded. Cameron knew exactly what he was dealing with.

He'd been here plenty of times before. In his own mind, he was sure it had some sort of odd fixation on him, some reason to send his life into disarray just so it could have an excuse to drag him under again.

"If you wanted some, you could have just asked." Somewhere high above his head, it scrutinized him with a hazy, half-lidded eye. It hadn't blinked once. It never did. He ceased gnawing his lip, picked at his cuticles instead. There was no way in hell it hadn't noticed, but the illusion of comfort was still something. Its attention (thankfully) drifted from his face to the teacup, swirling it around gently.

"English breakfast tea. Classic, really. People say it..." Holes burrowed their way through his flesh. Whether it was just from being watched or actually being consumed from the inside out, he wasn't sure. "...Calms the nerves. Don't take this the wrong way, now, but you look like you might need it."

"Ah- No, I'm fine, really. Really. There's no need to go out of your way." His voice quivered, more blatant than he would've cared for at the moment.

"Mmh." No acknowledgement beyond that. Whether that put him at ease or even more on edge, Cameron wasn't sure. Its eye still fixed itself firmly at the bottom of its teacup. "Suit yourself. It's lovely. Remind us of your plans again? In as much detail as you can muster, please." It knew already. He knew it knew already. A smile like the wicked curve of a scythe crept across its lips- it was looking him straight in the eyes again. Cameron's stomach dropped.

"We were planning on-"

"Planning on... renovating, yes?" Its sickly sweet voice caught, like it was holding back the urge to retch violently.

"Just-just a few rooms, really, as a focus test, the... the decor is really starting to date itself and you know how fast trends change and the effect that could have on guest in-out flow and-"

"We do." It lowered its tea to the coffee table. It couldn't even be called tea, really, just an inky black puddle of sludge with a faint herbal aroma. "What we want to know is why this concerns you. Any of this."

"It- We- I- Trying to... maximize potential profit-"

It tutted, another thin tendril of hair pressing itself against his lips, still contorted in a half-grimace of anticipation. Its pulse- if it could be called a pulse- thrummed slow and steady and undeniably alive. "Ah, you're right! It doesn't! Thank you for the reminder, we'd almost lost our focus." The tendril withdrew, seamlessly merging with the rest of its solid black curtain of flesh-or-hair. Like the plumage of a bird, it fanned out behind it, leaving Cameron stuck squarely in its shadow. His eyes ached- either the world was warping around it, or he was hallucinating. Both seemed equally likely. It reared up, the walls rippled, the ceiling bent gently inwards where its crown of horns grazed it, and he steeled himself.

Even then, he flinched as it lunged, a face the size of his entire body stopping mere inches from his own. There, it paused, savoring the sight of his heaving chest and white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair. Neither of them moved. The legs of the chair creaked across the floor as it was pulled in closer with the same hair, the vast shape before him rising to stare at him down its nose. His breath never let up.

"If we wanted anything changed-" Its head lolled to the side, bangs falling away from its face to reveal three lipless maws full of jagged teeth, each moving with their speech yet completely out of sync with one another. "- We would have changed it by now. You, Ashwood, have been here long enough to know this just as well as we do." The corners of its smile loosened, brow crinkling in mock-pity. "And you still insist on stunts like this. Be honest. Did you think that just this once, you'd be able to sneak under our radar? Because if that's the case, now may be the time for a refresher on how things work around here."

More tendrils clamped his wrists down to his chair. Cameron swallowed, thick and heavy. "Of course not. That- That won't be necessary. We won't... We won't go through with anything without your express permission."

They tightened. His fingertips started to numb. "Really? Because you seem very intent on trying to keep us out of our own business. Our business. When it comes down to it, you're just a face. It wouldn't be hard to replace you."

"I'm- I'm very well aware of this, ma'am. No action will need to be taken in that regard. You're free to do what you think is best for your image."

The tendrils released him, gaze softening as it stood to leave him a heaving mess in the plush velvet of the chair. It folded its arms at its chest, hip cocked slightly to the side as it waited for him to catch his breath. Cameron forced himself to breathe slower- the less it looked at him, the better. He was so, so tired of being looked at.

"No need for the ma'am nonsense, Ashwood. Just Carnelian is fine." Behind him, a wet, fleshy burbling erupted from the blank wall, and something new took form. "Door's over there. You're free to go. The sooner the better, really- it's Wednesday, and we have plans for the night that we don't need you interrupting."

On shaking legs, he rose, and bolted for the door. He didn't need to be told twice.

[hydrus]

Version 309

windows

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os x

app

tar.gz

linux

tar.gz

source

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I had a good week with a bunch of unusual work.

tumblr GDPR

When GDPR hit, tumblr introduced a click-through page for all European Union and European Economic Area users. Unfortunately, this page applies (likely unintentionally) to their old JSON API as well as regular pages, so it broke the current hydrus tumblr downloader.

I have written a simple 'login script' to perform this click-through manually, so if you are an EU/EEA user, please hit network->DEBUG: misc->tumblr click-through. The magic cookie you get lasts a year, so we have plenty of time to come up with a better solution. I understand this click-through event is linked to tumblr logins, so as I roll out a proper login system, we'll have more control here.

I live in the US, so testing for this was not super convenient. It appeared to work for a couple of EU/EEA users, but it may not for certain countries or may suddenly no longer be needed if tumblr changes how or where it applies to their CDN. I don't know enough about the implementation or the law's details to know for sure, so please send your feedback. This--and any other sites that might be forced to switch in the coming weeks--is likely something we'll just have to keep a continuing eye on.

video thumbnails

Videos (but not gif yet) now generate their thumbnails 35% in by default! You can also change the 35% value under options->media. You should see far fewer black-frame thumbnails for your videos now!

This was a highly requested feature. While I had originally planned to wait for a full overhaul of the system that would introduce animated thumbnails and maybe even an 'interestingness' scanner to pick the 'best' frame and discard blank ones entirely, after thinking about it more and talking with several users the past few months, I decided to have a brief look at the actual code and saw I could hack in some simple support. I cannot promise it works for files with unusual/inaccurate frame counts, so please link/send in any video files that error out.

I will eventually write an automated maintenance routine to regenerate all your old videos' thumbnails (and some other stuff that still needs a rescan) in idle time, but if you can't wait, turn on help->advanced mode and right click the selection of files you want to regenerate--there should be an option at the bottom to reparse and rethumbnail them.

downloader stuff

I've added parsers for inkbunny and gelbooru 0.2.0 (by default in the client, that means rule34.xxx, tbib, and xbooru), so they now support drag-and-drop and, for gelbooru, parse a little more info than before.

The multiple watcher now has a pause button, better sorting, and will prefer to accept url drag-and-drops on the current multiple watcher page, if multiple are open but one is currently selected.

The way the client performs its 'Have I seen this URL before?' test is now much more strict. False positives should now be far less common when some booru attaches a bare username/artist twitter/patreon/whatever URL as the source for a file. If you have been hit by this, let me know if it all magically fixes this week if you 'try again' the affected URLs, and if it doesn't, please let me know the details. I am still working on this and will roll out more tools to control url-checking behaviour.

Advanced users: The HTML parsing formula's tag rules can now search for tags that have certain 'string' content, like 'Original image'. This is very helpful in certain situations--check out my new gelbooru 0.2.0 file url content parser if you want to see an example!

siblings and parents logic improve

Much like the video thumbnails above, I decided to hack-in some better sibling and parents logic this week rather than wait for a neater complete overhaul.

So: now, if you create a new parent pair c->p, c will now also get any parents of p, and and parents of them (i.e. grandparents are now added to children recursively). Also, if you add a sibling pair a->b, a and all of a's siblings will get all the parents and grandparents (etc...) of b and b's siblings, and vice versa. Basically, parents now add recursively and all the siblings get all the parents they are supposed to. It isn't perfect yet, but it is better.

And again, I expect to write a maintenance routine in the future to retroactively fill in the gaps here.

Linux stability

I have put a bunch of time into improving Linux stability, which has, on-and-off, been randomly horrible since the wx update. I haven't caught everything, but I think things are better. Please continue to give feedback--whether you notice any difference at all, and if any activity in particular is still likely to cause a crash a few minutes later.

full list

wrote a fix for the tumblr GDPR issue under _network->DEBUG: misc->do tumblr GDPR click-through_. you will also get a popup about this on update

the tumblr downloader will try to detect the GDPR problem and present a similar popup guiding you to the GDPR click-through solution

the client and server now generate video (but not gif yet) thumbnails 35% in by default. the client can now change this percentage value under options->media. this was highly requested and was being put off for a longer rewrite, but I figured out a simple way to hack it in. please let me know if you get failures

on adding a parent, all files with the child tag will now also get all applicable grandparents (with no limit on recursive generations and dealing with accidental loops)

on adding a sibling, all files with any of the siblings will now also get all applicable parents and grandparents for the whole group. a maintenance call to retroactively fill in the sibling/parent gaps that are now filled will also come soon

this logic still does not apply in cross-service situations, which _will_ likely have to wait for a big data/gui overhaul and us figuring out what we actually want here

added a simple pause/play button to the multiple watcher

if the multiple watcher is set to catch watchable url drag and drop events and the current page is a multiple watcher, this current page will catch those new urls (as opposed to the _leftmost_ multiple watcher)

improved some thread unpause logic which was failing to lock pause during 404 status

the multiple watcher should now ignore case when it sorts by subject

added url class and file page parser for inkbunny (so this site is now supported in drag and drop!). it fetches creator tag, some artist-made unnamespaced tags, source time, and md5

added file page parser for gelbooru 0.2.0, which by default works for rule34.xxx, tbib, xbooru but certainly should work for a bunch of others. it fetches source time and source url

html formula parsing rules can now additionally test the tag 'string' using a standard StringMatch object. this greatly helps to parse otherwise indistinguishable 'a' tags that have string 'Original image' and so on

the 'have I seen this url's file before?' pre-import test is now much more strict and will cause fewer accidental false-positive 'already in db'/'deleted' results:

the url pre-import test now does not trust source urls if they do not have a url class

the url pre-import test now no longer trusts urls that are supposed to only be mapped to one file but are actually mapped to multiple

this url pre-import test now treats url-classless original post urls and intended file urls with a special level of trust

urls are now stored in the db in a more powerful and in-future easily searchable way--your db will take a moment to convert to the new format on update

did some prep work for multi-file post urls (like pixiv manga) but did not have time to finish it

the filename tagging options panel (in the 'add tags based on filename' of file import dialog and import folder dialog) now updates its tags/list 0.5s after the last change event, which means typing on a giant list will not cause megalag

improved stability of some client-screen coordinate conversion

misc bmp handling stability improvements

improved some parsing ui stability when example data gets set after the dialog is closed

improved some misc dialog close stability

converted all but one final ui update timer to the new job scheduling system

there are still problems with linux stability--I will continue to work on it

an ugly (but basically harmless) shutdown exception sometimes caused by Animations being a bit slow on deleting their underlying bmps _should_ be fixed

the export files dialog now generates its paths in sort order, meaning (1), (2) de-dupe filename suffixes should now be generated nicely in order

the network domain manager should now always chase API URL links to get the right parser

made some 'the db is broke, let's try to fix it' tag recovery code more forgiving

misc improvements to some media indexing backend, which may fix some unusual session ghost files

fixed the 'sure it is ok to close this importing page' dialog to also veto on a 'cancel' event, rather than just a 'no'

added a guide to database_migration.html on how to move the db from just an HDD to straddle both an SSD and HDD.

cleaned up the help->debug menu a bunch

added run fast/slow memory maintenance calls to help->debug->data actions

misc cleanup

next week

I would like to take the week from the 6th to 13th easy so I can shitpost E3, so I'd like to concentrate on tying up loose ends. I'd love to get pixiv manga pages working along with other multi-page Post URLs like tweets and Artstation posts--I did a little on this this week, but then ten other things like GDPR swamped me.

#release

[ambiencespectrum]

Rococo Kids

Fandom: Homestuck. Pairing: Dave Strider <> Rose Lalonde. Words: 5,060. Additional Tags: One Shot, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Hurt/Comfort. Cuddling & Snuggling. Trigger Warnings: temporary character death, suicide attempt, past child abuse.

AO3 version.

A/N: i haven’t written for these two in ages, let alone ever actually posted on tumblr for them. guess it’s time to try it.

He finds her floating there, suspended and pale. The full-length lavender dress she’s wearing is drifting like smoke around her form, loose as the pale hair haloing her head. The black of her lips stand out stark against her ivory skin, smudged on the left side like a bleeding ink stain.

Like this, Dave unwillingly thinks of how some people would describe his sister as unearthly and beautiful. Mostly, he just thinks this is sad.

“Dammnit, Rose,” He mutters, and lets his sneaker skim the surface of the pool. The one Rose has drowned herself in. “We talked about this shit.”

She remains as still and lifeless as she has for the past five minutes- exactly that, as Dave has that thought- and he sighs. Sometimes Rose has the sense to let resurrection do its thing and get back up on her own, and sometimes it’s like this.

Rose floats along the aqua green bottom of her pool, encased in water that is clearer than glass. The only disturbance of the surface comes from Dave’s brief toeing of it, adding to that impression.

Dave kinda really hates looking at her like this, even if he gets it. Kanaya is away with Karkat and won't be back for at least another few days; special moirail retreat from the public eye. Like Rose clearly has, Dave has also been getting away with things while his partner is absent. He only came by to see Rose because... he's not sure. Maybe because he wanted her to talk him out of stuff, or maybe because he somehow sensed he needed to talk her out of stuff.

Looks like he's too late to, fuck.

He captchalogues his sneakers, socks, and hoodie, and lets himself fall out of the air above the water. The pool is practically frigid as he splashes into it, and Dave is even less impressed with how his night is going. He swims downwards in long strokes, descending towards his sister. His aviators stay on his face probably from sheer force of will.

Rose is limp and colder than ice as he grabs her; the dress’s long folds tangling them both as Dave kicks around for a moment, remembers he can just fly them out, and does so. Pulling her out of the water takes away the effect of weightlessness, and Rose nearly drags him off balance as her stupidly heavy dress acts like deadweight.

Not that Rose isn’t literal deadweight, hanging in his arms like giant stiff porcelain doll. It’s only a little less disturbing than it could be, since this isn’t the first time.

Dave’s hair sticks to his sunglasses as he flies them to the edge, water dripping everywhere from them both. He sets his sister down gently on the tiles, sitting back a few feet and waiting for the rebound to start.

Only a Just or Heroic death can kill a god. Rose dunking herself in the nearest waterbody, for whatever reason it is tonight, hardly counts.

Rose jerks a few minutes later- two and twenty-six seconds, she’s resisting only a little now- and gaudy multicolor light covers her body. It’s blinding, and then fades to reveal that life has colored Rose’s cheeks again. Of course, Rose also starts choking on the residual water in her throat.

Dave rolls Rose on her side as she coughs violently, rubbing her bare back as she spits chlorine filled water onto the pool deck. The backless dress remains wet despite the resurrection because God Tier shit only extends to their game clothes. This is probably a lovely number Kanaya made for her wife, and while Dave knows shit all about fabrics, he thinks his sister has ruined it thoroughly.

Rose shivers and keeps taking gasping breaths, recovering from being dead for- Dave checks the history around Rose, and finds she’s been down for five hours and twelve minutes.

And she didn’t even text him before she did it. That hurts in a weird, uncomfortable way, and Dave doesn’t appreciate the feeling.

He’s mad at her, because they promised each other, but he’s also got no leg to stand on right now.

So Dave doesn’t point out that Rose broke their promise. He just slides an arm under her side as she settles from the coughing fit and helps her to sit up. Her dress sticks to her everywhere, revealing quite clearly Rose Lalonde, co-queen of a kingdom, goddess of insight and luck and light, saw fit to discard her bra tonight and wear a dress that goes sheer when wet.

Dave knows more than he’d like to know about Rose’s body, considering the years between them, and the years they spent on the meteor, so only the faint impression of old earth’s oh shit boobsattitude lingers. This is nothing compared to other shit they got up to as young and depressed teenagers. He just brushes the lank white hair out of Rose’s face and focuses on her strikingly purple eyes.

“You’re lucky some poor chess guy didn’t find you,” Dave informs Rose. “Would’ve given them trauma induced nightmares for the rest of their life, finding their god queen biting the big one in her own pool.”

“Which is why we got rid of the staff months ago, you know that,” She informs him right back, twice as hoarse in voice. She’s haughty in tone, but that’s just her default state. It would be more worrisome if she were to apologize.

Dave pulls his soaked t-shirt away from his chest, grimacing as it peels off his skin. Rose doesn’t even bother with her own clothes, just drawing her legs to herself and wrapping her arms around them. They sit in their joint puddle of unhappy feelings for a while, letting the chill creep into their bones until it’s more unbearable than the silence.

“You look like shit,” Dave comments eventually. Rose is back to full health, no longer corpse colored, but she still looks like something… drowned. Yeah.

“In the sanctity of my own home, I would think I am permitted to be less than stunning,” Rose replies derisively. “The double standards for gender roles were left behind three universes ago, Dave. A woman is allowed to look like shit rather than the epitome of beauty whenever she pleases.”

Dave tilts his head down, lips a thin line. “Wear a wet dress and ditch the undergarments if you want, but I’m pretty sure suicide is still illegal, Rose.”

Rose sniffs. “We’re gods, Dave. We can’t die unless we meet the qualifications of a nonsensical and interpretive set of rules.”

“You’re heart wasn’t beating for over five fucking hours,” Dave says, somewhat harshly. Rose goes quiet. “I’m not trained in any kind of medical expertise, but shit, Rose. That’s pretty dead.”

His hands twitch in his lap and Dave curls them into fists to avoid shaking. It gets easier but it doesn’t, handling someone being dead. Handling Rose being dead. Dave’s eyes sting dryly and he resists the urge to rub them. He’s too tired for this shit.

Rose runs a hand through her hair, dragging it backwards into a messy slick. It leaves her face exposed and reveals her long lashes, which stand out under the light from above them as she blinks once, twice. She shuts her eyes, sighing.

“I have no excuse,” She says softly, after a long beat. Dave grunts.

“What was it this time?” He asks.

“Kanaya is turning forty- ah, no. Nineteen sweeps. She’ll be nineteen sweeps this year,” Rose says, and looks so tired as she does. “I scarcely look eleven.”

Dave does a few calculations in his head- Rose tries hard to use Alternian chronology for Kanaya, but Dave is a little stuck on human earth calendars, given his powers and all- and comes up with forty and some months for Kanaya, and twenty-five for Rose.

“Midlife crisis, then,” Dave summarizes. Rose titters tightly.

“If only it were that.”

He shrugs. “Not like we’re in different boats here.”

Rose slides a violet iris to him, and reaches across the short space between them. With her thin little fingers, Rose slides his sunglasses off. Only she and Karkat are allowed to do that, and it’s only because of that fact he lets her.

Rose hooks his glasses on his shirt collar, lifting her hand back up to delicately trace the black circles under his eyes.

“And you deal with it in such a comparably stellar manner,” She responds finally, cupping his cheek and examining the sallowness Dave knows is in his cheeks. “How long has it been?”

Dave doesn’t answer.

“Dave.” Rose’s eyes glint. “How long.”

He relents. “One hundred and fifty-two hours, thirty-nine minutes, four seconds and counting.” Gods can go longer than the average schmuck before hallucinating, and even longer before they die.

Rose frowns at him, and her eyes show how much the number hurts her. She rubs his cheek with her thumb, biting her smudged black lips. “You didn’t tell me you stopped sleeping again.”

“You didn’t tell me you were looking to literally drown your sorrows, either,” Dave shoots back, and dislikes it when Rose’s hand drops from his face. He misses its presence, even if he’s a knot of frustration and hurt right now.

“Communication, for all our lengthy conversations, was never our strong point, was it?” Rose observes softly. She curls around herself again, looking at anything other than Dave.

“Nah,” Dave says, dropping his eyes to his soaking jeans. “Kind of a shitty irony.”

Rose doesn’t respond, and they sit like the emotionally stunted, uncommunicable assholes they are in the puddle of misery they made themselves. They’re supposed to support each other, look after one another and make sure they don’t do stupid self-destructive shit like this. Some moirails they are.

“We’re fucking awful at this,” Dave mutters, tired in a lot of ways he’d rather not be.

“An apt assessment,” Rose agrees. He hears the nearly hidden regret in her words, because even now they’re cagey about how they feel when they’re upset. Especially when they’re caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing.

Actions are a little easier, though. Like reaching out and pulling on the hem of Rose’s dress, silently asking. Her hand slips around Dave’s almost immediately, their fingers sliding together and holding tight.

A moment later, and Dave and Rose are winding around each other in a wet, desperate hug. He puts his face in her damp shoulder, smelling pool and his sister’s skin. Against his ear he feels her pulse, hears the air going in and out of her throat, and hugs her tighter to press the sensations into himself.

She’s alive, she’s alive and neither of them can die. Neither of them can die and as much as that terrifies them sometimes, it’s a god damn blessing here and now.

They can’t die, but without Rose Dave knows he’d find a way. She’s told him she’d do the same if it were reversed.

Rose’s sharp nails dig into his back as she holds onto him, a shuddery breath moving through her thin body and coming out hoarse. Dave’s eyes aren’t just stinging from lack of sleep anymore, and they’re considerably wetter as Rose makes a quiet little sound by his ear. Something close to a cry, but too short and dainty to be.

Sometimes she sobs for hours, sometimes he does. Tonight they just hold onto each other and blink tears away until they can breathe right again. It’s not so bad they breakdown completely, or maybe it’s so bad they’ve relapsed too far into old habits to do so. Dave can’t tell.

He doesn’t really care.

They’re both shivering, chilled by the air and by the mass of self-inflicted feelings inside themselves. It’s a lot less cold with Rose halfway into his lap and keeping her arms locked around his shoulders.

Dave rubs one hand up and down her back, feeling the bumps of her spine and ribs. He feels her hands find one scar he’s got on the back of his neck, a particularly nasty one from a strife when he tried turning his back on Bro to run away- her fingers run along it, icy to the touch, and different enough from the agony of steel and hot blood that Dave barely thinks on the memory longer than a second.

“I told you why I fell off the wagon, Dave,” Rose says in a hushed voice, leaving the scar be and moving to tangle her fingers in his wet hair. “Tell me why you did.”

Dave shrugs, keeping his world dark as he hides in his sister’s neck. “Nothing really. Dumb shit.” She waits, massaging his scalp, and Dave continues after he wrangles his own feelings into submission again. “It’s his birthday next month.”

Rose hums; the sound warm and full in Dave’s ear. She doesn’t ask who the person is, because she knows. “And?”

“And I made a dumb mistake by getting lost in my head,” Dave continues. He can usually handle the weird hang up he has on Bro’s birthday- they never even did much for it, it makes no sense- but he fucked up this year. “Ended up wandering around the city, headphones on and everything- and I just, forgot to pay attention to where I was headed. There’s too many parks in trolltopia, you know? I can’t tell them all apart even when I’m on the ball, and fuck if I know west from east when I’m full on dissociating.”

Rose keeps massaging his scalp, patient.

“Strife hobbyist group,” Dave finally explains, voice dropping low despite his attempts to keep it level. “There were swords involved. I wasn’t even all that near, Jesus, but I just- got stuck, and it’s fucking stupid but I couldn’t move until they stopped strifing and noticed their local godly ruler was having a stroll right by their weekend sparring field.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. They might look young but he’s a grown man. He hates being unable to handle this, even now. “Should’ve just walked away instead of staring into space like a braindead tool.”

“And I should have confided in you that I was being drawn back into a spiral of fear and self-loathing again,” Rose comforts. She presses her lips to his neck, sighing through her nose. It’s warmer than either of them are. “We both made some bad judgements as of late.”

Dave draws back, partly reluctant to. Rose watches him through her lashes, and like always, it feels like she’s seeing way deeper than most people ever will into him. Dave kinda wonders why it feels like that, when really, there’s not that much depth to him at all.

People (Rose, Karkat) tell him otherwise. He still doesn’t quite believe them.

Dave looks over his sister, who is pale as ever and resembles strongly a white cat dunked in water. Almost too thin everywhere she isn’t gently curvy, and built out of somewhat vicious tendencies, meticulously kept aloofness, and an impulsive streak ten miles long.

She’s beautiful, even if she’s as much a mess as Dave is.

Because they’re alone and it feels right, he leans close again and presses his lips to her forehead; then tilting his chin down and putting their heads together. Her eyes are close enough they blur into whites and purples, and Dave counts the nearly invisible freckles under them.

“I think we need to actually read one of those handbooks Karkat gave us,” Dave says wryly. His partner used to unsubtly leave moirallegiance handbooks out everywhere when he and Rose first started figuring this out. Dave never actually read one, since he’d thought it can’t be that different from just being friends/estranged siblings, right?

“I already have,” Rose says, because of course she has. “I can’t say I’ve been all that good about following the advisory tips, unfortunately.”

“I live with the guy who’s favorite hobby is dissecting romcom relationship dynamics. Loudly. I thought I could get by with just osmosis.”

“Perhaps relationship counselling?” She suggest.

Dave makes a please no noise, grimacing deeply. Rose huffs. “I take that as a no.” She pauses, and then says softly, “Dave, I’m sorry.”

“Oh shit, a sincere and straightforward apology from Rose Lalonde? I think the world’s ending again,” Dave doesn’t flinch when Rose draws away from him to give a flat stare, but he does feel a little bad for interrupting. “Sorry, go on.”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “I attempt to apologize like a civil, non-complex afflicted individual, and you mock me for it. My therapist will be in tears of frustration at my lost progress.”

“The day you actually set foot in a real therapist’s office will be the day you give up overanalyzing every Freudian slip our friends make. And you have so much fun with John’s dickups. I mean slipups.”

Rose smiles faintly. “No you don’t.”

“Nah, definitely do not,” Dave smiles back. “But seriously, say what you need to. I, uh, I’ll keep things mature until you’re done.”

Rose’s shoulders rise, and then fall. She still looks tired, if less suicidal. “I’m sorry, Dave. We both may have been keeping our rough patches from one another, but I am the one who took the most direct action of self-destruction.”

Dave quirks an eyebrow. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have dropped in a few more days.”

“There’s a difference between keeping yourself awake until sheer exhaustion knocks you out, and holding yourself underwater until you drown.”

“Not much. Exhaustion kills you when it gets to a point.”

“A watery asphyxiation by my own hand is still more severe than that.”

“So’s drugging yourself with enough energy shots to give your heart an arrhythmia.”

Rose purses her lips. “Let’s agree to disagree. Competitive comparisons of mental health failings helps no one. Anyway,” She says before Dave can butt in. “I offer you my apology for what I did, whether you accept it or not.”

Dave doesn’t hesitate in his response. “Course I do, Lalonde. But you gotta listen to mine, too, if you’re going to get all pale like that.” He smirks at her. Rose gives him an exasperated look. “I’m sorry, too. We literally had an in writing accord that when we get bad, we fucking talk to each other about it. I spent way too long an afternoon on that thing with you to ignore its existence now. We both broke it, not just you. So… I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Rose replies, taking his hands into hers as he reaches for them. His are a little bigger, now that puberty is long done, and they’ve got scars in a hundred different spots hers don’t. But they’re still close enough in resemblance he sees their relation.

It’s a comfort, to know that however badly they fuck themselves up, lie and keep secrets from each other- genetics ensures they’ve got a connection that won’t break by any means.

Maybe they can’t die, and will have to watch the people they love age in ways they won’t- Jane and Dave together can rewind their ages, regenerate youth, but it’s just not the same as being a God Tier- but at least through all that, they’ll have each other no matter how long time stretches on.

Dave feels he’s still riding the unfortunate bump of fresh trauma from earlier, the way his thoughts keep getting mushy with his consent. It’s not something that really bothers him in the moment, wrapping himself back around Rose and sinking into the mutual apology and acceptance. Alone on the pool deck together, they sit and just mend themselves in the presence of their twin, not talking for a length of time.

  “Kanaya will be so disappointed,” Rose mourns, once they try to stand again. Her dress still sticks to her in places, and otherwise hangs heavy everywhere else. “I think this was a birthday gift.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Dave snorts. “You can’t just toss yourself in the drink and be done with it. Nah, you need to be a twelve out of ten and ready for the president’s cocktail party before you’re fit to drink your poison.”

“Last I checked, we have no presidents to speak of anymore.”

“Eh, old world government tiers still work if it’s in the presence of in-the-know individuals.”

“Hispter.”

“Cauldron calling the kettle black. Don’t think your Sappho collection ever got forgotten.”

Rose sniffs. “Classic lesbian literature is quite different from an outdated patriarchy based power system, thank you.”

“Fair, but you’re a hipster in your own ways, Rose.”

She doesn’t respond beyond a dismissive hum. They’ve had this conversation nine times already and it’s gone in loops for hours if they let it. Best to wait until they’re dry to start it up properly.

Rose leaves the ground, stepping into thin air and flying out across the pool towards the exit. Dave follows slowly, and watches as her dress trails against the water. The ripples they leave disturb the mirror perfect surface a third time since he found her.

Dave hooks an arm around Rose’s waist, and she returns the gesture. He banishes the memory of her lifeless body under that rippling surface, even though he knows it’ll come back to haunt him at least a few times before this can be processed completely.

Because carapaciens have only one mode when it comes to their gods- undying adoration is the least extravagant way to say it- the veritable mansion Rose and Kanaya ended up in is barely not a castle. The swimming pool on the middle level isn’t even the most lavish thing.

They pass by the bigger rooms, headed for the one they always use when it’s been a Night for them. It’s on the eastern side, where the sun will rise tomorrow and shine through the curtains to burn their sleep deprived retinas out of their skulls and force them into the land of the living. A full-proof plan that usually works if one of them doesn’t shut the curtains and pull the other back under the thick comforter.

There’s an ensuite bathroom attached to the wide bedroom, big enough that it makes the tiny closet washroom in Dave’s old Houston apartment look even smaller than it had been. The whole set up might just be larger than that old place; thick carpets and actual drapes and furniture that’s fit for royalty. Dave drops onto the first loveseat he passes, dampening the rich purple fabric with his soaked clothes.

Rose bends briefly near him, turning her back and gesturing vaguely at the straps holding her dress up. Dave obliges her and unhooks the clips. As she stands and walks away, he decaptchalogues his phone to start mindlessly scrolling social media while she takes first shower. He doesn’t even glance over as she drops her dress at the door, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

When Rose emerges again, wrapped in a wide and thick towel, she looks better all around. Dave stands and takes his turn, dropping a kiss to her temple as they pass each other and then dropping his itchy, half dried clothes on top of Rose’s. He shuts the door as she starts getting changed in the bedroom, and walks right into the still running shower. It’s hot enough it burns a little, chasing the chill out of his system.

Dave shuts it off when he no longer feels the itch of dried chlorine on his skin. There are still plenty of big warm towels for him on the rack, and he wraps one around his waist. Another smaller one goes around his head, just for the hell of it.

Rose is on the bed already when he walks out; dressed in a baggy old t-shirt proclaiming Foxy Grandpa she probably alchemized years ago, and soft pajama pants. Her hair is still a mess, and her black lipstick has been wiped clean. She’s brought out her laptop and is probably scrolling through whatever her video library has to offer.

Rose slides her eyes from the screen to Dave’s face, and she gives a faint smile. He decaptchalogues his own pajamas into his arms, smiling back at her before he starts changing. They’ve been around the Harley-Englishs way too long to be bothered by nudity, let alone each other’s. The tenth time Dave wandered into Jade’s personal garden and she was sans shirt under the hot sun, he’d gotten over it. Mostly.

It’s different with Rose, versus Jade who is twice their size in a lot of ways and not his sister. It’s mostly like glancing at a reflection of himself, really. Just with slightly different parts and heights.

Dave slides onto the cloudlike mattress once his undershirt and shorts are on, scooting to the middle of the bed where Rose is. With a mountain of pillows propping them up, they settle into the position they want to have tonight.

Dave opts to put his head on her chest, listening to the steady tempo of her heart for definitely trauma related reasons. Rose’s cheek rests on the top of his skull, arm under his neck and holding him close. Their legs end up tangling together as they rest their hipbones against one another; sharing residual warmth of their showers. Rose sets the laptop to the side Dave isn’t on, screen angled so they can both see as she presses play.

Her hand paps his cheek only once, and he returns the favor. It’s mostly just a formal recognition thing for them, rather than the soppy calm-down switch like it is for trolls. Cuddling like octopi works just fine on its own for their informal piling.

“Can’t believe troll Jaden Smith got an anime before I did,” Dave mumbles as the pastel opening credits begin. It’s considered a classic now days, and Dave feels weirdly old since he remembers when it first came out. “Still haven’t gotten one either, damn. I need to get on that shit.”

“What genre will you be classifying it as?” Rose asks, tangling her fingers in his hair for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe sci-fi or something, but I’m also still leaning towards maid café.”

“And the story?”

“Underground government revolution, duh.”

“Excellent choice, brother dear. Keeping to what our family knows best, are we?”

“Roxy and Dirk are too good a material source to waste.”

“As is our alternate selves’s history as resistors.”

“Obviously.”

They run through the first half of the episode before Dave starts to really wind down. He’s gone days without sleep, out of some kind of fear/self-punishment reasoning, and he’s beyond absolutely exhausted despite his pretending to be otherwise. Rose’s nails are gentle against his scalp and her body warmly pressed to his, so Dave’s mind is relaxing out of its sleep resistant anxiety without his prompt. Even if he has nightmares- and inevitably he will- Dave will wake up right next to his sister and moirail. He’s safe.

If he wakes up thrashing, fighting against spectres of his past or trying to rescue his drowning sister, Rose will just hold his face and make him focus on her, on the present. She’s the god of clarity in a manner of speaking; she’s the only one who can snap him out of an attack besides Karkat. And not just because of her powers.

If and when Dave will wake up, surfacing from a nightmare that sends his heart beating painfully fast in his chest and leaves him breathless, she’ll be right there to talk him down, kiss his temples and cheeks and keep holding him until the shakes fade. And if and when Rose wakes up like that, stifling cries about what she’s lost and may yet lose, shivering from images of things that’ve been in her head and the way her wife’s eyes gain wrinkles as years past- Dave will take a turn holding her close until she breathes evenly again, regaining sense of where she is and who she’s with. He’ll look her in the eye and make her look back, cupping her cheek gently and pressing his lips to her forehead, and they’ll tangle themselves up until everything passes and its morning again.

They’re not picture perfect moirails, but they’re there for each other as much as they can be. It works majority of the time, and they make up for it later when they falter. And that’s good enough.

Dave sinks into the heavy exhaustion inside him, not quite as afraid any longer while he’s wrapped around Rose. She cuddles him as close as he does her, and Dave drifts off to the sound of her breathing.

When morning- afternoon, nearly- rolls around, they’ve only woken each other once in the night, and Dave feels considerably less like he’s dying slowly. Rose, in turn, seems considerably less like she really did die the night prior.

Before they haul themselves upright again, to check in with their friends and partners and put real food into their stomachs, they lie around in the enormous and soft bed. Talking quietly and touching intimately, just enjoying the calmness that comes from being together and around no one else. They’ve become better practiced over the years, opening up around their friends and loved ones- but it’s still hard, and sometimes they can only manage it with each other.

It’s good, just lying together and talking in circles. It’s what they should do more often, so weeks and nights they’ve been having don’t happen.

When they do sit up from the covers and pillows, Dave watches his sister pull open fully the heavy drapes, pushing outwards the panes and letting the afternoon sun inside. It illuminates the pale white of her everything, and makes her shine gold.

Standing in the open sunlight, lavender eyed and glowing bright, Dave finds again he will always strongly prefer her like this. Sleep rumpled and sunlit as the open window blows her short hair, rather than elegantly dressed and still like an empty shell against the bottom of a pool.

That preference is an easily guessed one, seeing as the smile Rose turns on him says she knows exactly what he’s thinking of her at the moment.

“We’ll talk next time,” She promises him, and that’s enough for Dave.

#daverose #dave strider #rose lalonde #fanfic #homestuck #moiraillegiance #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: sucide mention #she's fine obviously #just a little dead at first #(a/n: been feeling really down lately so i projected strongly onto these two #feel better now that i have.) #dave #rose

[varondiil]

--- To say this particular day of Frostfall was cold would be to say the sky was blue; such was the obviousness of a statement in the streets of Whiterun. Skyrim, by default, was a cold country. Sure, it did not hold true for some such holds as the lands of central Eastmarch, but that was overwhelmed so by the majority of the rest of the nordic homelands’ climes as to be negligible.       Of course, this was the last thing to cross Varondil’s mind as the sound of metal piercing wood resounded from behind, and an arrow shaft protruded not exactly where his head had been moments prior.      This, understandably, drew his attention, and that of the other patrons of Whiterun’s market. Far across the snow-dusted cobbles stood a young lass, Breton if Varondil’s gaze was true, clad in heavy furs. More important than that was the hunting bow she brandished, even now nocking a second arrow.      The fury that twisted her face was enough reason for the Falmer to drop his wicker basket --- scattering the meager goods he’d purchased --- and roll behind the closest market stall.       Not a second too soon. The unmistakable noise of arrow on wood sounded again, shaking the entire stall; and the mer saw with some surprise that the broadhead had penetrated through and through, sticking three inches of its length through the inner door to the understall cupboard.       Impressive draw weight, he noted, before peeking his head to spy the girl who even now approached, third arrow nocked and ready to fly.      ❝ Traitor! ❞ screamed her voice, with such fury and conviction that it gave the Falmer pause. It couldn’t be. He stood, then, completely uncaring as to the real danger of being speared through and through with a war arrow, despite the repercussions of such in daylight. White-gold hues paid great attention to the face of his assailant, beneath the furs that shielded her face from the biting wind.      He didn’t even notice that suddenly the market was void of bodies, everyone having scattered at the first arrow. Nor did he question why no guards as yet had come to scene, for surely they’d have been alerted by alarm cries from the patronage of the Plains District. No, all attentions were given to this, the girl with an arrow honed to his breast, face etched with unbound rage.       ❝ ...Illo? ❞ came his voice, breathless and soft, a single step forth crunching ice against stone. The arrow was loosed, but once again was its target missed --- Varondil more than capable of dodging the path of an arrow in such controlled circumstances.       ❝ Illo! ❞ He cried, then, momentarily forgetting the setting of this reunion in his joy.      ❝ Don’t come near me! ❞ sneered the Breton, and such was the venom of her tongue that it very well forced the breath from his lungs, a cold numbness overcoming any lingering joy he felt upon realization of the hate in her gaze. ❝ Not another step. ❞      ❝ Please, Illo, ❞ he began, the reality of her ire bubbled fresh in his mind. It was a sobering memory, that, twisting his face in one of apology, of sorrow. ❝ Let us talk --- ❞      ❝ If I hear another word from your poisonous trap it will be too soon! ❞ Spat she, loosing a fourth that he was too close to dodge. Instead the shaft was clutched within the moment in his pale fist, discarding the projectile as nonchalantly as though he were tossing aside scrap paper. A moment more and he had closed the gap, tearing the bow from her grasp in an attempt to get the woman to listen.      It did not work. A fist crashed hard into his chin, both succeeding in surprising the elf and driving him back some steps, fresh pain radiating from the point of impact. The tang of blood filled his mouth as he recovered, flexing his jaw in the realization she split open his lip.      ❝ That was deserved --- ❞      ❝ That and a thousand more pains, monster, ❞ cut in Illo, advancing quickly with knife unsheathed. A struggle ensued as he tried to restrain his former friend, succeeding in wrenching the knife as well away, but rewarded only with an impotent scream, and another strike to the ribs. ❝ Monster! ❞ She half-screamed, the sobbing hitch to her voice bringing to his attentions the very obvious tears that stained her frost-tinted face. Another strike, shoving him back, though he made no move to prevent her assault.  ❝ You were my friend! ❞      ❝ I still am, ❞ Varondil cut in, dodging another swing. ❝ Illo, calm yourself, listen to me! ❞      ❝ STOP TALKING AND FIGHT ME DAMN YOU. ❞      This brought them both to halt, the force of her cry leaving the girl heaving, wide-stanced, glaring up at the taller mer as she freely let her tears stream. In the struggle he had not noticed her hood had been torn away, and muted surprise danced across his face at the snowy streaks bleeding into her once-raven hair. Almost by its own a hand lifted toward her.      ❝ Don’t, ❞ she spat in warning, gleaning the question that hung unspoken from parted lips. Instead he watched her in silence, a sense of hopelessness about the mer. How sorely he wished simply to embrace the girl, but he knew her rage, her scorn. He knew full well the severity of the rift between them.      ❝ You’ve lost all rights to me, ❞ she continued, palming away a tear. ❝ Whatever foul, twisted game you were playing, I hope you achieved your goal. ❞       ❝ There was no game, ❞ he murmured, drawing his arms close, unable to fully lift his gaze to hers. Instead he concentrated hard upon the cobbles by their feet, focusing on the words as they came. ❝ No tricks. I simply... ❞      ❝ What? ❞ She demanded, drawing a fist at her side. ❝ You were simply...what? Trying to lower my guard? To trick me into security, to delight in my death and anguish at a moment of your leisure? ❞      ❝ I am not like that! ❞ He defended, now matching her voice with his own. An instinctive need to defend himself arose, despite himself, despite everything. ❝ After all this time, for you to assume --- ❞      ❝ I assume nothing! ❞ Now was Illo’s turn to voice her anger. ❝ You’re one of them! I don’t know you, if anything about you was true! ❞       But now they were both interrupted by the intrusion of guards; the sounds of steel and warning cries drew them both from the self-culminated isolation they had created about them in their passion. Words were exchanged, with the both of them unwilling to divulge the nature of their skirmish. But after some moments talking, and an exchange of coins for disturbance of peace, the two of them were free to continue their private feud outside the gates.      It took Varondil few minutes to catch up to Illo upon the road outside, who, having donned her hood, had slipped away the moment the coins had been exchanged. He found the girl just outside the walls by the stable, having retrieved the reins of a horse from Skulvar and was moments away from mounting.      ❝ Illo, wait --- ❞      She turned on him in silent fury, shoving the mer back and reaching for her blade.       ❝ Leave me alone. I will not entertain you anymore. ❞      ❝ Why can you not put aside your anger but a moment and listen to me?! ❞      ❝ Because we knew each other for a year, Varondil. ❞ The elf drew still at this, for Illo’s voice had lowered to a cold tone, face drawn tight in muted rage. She saw the hurt upon his face, and it infuriated her even more. That he would continue to feign innocence in this, that this...beast would still attempt to convince him that he is anything but.      ❝ Because perhaps had you told me on your own, we would not be where we are. Because after months together, through rain and storm, you knew, KNEW that I had sworn to kill all of your wretched ilk, and by your own choice you sullied my presence by keeping at my side. ❞      ❝ It is not that simple --- ❞      ❝ Then let me make it simple for you. ❞ She lifted herself into saddle, turning the horse about to leave. ❝ Should ever we meet again, I will end your disgusting unlife. ❞      The snow elf felt a tightness as he watched her leave. He had never known discomfort nor pain from the cold for as long as his life had been; yet now, with the raw fury of the one he had considered his closest ally these months fresh in his mind, there was a chill in his breast that made even the smallest breath painful.

#||✖|| drabbles #|| this is RUN ON EUGH but I am too tired tbh to do anything to spruce it up || #|| Maybe eventually I'll add more seasoning to it but until then here's some ugly dialogue with very little scene setting || #|| legitimate honest critique is more than welcome and will probably help more than blatant compliments plsthank ||

[passhotdumps]

Successfully passed the CCIE exam sentiment ccie rs reading list brian

Friends who are studying the security direction of CCIE definitely have some understanding of URPF technology, so today we will explain the URPF technology.I. Introduction to URPF TechnologyGenerally, after receiving the data packet, the router obtains the destination IP address in the data packet, searches the local routing forwarding table for the destination IP address, and forwards the data packet if there is a corresponding forwarding entry; otherwise, discards the packet. . From this point of view, when the router forwards the message, it does not care about the source address of the packet. This gives the source address spoofing attack a chance.The source address spoofing attack constructs a series of packets with the spoofed source address and frequently accesses the device or host where the destination address resides. Even if the response packet cannot reach the attacker, the attacker will cause a certain degree of damage to the attacked object.The main function of unicast reverse path forwarding (URPF) is to prevent network attack behavior based on source address spoofing. After the URPF function is enabled on the interface of the router, when the interface receives the data packet, it checks the legality of the source address of the data packet. The forwarding entry of the address enters the packet forwarding process; otherwise, the packet is discarded.Second, the working mechanism of URPFThe URPF checks the legality of the source address of the packet into strict (strict) and loose (loose) types:Strict-type URPF: not only requires the router to forward the table, but also has a route to the source address of the packet. It also requires that the inbound interface of the packet is the same as the outgoing interface to the source address. The message is considered to be a legitimate message. In some special cases (such as the existence of asymmetric paths), strict type checking will incorrectly discard non-attack messages.

Loose URPF: Only the routing table of the router is required to have the source address of the packet. The inbound interface of the packet is the same as the outgoing interface of the routing address to the source address. A loose URPF check can be configured when the inbound interface of the user network cannot ensure that the inbound interface of the packet is the same as that of the outbound interface.

Third, the advanced features of URPFStrict and loose inspections are two basic inspection mechanisms of URPF; on the basis of this, some devices further add default route inspection and ACL inspection functions, which makes the URPF inspection more flexible and comprehensive.

In particular, the device adds a link layer check based on the strict URPF check. After confirming that there is a route to the source address and the outbound interface, the device adds an ARP entry to ensure that the packet is received. The source MAC address is the same as the MAC address in the ARP entry. The link layer check function is more suitable for deployment when a single Layer 3 Ethernet interface is used to access a large number of PC users.

Fourth, summaryAttacks such as TCP Syn Flood, UDP flood, and ICMP flood may attack the target device or host by means of source address spoofing, causing severe degradation of the attacker's system performance and even system crash. URPF is a common technique used by network devices to prevent such attacks.

Different products from different manufacturers have different support for URFP functions. For specific applications, please check the related product manual to confirm the implementation of the device.

More Cisco technical articles are available at PASSHOT, which not only allows you to learn Cisco work skills but also helps you pass various CISCO exams, such as CCIE WRITTEN EXAM and CCIE LAB EXAM!

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[spotoccie-blog]

Introduction to URPF technology for network security technology

Friends who are studying the security direction of CCIE definitely have some understanding of URPF technology, so today we will explain the URPF technology. I. Introduction to URPF Technology Generally, after receiving the data packet, the router obtains the destination IP address in the data packet, searches the local routing forwarding table for the destination IP address, and forwards the data packet if there is a corresponding forwarding entry; otherwise, discards the packet. . From this point of view, when the router forwards the message, it does not care about the source address of the packet. This gives the source address spoofing attack a chance. The source address spoofing attack constructs a series of packets with the spoofed source address and frequently accesses the device or host where the destination address resides. Even if the response packet cannot reach the attacker, the attacker will cause a certain degree of damage to the attacked object. The main function of unicast reverse path forwarding (URPF) is to prevent network attack behavior based on source address spoofing. After the URPF function is enabled on the interface of the router, when the interface receives the data packet, it checks the legality of the source address of the data packet. The forwarding entry of the address enters the packet forwarding process; otherwise, the packet is discarded. Second, the working mechanism of URPF The URPF checks the legality of the source address of the packet into strict (strict) and loose (loose) types: Strict-type URPF: not only requires the router to forward the table, but also has a route to the source address of the packet. It also requires that the inbound interface of the packet is the same as the outgoing interface to the source address. The message is considered to be a legitimate message. In some special cases (such as the existence of asymmetric paths), strict type checking will incorrectly discard non-attack messages. Loose URPF: Only the routing table of the router is required to have the source address of the packet. The inbound interface of the packet is the same as the outgoing interface of the routing address to the source address. A loose URPF check can be configured when the inbound interface of the user network cannot ensure that the inbound interface of the packet is the same as that of the outbound interface. Third, the advanced features of URPF Strict and loose inspections are two basic inspection mechanisms of URPF; on the basis of this, some devices further add default route inspection and ACL inspection functions, which makes the URPF inspection more flexible and comprehensive. In particular, the device adds a link layer check based on the strict URPF check. After confirming that there is a route to the source address and the outbound interface, the device adds an ARP entry to ensure that the packet is received. The source MAC address is the same as the MAC address in the ARP entry. The link layer check function is more suitable for deployment when a single Layer 3 Ethernet interface is used to access a large number of PC users. Fourth, summary Attacks such as TCP Syn Flood, UDP flood, and ICMP flood may attack the target device or host by means of source address spoofing, causing severe degradation of the attacker's system performance and even system crash. URPF is a common technique used by network devices to prevent such attacks.     Different products from different manufacturers have different support for URFP functions. For specific applications, please check the related product manual to confirm the implementation of the device.