#or useful databases that are just not very well known

[cuties-in-codices]

Where do you find these manuscripts? Is it like a website or do you find it randomly??

hey, thanks for the curiosity! lenghty answer below the cut :)

1)

medieval manuscripts are typically owned by libraries and showcased on the library's websites. so one thing i do is i randomly browse those digitized manuscript collections (like the collections of the bavarian state library or the bodleian libraries, to name just two), which everybody can do for free without any special access. some digital collections provide more useful tools than others (like search functions, filters, annotations on each manuscript). if they don't, the process of wading through numerous non-illustrated manuscripts before i find an illustrated one at all can be quite tedious.

2)

there are databases which help to navigate the vast sea of manuscripts. the one i couldn't live without personally use the most is called KdIH (Katalog der deutschsprachigen illustrierten Handschriften des Mittelalters). it's a project which aims to list all illustrated medieval manuscripts written in german dialects. the KdIH provides descriptions of the contents of each manuscript (with a focus on the illustrations), and if there's a digital reproduction of a manuscript available anywhere, the KdIH usually links to it. the KdIH is an invaluable tool for me because of its focus on illustrated manuscripts, because of the informations it provides for each manuscript, and because of its useful search function (once you've gotten over the initial confusion of how to navigate the website). the downside is that it includes only german manuscripts, which is one of the main reasons for the over-representation of german manuscripts on my blog (sorry about that).

3)

another important database for german manuscripts in general (i.e. not just illustrated ones) is the handschriftencensus, which catalogues information regarding the entirety of german language manuscripts of the middle ages, and also links to the digital reproductions of each manuscript.

4)

then there are simply considerable snowball effects. if you do even just superficial research on any medieval topic at all (say, if you open the wikipedia article on alchemy), you will inevitably stumble upon mentions of specific illustrated manuscripts. the next step is to simply search for a digital copy of the manuscript in question (this part can sometimes be easier said than done, especially when you're coming from wikipedia). one thing to keep in mind is that a manuscript illustration seldom comes alone - so every hint to any illustration at all is a greatly valuable one (if you do what i do lol). there's always gonna be something interesting in any given illustrated manuscript. (sidenote: one very effective 'cheat code' would be to simply go through all manuscripts that other online hobbyist archivers of manuscript illustrations have gone through before - like @discardingimages on tumblr - but some kind of 'professional pride' detains me from doing so. that's just a kind of stubbornness though. like, i want to find my material more or less on my own, not just the images but also the manuscripts, and i apply arbitrary rules to my search as to what exactly that means.)

5)

whatever tool or strategy i use to find specific illustrated manuscripts-- in the end, one unavoidable step is to actually manually skim through the (digitized) manuscript. i usually have at least a quick look at every single illustrated page, and i download or screenshot everything that is interesting to me. this process can take up to an hour per manuscript.

---

in conclusion, i'd say that finding cool illuminated manuscripts is much simpler than i would have thought before i started this blog. there are so many of them out there and they're basically just 'hidden in plain side', it's really astounding. finding the manuscripts doesn't require special skills, just some basic experience with/knowledge of the tools available. the reason i'm able to post interesting images almost daily is just that i spend a lot of time doing all of this, going through manuscripts, curating this blog, etc. i find a lot of comfort in it, i learn a lot along the way, and i immensely enjoy people's engagement with my posts. so that's that :)

#if you ever have any specific questions about any of these tools or my strategies feel free to ask or dm me #i'd also be interested in recommendations of databases that are specific to other languages/regions that are neither german nor english #preferably with a focus on illuminated manuscripts #or useful databases that are just not very well known #ask #medieval art #medieval studies #btw @anon sorry for only getting around to answering your ask now #and re: your following message. first of all never apologize for your english skills. like ever #it's a daily struggle for me as well tbh. i never post anything without german/english dictionary tabs open lol #and i feel like i 'owe' it to the tumblr blogger format to write in smooth english #secondly your question wasn't dumb at all! i'm glad somebody asked :)

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

#i have no idea what happens after that but it's definitely not the plot of star wars: a new hope #star wars #not fic

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

#vox #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

[max-levchin]

Shamir Secret Sharing

It’s 3am. Paul, the head of PayPal database administration carefully enters his elaborate passphrase at a keyboard in a darkened cubicle of 1840 Embarcadero Road in East Palo Alto, for the fifth time. He hits Return. The green-on-black console window instantly displays one line of text: “Sorry, one or more wrong passphrases. Can’t reconstruct the key. Goodbye.” 

There is nerd pandemonium all around us. James, our recently promoted VP of Engineering, just climbed the desk at a nearby cubicle, screaming: “Guys, if we can’t get this key the right way, we gotta start brute-forcing it ASAP!” It’s gallows humor – he knows very well that brute-forcing such a key will take millions of years, and it’s already 6am on the East Coast – the first of many “Why is PayPal down today?” articles is undoubtedly going to hit CNET shortly. Our single-story cubicle-maze office is buzzing with nervous activity of PayPalians who know they can’t help but want to do something anyway. I poke my head up above the cubicle wall to catch a glimpse of someone trying to stay inside a giant otherwise empty recycling bin on wheels while a couple of Senior Software Engineers are attempting to accelerate the bin up to dangerous speeds in the front lobby. I lower my head and try to stay focused. “Let’s try it again, this time with three different people” is the best idea I can come up with, even though I am quite sure it will not work. 

It doesn’t. 

The key in question decrypts PayPal’s master payment credential table – also known as the giant store of credit card and bank account numbers. Without access to payment credentials, PayPal doesn’t really have a business per se, seeing how we are supposed to facilitate payments, and that’s really hard to do if we no longer have access to the 100+ million credit card numbers our users added over the last year of insane growth. 

This is the story of a catastrophic software bug I briefly introduced into the PayPal codebase that almost cost us the company (or so it seemed, in the moment.) I’ve told this story a handful of times, always swearing the listeners to secrecy, and surprisingly it does not appear to have ever been written down before. 20+ years since the incident, it now appears instructive and a little funny, rather than merely extremely embarrassing. 

Before we get back to that fateful night, we have to go back another decade. In the summer of 1991, my family and I moved to Chicago from Kyiv, Ukraine. While we had just a few hundred dollars between the five of us, we did have one secret advantage: science fiction fans. 

My dad was a highly active member of Zoryaniy Shlyah – Kyiv’s possibly first (and possibly only, at the time) sci-fi fan club – the name means “Star Trek” in Ukrainian, unsurprisingly. He translated some Stansilaw Lem (of Solaris and Futurological Congress fame) from Polish to Russian in the early 80s and was generally considered a coryphaeus at ZSh. 

While USSR was more or less informationally isolated behind the digital Iron Curtain until the late ‘80s, by 1990 or so, things like FidoNet wriggled their way into the Soviet computing world, and some members of ZSh were now exchanging electronic mail with sci-fi fans of the free world.

The vaguely exotic news of two Soviet refugee sci-fi fans arriving in Chicago was transmitted to the local fandom before we had even boarded the PanAm flight that took us across the Atlantic [1]. My dad (and I, by extension) was soon adopted by some kind Chicago science fiction geeks, a few of whom became close friends over the years, though that’s a story for another time. 

A year or so after the move to Chicago, our new sci-fi friends invited my dad to a birthday party for a rising star of the local fandom, one Bruce Schneier. We certainly did not know Bruce or really anyone at the party, but it promised good food, friendly people, and probably filk. My role was to translate, as my dad spoke limited English at the time. 

I had fallen desperately in love with secret codes and cryptography about a year before we left Ukraine. Walking into Bruce’s library during the house tour (this was a couple years before Applied Cryptography was published and he must have been deep in research) felt like walking into Narnia. 

I promptly abandoned my dad to fend for himself as far as small talk and canapés were concerned, and proceeded to make a complete ass out of myself by brazenly asking the host for a few sheets of paper and a pencil. Having been obliged, I pulled a half dozen cryptography books from the shelves and went to work trying to copy down some answers to a few long-held questions on the library floor. After about two hours of scribbling alone like a man possessed, I ran out of paper and decided to temporarily rejoin the party. 

On the living room table, Bruce had stacks of copies of his fanzine Ramblings. Thinking I could use the blank sides of the pages to take more notes, I grabbed a printout and was about to quietly return to copying the original S-box values for DES when my dad spotted me from across the room and demanded I help him socialize. The party wrapped soon, and our friends drove us home. 

The printout I grabbed was not a Ramblings issue. It was a short essay by Bruce titled Sharing Secrets Among Friends, essentially a humorous explanation of Shamir Secret Sharing. 

Say you want to make sure that something really really important and secret (a nuclear weapon launch code, a database encryption key, etc) cannot be known or used by a single (friendly) actor, but becomes available, if at least n people from a group of m choose to do it. Think two on-duty officers (from a cadre of say 5) turning keys together to get ready for a nuke launch. 

The idea (proposed by Adi Shamir – the S of RSA! – in 1979) is as simple as it is beautiful. 

Let’s call the secret we are trying to split among m people K. 

First, create a totally random polynomial that looks like: y(x) = C0 * x^(n-1) + C1 * x^(n-2) + C2 * x^(n-3) ….+ K. “Create” here just means generate random coefficients C. Now, for every person in your trusted group of m, evaluate the polynomial for some randomly chosen Xm and hand them their corresponding (Xm,Ym) each. 

If we have n of these points together, we can use Lagrange interpolating polynomial to reconstruct the coefficients – and evaluate the original polynomial at x=0, which conveniently gives us y(0) = K, the secret. Beautiful. I still had the printout with me, years later, in Palo Alto. 

It should come as no surprise that during my time as CTO PayPal engineering had an absolute obsession with security. No firewall was one too many, no multi-factor authentication scheme too onerous, etc. Anything that was worth anything at all was encrypted at rest. 

To decrypt, a service would get the needed data from its database table, transmit it to a special service named cryptoserv (an original SUN hardware running Solaris sitting on its own, especially tightly locked-down network) and a special service running only there would perform the decryption and send back the result. 

Decryption request rate was monitored externally and on cryptoserv, and if there were too many requests, the whole thing was to shut down and purge any sensitive data and keys from its memory until manually restarted. 

It was this manual restart that gnawed at me. At launch, a bunch of configuration files containing various critical decryption keys were read (decrypted by another key derived from one manually-entered passphrase) and loaded into the memory to perform future cryptographic services.

Four or five of us on the engineering team knew the passphrase and could restart cryptoserv if it crashed or simply had to have an upgrade. What if someone performed a little old-fashioned rubber-hose cryptanalysis and literally beat the passphrase out of one of us? The attacker could theoretically get access to these all-important master keys. Then stealing the encrypted-at-rest database of all our users’ secrets could prove useful – they could decrypt them in the comfort of their underground supervillain lair. 

I needed to eliminate this threat.

Shamir Secret Sharing was the obvious choice – beautiful, simple, perfect (you can in fact prove that if done right, it offers perfect secrecy.) I decided on a 3-of-8 scheme and implemented it in pure POSIX C for portability over a few days, and tested it for several weeks on my Linux desktop with other engineers. 

Step 1: generate the polynomial coefficients for 8 shard-holders.

Step 2: compute the key shards (x0, y0)  through (x7, y7)

Step 3: get each shard-holder to enter a long, secure passphrase to encrypt the shard

Step 4: write out the 8 shard files, encrypted with their respective passphrases.

And to reconstruct: 

Step 1: pick any 3 shard files. 

Step 2: ask each of the respective owners to enter their passphrases. 

Step 3: decrypt the shard files.

Step 4: reconstruct the polynomial, evaluate it for x=0 to get the key.

Step 5: launch cryptoserv with the key. 

One design detail here is that each shard file also stored a message authentication code (a keyed hash) of its passphrase to make sure we could identify when someone mistyped their passphrase. These tests ran hundreds and hundreds of times, on both Linux and Solaris, to make sure I did not screw up some big/little-endianness issue, etc. It all worked perfectly. 

A month or so later, the night of the key splitting party was upon us. We were finally going to close out the last vulnerability and be secure. Feeling as if I was about to turn my fellow shard-holders into cymeks, I gathered them around my desktop as PayPal’s front page began sporting the “We are down for maintenance and will be back soon” message around midnight.

The night before, I solemnly generated the new master key and securely copied it to cryptoserv. Now, while “Push It” by Salt-n-Pepa blared from someone’s desktop speakers, the automated deployment script copied shard files to their destination. 

While each of us took turns carefully entering our elaborate passphrases at a specially selected keyboard, Paul shut down the main database and decrypted the payment credentials table, then ran the script to re-encrypt with the new key. Some minutes later, the database was running smoothly again, with the newly encrypted table, without incident. 

All that was left was to restore the master key from its shards and launch the new, even more secure cryptographic service. 

The three of us entered our passphrases… to be met with the error message I haven’t seen in weeks: “Sorry, one or more wrong passphrases. Can’t reconstruct the key. Goodbye.” Surely one of us screwed up typing, no big deal, we’ll do it again. No dice. No dice – again and again, even after we tried numerous combinations of the three people necessary to decrypt. 

Minutes passed, confusion grew, tension rose rapidly. 

There was nothing to do, except to hit rewind – to grab the master key from the file still sitting on cryptoserv, split it again, generate new shards, choose passphrases, and get it done. Not a great feeling to have your first launch go wrong, but not a huge deal either. It will all be OK in a minute or two.

A cursory look at the master key file date told me that no, it wouldn’t be OK at all. The file sitting on cryptoserv wasn’t from last night, it was created just a few minutes ago. During the Salt-n-Pepa-themed push from stage, we overwrote the master key file with the stage version. Whatever key that was, it wasn’t the one I generated the day before: only one copy existed, the one I copied to cryptoserv from my computer the night before. Zero copies existed now. Not only that, the push script appears to have also wiped out the backup of the old key, so the database backups we have encrypted with the old key are likely useless. 

Sitrep: we have 8 shard files that we apparently cannot use to restore the master key and zero master key backups. The database is running but its secret data cannot be accessed. 

I will leave it to your imagination to conjure up what was going through my head that night as I stared into the black screen willing the shards to work. After half a decade of trying to make something of myself (instead of just going to work for Microsoft or IBM after graduation) I had just destroyed my first successful startup in the most spectacular fashion. 

Still, the idea of “what if we all just continuously screwed up our passphrases” swirled around my brain. It was an easy check to perform, thanks to the included MACs. I added a single printf() debug statement into the shard reconstruction code and instead of printing out a summary error of “one or more…” the code now showed if the passphrase entered matched the authentication code stored in the shard file. 

I compiled the new code directly on cryptoserv in direct contravention of all reasonable security practices – what did I have to lose? Entering my own passphrase, I promptly got “bad passphrase” error I just added to the code. Well, that’s just great – I knew my passphrase was correct, I had it written down on a post-it note I had planned to rip up hours ago. 

Another person, same error. Finally, the last person, JK, entered his passphrase. No error. The key still did not reconstruct correctly, I got the “Goodbye”, but something worked. I turned to the engineer and said, “what did you just type in that worked?”

After a second of embarrassed mumbling, he admitted to choosing “a$$word” as his passphrase. The gall! I asked everyone entrusted with the grave task of relaunching crytposerv to pick really hard to guess passphrases, and this guy…?! Still, this was something -- it worked. But why?!

I sprinted around the half-lit office grabbing the rest of the shard-holders demanding they tell me their passphrases. Everyone else had picked much lengthier passages of text and numbers. I manually tested each and none decrypted correctly. Except for the a$$word. What was it…

A lightning bolt hit me and I sprinted back to my own cubicle in the far corner, unlocked the screen and typed in “man getpass” on the command line, while logging into cryptoserv in another window and doing exactly the same thing there. I saw exactly what I needed to see. 

Today, should you try to read up the programmer’s manual (AKA the man page) on getpass, you will find it has been long declared obsolete and replaced with a more intelligent alternative in nearly all flavors of modern Unix.  

But back then, if you wanted to collect some information from the keyboard without printing what is being typed in onto the screen and remain POSIX-compliant, getpass did the trick. Other than a few standard file manipulation system calls, getpass was the only operating system service call I used, to ensure clean portability between Linux and Solaris. 

Except it wasn’t completely clean. 

Plain as day, there it was: the manual pages were identical, except Solaris had a “special feature”: any passphrase entered that was longer than 8 characters long was automatically reduced to that length anyway. (Who needs long passwords, amiright?!)

I screamed like a wounded animal. We generated the key on my Linux desktop and entered our novel-length passphrases right here. Attempting to restore them on a Solaris machine where they were being clipped down to 8 characters long would never work. Except, of course, for a$$word. That one was fine.

The rest was an exercise in high-speed coding and some entirely off-protocol file moving. We reconstructed the master key on my machine (all of our passphrases worked fine), copied the file to the Solaris-running cryptoserv, re-split it there (with very short passphrases), reconstructed it successfully, and PayPal was up and running again like nothing ever happened. 

By the time our unsuspecting colleagues rolled back into the office I was starting to doze on the floor of my cubicle and that was that. When someone asked me later that day why we took so long to bring the site back up, I’d simply respond with “eh, shoulda RTFM.” 

RTFM indeed. 

P.S. A few hours later, John, our General Counsel, stopped by my cubicle to ask me something. The day before I apparently gave him a sealed envelope and asked him to store it in his safe for 24 hours without explaining myself. He wanted to know what to do with it now that 24 hours have passed. 

Ha. I forgot all about it, but in a bout of “what if it doesn’t work” paranoia, I printed out the base64-encoded master key when we had generated it the night before, stuffed it into an envelope, and gave it to John for safekeeping. We shredded it together without opening and laughed about what would have never actually been a company-ending event. 

P.P.S. If you are thinking of all the ways this whole SSS design is horribly insecure (it had some real flaws for sure) and plan to poke around PayPal to see if it might still be there, don’t. While it served us well for a few years, this was the very first thing eBay required us to turn off after the acquisition. Pretty sure it’s back to a single passphrase now. 

Notes:

1: a member of Chicagoland sci-fi fan community let me know that the original news of our move to the US was delivered to them via a posted letter, snail mail, not FidoNet email! 

[nyxmainex]

I finished it guys. I finished them. IN A DAY.

Be it, they are VERY rushed and look as such, but I AM PROUD OF MYSELF FOR ONCE.

@velnna @bara-izu @necromosss

Fanart for your characters.

(Warnings: Me rambling)

If any of the artist I made this for see this, I hope you like it even maybe a portion as much as I do. Maybe more. Genuinely, each of these three artists inspire me to continue my hobby of making art. The reason I even do this hobby is to share it in hopes to inspire others. As much courage as it takes for me to even make these much less post them is just proof to myself how far I've come in terms of social interaction. I thank my friend, my mom and teacher for supporting my hobbies and specifically convincing me to make this. I'm off on a ramble, apologies.

I really do hope you like this. Each character has something I added to them, and I explain in their dedicated paragraph. Then you also get an overall part:).

MIRA ♡

Necromosss is the second BG3 artist I found on Tumblr and I adore their art. Everytime I see Moss post, I promise you I immediately spread it to my friends just so they get the recognition they deserve.

Mira was the last character I ended up drawing, and is definitely the most hurried and sloppy. I made hers pretty late, close to the time I sleep, yet I do feel proud of how I made her. Imagining Mira in the stories I've created, I believe she'd fit in with Meladonia, a kingdom of ghosts, poison, and death. Overlooking the main theme, Meladonia's queen, Chamixie (and funny enough, my character who romanced Gale), is a very lighthearted, flirty person. She, while respecting death and it's concepts, is always up to make an occasional joke. She doesn't take everything personally, and I think she'd get alone well with Mira. The Meladonia magic is dark magic known at Kalak. 'Mixie (Chamixie's nickname) created Kalak as a form of a way to express herself. Kalak magic is not negative, and it's not harmful. In fact, Kalak magic is meant to heal and embrace your fears to use positively. Most of the time, using Kalak magic causes small white, almost snake-like slits to form in the pupil of the user's eyes.

I hope you like how I drew her!:)

STAEVE ☆

MAF is the first BG3 artist I found on Tumblr. I can't put in to words how much they've inspired me. Me and my mom both love Staeve, we think he's great, and I can't wait to see more art from Velnna.

Staeve is the first character I drew, and though not as rushed as Mira's, I wasn't confident drawing him. I'm not too sure about how I drew him, though I do hope anyone reading this likes it. Much like Mira, I imagine he'd be from Meladonia if put in my stories.

In case you haven't read about Kalak magic, I'll copy it: The Meladonia magic is dark magic known at Kalak. 'Mixie (Chamixie's nickname) created Kalak as a form of a way to express herself. Kalak magic is not negative, and it's not harmful. In fact, Kalak magic is meant to heal and embrace your fears to use positively. Most of the time, using Kalak magic causes small white, almost snake-like slits to form in the pupil of the user's eyes.

I've, as an anon, told Velnna about one version of my first OC (Broodmother Nera). And she's a version of my main five characters. Her and Chamixie are sisters, four years apart (Nera is 28). Chamixie is a much more sort of flirty person and takes everything told to her with a drop of comedy, unless it's extremely serious (ex: any abuse) as she has experienced negative situations herself. I imagine that she'd want to be friends with Staeve as long as he wants to, but would likely rather protect him even if he doesn't want to be friends. Staeve reminds Chamixie of Alison, the youngest of the five sisters, and was Chamixie's previous life's bio daughter. Even if they are sisters in this life, Chamixie still, while not overprotective, is cautious around Alison. To an extent, Staeve gives off a similar vibe as Alison, and 'Mixie would do more than her best to help Staeve without being overbearing.

I hope this is interesting enough, and that you enjoy how I drew Staeve.

HALION ◇

I have so much trouble remembering how to write this lovely man's name, please correct me if it's wrong, I have terrible memory.

I recently found Bara, and I love all their characters. (No joke though, I ran to my mom to show her your characters). Halion is definitely one of my favourites.

I was the most confident creating Halion, and I genuinely am proud of my art. This is honestly one of the few times I do feel proud of myself. From the posts I read, which is not too many, I love his cheery personality. He makes me believe he'd be from Parfi if he was in my stories. Parfi is the kingdom of the Wasteland, but is known for war, previously known for lust, but after Lord Clemin became the ruler, she changed it to accommodate travellers. While it was re-built for wars, she's made it a beacon of light within a desert. That reminds me of Halion. Clemin, as a ruler, comes off as strong and demanding. But out of all five of the rulers, and as the second oldest sister, she's very soft. Even with her own insecurities, she lifts people up and encourages their positive ambitions. She's actually not very confident, even though presenting as such. Even if she is very silent, and kind of reserved, she'd feel comfortable with talking to Halion.

She created Taei magic, the magic of heat. Taei magic is considered neutral magic, and though she has used it negatively on herself, Taei was meant to be positive. Using Taei magic is essentially holding the essence of a flame, and it's a guiding light to find others. Clemin wants the people of her and her sister's kingdoms to never have to experience what any of them did/do. Using it reflects a flame in the user's eyes.

I hope you agree he'd be from Parfi, and if not, tell me why:)! I also hope you like the art I made for him.

OVERALL/EXTRA

I'm sorry this post is so long, and I wanted to be finish setting up my blog when I made this but I'm just too impatient to do so. The reason this post is so long is because while I could've made art of any artist I enjoy, these three artists inspired me the most. (And I'm an overthinker, so I want to make sure you understand how much I appreciate these artists.)

I hope you enjoy the ideas I had and the art I made. I love all three of these pieces I've made, and I love the original art that they were based on more. And if it's alright with the artists, I'd love to draw more!:)

While writing this, my hands are shaking. Ignore any mistakes in the writing.

(References)

Mira: (her Notion page)

Staeve:

This

And this

Halion:

This

This

And this

PROGRAMS USED:

Infinite painter for lineart and Clip Studio Paint (pro) for everything else.

Edit: LOOKING BACK AT THIS, IT'S SO SAPPY AND LONG I'M SORRRYYYYYY

#art #artist #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #fanart #staeve #halion #mira #velnna #maf #bara izu #necromosss #please like this #social anxiety #i was convinced #:)

[kinkandkreep]

TokRev Bois with Superpowers

A/N: Hey hey y'all! This idea sprung up on me while I was perusing the Superhero Database and I wanted to share it wit y'all! I tried to keep the bois powers as cohesive as possible (although admittedly, Mikey's sonic scream is kinda random 'cus the idea just ran into me full speed and wouldn't let go 🙃) and I tried to keep the number of powers limited. Let me know what y'all think! Enjoy!

Mikey:

- Sonic Scream

- Heightened spatial and kinesthetic awareness 

Results from his martial arts training.

- Peak Human Physical Condition

Also courtesy of his formal training and all the fighting he does.

- Nigh Invulnerability 

Manjiro is nearly impervious to all forms of damage, be it physical or emotional. The only materials known to be able to cause him lasting physical damage are Tungsten and Moissanite. 

Draken:

- Super Strength

- Strength Augmentation 

This augmentation can be self-applied or used to temporarily empower others.

- Superhuman Durability 

Ken has a superhumanly durable body. As a result of this, he is able to shake off with relative ease blows that would normally shatter the bone of other normal human beings. 

Baji:

- Shape-shifting 

Can shape shift into nearly any conceivable living creature, but must possess knowledge of and be able to visualize the creature in order to shift into it.

- Berserk Mode 

Primarily stemming from his animalistic instincts, Keisuke has the ability to enter a 'Berserk Mode,' which temporarily grants him enhanced speed, durability and strength in whatever form he's taken.

- Camouflage 

By consciously tapping into the power of the chameleon (an animal which he can shapeshift into), this ability allows Keisuke to seamlessly blend into his surroundings, whether that be walls, foliage, people, etc.

Sanzu:

- Bloodlust 

Beyond the general intense focus that accompanies it, this state greatly increases the keenness of Haruchiyo's senses, enabling him to see, feel and hear things beyond his normal limited human capacity.

- Blood Manipulation 

Similar to bloodbending, Haruchiyo can manipulate the blood of others, although dissimilarly from the aforementioned bending, Haruchiyo can only manipulate the blood once it has exited the body of the target, including his own.

The extracted blood can then be used to create a number of tools and utilities, including keys, lockpicks and weapons.

- Master Swordsman 

Hanma:

- Decay Embodiment 

Shuji can manipulate aspects of death such as rot, dust, mold and of course, the titular decay. This ability is a variation of life force manipulation, and as such, Shuji can even cause the soul of a person to begin rotting or decaying. 

- Enhanced Durability 

Shuji possesses an incredibly durable body that can withstand blows that would normally break the bone of others less hardwearing.

Izana:

- Chaos Manipulation

Izana’s ability of Chaos Manipulation allows him to, in a sense, alter the very fabric of reality. He can shape the likelihood of events happening, and control whether they do or don’t. Subsequently, there’s not really a limit to what Izana can accomplish with this power.

Kazutora:

- Atmokinesis (the ability to psionically control the weather)

This ability, along with Kazutora’s other power, is tied heavily to his emotional state. Because Kazutora is volatile emotionally, he sometimes cannot control this ability well, and has the potential to do major amounts of damage if not careful. 

- Elemental Transformation 

This power allows Kazutora to change the chemical and physical makeup of his body into any one of the four main elements, those being Earth, Air, Fire and Water. These states are tied to his emotions: for example, being angry will cause his body to heat rapidly, eventually catching fire, being calm or in a deep state of relaxation will cause his body to harden like stone/earth, etc.

Kisaki: 

- Telepathy 

Tetta is a telepath. He can read and sense the emotions of others to a heightened degree, as well as hear people’s thoughts and detect when they are lying.

- Necromancy 

Tetta possesses the ability to telepathically commune with the souls of deceased animals and humans, allowing him to temporarily call them back to their bodies. During the period in which the deceased are “called,” they are completely subservient to Tetta’s whims. In order for Tetta to call upon the soul of a deceased creature, he need be in the vicinity of the body/place of burial of the creature.

- Latent Abilities 

Tetta, as a by-product of his telepathic abilities, possesses also the ability to influence objects in his immediate environment either willingly or unwillingly, based on his emotional state (i.e anger causes objects to shake and shatter, sadness causes objects, like flowers, to wilt and lose vitality or color, anxiety and alternatively joy causes objects to float, etc.)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokrev #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #mikey #draken #ken ryuguji #ryuguji ken #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu #shuji hanma #hanma shuji #izana #izana kurokawa #kurokawa izana #kazutora hanemiya #hanemiya kazutora #tetta kisaki #kisaki tetta

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my ex I had sex?

This has been rolling around in my head for a while. I'm pretty concerned I did the wrong thing and was needlessly cruel.

My (20X) ex-boyfriend (25M) was pretty self-obsessed the entire time we were together. We has known each other for 8 years and got together when I was 17 (I know this part is fucked up, I've come to realize it since).

He always expected me to be there and spend all my time with him. Example: One time he got mad at me for falling asleep when I had a crown on my island in animal crossing and made a public show of it on the group I was opening my island to, consisting of both my brother and my cousin. He's overall just very clingy and doesn't really seem to think anything is ever his fault from my friends' perspective, and eventually mine as well.

Anyway, I tried very hard to get away from him, but since we had been using the same Skype group for years and he was the one I told everything to, it was pretty difficult to do, until my current girlfriend (21X) came into my life and I could cling to them instead of this dying, toxic relationship.

I ended up deleting Skype and not initiating conversations with him. He started using Discord to talk to me occasionally, and I kept it polite but distant. He kept trying to work his way back in though, and I could tell. Largely innocuous things, like sending little hearts and stuff, and continuing to make sexual remarks after I told him I didn't want him to anymore.

So here's where it gets rough.

My ex had this girlfriend who left him and stopped talking to him altogether. Eventually she got married, and he took it very personally and hated her husband. I promised I would never leave him the way she did.

Well, I met up with my girlfriend for the first time and we immediately clicked. That night, like the title says, we had sex.

(I need to make it clear that I had told him at this point multiple times I wanted to break up and just be friends, trying FwB at one point just to ease him into it, but at this point I wanted nothing to do with him aside from polite conversation. I had also told him he needed to get therapy before I would consider getting close to him again, and he still hadn't attempted to get therapy.)

The next day, while I was trying to enjoy the event we were at, my ex sent me a picture of a heart-shaped stone. I sent back a picture of the two of us at the event.

He asked who it was, and "I can't believe you went without me smh" (probably a joke. probably.)

I responded back, "we had sex last night"

He immediately got more formal, asking why I would do this to him and saying his ex and I have a lot more in common than I think. I then explained to him that I was sick of him doing the things he had been doing, and he claimed it was all platonic.

We haven't spoken since, except once when I let him know his art was in an AI database.

So.... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[scribbledghost]

Fated

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,770

Warnings: cursing, mild descriptions of violence, 3rd person POV, enemies to lovers, soulmarks, takes place before the events of The Last of Us while Joel is still a smuggler

Summary: Joel finds a woman holed up in an abandoned pharmacy while on a job and notices a very familiar mark on her arm.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, Joel thought to himself. It was supposed to be a simple bounty hunt, and look what you ended up with.

To his credit, he hadn’t anticipated the job to begin with - Tess had brought it to his attention, telling him a nearby group of scavengers were looking to nab the person that had ransacked their supplies the night before, and that they had promised to pay handsomely. 

“Said they’ll give us a cut of what we bring back,” Tess had said. “More, provided we bring the thief back with us. The supplies will last us for weeks, Joel. We’d be stupid to pass it up.”

They’d gone into the nearby town, splitting up to cover more ground. Scavenger types were known to be less generous as time went on, and Joel knew that if they took too long to recover the stolen goods, they may as well kiss their promised reward goodbye.

Joel had found their mark holed up in an abandoned, long-ago-ransacked pharmacy near the middle of town. 

“Feral” was the only proper way Joel could think to describe her - she didn’t speak two words to him when he happened upon her, she’d just withdrawn a bit into herself, bared her teeth, and aimed an axe at him. At first he’d wondered if he’d simply stumbled across another innocent survivor, someone who’d been on their own for however many years since the world had gone to hell and had nothing to do with the scavengers’ pilfered wares. But the pile of food and meds behind her had said otherwise.

“Gotcha.”

He’d taken a couple slow steps towards her, gun and flashlight aimed and ready, when she’d spoken.

“Come any closer and I’ll gut you like a goddamn fish.”

She had fight in her, he had to give her that. 

“Somethin’ tells me that stuff ain’t yours.”

“Is now.”

He didn’t have time for this.

“...Look,” Joel had said after heaving an annoyed sigh, “I’ve got my orders, and you’ve got those supplies you stole. There’s a bounty on your head too, but if you just cooperate, maybe we can make a deal-”

He hadn’t had time to finish speaking, because she’d lunged at him, swinging her axe. He’d dodged the first couple of swings, then grabbed the weapon by the handle. 

There, with her arm outstretched, is when he’d noticed it.

On her arm, barely visible in the dark and beneath the layer of grime that everyone had come to accumulate since the infection spread, was a symbol that was all too familiar to him. 

A soulmark. 

Something everyone possessed, and it was said that the other person who bore the same mark was to be your soulmate. It had been part of the reason for his ex-wife’s split from him - she simply hadn’t been able to bring herself to stay married and raise a child with someone whose image was different from hers. At first, he’d done what most others did; scoured the databases, hired matchmakers to try and find his mate. But they’d all come up empty, and after long enough without a lead, he’d stopped trying. He’d gone through the apocalypse not caring in the slightest whether or not someone out there wore the same mark as him.

And now here it was, staring him in the face, on the arm of a woman who was swinging an axe at him like it was her job.

It was supposed to be a simple bounty hunt, and look what you ended up with.

Sensing his distraction, the woman pulled the handle of her weapon against the weak spot in his grip and wrenched it away from him, but by some grace Joel managed to maneuver himself behind her to wrap her in a defensive hold. Her hand struggled in vain, still trying to get the sharpened blade at him, but there was little she could do with her arms pinned at her sides.

“For fuck’s sake, would you wait a goddamn second and listen to me?!” Joel yelled. “Keep comin’ at me with that thing and I will have no choice but to put. You. Down. Understand?”

She continued to struggle a bit longer, though he could tell the fight in her was slowly dissipating. The two of them stood together, the light of his flashlight reflecting off of the dingy tile floor. 

“You can’t have it,” she finally said, referring to the stolen goods. “They took it from me first. I was just taking back what was mine to begin with.”

“Awful lot of shit for one person,” Joel quipped.

“Consider it the interest for loaning it to ‘em.”

The banter almost brought a smile to his face.

Almost.

“Listen,” he finally said, “I’ll cut you a deal. You let me take this stuff back, and I won’t turn you in to the scavengers. You can stay with me an’ my partner. They’ve already promised us a cut of what we bring back, so you’ll get at least some of your supplies back. Provided you share, that is.”

It occurred then that he could’ve been making the stupidest decision of his life so far. Here he was, offering a complete stranger who’d just tried to kill him a place with him and Tess. All because of that fucking tattoo on her arm. 

He tried desperately to rationalize his actions.

He was curious. So what.

The woman was quiet, save for the gears Joel could practically hear turning in her head.

“Tick tock, lady,” he said. “One-time offer. You don’t answer in the next five seconds and I turn you in with the rest of this shit and get a bigger cut of it.”

“Alright, alright, fine!” she seethed. “...Fine.”

“Good. Now, I’m gonna let you go, and you’re not gonna swing that thing at me. Okay?”

“Whatever, just fuckin’ let go of me already.”

He did, and to her credit, she kept her word. From the way she looked at him though, it took every ounce of her self-restraint.

Joel wasted no time in packing up the supplies and hoofing it out of the pharmacy, the woman walking in front of him the entire way as he guided her through the streets to where Tess had told him they’d meet up after their searches. No chance in hell he was gonna let her walk behind him.

“Well, looks like you fared a lot better than I did,” Tess said when he caught up with her. “Let’s get this back to the group then we can be on our merry way.”

She turned and walked a few steps before Joel spoke.

“She’s stayin’ with us.”

Tess stopped, then slowly turned to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“We made a deal,” Joel said matter-of-factly.

“Real fuckin’ funny how I wasn’t consulted on this ‘deal’.”

He should’ve known it was going to be a fight. But there was still that pit in his stomach, the one begging him to know more about the woman next to him who’s grip on her weapon had tightened since Tess began speaking.

He never really did know when to just let shit go.

“It’ll be better for us this way,” he tried to explain. “An extra set of hands, extra lookout-”

“An extra damn mouth to feed.”

“The pros outweigh the cons, Tess. Let’s just take this stuff back to the scavengers and we can talk about it later.”

Tess eyed the other woman, scanning her as if she had some sort of special vision that would tell her if she’d get axed in the middle of the night if she agreed to take on their newcomer. Joel watched as her eyes fell on the soulmark, then ticked over to him. He gave a minute shake of his head, trying to tell her to keep her damn mouth shut. Thankfully she seemed to get the message, because after a few tense moments, she heaved a sigh and turned back around.

“Whatever. I’ll take this shit back to the group, get our cut, then come meet you back here. Try not to get yourself murdered while I’m gone.”

The hour or so that Tess was gone was mostly spent in silence between the two of them. 

Mostly.

“There’s some reason you’re keeping me around.”

“What can I say,” Joel said absentmindedly, “I’m a man of my word.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can believe it, or you can not. Not my problem.”

“Either of you lay a hand on me and I’ll kill you both.”

“I have no doubt.”

Tess returned not long after, made some quip about being surprised to see Joel still alive, and they set out once more with a hefty pack of fresh supplies for their efforts. 

He eyed her as he kept watch later that night. She curled up on her own, in a corner of the room in the abandoned house they’d hunkered down in. And she still held onto that damn axe as if her life depended on it.

In her mind, it probably did. He could understand her perspective - he remembered how he’d felt when he lived alone in the wastes. Survival was the only thing he’d been concerned about. If a pair of strangers had all but forced him to join them, he wouldn’t have trusted them either.

The first few nights were tense, to put things mildly. Joel slept even more lightly than he usually did, keeping his ears honed for any sound of shuffling or the swing of a weapon. After the first week or two without incident, however, the three of them began to relax into a routine.

She didn’t ask about his past, and he didn’t ask about hers. He kept trying to convince himself that he didn’t give a rat’s ass anyway about where she’d come from or who she’d been before the infection spread, but sometimes, when the night was dark and he was on watch alone, the thoughts would nag.

What had she been like? The mark on her arm had been there from her birth, just as his had been. Did that mean they would’ve been better suited for each other before? Or had the apocalypse turned them into each other’s “perfect mate”?

Joel would always try, often in vain, to put those thoughts down before they could morph into something else. Once or twice, on nights when he wasn’t careful, he’d catch glimpses of his imagination. Flashbulb pictures of her playing with Sarah. Of all three of them lounged on the couch watching some forgettable movie, with Joel in the middle and both of them tucked into his sides. 

He always was more irritable after those nights.

Joel was careful to keep his own soulmark hidden from her. Tess, to her credit, said nothing. Not that Joel had expected her to; if there were two things Tess excelled at, it was keeping secrets and keeping out of other peoples’ business.

And, if you really twisted his arm about it, he had to admit it had been a good idea to invite his apparent soulmate along. She handled herself well in a pinch, and knew the ins and outs of keeping her mouth shut and her head down. She’d actually saved their asses on a couple of occasions, alerting them to clickers before they’d realized they were present.

He wouldn’t exactly go so far as to call them “friends”, but he supposed he could if he had to put a word to it. He had her back, and she had his. Same as him and Tess.

But still, Joel continued to convince himself that he didn’t care about her. That he could wake up the next morning and not care if she’d disappeared in the night. It didn’t matter that she bore the same soulmark as he did; none of that shit had mattered since armageddon. She was simply another way to keep himself alive.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Until he did.

Early morning light crept into the window in his Boston apartment. Joel took little time to notice that Tess was gone, though that mere fact alone wasn’t cause for worry. Probably off on another deal. What was cause for worry, however, was the series of heavy knocks on the front door followed by deep, angry voices.

“We want our shit back, Tess!” someone bellowed from the hall outside. “Come out or we’ll break this damn thing down!”

Joel sprang from bed, trying his best to keep quiet. He caught sight of his other companion standing stock-still in the living room, axe in hand. She turned and caught his gaze, and he merely lifted a finger to his lips in a “hush” motion.

“I know you’re in there!” the voice came again, this time with bangs so heavy the flimsy wooden door rattled on its hinges. 

Joel crept forward, putting a hand on her shoulder as he passed.

“Get back,” he whispered, “let me take care of this. And hide the axe. Might set ‘em off if they see you’re armed.”

“Sounds like they’re already set off to me.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said with a bit more force. “Done it before. Just stay back.”

To her credit, she obeyed. He heard quiet footsteps behind him and the soft thunk of the weapon being sat on the floor, hopefully somewhere out of sight but still close enough to grab in a pinch.

Just as another series of bangs sounded, Joel opened the door. There were three of them, huge men with weapons in their hands and scowls on their faces.

“Alright,” Joel said, “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Bring us Tess,” the one in front seethed. “We traded her some meds for a couple ration cards but turns out the bitch gave us expired ones. We want our shit back.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait,” Joel said, “she ain’t here.”

“Bullshit,” another said, “we know she lives here.”

A cold sting of dread slithered through Joel’s body. A group like this knowing where Tess - and by extension he - lived was never a good thing. But that would be taken care of later.

“She does, but I just told y’all. She ain’t here now. Dunno where she is.”

“We came here to get our stuff back, and we ain’t leavin’ until we have it. Get out of the way.”

“She hasn’t been back since last night,” Joel said, doing his best to still block the door. “Your shit ain’t here.”

“Then we’ll just take yours.”

He tried to hold them back, but he was outmuscled and outnumbered. They shoved past him after a brief struggle, then began to head through the house.

At first he was primarily concerned with not losing any of their supplies. Ration tickets, stored food, fresh water, and spare first aid items were gold incarnate these days, and he’d be damned if he was going to sit by and let someone steal them from under his nose.

Then one of the men approached her.

“How about we just take her with us too? Consider it… collateral for rippin’ us off,” he leered at her.

Joel knew that look. He’d seen it a hundred times, and he hated it every time. Now that it was aimed at her, it was as if his conscious brain stopped functioning and handed the controls over to his survival instincts.

Without thinking, Joel shoved himself between the two. Just as the man before him began to say something about “being overprotective of his property”, Joel watched as a glint of silver pierced his vision.

While the two had been distracted, she’d grabbed her weapon, swung it, and caught the offending character in the throat.

The other two noticed the commotion when he fell to the ground, gurgling some semblance of words from around the blood in his mouth. He fell silent after not much longer, while the others ramped up their screams and threats. Joel looked around frantically for something - anything - he could use as a weapon, so she wouldn’t be left to defend herself, but he refused to move from in front of her. 

At least this way if they shoot, they’ll get me instead of her, he thought to himself.

Then, suddenly, between the screams and waving of guns and swinging of bats, Joel heard a voice.

“On the ground!”

He knew it. He recognized it. And he didn’t have to think twice before grabbing the woman behind him and pulling her to the floor beneath him as a handful of gunshots rang out above. After four or five rounds and two loud thuds, the world stopped.

Joel waited a handful of seconds before pushing himself up on his hands. Just as he was about to apologize for laying his full weight on the woman under him, he saw her eyes tick over to his arm.

He blanched at the realization that he still had short sleeves on, and his soulmark was on full display.

Her eyes widened a fraction as she looked back at him. But before he could find something to say, Tess’s voice came as a welcome distraction.

“Can’t leave you two alone for five seconds, can I?”

Neither of them spoke to each other as the day wore on, partially due to their focus being on removing the bodies from the apartment and quickly packing up to move to another and partially due to the sheer awkwardness that had developed the instant she’d caught sight of Joel’s soulmark. Thankfully there was an empty apartment nearby for all of them to shuffle into, with all the same shitty comforts of home. 

She was gone when he woke up the next morning. As much as it stung in the moment, he couldn’t blame her. 

“She saw it, didn’t she?” Tess asked over a quiet cup of the world’s worst coffee.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled. “She saw it.”

“Don’t take it personal,” Tess said, “it’s kind of a lot to take in, isn’t it? World went to shit and now she’s supposed to believe she found her soulmate? Her scruffy 'knight in shining armor’? Dunno about you, but that shit hasn’t even been on my radar.”

“Wasn’t on mine either ‘til I saw we matched.”

“Maybe she’s just off thinkin’ somewhere,” Tess offered gently as she stood and walked away with a quiet pat on Joel’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space before she wanders back around.”

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he desperately hoped Tess was right. He fell into a fitful sleep when she didn’t return that night.

Or the next.

Or the next.

The fourth day in her absence, Joel once again woke up without Tess in sight. It was almost a relief - he was beginning to tire of her giving him looks of pity. He knew she tried to hide it, and to anyone else, she could have pulled it off. But not to him. He knew.

He stretched his aging muscles, heaved himself off of the ancient mattress, and made his way from the bedroom into the kitchen. When he got there, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There she was, standing, just… staring out of the kitchen window. His breath puffed from him in a quiet, involuntary gasp. He watched as she turned to him, a sad look in her gaze as the corners of her lips turned upwards in an apologetic smile.

“Hey.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel blurted harshly despite himself.

“Thinkin’.”

“Long time to just be thinkin’.”

“Had a lot to think about.”

He took a few cautious steps towards her, not unlike the ones he took that first time in the pharmacy months ago.

“Like what?”

Truthfully, he was simply teasing her now. He knew full well what had been on her mind, because it was all the same things that had been on his. From the way she turned and shot him a glare, he knew she was aware too.

“You know exactly what,” she said, a grin teasing her expression.

Her grin fell then, and melancholy began to infuse the atmosphere.

“You know,” she said, turning her arm to look at her soulmark, “ever since the world went to shit all those years ago, I’ve spent the entire time hating this thing. Thought it was just a cruel reminder of all the stuff I’d never have. I stayed on my own because I didn’t trust anyone else enough to stick around. But you? I… I trust you. As much as anyone can trust anyone else these days, anyway. I trust Tess too, but… I think I trust you just a little more.”

Joel said her name softly as he put a gentle hand on her back.

“I feel safe around you,” she said, then sighed. “I… I think you know what I’m trying to say here, Joel. Don’t make me spell it for you.”

He knew. He was just trying to figure out how to tell her he felt the same without making a fool of himself.

“And even if that means having to look at my mark on your arm every day and know you don’t, or… can’t feel the same way I do, then… then that’s okay.”

Joel, beneath all his flaws and imperfections and sins, was a man of few words. Fewer still after the infection had spread and he’d lost Sarah. So he settled for the only thing he could think to do.

He reached for her. Pulled her closer.

And he kissed her. 

He kissed her like his damn life depended on it. When they parted, foreheads still touching, he finally found his words.

“...I missed you,” he murmured into the space between them.

“Missed you too,” she answered. 

The two of them stayed that way for a moment, foreheads resting against each other and eyes closed. Taking in a reunion that was so rare since the infection spread those years ago.

“You know,” she said softly after a while, “I don’t think I ever apologized for trying to kill you when we first met.”

A laugh bubbled up from Joel’s chest. A real, genuine laugh; something that had become so foreign to him it almost startled him.

“Don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I probably would’a done the same if I’d been in your shoes.”

They shared a laugh this time, the sound curling around them and softly enveloping them as they stood together.

“Fated minds think alike, huh?” she quipped.

“Yeah,” Joel said with a smile, leaning in for another kiss, “Guess they do.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #ghost scribbles

[windvexer]

Hi, Chicken!

I have recently entered a dilemma. After diving headfirst into research about 'quantum mysticism' (and VERY quickly learning how BS it is), I'm left wondering if there's anything linking witchcraft and science together.

I ended up watching a ton of science videos from a reputable source, and it left me feeling... weird about magic/witchcraft as a whole.

I guess I'm just looking for validation that magic/witchcraft is real, whether or not science can explain it.

Thanks, friend! <3

Internalized Scientism is common.

The only things that are true can be measured (so the philosophy goes), and if you experience something that cannot be measured, well, you aren't crazy - it's just that your experiences are not yet able to be reduced to measurements; your mysticism cannot now be tacked up on a board and dried out as a scientific specimen, but one day - what a relief! - everything you've ever known or been will be reduced to binary, nothing but a mystery-free code copied down in some database; measured, true, complete. What a comforting feeling, apparently, for how ardently some love the thought.

It is not particularly any of our faults for being made to feel crazy, foolish, stupid, or whatever pejorative term, for believing in things that have meaning without having measurement.

At the intersection where you meet the rest of reality lives a dazzling mystery, dark and glittering like granite in a mossy stream, breathtaking and sometimes so sacred we fear to touch it.

What little cracks appear in things that are when a person learns to explore that mystery. There is hardly an easier way to keep people from exploring those bothersome depths than just convincing every last person that because some crude scientist cannot reach into the mystery of their soul and crack it apart with a measuring tape, those mysteries simply do not exist.

I will tell you why I started practicing witchcraft (apart from the goading spirit man) - I knew there had to be something more.

There had to be something more.

Why are you here, Anonymous, sniffing after the mossy stream? Can you tell that your feet are wet, even if you can't feel the water? Do you sense there is something glinting down there, tucked away in invisible cracks?

You are at work, you are at school, you are on your phone, at the store, at a party, and still: moss is growing over your toes. Lichen is growing on the box of cookies on the store shelf. A ghost stag is sad somewhere near the meat department. And if they are not there, is something in the back of your mind yelling, keening, weeping: why not? where did it go, it is supposed to be there, how do I find it?

What is witchcraft, my friend? It is different things to different people, but I will tell you something that it can be:

Witchcraft is a system of tools and frameworks to explore the desperate need for something more.

Do you have that need? Does something inside of you want to cry with joy if you dare admit to yourself there might be something more?

If so, witchcraft may be the framework you choose to explore those mysteries.

I cannot convince you that there is a mystery to be explored. I do not want to convince you of that. I am just telling you - you can explore it. We have the tools. Sometimes, some of these tools are called Witchcraft.

Do you know the problem with trying to see more clearly in the moonlight?

As soon as you bring the sun in, it isn't night any more.

In the rich darkness, you may never gain the clarity of sight and insight you already have under the sun.

But for some of us, that gentle night is a place we must go to; to see things in their ghostly, star-struck forms; to feel the world outside of its measurements; to experience our same universe, inside-out and upside down, merely by virtue of having the sun slip away, and thereby become complete within ourselves - because so many of us are already inside-out and upside down to begin with.

Explore the darkness if you would like to. All you've got to do is open the door and let the moonlight reveal what you may already know:

your toes are in a stream.

#just starting #answered #tbl

[axis-model-014]

In regards to your late creator, Chujin.

Two Questions, if you are inclined.

1.) What was your most beloved/cherished memory of Chujin?

2.) Are you aware of his family. If so are you currently aware of their present state?

That's all, thx!

““LATE” CREATOR, HUH?”

“WELL HE SURE IS LATE, HE HASN’T VISITED STEAMWORKS IN AGES.”

“THAT IS OK. HE IS A VERY BUSY MAN, HE HAS A LOT OF THINGS TO DO.”

“BUT TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, THERE ARE A FEW MEMORIES I CAN CONSIDER “FOND” IN MY DATABASE.”

“ONE DAY, I HAD ACCIDENTALLY DAMAGED MYSELF TRYING TO PERFORM A TASK.”

“MY CREATOR IMMEDIATELY CAME OVER FOR REPAIRS. I HAD NOT EVEN CALLED FOR HIM YET.”

“HE HAD ACCESSED THE DAMAGES AND HAD STARTED WORK ON REPAIRING ME.”

“HE TENDS TO USE PHRASES LIKE: “EVERYTHING WILL BE OK.” AND “YOU WILL BE FINE.” WHEN DEALING WITH INJURIES. I HAD SEEN HIM DO THIS WITH ANOTHER MUCH SMALLER MONSTER.”

“THESE REASSURANCES DO NOT SERVE MUCH PURPOSE BECAUSE I AM AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I WILL BE OK. I AM IN MY CREATOR’S HANDS AFTER ALL.”

“AND YET, SOMETHING ABOUT HEARING THAT FELT… GOOD.”

“MY CREATOR JUST ALWAYS KNEW HOW TO MAKE ME FEEL. NICE.”

“TO ANSWER YOUR OTHER QUESTION, I DO NOT KNOW MUCH ABOUT MY CREATOR’S FAMILY.”

“AT LEAST I DO NOT THINK SO. MY MEMORY RECENTLY HAS NOT BEEN SERVING WELL. IN THE PAST I MAY HAVE KNOWN.”

“I HAD AT LEAST MET HIS WIFE, BUT THAT IS ABOUT IT.”

“I HOPE THEY ARE DOING “SICK”, THOUGH.”

#AXIS_ASK

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Remember that rambling we had a while back about Cassie trying to turn Freddy against Gregory by showing him footage of the shattering?

Imagine if she also salvaged footage of inside the elevator she got dropped off, with Gregory's voice clearly recorded as well as everything that happened in there up to the moment the elevator crashed.

Freddy is still excusing Gregory's actions in the shatterings footage? Yeah, that alone already leaves a bitter taste in the back of Cassie's mouth, but she's not done yet.

She then shows him the elevator footage. Something she personally had to go through because someone else imposed it upon her, a clear death sentence cast over her by who she thought was her friend, unlike the shattering of robots in order to steal useful things from them. The voice of Gregory clearly able to play god with her life there and he verbally chooses purposely to end it.

No matter what, Freddy can't smoothly excuse that, especially given the person who nearly got betrayed and killed is right in front of him, and no matter how much of a chokehold Gregory has on him, he cannot deny her being conpletely justified in feeling and thinking however way she is now. And if he tries to, he'll most likely only dig himself and Gregory even deeper, because one half a letter or gesture wrong and he could be giving off the message that Cassie should have died or deserved to die, or that she wasn't worthy enough as a living person to be left to live, that her death was the right thing and would have been justifiable and acceptable. And you know, passing off that message in the face of the one who nearly got killed, would not be good.

If you keep in mind that flavor texts in Ruin indicate Cassie was frequently in the PizzaPlex growing up since she was little, it would be safe to assume Cassie and Freddy have known each other for years. So this situation would only be EXTRA bitter and stingy. That apparently a child he's known for years and that is part of the "Fazbear Family" (as in being the child of an employee) was discardable and less worthy or valuable to him than a backstabbing brat he just met one night.

Man this would suck for everyone involved because there is no easy way out of this one. I'm not sure what the outcome of this mess would be, but man, the "what if" thought of Cassie being so distraught she lands into denial with the belief that "Gregory must have hacked you without your awareness to artificially force you into loyalty because the REAL Freddy would never do this or be like this!" and forcefully tries to get the Faz-wrench on him to try 'bringing him back to normal.'

This girl needs a break.

Oh god she really does need a break holy hell but this has given me some thoughts

So. Freddy. He's the most popular, hands down. There's no way he's not! Face of the brand, generic and always front and centre, even when he's not around! Always swarmed with kids and always trying to be a very good example!

What I tend to think about Freddy, is that he's very hands off. He doesn't typically form good, strong bonds with the kids on an individual level because he's always swarmed. They come and the go and if he didn't have a database built into his brain, he wouldn't be able to remember so many names and faces. His approach is just to sort of oversee things. Make sure no one is breaking any rules. Doesn't notice when kids leave because there's always so many of them that keeping track is near impossible. He focuses on whoever's in front of him.

Cassie is aware of this! She's seen everyone else act differently with a crowd than they do with a few kids! Of course Freddy would be no different! She always made that effort to be nice to him whenever he wasn't out entertaining, just like she did with the others when she got the chance, more so even! It must be pretty stressful being surrounded by kids all day, right?

She'd always thought that the animatronics had all seen her differently to the average kid. She was there a lot more often, during quiet times and in restricted areas, able to interact with them all outside of the public eye. She's heard them swear, seen them mess around, breaking rules, goofing off, skipping things on their schedules, and all sorts of other things. They've all hung out together a good number of times and Cassie had felt like she was friends with all of them!

But now, all of that is being questioned. The way Freddy talks to her is like she's no different to any other kid, like all those backstage moments didn't happen. He's doing the old "why can't we all just get along" spiel on her, despite the fact she nearly actually died several times and all his apparent friends got destroyed. Suddenly, she wonders why he was ever so popular, why she ever thought he saw her any differently to the swarms of kids running around at Fazerblast and most importantly, she's wondering if it's just Freddy that feels like that.

Roxy? Probably doesn't feel that way. Despite being deactivated by Cassie, she still rushed in to save her. They've had more heart to heart moments under the pizzaplex than she's had with anyone else too. There's some doubts, of course there is after this, but Roxy would have an easier time reasurring her than some of the others...

Do the others really treat her differently? Or did she make that up in her head too? Do they really care about her? Or did they just put on a show for her like they would anyone else? Is their kindness genuine? Or is it all just as fake as Freddy's?

The other thing I thought of was, what if Cassie doesn't know Prototype Freddy isn't her Freddy? She goes around, fixing everyone up as best she can, by herself or with her dad or anyone else, I dunno, and she never once considered that this wasn't the Freddy she knew all that time. Why would she? Why would she know about the prototypes? She might the daughter of a tech, but that doesn't mean she'd know everything.

So she repairs this Freddy, expecting the Freddy she knows and loves, and getting someone else. Protobear looks at her completely differently to how Freddy did. She's happy to have brought him back and he's nothing but nice to her and everyone else. She doesn't realise how different he is until she meets the other Freddy again. It feels like a bucket of ice water.

That shock of this not being Freddy, wondering what happened to him and worrying if he's okay and what could possibly make him let his friends get hurt like that, all turning to the realisation that Protobear is more the Freddy she loved than Freddy himself ever was...

She needs a break you're so right

#fnaf security breach #pop rox answers #sorry this took so long I couldn't focus with all the noise and then I went working out how many horses you can fit in the plex car park #you know! useful information! lmao fdfdsf #pfft this would suck for cassie but imagine protobear is actually zags and cassie gets so fucking spooked #first thing he did was swear really loudly and she looks like she's just seen a ghost shdfsdfs #anyway this is some cool shit right here #as always with you buddy!!

[yanderend]

Popular Girl Yandere (OC) x Gender Neutral Reader

Anya, The Queen Bee Headcanons

A yandere that will toy with your feelings and manipulate you until she gets what she wants.

Easily the most popular and respected girl in the school, if not the whole town! She's the living embodiment of a perfect girl-- and despite appearing humble in the public eye, she very much knows this, and uses it to her advantage.

Upon first meeting, she judges you like anyone else-- You're met with ambivalence and kindness. But inside she's completely freaking out- Anya thought she was above 'love at first sight', but you're just so adorable!

Suddenly, you're all she thinks about, and will take any opportunity out of her schedule to talk to you-- She's determined to pull your reputation up to hers, so that no one will question a thing when you inevitably get together!

You are getting together, right? I mean, she is the perfect girl, right? You don't really have a choice either way-- She'll make you fall for her one way or another... No matter what.

God forbid you show interest in other people-- Anya wouldn't forgive herself if you sullied your reputation by talking to such disgusting low-lifes!

Wait... when did she start to act like this? She's always treated others like her equals, but when you're around...

She's known to be possessive, her friends say they find it endearing, but she's never shown that same interest in a person before. Of course, her inner circle doesn't know the half of her obsession with you— or how far she's willing to go to keep your attention on her, and only her.

Anya needs you to love her, to adore her like everyone else in this town does! She needs it more than life itself, and won't stop until you can hang around her 24/7!

Her possessive actions begin with what you expect- she's the popular girl archetype, so manipulation is more than easy.

Grades slipping? Let her tutor you! Better yet, let her find her way to the school's database and change them so you'll be sat in her classes... Where she can keep a very close eye on you.

Bad home life? Well, no-one so absolutely cute as you should have to go through that! Stay over at her family's deluxe suite while she 'sorts out' those problems for you.

You can tell her anything, after all! You can trust her. You should only trust her, in fact, because in her words: 'Everybody else in this town is so two-faced, but not me, right? We're best friends now!'

Eventually though, it grows too much, she can barely hold herself back from letting her facade slip and clawing at the throats of those who spread rumours about you...

The manipulation stops, and the violence begins.

People in your classes start missing school- and returning with broken bones a week later. Those who see your newfound popularity and gain crushes on you are forced to move away after getting threatened on the street. Teachers that seem to get a bit too worried about your well-being for Anya's liking start getting food poisoning more and more often.

Her favourite, though, is when she gets to hear someone apologise and renounce your name from their tongue before the life drains from them.

All for you, her beloved! The two of you will be running this county, hand-in-hand, and there's nobody she'll let get in the way.

#The Queen Bee #yandere oc #yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere girl #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios

[madeofthreads]

@housetummelt | x

Ji-eun exhaled a slow breath. The tension was still there, but it wasn't quite as explosive as it had been before... she didn't want to shout, and she didn't want to assault him with questions after all. She simply needed a moment to gather herself back together.

Following his guidance, she pulled back from the hug, and it was then that she realised his was the first familiar face that she had seen in the aftermath. Of all the people she had ever known, Baldur Tummelt was the first she could confidently say 'he survived'.

"It is good to see you Mr. Tummelt." Ji-eun meant to apologise to him. To dismiss her reaction in some way, but really, she wasn't sorry about it at all.

"I... am alive." It almost sounded like she questioned that, whether she truly was alive, whether this could truly be called living. It felt more like surviving. Her parents had both been listed as dead, according to a security database they were both swiped into their non-military work, and both placed at the epicenter of disaster. Even if it were a lie, even if they somehow survived the initial assault from within Gralea, they would not survive the cold and the dark that was to come.

When asked whether she needed anything, she gave a small pause. Yes. Yes, but a secret need. "Perhaps..." she couldn't get out the words. "That is, I do have a favour to seek, but I wouldn't ask for it until I see for myself the state of this Nifen base. There has been so much that has gone wrong. So many people in greater need. I can wait."

Then she managed a very weak smile. Barely a tug of her lips, and it was gone just as quick. "Mrs. Tummelt. I would very much like to see her as well. People have been slowly arriving, and I haven't seen any faces that I recognised until now. I'm... I think I'm in need of familiar company. The Lord Hi- former- Ravus." It felt strange to use his name in a setting that wasn't private. "We arrived together, but we were made aware of intel concerning a Tenebraean escort that needed assistance. He left to receive them but I... well, I'm here, unfit to deploy." That was her favour, but Baldur was a smart enough man to put two and two together.

Ji-eun maneuvered to stand at his side. She followed his lead, hoped quietly that the lower decks weren't as depressing as the image that came to mind. Not a sad and decrepit slum where the Nifen had been dumped. "... and how are you?" she dared to ask after she herself had spilled her troubles upon him. "Are you well?" Or was he also surviving.

#housetummelt #verse; FFXV (Darkness) #Park Ji-eun #Millie Park

[cheshire-silent-cat]

Peas in a pod

Pairing: Jason x fem! Reader

Warning: suggestive, cussing, angst, dramatics and exaggeration, made up location .

Scenery: Let’s imagine that the titans forgave Jason but still had mixed feelings about his presence or what he stood for, and even though he wasn’t a titan anymore he still worked with them when necessary from time to time, and this was one of those times .

***************story begins here************

📞“Dick?? Look this is a pretty shitty time to call” Jason said as he hid behind a wall to dodge rapid fire bullets from multiple angles.

📞”sorry to interrupt but it’s urgent” dick spoke from the comfort of his computer room, as he researched his next mission’s location.

📞 “Alright so what’s up” jason said as he heard the last man fall to the ground.

📞”it’s about our next mission, at a hidden kingdom, the aim is to recieve intel about it and include it in the database. Dick spoke proudly

📞“Tch. That sounds like a job for explorers, why am I needed” Jason said mounting his motorcycle.

📞“Your mission is to go undercover and retrieve the all powerful seer, they are said to serve as a core battery for the attacks of this kingdom” dick continued as he read the files.

📞“Oooo sounds exotic, anyways I do need a vacation, alright I’ll meet at the tower now” Jason spoke loudly as his motorcycle roared to its destination.

The next day the whole team were briefed about the plan and before they knew it they were standing on the grounds of innominatam, now all they had to do was journey to the floating capital which was reached by a special aircraft during their journey they learnt a number of things, they learnt that the capital floated over a ridiculously deep pit that could not be reached by any aircraft’s known to man, “it’s a special day here at innominatam, there will be an important meeting at the capital with all sorts of noble people, the seer will be one of them visiting us, bringing us good fortune” the pilot said excitedly, “can you tell us about the seer” korry asked, “well from what I hear, the new colony (land claimed) is quite promising which means more rich resources for us, although progress is currently being thwarted by a very small amounted group of rebels, I guess because of that our leaders have summoned the team of diplomatic members (usually kept away from the public) of innominatam to investigate among those diplomats will be the seer, I’m so excited” the man giggling while landing the aircraft, “enjoy the sights that innominatam has to offer”.

They all walked, keep a good distance from the other people while scheming, “now we just need to find away to get Jason close to the seer-“ dick spoke but was interrupted by a white robe wearing important looking coordinator “you there!” He yelled and Jason pointed to himself, the man briskly walked towards Jason “yes you! Aren’t you supposed to be with the seer? What the hell did you do with your suit!” The man scolded and behind his mask Jason just looked confused so he stayed silent, “hello? You are one of the seer’s guides are you not?” The man asked again, “yes? Yes! Yes I am! I just got lost could you umm help me out?” Jason said with sweaty palms trying so hard not to seem suspicious, “ugh you guards of nowadays are so stupid, come along” he said practically pulling and shoving Jason in the right direction, “hmm that was easy” gar joked, “gotta hand it to him, the kid is good” korry laughed sarcastically, “we are actually screwed” Rachael chimed in. “Alright everyone you know the plan, now move out” dick orders and they all split up disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile with Jason, it was like he found his people, barely an hour in and he found it easy to talk with the other guards they all walked infront of the seer, and Jason had to steal a few glances, you were stunning, your skin glowed, you were adorned in gold and moved gracefully in your black dress, your short tight curls covering your eyes at all times but you managed to see clearly, you were the same age as him or maybe a year younger, but as the other two guards talked Jason couldn’t stop staring at you well that was until the other guards started talking loudly and you twitched a bit, it was such a slight movement that even if he being a detective in his own rights, had blinked he would have missed it, this made his attention shift towards the guards in-front of him.

“I’m actually looking forward to those rebels showing up” one of the guards giggled loudly

“When they do show up I’m going to smash their skulls open” the other guard replied

“Well I’m going to take them down for good and then that will be the end of the rebellion” the first guard spoke again, trying to turn it into a competition. “What if I just fight you” the second guard replied again landing a punch on the shoulder of the first guard as they yelped in pain. “Let’s focus guys our main goal is to protect the seer and anyways we can just take them down together when they come, that’s why they sent uhhh three of us” Jason spoke up trying to verbally separate them, the mere words of teamwork and togetherness disgusted Jason to his core but he had to sell the part.

And even though Jason did the right thing by trying to diffuse the situation before they drew too much attention, at the end of the day the other two guards were jug heads (honestly a miracle they managed to keep you safe until now) “three this” one of the guards said throwing a huge punch at Jason, Jason crosses his arm to block it taking a step back to stiffen his stance bumping into you and knocking you to the ground, a large number of gasps could be heard, followed by a pin dropped silence from the entire room. Now Jason was never nervous, never ever had he not been outspoken or struggled to speak, he was a confident man and yet here is was a stuttering mess at the attempt to explain himself to you, a girl he just met tf? Who was he right now?? “I’m umm uhh I’m so sorry.. I uhh, the thing is they ummm, let… let me help” he said stretching his arms to you already halfway up “I’m fine” you said looking up at him, both your eyes hidden, “what?” He asked confused as to why you didn’t feel embarrassed “it’s okay, it was bound to happen really” you spoke in your usual soft voice, “I uhh umm…okay” Jason said finally giving up on explaining himself and just accepting your forgiveness, “now please wait here, i must now attend to my duties”

You said walking by the now saluting guards into a tent and as you disappeared into the curtains of the tent Jason followed your every movement with his eyes.

You being summoned was a rare occurrence because not just anyone could summon you, however today you had been summoned by the leader herself specifically for the purpose of sharing the knowledge your visions provided you of the future. “My Kuria (leader, this is what nobles and diplomats call the leader) I have arrived” you said entering the tent. The leader wasted no time and spoke “y/n tell me what will happen in my nearest future” she said with authoritative hand gestures and you clasped your hands together elegantly as though you were praying “my Kuria I foresee the rebels staging an attack on this very day in this very place, however they will be cornered but before then they kill seven aristocrats which will include 2 of my guards and myself once I am dead the rebels will be apprehended and the rebellion will reach its demise here” you concluded, with a relieved tone the leader spoke again “thank you y/n, that’s all I needed to know, you may go” she said and you did. From the moment you stood on the grounds of the floating capital you knew you would be a casualty but you weren’t fazed by the facts after all it’s not like you didn’t already know how exactly your life was to turn out and as for your death you had already accepted it,

You walked out of the tent now standing next to Jason once more, “the capital is very beautiful this time of the year, I truly wish I could have seen more of it” you said as you turned to Jason who was surprised you were speaking to him, “well uh there is still a lot of time” he said trying to lighten the mood, “that’s quite a nice thought but no” you lowered your head and smiled in defeat, you spoke so softly it tickled the ears of Jason in a sweet sensual way even when you were being serious, just then there was a loud explosion and as the smoke cleared a voice boomed through the crowd “leader of innominatam, leave our land alone, this colony has reached the end of its timeline now leave” they spoke, and according to your vision the time of the attack was punctual and without any warning they began slashing those who stood in their way and the aristocrat’s began fighting back, your guards lunged at the rebels with the first two getting taken out almost immediately, the rebels may not have looked like much but they were quite strong, now it was between them and Jason, they ganged up on him dislocating his shoulder forcing him to lay on the ground conscious but unable to fight or do much of anything really, now standing before you was a rebel towering over you it’s blade over his head threatening to strike you down and yet you refused to move, standing and watching thinking to yourself that afterall this was your fate all along. “Thank you guard you did your best” you spoke and suddenly Jason realised what you had meant, you had known that Jason would fail, that this would be the outcome, you had accepted it with all of your heart, but for some reason Jason, HE COULD NOT.

Using what little strength he had left, he lunged at you pulling you out of the way forcing you both to roll away from the rebels and him unto you, being the purest thing in the land it was ghastly to think that someone would touch or be seen with you in such a way, you both stared at each other for what felt like hours, shaken by the situation the rebels lost their focus and had to retreat, realising where you both were you both separated from each other, touching your head as it hurt from the impact of the floor, the furious crowd closing in on the both of you, it was unspoken of to touch not to mention lie on the seer in such a provocative way, “unbelievable” someone shouted, “disgusting” another yelled, “this is unheard of” one shouted trying to topple over the large number of voices shouting protest however the one that tore through the crowd was the leader in all her glory “the rebels have fled, y/n this is not the scenario you predicted” she said angrily, “this…. This isn’t what I saw….I-I don’t know what happened I-” you protest, still dazed as to what just happened, “hang on a second, this was my fault” Jason sat up coming to your defense, “Jason? Jason! What’s going on there” dick asked from their spy communicators laced in his ear “clearly it was your fault GAURD, how dare you interfere with the duties of a member of my court, how dare you touch a deer so provocatively!!” She said enraged “forgive me I-” Jason pleaded, knowing fully well that he did not have it in him to fight, but the leader interrupted “you will be executed for this” she demanded and the crowd closed in on you two but came to a sudden stop at the appearance of the titans “you have two options let them go or face us” dick said taking a stance with the rest of his team, the crowd continued their movement closing in once more “it’s always the harder choices” he said preparing to fight, in a panic you took Jason’s healthy hand “run” and raced to the edge of the capital “wait!!!!!! What are you doing?!?!!!!!” without even the slightest hints of hesitation on your face you both leaped of the edge and into the large deep pit below, the titans quickly looked at the edge with no sign of either of you, their new mission was to escape this fight and hide.

Meanwhile with you and Jason, as you fell into the very deep forbidden pit, still holding Jason, fuelled with determination once you caught sight of the ground below you, you took Jason’s steel pocket knife and fiercely dragged it into the pit walls to slow your speeds, the blade managed to drive deep into the wall stopping you both from falling any further, you both were now a reasonable distance away from the ground and Jason took the first leap down, and then you let go of the knife, not like he doesn’t have more replicas of the weapon, “what the fuck just happened” Jason said taking off his helmet, simply forgetting he hadn’t disclosed his identity to you, as he revealed his face at that moment it began to rain, it never rained on the capital because it was too far up in the sky but it did rain below. “Who are you” you said moving back practically quaking in fear, he certainly wasn’t a guard he had no markings and he had hair, he wasn’t a civilian because he spoke English that you had learnt in your many studies rather than the native language of innominatam. “Hey it’s ok, I don’t want to hurt, I would never, ummm my name is Jason, fuck this is a mess” he said his tone mixed with frustration and concern but all still genuine so you knew you could trust him “y/n” you said “huh?” Jason looked confused “that’s my name….y/n” you emphasise looking away to hide your blushing smile, it was weird to say your own name since you were constantly referred to as seer and nothing else.

Jason gave you a heart stealing smile before looking up to observe the situation and recall the event that had taken place before looking back at you, gaze filled with concern “I have no choice” he said “what do you mean” you replied “you know exactly what I mean” he spoke again “n-no” you protested, “don’t be stubborn, I have to get you back up there” he yelled with a concerned tone, and you stayed silent “why would you do this” he asked “they were going to execute you” you tried to fight back. “Who gives a damn, there are tons of heroes like me in the world” he said waving his arms, he stopped to look at the rain, your thin clothes already drenched and as much as he would have loved to gaze at how nicely the fabric stuck to your figure, his main priority right now was to seek shelter, and it didn’t help that he already knew that you sprained your ankle during the fall and just wouldn’t admit it, but what he knew for sure was that if you both stayed in the rain any longer it would not be a good start to surviving the night, pacing around he inspected the vast valley, pacing up and down and his frustrations began to build, “you’re a seer, what do we do now” Jason asked and for the first time ever you did not know, you felt frozen in place with actual ice frost grabbing unto your shoes as you tried to breathe, wasting no time, Jason picked you up (bridal style) and began marching, as fast as his legs could go after a while of walking he found a cave.

He placed you on the ground gently, feeling sorry for your drenched state but still finding so much beauty in you. Using your hands you parted your hair, showing off your crystal like eyes fixated on his, “thank you” you said softly and Jason actually turned into a blushing mess right in front of you, he was so out of whack, that while attempting to shield his face from you all he could spout out in response was “I’ll umm start a uhh fire”. It’s not like Jason did not have experiences with girls it was that they were not usually so gentle and kind hearted especially to him, it made his heart flutter without explanation.

Sitting closely to the fire in silence the atmosphere of the cave was tense, “are you normally that rough with all girls” you said staring at the fire, “n-no I was trying to-“ “save me, I know… I’m grateful, but still it felt different” you interrupted him, staring at you own palms before abruptly crawling to his side with eager eyes, and spoke “you’re a hero, does it usually feel like that…. When you save someone”, “what? No, it never feels like that, whenever I save someone, it’s usually just for fun or as a duty, this was different” Jason said staring at his own palms, “duties suck” you added before laying your head on Jason’s shoulder, at first he tended up so hard if you weren’t so oblivious you could almost hear how nervous he was but after a few moments he relaxed himself fully and your soft body felt amazing.

For the next few days both you and Jason got to know each other better although neither of you had confessed their feelings you found comfort in one another, the pit was hellish with such little to eat but compared to the past traumas in both your lives this predicament was a vacation, without reception Jason could not reach the titans all he knew was that they were still on the island because he had you so they would come eventually, to make matter worse your ankle never healed and with every passing day the pit got colder, on this particular day, your thin fabric clothing was doing you no favours, insisting you were fine your body shivered, unwilling to deal with your stubbornness Jason took off his leather jacket and dumped it on your head, you reluctantly put it on, feeling his body heat and smelling his cologne up close, it actually smelt good.

Later that night you were restless, tossing and turning at your side of the cave, “something wrong princess” he asked, that was a new one, putting your hands to your face you turned away from him “I can’t sleep is all” you spoke and after a few moments of awkward silence Jason finally replied “then why not come sleep over here, promise I’m comfortable”, reluctantly you scooted beside him, sitting you tried to imagine how you would make this work exactly, when suddenly you felt the pressure of his hand at the back of your head gently guiding your head to his chest, which to be honest was surprisingly comfortable, once asleep you wrapped your arms around him and when sunlight hit your face, determined to remain comfortable you turned away, Jason also still asleep had one hand on your back and the other behind his own head, after what felt like an eternity of peace and silence, you began hearing voices from various directions, “should we wake em” gar said, “they are kinda cute like this” Tim added in his most fan gushing voice ever, feeling irritated and thinking it was Jason messing around you raised your hand to cover his mouth, “gotta agree with Tim there” kory added, “yeah we don’t have time for this, Jason!” Dick ordered, “Jason shut up” you whined, turning further to the other direction, “sorry princess, that’s not me those are my friends, shit friends but still friends” Jason spoken eyes still closed clearly ignoring his rescuers, “we will meet you at age plane then” dick said and the titans left, “but seriously we do have to go” Jason concluded, annoyed you rose up, “so annoying” you muttered, “ahh so you do admit that I am very comfortable to sleep on” he teased, puffing your cheeks and looking away, “your friends are waiting” you tried to get a pass, “not until you admit it and trust me they will not wait forever” Jason said with a half serious tone, “fine, yes you are very comfortable to sleep on” you said rolling your eyes, “see was that so hard” he teased further, “no” with an amused face you shook your head, “atta girl” he concluded and you were more than ready to go, “oh yeah before I forget, do you want to come with me to back to the city” jason asked looking away bashfully, “really?” You asked, “ummm yeah, it’s a bit dangerous, and unstable but it would be….. nice having you around you know” jason tried gathering his words as he scratched the back of his head, “jason I would love to” you said, and you could see the joy spread on Jason’s face, “alright let’s go then” Jason said giving you a piggy back ride, as you both walked off to meet the others.

The end

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #teen titans #robin #red hood #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you

[cozza-frenzy]

Fanfic: A Perfect Moment

Of all the places I could be, I just want to be here with you. Hello again, fandom! It’s been less than a week (apparently??) and @chronicsheepdrawing‘s amazing character designs are still keeping my creativity train rolling! This fic once again stars their Drinky Bird Narrator - so if you’re not familiar, go check out a silly bird! (He certainly needs more love, given how he thinks of himself... ) This is a sequel (of sorts) to Anything Not Saved. It happens some time afterwards, after more resets and endings have taken place. Expect a dark chocolate Angst Cake with plenty of Mutual Pining, layers of Fluffy Stannarrator between each layer, and a Meta cherry on top - trust me, you’ll see what I mean. And my apologies to any ASL users; I did at least try to do some research, but I can’t vouch for my accuracy! CONTENT WARNINGS: Isolation, Paranoia, Abandonment Issues, Self-Hatred, Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Emotional Breakdown, Memory Loss, Panic Attack, Touch Aversion, Autistic Sensory Overload/Over-Stimulation. I’m also adding a mild Unreality Warning to this one. If you’re looking at a reblog of this post, there are details in the tags of the original if you feel like you may be triggered by this. For everyone else, the tags are a minor spoiler, so maybe don’t look unless you’re really curious. Bon Appetit!

Stanley? STANLEY!? Oh my god, Stanley! Stanley, thank goodness - something VERY peculiar is going on this morning… See, it all started when I booted up my computer this morning - and you’ll never believe it, but I wasn’t receiving any commands! NONE! So I asked one of the other Employees what was going on, and they must not have known, because they didn’t say anything! What do you think; should I perhaps try the meeting room? Do you think maybe I missed a memo? I mean I really don’t want to interrupt anything, not to mention the sheer embarrassment of walking into something like that, not only unannounced but LATE- Wait, I’m not done! Stanley, I’m not - oh, sorry, sorry, of course! It’s precisely 10:32 AM, of course  you always get a drink of water from the cooler at this time in the morning… haha, typical silly old ▇▇▇▇▇▇, am I right? I swear, I’d lose my head if it wasn't permanently attached to my neck! But, ah, anyway, Stanley, I just feel like… like something’s wrong? I mean, have you noticed how some things are, eh, just… you know… ‘off’? Like did you know Employee [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID]’s desk is empty? I mean, it looks like they haven’t touched their pencil sharpener in weeks! In fact, now that… now that I’ve thought about it… Stanley, did we ever HAVE an Employee [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID]? I mean surely we wouldn’t have a desk without an employee! That’s ridiculous! But why can’t I seem to… ? Ah, yes, alright, I know work is important and I know  I tend to ramble but- please, just hear me out?? Look, I know I must be trying your patience! I know my ‘little stories’ are utterly insufferable to literally EVERY other employee in this building! But you, you always stopped to listen and - waitwaitwait, I’m sorry, just - please! Please Stanley, I’m ALWAYS supposed to receive my instructions and now I can’t even access my bloody terminal! I mean, how ELSE am I supposed to make sure the other employees are doing their jobs correctly?? Didn’t the board hand down that notice just last week!? You know, the one reiterating how vital it is to the well-being of the company that all of us, together- Stanley? Stanley, where are you going-? Can… can you hear me? Can you even SEE me!? Wait! Stanley! Stanley, I’m right here! I’m right HERE! Why aren’t you looking at me? Why aren’t you LOOKING at me!? STANLEY! STANLEY, PLEASE!! DON’T LEAVE M- Oh… …Oh no… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, memories… Wonderful, wonderful memories. So much exquisitely-crafted content to reminisce over. He’d worked so hard on crafting this place; he’d fashioned every detail with care and precision. Yes, there would be trees here, a nice little fence there… oh, perhaps a few flowers, for a little splash of color! Yes, yes! The sound of birds, the smell of grass, the sky just a little overcast... yes indeed, not too bright, nor too gloomy. The light would hit just perfect this way, painting everything in soft and muted shades. Wonderful. Those clouds would be the whipped cream on this lovely little slice of the world, so close to being served and savored. And like a nervous, fidgeting pastry chef, the anticipation of someone experiencing this delectable delicacy had him practically giddy! The Narrator took a deep breath through the nose he maybe didn’t have, filling absent lungs with fresh air; and heaved a heavy sigh as he closed his plastic eyes, calming himself down. Wouldn’t be long now, he thought, chuckling softly. Stanley had fallen for his little breadcrumb trail the very minute he’d opened that vent… and any minute now, he’d be marveling at the inexplicably out of place stone archway. Manifested as if in a dream, a glowing portal to another realm, right there in the office… He rocked back on his heels a little, humming merrily to himself as he waited. Ah, he was proud of that little room; so mysterious, so enticing. A beautiful fragment of memory that he’d dusted off and polished up, until it glittered in his mind’s eye like a priceless diamond. Not half bad for something he’d forcibly yanked from the tangled, mangled wreckage that had been left behind in his head, when he’d stopped being human and become something- The Narrator cleared his nonexistent throat, straightening his tie. No, no, not today, he scolded himself internally. That so-called ‘Ultra Deluxe’ content’ had been so unfathomably disappointing, he’d had no choice but to do better! To show them just how great The Stanley Parable used to be! And any minute now, the hero of their story would be walking through that door to the most wonderful surprise. “Just our little secret”, The Narrator said as he felt Stanley’s presence. He was right behind him now, and getting closer. “Take a look.” He turned around, eager to see his protagonist’s reaction. He watched as Stanley shielded his eyes; the fingertips on his other hand tracing the surface of the cool stone pillar, as he stepped out into the memory of warm daylight. And the Narrator’s heart swelled with pride as he heard the soft gasp of wonder - the exact reaction he’d been looking for. “I call it - the Memory Zone!” He said, turning towards the path before him. “It’s where I keep all of my favorite memories… ” Not too far away was a squat, triangular building, full of snippets he’d painstakingly selected and organized for display. He’d come here a few times himself while it was still under construction; just to re-live some of the moments he’d preserved. As soon as Stanley stepped through that door, he would… wait… The Narrator froze suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. He’s got that look again. He’s… looking at me! Damn it, he’d been so caught up in what he was doing, he’d forgotten to unload his model! Alright, alright, maybe if he acted quickly enough, Stanley would dismiss it as simply a brief glitch- >/console >/unload Narrator.mdl ERROR: NOT FOUND What?? Clenching his glove-fist in frustration, he reached into the code and tried again. >/unload Narrator.mdl ERROR: NOT FOUND >/locate Narrator.mdl ERROR: POSITION NOT VALID The Narrator closed the console. That warm, fuzzy feeling of pride was quickly disintegrating under the freezing grasp of fear. He’d built the Memory Zone in a place so well hidden it was only outside the bloody map!!! And now there were footsteps behind him! And like the absolute fool he was, he turned around! Stanley was approaching. Slowly drawing closer. Each step ticking away the seconds to his doom. It’s okay, he reassured himself. You can pass it off as the Easter Egg from last time - just using it as a puppet to welcome him and nothing more! His face flushed. Stanley was right in front of him. He tried not to think about what muscles he may or may not still have - but regardless of their supposed existence, they all tensed at once, leaving him stiff as a board, frozen in terror. But he could work with this, right? Yes, he could! He could work with this! He could improvise, he improvised all the time-! Just don’t move…. Stanley looked into The Narrator’s eyes, his hands held tightly to his chest. …And he’ll lose interest eventually… Stanley moved his hand. It trembled as he held it out in front of him, slowly reaching forwards. Stanley… ? Stanley bit his lip. Wait, Stanley, what are you doing-? And Stanley touched him. The boggled look on the Narrator’s face shattered any previously-held records in the history of boggling. Stanley was touching him. Stanley’s hand was touching him. Stanley’s… warm, gentle hand... the pads of his fingertips slightly rough, slightly calloused. Each one a scar from another life; from the only life he’d known before The Parable. Continuously, rhythmically pressing buttons, over and over. Day in, day out. Broken fragments of memory flashed before the Narrator’s eyes in a sudden flood of noise; a disjointed, jumbled mess, utterly out of context and out of order. The taste of coffee in a paper cup. Stanley’s eyes. The bubble of the water cooler.  Conversation. Buttons marked “YES” and “NO”. His hands, his human hands, nails painted in an office-appropriate shade. A phone ringing. Stanley’s smile. A rising sense of panic. A snippet of a half-finished anecdote. Waking up. Blacking out. Laughter. Fire and pain and then nothing. A lunch break. An office-mandated birthday cake. A board meeting. An office-wide memo. Stanley’s hands. Stanley’s hands. He felt the tears welling up. He wrestled with the memories that hardly made sense, momentarily gaining the upper hand, only to find himself smacked senseless by the feeling of overwhelming grief that spiraled out of the current moment and skewered his heart. He twisted his head this way and that - desperately trying to get his stupid, stupid body to move! This was wrong! This was all wrong! “STOP!!!” The Narrator screamed, finally managing to pull away Stanley recoiled as if he’d been burned, and the Narrator turned from him, clutching the sides of his head as he struggled to get a grip, struggled to cram all of those horrible, horrible feelings back down inside himself where they belonged. NO NO NO NO NO NO-! The illusion is ruined! He definitely knows it’s me now! But ahead of him lay his last hope. His last chance at salvaging something, anything, from this horrendous mistake he’d made. The display area! If I can just get to it then I won’t have to face him! he thought to himself. He’d have to be quick, he’d have to take advantage of Stanley being distracted, but he could do this. He could make it! He could… he could just figure out the rest later, he had to GO! The Narrator started to run; and realized his fatal mistake too late. Inside his inhuman, transparent stomach, a sizable amount of liquid sloshed noisily back and forth. The more he ran, the more it sloshed. Back and forth, back and forth. Slish, slosh, slish, slosh… the momentum of each wave slowly building... and building... until-! “AH!!” One of his feet caught on an uneven memory of grass. All that heavy liquid, all that momentum, SLOSHED all the way to his front. And as these things tend to work with the laws of physics, the weight sent him tumbling forward onto his stupid idiot face, sliding across the ground a few feet before he finally came to a stop. The Narrator rocked gently back and forth from the still-sloshing liquid in the transparent globe of his belly, knowing exactly how he looked. It was a sight that would leave a professional circus clown weeping; hanging up his red nose and floppy shoes for the last time, his worldview in ruins. Witnessing such a sight, he’d know, deep in his heart, that no carefully coordinated pratfall or precisely timed nose honk - not a single artfully-placed whoopee cushion or expertly thrown custard pie - could ever come close to such breathtaking buffoonery. This is it. Stanley is never going to take me seriously ever again. The tears came thick and fast now, leaving the despairing Narrator gasping for breath between sobs. He’ll laugh at me. He’ll mock any sort of narrative I’ll try and create. Anything I try, no matter how wonderful, no matter how meaningful, it’ll be just a big joke. Like ME. Stanley stood over the Narrator, casting a shadow over him as he lay on the floor. The Narrator glanced over his shoulder, his fingers digging into the memories of grass and dirt beneath them and ripping them apart. Suddenly, hopelessness had given way to white-hot fury; Go on, he silently, bitterly urged his protagonist. Do it, you cretin. Finish me off. Put me out of my misery. Break my story! Break my heart! Break ME! Burn it all down, grind it all into the dirt where it belongs-! Stanley held out his hand. The Narrator looked up at him, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He was - for perhaps the first time in his life - speechless. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile; a man named Stanley had overstepped, and he knew it. <It’s you.> He’d signed, mere moments ago. <It’s really you… > Oh of course that shrill, annoying little voice in his head known as Common Sense had screamed at him endlessly. It stomped its little feet, tore out its hair, hammered its little fists on the bars of the bespoke and utterly inescapable cage that situations like this always built to contain it. No, stop! It cried. You mustn’t! But Stanley’s hand had moved of its own accord. He just had to know. He had to know if what he was seeing in front of him was really, really real. He had to know if what seemed like a memory of a dream of a memory - of someone he’d once felt close to - actually meant something. And then he’d touched The Narrator. Stanley’s hand shook when it had first met that plastic cheek; but feeling the smooth surface, he couldn’t help but relax from its reassuring familiarity. It was almost like a button, if a button was surprisingly warm. And despite feeling almost exactly like plastic, there was something indescribable, something wonderfully and beautifully alive about it. This was plastic with a pulse, and it made his fingertips tingle... His gently questing fingers found hair next. If he’d been one for poetry, he might have compared its color to fresh-fallen snow, kissed by the morning sun, but such metaphors escaped a mind such as his. Stanley was a simple man; not stupid, at least not usually, but his world had been small before the Parable swallowed him up. His memories of his old life were limited mostly to what he’d done at the office. But he vaguely remembered seeing a color like that, at work, in some kind of context… by the water cooler, during some kind of talk… and he knew he’d wondered, more than once, if it was as soft and fluffy as it looked. And as he stroked it gently... yes, apparently, it was that soft. A little stiffer than he’d imagined, maybe, but at least it looked nice and fluffy. Stanley felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. He hadn’t been sure what to think at first, but one word was slowly coming to mind, and that word was- “STOP!!!” Suddenly, abruptly, Stanley half-remembered and half-realized that softness was attached to The Narrator, and the shock may as well have electrified his arm. He pulled away; and seeing The Narrator’s reaction, his poor, simple heart sunk all the way to his feet. He knew he’d pushed things too far, he knew he’d done something dangerously close to Workplace Inappropriate Physical Contact, but had he hurt him-?? The Narrator turned and tried to run. Stanley scrambled after him, longing to cry out; Wait, please! I’m sorry! Don’t despawn again! The Narrator tripped and fell. Stanley, overcome with worry, rushed to his side, extending his hand. The Narrator just… looked at him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes full of tears, his fingers covered in dirt and crushed bits of grass. <I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!> Stanley signed repeatedly; in his desperation, he couldn’t even remember the next part of the Workplace Apology Procedure. The Narrator was still silent; and Stanley’s heart sunk further and further as his frustration grew and grew. Half-formed signs spilled from his shaking hands as his own tears began to rally the troops, fat drops ready to march down his cheeks in double time as he bit his tongue - why was this so hard, why was this so hard?? Mustering every bit of bravery an office worker of his rank possibly could, Stanley fell back on his last resort. Extending his hand again, he crossed the fingers on his other hand, holding them up so The Narrator could see them clearly; <R> Next, he held two fingers up; <U> His fingers formed a circle; <O> And lastly, two fingers split, like a peace sign; <K> “Am I… okay??” The Narrator’s words were strangled with emotion; but just hearing him say something, say anything, was enough for a wave of relief to wash over our daring hero. Smiling, Stanley beckoned with his extended hand, and The Narrator finally grasped it. It was soft, like the tasteful suede they used for the chairs in the Boss’ Office, and Stanley found himself subconsciously running his thumb over a line of neat stitches as he helped the poor man off the ground. The Narrator teetered on his feet for a moment, seeming unsteady. Stanley tilted his head slightly; what was that strange sloshing noise… ? But The Narrator sniffled, bowing his head again, and Stanley immediately snapped to attention. Yes, he knew just what to do! Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a packet of Office-Issued Disposable Handkerchiefs - an employee’s best friend for any sneeze, sniffle, or non-fatal accident involving coffee - and handed one to The Narrator. “Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator dabbed at his eyes, and blew his nose like a foghorn. Stanley looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and utterly helpless confusion. He could only ever recall hearing him so utterly distraught once before, and that was… not a memory he really wanted to dig into. Was this really his fault? Had he deviated too much? Had he ruined his story again… ? “I don’t understand… I just don’t understand… ” sobbed the Narrator; ”Why are you being so nice to me?” Stanley was utterly dumbfounded. He couldn’t even bring himself to start signing, but the What!? was so implicit that The Narrator looked up in surprise <BECAUSE! I’M! HAPPY! TO SEE YOU!> Stanley signed with undeniable emphasis, holding his hands right at the Narrator’s eye level. Unable to hold back his own tears for a fraction of a second longer, the armies came marching forth in torrents. Stanley was happy. Stanley was angry. Stanley was frustrated, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and so desperate he felt like he was drowning. His lip quivered, his whole body shaking from the effort, but he had to do this, he had to be brave. This was what he’d waited for. This was his hope. Somewhere, far far back in his memories, something stirred. Before the Parable. Before beginnings and endings. Before he’d ever known what a ‘Reset’ was, those memories were reaching out to him. Memories of a face half-remembered, and a name long forgotten. Memories of someone speaking his name, over and over, instead of addressing him simply as ‘427’. A kindly smile. Uproarious, mischievous laughter. Coffee with cream and a disproportionate amount of sugar. Passing a slice of store-bought birthday cake, and accidentally brushing hands under the paper plate. <STAY!> And stories. Every day, there were stories. The other employees called it rambling, called it irritating, called it inefficient and unproductive… but to him, they were little stories… <HERE!!> Stanley strained from the effort. <PLEASE!!!> And The Narrator touched him back. Stanley froze in place. He was hyperventilating, gasping for every breath between silent sobs, but his hands finally lay still. The Narrator’s hands were holding them; silencing them. But Stanley didn’t mind; in fact, he welcomed it. He was at his breaking point. His heart and his head were both full to bursting. So many feelings. So many words. This wasn’t what he was good at. This wasn’t what he was meant for. But now, standing right across from him, was someone who was. Standing there, gently holding Stanley’s hands, was me. His Narrator. Let’s shift the perspective again, shall we? —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ahhh, there! That’s much better… feels like having a really good stretch after you’ve been sitting in the same place for a while, don’t you think? Let’s just take a moment to let the story settle… to take a deep breath, maybe have a sip of water…. to appreciate just how far we’ve come. …Now, uh, where was I… ? Oh, yes! Anyway; slowly but surely, I found my footing again. Our heads had been in the clouds long enough, and now I was pulling us both back to Earth, back into whatever passed for reality in this place. My thumbs gently stroked the back of Stanley’s hands; giving him something real to cling to. Giving my nervous hands something to do with themselves. And the moment I saw the tension leave his shoulders, I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. <You’re really here… > Stanley looked down at my hands and their irremovable gloves. Despite my fears, there was no rejection, no cruel mockery; just quiet fascination. Again, that same look, as his eyes moved up from there to my chest and to my face. And needless to say, it didn’t take an omniscient narrator to understand what his eyes were asking me. “Yes, Stanley. Go ahead.” Stanley reached out; I leaned my head into his hand this time, letting him know me through touch. And don’t you dare pass judgment - this is very hard for me to admit to - but it took everything I had not to burst into soppy tears all over again. We were old friends who’d just met. Two halves of the same soul, reunited at last. Surely a meeting like this was written on all the stars in the infinite cosmos, and upon every grain of sand in the- Stanley reached out a finger and ‘booped’ my nose. He laughed uproariously; not at me, but with me, as I somehow found a small chuckle growing into a full-on belly laugh. I just couldn’t help myself! This entire, bizarre situation we’d once again found ourselves in… the two of us so helpless, messy, and stupid... it felt so good to come so utterly undone. We were just a couple of total idiots, Stanley and I. Standing there and giggling like lunatics. And then… I found myself overcome by a strange impulse of my own. Seized by a brief moment of temporary insanity, perhaps. Taking a small step back, I opened my arms. Stanley didn’t hesitate for a single second. He fell into them like he was coming home; like he’d just had the longest work day in the universe, and someone had just presented him with the fluffiest feather bed in existence. Nearly bloody bowled me over again, with all his enthusiasm. But I looked down at Stanley - and he looked so happy, well... uh... you know what? I’ll give you the incomparable joy of picturing in your head just how happy he was. What?? No, I’m not lost for words! Me? Lost for words? Ugh, of all the… no, no, let’s not ruin this. This one right here is all yours. No, go ahead, take it. Don’t say I never do anything for you. But, ahem - to continue our scene, we were both sitting down now, right there on the ground. Stanley had his ear to my stomach, listening to whatever the hell liquid is in there slosh back and forth, as he rocked himself gently in place. There was no way he could realize how he was reminding me, with each slosh, of what I am. Of how I’ve changed. Of what I’ve lost. But for the first time since I could remember… I didn’t hate it. At least, not entirely. Perhaps I could get used to that, in enough time. Around us, the memory of birds sang, and the memory of a breeze gently rustled the memories of grass and flowers. Somewhere in the distance, a memory of a piano was playing itself - ah yes, I’d almost forgotten about that. Perhaps we’d see it later. Perhaps we’d sit on the bench I’d placed nearby, and look at the view. Perhaps talk to one another, instead of just at one another. Yes… that would be nice, wouldn’t it… But between Stanley and I; right here, and right now? There’s a glittering silence between us; one that outshines any other memory I’d care to rescue from the scrap heap. Things, I realize, are falling into place. As gentle as snow, as warm and welcome as the light of dawn. This, I can tell, is what I’ve been waiting for all this time; what I’ve been striving for, over and over, with each and every branching path. A perfect moment.

#The Stanley Parable #TSP #TSPUD #Stannarrator #Stanley/Narrator #Fanfic #NO BETA WE DIE LIKE THE END IS NEVER THE END #UNREALITY WARNING: The last section has The Narrator addressing the reader directly and talking in first person

[fyeahlolita]

Here's a very ancient post from the mod comm I made after the replica ban. IIRC the tag database project was sort of what set off the whole thing??? There was a group of lolitas who were just catalogging brand tags, because a) it was interesting and b) bootlegs with authentic looking tags being sold as authentic brand pieces had been popping up and some people wanted a resource you could point to and say "No, this tag is all wrong for that dress, see?". Miss Angelic Pretty was invited into the group (because a bunch of random old timers were) and the topic got onto replicas in general and how much they sucked and made things confusing and she was like "well, you know I've been thinking of perusing legal action against EGL because of them..." and we were all like "WTF why wouldn't you just ask us to ban replicas instead of doing that??" But it was like 11 years ago now and that's just my vague memory of it. My frustration at the comments about the ban are very clear in my last paragraph. At the time, if it was known to the community at large I said "I'm frustrated because people refuse to read" I would have been crucified for saying that lol. EGL was always SO ANGRY at the mods.

#egl community