Tumgik
#basically a RUN THE FUCK AWAY module
Text
Alright, guess it’s time to address the apocalyptic legal elephant in the room:
For those who might not know, WotC plans were leaked to “update” the OGL in what is basically a scorched earth policy with regards to 3rd party material/creators in the hopes of cutting out the competition and forcing people to use their new products. 
As someone who lived through the 4th edition/pathfinder schism, the situation is laughably similar:  D&D is flourishing more than it ever has (thanks primarily to the OGL) but the execs at Hasbro want more of the money spent on the hobby to wind up in their pockets. Oblivious to the fact that the opensource nature of the game is what draws people to it,  they task the design team with creating a proprietary virtual tabletop through which they can sell d&d content without having to worry about books or pdfs being pirated. This rightfully outrages the fandom and burns every scrap of good will they had towards WotC, resulting in a dead edition that’s maligned years afterword as folks hop to the newer, easier game system. 
The thing that’s different this time is that the d&d playerbase has grown exponentially since the days of the first OGL, with 5th edition being the easiest version of the game to run/pick up and so many resources online, there’s almost no barrier to entry besides finding a stable/accommodating group.   Hell, with the explosive popularity of liveplay series you don’t even need to be actively playing in order to be in the fandom.  All of these people are networked together in a fandom hivemind spread across twitter/reddit/youtube and WotC just made an enemy of every single one of them with its shameless and destructive cashgrab.  No streamer or 3rd party publisher wants to give Hasbro 25% of their revenue, to say nothing of having their project “cancelled” if WotC sees it as a threat to any of their current projects ( see the huge number of spelljammer materials published after the company dropped the ball). 
It took about two years after the announcement of 4th edition for Paizo to come out with pathfinder, and I have no doubt the OGL leak kickstarted every major 3rd party publisher brainstorming some legally distinct version of the 5e ruleset. In the coming months I expect to see a number of these surrogate systems floating around the internet in much the same way that the onednd playtest content, but spurred on with the added “fuck you Hasbro” energy. After that, it’s only a matter of time till one of the big streamers picks up one of these systems and popularizes it, not wanting to pay the 25%tithe to WotC. Personally my money’s on Critical Role: they were one of the major factors in popularizing 5th edition and they’ve got the fandom pull to legitimize any claimant to the throne. 
To step away from playing oracle for a bit, I’d like to finish up this post by dunking on WotC:  
*ahem*
HOW FUCKING DUMB TO YOU HAVE TO BE TO TURN YOUR ENTIRE CUSTOMER BASE AGAINST YOU IN ONE NIGHT? This is some new coke/Reynolds pamphlet/invading Russia in winter levels of shooting yourself in the foot. Wizards was on shaky ground to begin with given that they’re coming off a series of notably disappointing products AND trying to launch a new edition/virtual tabletop/battlepass system, but to follow that up with a retroactive rules change that lets them outright steal from or shut down creators? It’s laughable.  Maybe, MAYBE they could have made this work if they were knocking it out of the park with new releases every year and cultivating a base of diehard WotC loyalists, but the fact of the matter is that aside from the brand name, the hobby has largely passed them by. Everything that Wizards does, from player options to settings to monsters to rules modules, someone else does better because they’re willing to take risks and put in the effort. Aside from the elegant simplicity of 5e’s base system, I can count maybe two pieces of actual game design (piety from Theros, ship combat from Saltmash) that I consider usable at my table, which is SAYING SOMETHING considering we’re nearing the end of the game’s ten year golden age. 
I know we’ll weather this storm, we always have, and regardless of what happens I still know my friends and I will enjoy gathering around the table and slinging dice even though we might not be playing “dungeons and dragons” in a couple years time.  I’ll keep my eye on the horizon, and let you know where I find safe harbour.
2K notes · View notes
itsascreambaby96 · 8 months
Note
Eddie Munson as Ghostface? With Reader?
Halloween pranks turned into fun time in the bedroom?
Warnings: 18+, mdni!!!!! Everyone is over 18. Knife play! Mentions of murder (no one gets killed) Oral (male recieving), this is pure smut. Plot? I don't know her. P in v sex. Bit mean!Eddie (just a tiny bit). If I missed anything let me know.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
A/N: Hehe my love that is a brilliant idea. And I am honoured to write my first Eddie piece for you😁 you know this was the final push to write that piece we were talking about a few weeks ago🤭 is this my favourite thing ever? Yes. Yes it is😌
Also applications for a boyfriend or girlfriend to do this with me are still open😅
It's a scream baby!
Tumblr media
Eddie has been teasing you with his stupid mask all month already. And you were only half way through October. Giving you creepy calls, asking you about your favourite scary movie, which ended in hot telephone sex. Jumping out from behind the fridge, which led to Eddie hitting it from behind over the kitchen counter. Or jumping from behind a door, which ended in sex against the wall. Or jumping out of your wardrobe, which led to sex on your bed. There was no limit for him. Not like he didn't get to scare and kill people. He did. He just loved making you jump.
Of course you knew he was the famous Ghostface killer. It wasn't hard to figure out considering your High School bully wound up dead, a day after you told your boyfriend Eddie about what happened back then. You weren't sorry for them. It's what they deserved. It was also kinda hot and you might or might have not had the best sex after he admitted it. Of course he was wearing the mask, who might still have had some blood on it.
Eddie knew you had a thing for Slashers. The way you always look at them when you two watched a horror movie was a tell tale sign. And he was so excited about the thing he had planned. In his head is was coming together perfectly.
You found a part time volunteer job for the corn maze in Hawkins. The uniform wasn't much, basically just a vest and the rest were your own clothes. It was pretty chill most days. You only had to call someone 4 times yet cause some people got lost.
Today had been a quiet day and it was closing time. Your co worker left you to do the final round alone because he had an important date apparently and it couldn't wait. He was an asshole anyway so you were glad he was gone.
With your fleshlight in hand you went through the maze. You knew every path by now. It wasn't completely dark yet but having the flashlight gave you a bit of safety.
You had a weird feeling going in but it was probably nothing. You were almost finished now, already making your way back and you still couldn't shake that weird feeling. Like your were being watched and followed. Looking behind you, you saw nothing. You were going just a tad quicker just in case.
And then you heard it, a twig snapped behind you and you froze. Someone was definitely behind you. It was darker now but you didn't need your fleshlight to see who was behind you. The white mask reflected the moonlight. Black empty eyes kept looking at you. You let out a breath, fairly certain that it was Eddie. Who else would it be? Though in this town you could never be too sure.
So you said "Fuck Eddie you almost gave me a heartattack!"
Ghostface tilted his head slightly. Fuck those eyes didn't give anything away.
"I am not Eddie." You gulped at the deep modulated voice. You know it was him. 99.99% sure. But to pretend he was just a nameless killer? It kinda rilled you up.
"Oh you wanna play psycho killer? Can I be the helpless victim? Ok let's see. No please don't kill me Mister Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel." You looked at him with fake innocent eyes.
You could hear Eddie snicker and you were relieved you were right.
"You better run fast, princess. If I catch you, it's over for you." That same deep voice spoke again. Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling up.
He came a step towards you, then another and another, before you were darting off, Ghostface right behind you. You knew this maze by heart, so it was definitely on purpose that you ran into a dead end so Eddie would catch you. Of course you didn't let him know that.
You muttered an audible "Fuck" and turned around. You could hear Eddie tsk behind you. He was closer than you initially thought. A surprise gasp leaving you as his leather gloved hand wrapped around the base of your neck lightly. Eddie lightly ran his knife over your cheek. Your heart was beating wildly, adrenaline pumping through your veins.
"Poor thing. Now what to do with you?" It was kind of thrilling that you couldn't see Eddie's face, yet his movements were so telling.
The pointy tip of his knife was under your chin, slowly lifting your head. The fact that it was a real knife and he could cut you with it, the danger of it all, only added to your arousal. You were sure your panties were already drenched.
Eddie slowly dragged the knife down your throat, only adding a tiny bit of pressure so you could feel the weight of the situation.
And you certainly did, it also turned you on immensely.
"Is there any way I can safe my life?" You were batting your eyelashes at him.
"I can think of a few things." Eddie dragged his knife up your thigh and under your skirt, making goosebumps rise on your skin. Then he kept dragging the dull end of the knife against your pussy over your panties, making you moan.
"On your knees Princess." Eddie pulled the knife back and you quickly got onto your knees in fron of him. Lifting his robe and opening his pants to pull Eddie's cock out. He was already hard. So you weren't the only one getting turned on by this.
"It's not gonna suck it self. So if you want your life spared, I suggest you start. And you better make it good." God that voice. Your pussy clenched around nothing.
You licked a long strip from base to top, wrapping your lips around his deep pink tip, licking off some of the precum. You repeated this motion a few times making sure all of his dick got wet with your saliva. Then you wrapped your lips around the tip again, letting your tongue glide over his slit. Eddie kept groaning and moaning the whole time, biting his lip under the mask.
You were enjoying this as much as he was, your juices already ruined your panties. Slowly you went to take more of him into your mouth until you couldn't take it anymore. Breathing through your nose you started to bob your head up and down. Your hand wrapping around what you couldn't fit into your mouth.
Your movements started slow but your pace became quicker by the minute. Occasionally you kept sucking on his sensitive tip. The low moans Eddie made only spurred you on. Drool was running down your chin mixed with his precum. Eddie loved messy blowjobs.
He tried to hold back the urge to fuck into your throat but his self-control was running thin.
"Hands behind your back princess." His voice was even deeper now, even with the changed voice.
You looked up at him with doe eyes, making Eddie twitch in your mouth. You put your arms behind your back and Eddie gripped your hair right as he made his first thrust. It was slow, as if to test you were ok with this. Once he saw you were eager and waiting he didn't hold back anymore. A gargled sound leaving you as he fucked his whole length into you. More drool and precum dribbling out of your mouth, down your chin. Your eyes began to water but you kept the same look on your face to let Eddie know you were enjoying this as much as he was.
Shoving the entirety of his cock down your throat he kept you in place. Your nose touching the soft tufft of his pubic hair. Tears wear running down your face now, completely ruinning your mascara.
You looked all the fucked out little slut Eddie knows you are only for him. That fact almost made him come.
He pulled you back by the hair after a few seconds, letting you take in some much needed air, before he pushed inside again and holding you there.
He repeated this for a while, you looking messier and messier every time he let you come up for air. And he was definitely getting off on this. His pace got quicker, you knew he was close. His cock throbbing in your mouth and with one final push he came. Groaning, he held you there until the last drop, then finally realising you from his grip. You were coughing a little, drool and some of his come on your chin, your mascara all over the place and your hair all tangled up. Eddie loved it.
He put his dick back into his pant and softly helped you stand up. You gave him a reassuring smile. Your knees hurted now but you knew he would take care of you.
"You did so well princess. But I am not done with you yet." With that he dragged you back to his van. Good for him that he knew the maze too. You were stumbling a little and were glad when you finally reached the van.
He opened the back door, and you saw an old mattress and a blanket on top of it. He really did plan this all through.
He pushed you inside and onto the mattress, making you giggle a little. Not bothering to close the door, Eddie got on top of you, still wearing his mask. He took off your vest and your shirt. Your skirt followed suit. Now he made a show out of cutting your bra and panties off. One of his favourite things to do during foreplay. The cold metal of the knife made you shiver.
He circled the tip of the knife around your nipples until they perked, giving a deep, satisfied hum. Slowly he dragged the knife over your stomach down to your pussy. His other gloved hand was running through your wet folds.
"All this shit got you this wet? What a dirty little slut you are. Letting a killer teat you like this and then letting him fuck you. Tsk, pathetic, really." He pulled his hand up to inspect the glove. It was glistening with your arousal in the moonlight that came into the van.
Taking the tip of the knife again he began circling your clit. A whiny moan escaped you as the cold metal came in touch with your heated pussy. But you were enjoying yourself. He didn't keep this teasing up for long and threw his knife to the side. Pulling his robes up he took his pants and boxers off. His dick was already hard again.
He didn't waste more time, spreading your legs he pushed inside of you with one quick push. You threw your head back both in pleasure and pain from the stretch.
"Fuck always the best fucking pussy. Sucking me in so deep." Eddie grit out between his teeth. He could spend hours inside of you if you'd let him. Usually he gave you time to adjust but he was really impatient today and so he didn't give you as much time to adjust to his length and girth. Instead he almost completely pulled out of you and snapped right back into you, knocking the wind out of you.
You let out a choked moan as Eddie kept drilling into you and soon the pain vanished and all that was left was hot pleasure.
You wanted to hold onto him but as quick as lightning he grapped your wrists and pinned them over your head with one hand. Black eyes staring at you. The sorta anonymity made you clench tight around Eddie's dick making him groan.
With every hard thrust the mattress moved but you could care less about that. You were biting your lip to quieten some of your moans but Eddie wasn't having it.
"You better moan as loud as you want, because I want every damn person in this town to know how good I am making you feel." He was almost growling and who were you to say no to him. And so you released every moan and whine and groan you wanted. The squelching sound of your pussy adding to the erotic of this whole situation.
Eddies thrusts became harder, sloppier and erratic. You knew he was getting close again but you also knew he wanted you to come first.
His hand moved between tthe two of you and he started to rub circles against your clit, using the right pressure and pace to match his thrusts.
Like this, it didn't take long for you to tip over the edge. Your ears started to ring and a loud high pitched moan came out of you. Your legs wrapping around Eddie, locking him in, as he too, reached his end, emtpying himself deep inside of you.
Once you've both calmed down Eddie finally took off his mask and the robe as well as his shirt. He pulled out of you, colapsing next to you onto the mattress and pulling you into his arms. He gave you a long and meaningful kiss that made you melt. Your heart was still hammering against your chest.
"Was it everything you dreamt of?" His voice sounded normal again, making you relax instantly.
"No. It was even better." Your voice was hoarse but that was to be expected. You didn't mind.
"I'm glad." Eddie kissed the top of your head. You two kept laying there for a little while longer before driving home and taking a well deserved shower. After another round, consisting of Eddie eating you out you fell asleep exhausted but oh so satisfied. You definitely planned on doing this again.
300 notes · View notes
whxtedreams · 2 months
Text
When they’re ill / injured 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Small drabbles about how they let you help them when they're ill or injured.
Word Count: 1.3k
Tags: Injury, knife wounds, blood, fear, drug use, fluff.
Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Prince Oberyn, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales
a.n. yeah, so I'm a health worker (admin) and literally thought of this at work while going over forms, wrote dot points on sticky notes and smashed this out in my lunch break. Enjoy!
Tumblr media
Joel Miller
Tumblr media
Main cause for concern: Injury: lower back  
Joel hides his pain from you for all of three hours. When you finally realise, he doesn't actually know you’re in the room. He gets up from a chair and grunts in pain, his hand shooting to his back as he supports himself on the dining table with his other hand. He jolts when he hears your voice when you ask if he’s okay, only making him hiss in pain when he moves. He tells you he’s fine, of course he does. You know he’s not. After multiple attempts to convince him to go to the clinic in the Q.Z., he finally gives in with a grunt. He huffs, mutters and grumbles the whole time he’s there, making sure he lets everyone know he’s fine. He’s not though: his back is fucked. 
Summary: the poor guy just lifted something.  
Tumblr media
Din Djarin 
Tumblr media
Main cause for concern: Injury: Knife wound; left arm 
Din shut himself in the refresher the moment he got back to the ship. Normally you would let him do whatever he needed to do after hunting a bounty, but the small blood trail he left in his wake worried you. You knock on the door but hear nothing but the clatter of Beskar falling to the floor. You knock again and ask if he needs any help but he just tells you to leave him. You don’t, though; you can’t. You sit with your back to the refresher door and wait. Wait, just in case he needs you. 
When the door finally does open, you look up from where you sit on the floor and he kneels in only his flight suit and helmet. He softly grabs your chin to look at his shielded face. He assures you he’s okay, but you can’t be sure. You lift the sleeve of his shirt to see the wound for yourself, your eyes softening with worry. A painfully long, jagged cut from his wrist to elbow scars his skin, and you hear the hiss from under his modulator as you reach up to touch it. You suggest that maybe this time he goes to a medical clinic. His fingers rest on your cheek as he sighs, telling you that you know why he can’t. He lets you patch him up after that after he wipes a tear from your cheek. 
Summary: just another scar for you to trace later.
Tumblr media
Prince Oberyn
Tumblr media
Main cause for concern: Illness: flu
He’s been in isolation in his chambers for four days now. You’ve stopped by his door each morning and night to check on him, only to be turned away by his guards. You were worried. But finally, on the fourth night when you arrive at his door, he calls for you. The guards let you in and your heart aches as you see him struggling to breathe and blankets sprawled over his body. He missed you, he tells you before he coughs. He motions for you to stop as you walk towards his bed but you do not care if he gets you sick, you just want him to feel better. You gather washcloths and wet them with cold water and lay them on his face, a soft sigh of relief settling in his chest. My sweet little dove, he calls you as his wrist weakly curves around yours as you sit beside his naked, shivering, sweating body. You end up in bed with him, running nails up and down his back as he grips onto your body heat, slowly lulling him to sleep. You pray to the gods that he’ll be better soon. You miss your Prince. 
Summary: it’s literally just a basic ass flu, he’s fine. But everyone deserves to be cared for. 
Tumblr media
Javier Peña
Tumblr media
Main cause for concern: Injury: gunshot wound, shoulder. 
He desperately tried to hide it from you, even as he began to dial your number multiple times throughout the night, only to throw the phone across the room. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want to see you panic. He spends the night in hospital before Steve eventually tells you the next morning assuming you already knew. You didn’t. You rush to the hospital, thinking the worst. You find his room and when you arrive your chest is heaving as your eyes frantically search him for injury. I’m okay baby, really, he whispers as you fall into a hug. And he does feel okay as he takes in the smell of your hair, the comfort you bring him as you hug him. You’re angry at him, furious at him for keeping you in the dark. But that feeling is only temporary, because he’s okay. He’s breathing. He’s alive. 
Summary: Hugs are healing.
Tumblr media
Agent Whiskey 
Tumblr media
Main cause of concern: Injury: Lasso burn 
He’s a fucking idiot and you make sure you tell him that after he tried to show off a new move. He was trying to impress you, and god, it would have if he didn’t whip himself and burn a massive line down his leg. He had shouted out in pain but tried to down play it as he came limping back over to you like a wounded puppy. Of course he was still flirting with you as you tried to assess the wound, asking you to kiss it better. You roll your eyes and kiss his leg beside his wound and the idiot tells you he’s healed, that your mouth is all he needs. It is in fact not any better when you drag him to the Kingsman med bay. As he lays on his stomach with your hand in his and the nurses have patched him up, he asks you to kiss him better again. You do. 
Summary: He’s an idiot. But he’s your idiot.  
Tumblr media
Frankie Morales
Tumblr media
Main cause for concern: OD poisoning
You get the call at eleven at night while you’re soaking in a bath. When you answer Fankie is freaking out, blabbering about brownies. You tell him to slow down, and he takes it literally. His words are dragged as he mentions the brownies again, how he feels poisoned. You sigh as you pull yourself from the bath, you let him know you’ll be over as soon as you can. 
When you do arrive at his house, he's laying on the living room floor. You stand above him, arms crossed over your chest as you raise an eyebrow. His hands are in the air as his eyes are fascinated by his fingers moving. He tells you he ate half a tray of “special” brownies and he honestly thought they were weak because they didn't do anything but then it just hit him like a truck and he can now both feel every bone in his body and also nothing. He laughs then, and then doesn’t stop. Somethin’ wrong with those brownies, he laughs and you smile, trying not to laugh. You look over at the tray as he goes to take another and you quickly rush to pick up the tray and he actually pouts at you as his fingers wiggle for the tray. Ah-no way, you scoff as you toss them in the bin. You end up pulling him off the floor and he pukes on the floor beside you, just missing you. Taking you to the ER, you sigh as you take hold of his hand and tug for him to follow you. 
When you do get to the ER, he sits beside you in the waiting room and his head rests on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around yours as you wait. A soft content smile is plastered on his face and you carefully run your fingers through his hair, pulling soft sighs from him. Feel funny, he sighs and you hum. Love you so much, he says as he nestles himself even further against your body. When he’s finally taken in to be put on a drip, he tugs you along with him, muttering he needs you.   
Summary: Eating half a tray of pot brownies was probably not a good idea. Actually –eating half a tray of normal brownies probably isn’t a good idea either tbh.  
Tumblr media
132 notes · View notes
kaminocasey · 1 year
Text
Must Love Massiffs
Summary: You meet an unexpected person at the park who happens to have a massiff just like you.
Pairing: Sergeant Hound x GN!Reader
WC: 1.6K
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Name calling.
A/N: If you can't tell, I got this idea from the romcom "Must Love Dogs" starring Diane Lane and John Cusack lol. I'm a diehard romantic. Always. Anyway, I'd not written anything for Hound yet, so here we are! <3
Tumblr media
Your day hadn’t started off well. First, you got let go from your job at the bank that you had worked at for the last six years. Then, you spilled your coffee all over your new leather seats of your speeder. And finally, your massiff, Zio, had gotten out and ran down your street toward the park so now, you’re chasing after her trying to make sure she doesn’t scare someone or get run over. 
A great fucking day, right? Just the absolute best. What next?
“Zio!” You call out, losing her out of your sight. 
“This fucking massiff.” You grumble. “I knew I should have taken the lazy tooka home…” 
You grumble, but you love Zio with your entire heart. Normally, she’d wait for you to put her leash on, so the fact that she ran out the door like that kind of worries you.
“WOAH! DOWN BOY!” You hear someone in the park shout. “DOWN GRIZZER!”
You turn around and start running immediately, seeing Zio sniffing out another excited massiff and his Coruscant Guard owner. 
“Zio, down!” You yell, a little afraid that this guy could hurt Zio or even arrest you.
You really didn’t know much about the Coruscant Guard other than they were basically glorified detectives and worked closely with the chancellor, senate, and Jedi. People you didn’t really care much for. “Do you mind?” The clone snaps at you in a rude, modulated voice. “Don’t you know what a leash is?” 
You glare at him, pulling Zio back toward you, leashing her. “Obviously that’s what I was trying to do, thanks.” “This is a leash-only park.” The Corrie tells you, ignoring your comment.
“Yeah, I know, asshole.” You finally get her to sit. “She ran out and I’ve been chasing her for six blocks. You gonna arrest me or something? Because if not, I’ve got places to be.” 
You get a look at his intricately decorated helmet. It’s different from any Corrie helmet you’ve ever seen. It actually looks really cool, but you’re not gonna tell this asshole that. It has grey and white jags with a red V that goes down over the visor from the top. It’s interesting. But unfortunately, the helmet belongs to a dick.
“Okay, great.” You nod when he says nothing, walking Zio away. “Let’s go, Zio.” 
When you get to the edge of the park and let Zio do her business there, you look back at the Corrie and he’s still watching you with a tilted head. Whatever. You turn back around and then head home once Zio is done. 
“You’re rotten, you know that?” You talk to her, shaking your head. 
She looks back at you slightly, clearly pleased with herself. 
“Sorry, girl. It’s been a long day…” You sigh. 
When you get home, you let Zio off the leash and feed her dinner then go and sit down on the couch. 
Now what? Job hunting… that’s what.
When Zio is done scarfing down her dinner, she comes and lays on the couch with you, putting her head on your lap, sweetly, as you search the holonet for the help wanted ads.
“It’s impossible to stay upset with you, you know that?” You pet her scaly skin and she rolls over so you can rub her belly. “I think you do actually know that.”
The next day, on your walk with Zio you can’t help but wonder if that Corrie from yesterday will be there. Not that you particularly care, you just want to steer clear of him.
You sit down on the park bench, pulling out your book after you make sure to clip Zio to the bench. 
“Zio, sit.” You tell her. 
She does and you give her a treat, patting her on the head and then open your book. While you read a couple chapters of your book, she lays at your feet, enjoying the warm Coruscant sun on her scaly skin. 
“Good girl.” You pat her again and then go back to your book.
“Um, excuse me.” You hear a familiar voice that you were really hoping to not hear. 
This time the voice wasn’t modulated, though. With a roll of your eyes, you sit your book down and look up at the Corrie. Except you were expecting a regular looking clone. Not an incredibly handsome bearded one with longer blond highlighted hair that’s pulled back out of his face.
To say you're stunned is an understatement. You’re practically speechless and you know your jaw must be on the ground. 
“Hi.” He smiles. “We met yesterday?” 
You look down at his massiff, you think his name was Grizzer, he’s got on his leash. Grizzer sniffs at Zio, who seems uninterested today. Maybe she was unimpressed after yesterday.
“I remember. Are you here to arrest me today?” You look up at him with a straight face.
“Actually, I came to bring you this.” He offers you a cup of caf. “We got off on the wrong foot.”
“Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole.” You nod. 
“I was… I’m sorry.” He continues to hold the caf out for you. “It was a bit of a rough day yesterday.”
“Yeah, me too…” You take the cup from him and scoot down the bench a bit as a way of asking him to sit. “Sorry about that.”
He nods and sits a little bit away from you, giving you space, and clips Grizzer to the bench. Zio sits up again, staring at Grizzer and the Corrie, still deciding if they’re a threat.
“No uh, helmet today?” You ask him, taking a sip of the caf, which is black. 
You reach into your bag for a few sweetener packets and then put the empty packets into your jacket pocket to throw away at home. 
“Sorry, I didn’t know how you took it.” The Corrie apologizes. 
“No worries. I always keep sweetener packets on me for when strangers offer me caf.” You smile finally. 
“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.
“No.” You chuckle.
He lets out a laugh, which you unfortunately can’t help but notice is nice and makes you smile a bit more.
“But yeah, no helmet today. I was um… hoping I’d run into you today and I didn’t want you to see me as a threat.” He admits.
Oh. “That’s very… thoughtful.” You nod.
He pats Grizzer on the head and then looks at you again. “I’m Hound.” 
You tell him your name and he smiles.
“It’s nice to meet you. Again, that is.” 
“Likewise. And this is Grizzer?” You nod at the massiff which is still sitting with his tongue hanging out, still watching Zio.
“Yeah. My good ol’ boy.” He rubs Grizzer’s head again. “Zio, right?” 
You nod, touched that he remembered her name. “Yeah.” 
“Well, it’s really good to meet you both.” He grins. 
You both sit there and sip your caf in comfortable silence, watching as your massiffs both lay back down, not missing that they’re pointed toward each other. 
“Is it okay if I ask why you had a rough day?” Hound asks after a while.
“Oh… I lost my job… and then spilled caf in my speeder… and then this brat got out.” You nod down at Zio before looking at him again. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He tells you.
You can tell he’s genuinely sorry. You shrug, though. 
“I’ll figure it out.” You look out at the park.
“What did you do?” He asks.
“I worked at a bank as a teller for the last six years.” You sigh. “It wasn’t the greatest job in the entire world, but I’m fluent in many languages and I enjoyed seeing different people every day, you know?”
“Well… um… I know that my commander was looking to hire a receptionist for the chancellor.” Hound tells you. “If that’s something you’d be interested in?”
It’s sweet that he’s thinking of you like this, but you hate Palpatine. The man is a creep and gives you extremely bad vibes. Anytime you see him on the news, you can’t help but think that he looks like he’d be a villain in a movie.
“Yeah, no. I hate that guy.” You smile. “But thank you… seriously.” 
“So do we.” Hound shrugs. “Hate him, that is…”
You admire his honesty. You’d not dealt with many clones so you don’t have much to compare him to, but you’re surprised you’re enjoying Hound’s company. 
“He doesn’t care about the clones… just wants us to win his war.” Hound finishes his coffee and looks down at Grizzer.
Your heart breaks for him, this man you don’t really know. Him and the other clones. You’re not ignorant. You know that people don’t treat them like the human being that they are. It’s not right.
“Well, I better get home. I have to get cracking on the job hunting.” You tell him, not making a move to get up.
You don’t exactly want to leave, but you really do have a bit of a busy day planned. 
“If you’re not too busy in the morning… There’s this great breakfast spot near the Senate Dome that allows Grizzer in… I’m sure they’d let Zio in too?” He asks, taking a sip of his caf.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask him.
“Yeah, I am.” He grins. “Even though you think I’m an asshole.”
“Used to…” You laugh. “But yes. Breakfast sounds nice.” 
You pull out an old business card, write your comm channel on it, and give it to Hound. 
“Send me the details.” You smile, unclipping Zio and standing up.
Hound does the same with Grizzer. “I’ll send you the deets.”
You chuckle. “Can’t wait.”
Turning with Zio, you start walking but hear Hound say “Grizz… did I really just say ‘deets’? Maker, I’m such a di’kut.”
You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you continue walking home, already looking forward to the next morning.
TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501
282 notes · View notes
You sound like an awesome professor!! What classes do you teach/wish you could teach?
This is very sweet! I am not brilliant. I am flawed but eager and also easily derailed by any class who asks me about trees.
Various modules I've done/am doing:
Earth Science
Climate Change and Activism
Environmental Issues and Academic Skills
Fieldwork
Field and Lab Skills
Environmental Biology
Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services
Wildlife Conservation
Habitat Management and Building Resilience
I'm very happy with these, but someone else is doing Biodiversity this year and I want that one back because I had two lectures in particular that I loved delivering: one on sex and gender, and one on sexual behaviours in animals. Basically, queer ecology. Fucking loved those two. The guy who is doing them now is proving to be very unpopular however so I'm hoping he'll end up running away to the engineering department under a hail of rotten fruit and I can have it back trololol
255 notes · View notes
jgballard2 · 2 months
Text
More smut inspired by @byronicbarbie ❤️
——
Have you got access to that unit that's been playing up ? You know - big tits, started showing signs of independent thought ? - totally off script..
Yeah - I managed to get command prompt; something must have gone wrong with that last update. Code is a mess - lots of modules from a higher functioning unit - no wonder it was acting strangely.
OK - what's the plan ? It needs to be back in service soon ! Lot's of requests for that model - but it can no-way show any signs of agency.
Right - I'm going to clean up the repository - strip it right back to the basic pleasure-functions; junk for now the core self-respect code; just get it running again as 101 pleasure-bot. Might drool and glitch a bit - but nobodies gonna notice with that physical set up.
Great ! Do that and send it over to the demo-suite - I'll give it a test ride .. you know 'just to be sure'..
Yeah - cool - I might join you...
———
Jesus… I think it performs better with just that core code; why does Product think they need to complicate things? punters don’t want fucking conversation, they want wet compliant holes with minimal interaction. Have to hand it to the ID guys though - perfect design, tits: 10/10.
Ok we’d better get it back into service !, bit of light damage that Maintenance can fix, got a bit carried away there at the end…
16 notes · View notes
eriexplosion · 2 months
Text
I have nothing to do this weekend so it is Catch Up On Rewatch time. We're up to Decomissioned!
I genuinely love that this episode begins a very long tradition of the batch making basically Zero goddamn money for Cid because they never accomplish the actual goal she sent them there for
I love the Grime of Ord Mantell so much
Tumblr media
Like this? It is a fucking look.
"What if it was shiny" WHAT IF IT WAS GROSS AND COVERED IN DIRT AND RUST AND HAD SOME GUY SLEEPING ON IT?
The woman wandering into Cid's looked drunk already but Omega nearly shooting her in the face sobered her up REAL goddamn quick.
Bolo and Ketch are my beloved boys, crime uncles to go with the crime grandma for Omega. I don't know what their crimes actually are but look at them. They're definitely up to crimes.
This is just a sweet moment though, even if Omega is getting frustrated, everyone gathered around to watch her practice. She's not a natural but SHE'S LEARNING.
Cid: I assume you boys know what a tactical droid is?
Tech:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is unsurprisingly one of my favorite moments he literally looks like he's going to explode when no one speaks up. IS NO ONE ELSE GOING TO TAKE THIS INCREDIBLY EASY QUESTION?
"You make money, I make money, and I watch your back." You fool. You will never get any money from these people.
CID WITH THE BOW IS HOT OKAY, I AM AN EASY MARK.
You know I'm surprised this facility doesn't sell the tactical droid modules themselves, like I'm sure it's imperial funded to get rid of all the separatist droids but come on, no one in the factory other than the Martez sisters is stealing these things?
BEING THE LOOKOUT WAS CROSSHAIR'S JOB. I'm sure Hunter loves getting that reminder of his Failure to keep his family together.
THE GIRLS ARE HERE <3
DON'T JUST STAND THERE. GRAB A WEAPON. "I had one >:T"
Omega was literally about to shoot Rafa at point blank range though like imagine her first kill was from about 2 feet away
SHOULD I HAVE LET THE DROID SHOOT YOU? Hunter has zero patience right now he is So Grouchy the instant Rafa opens her mouth
No worries just jump over the flaming pit of death Wrecker. Nothing bad can happen when you jump over the flaming pit of death.
LITERALLY STOLE THE DROID HEAD AND LEFT THE CHILD TRAPPED ON THE CONVEYOR BELT TO HELL.
God this moment with Wrecker's chip partially activating is so good.
Trace literally stops and realizes the child is going to be dumped into the slag and does NOTHING ABOUT IT FOR SO DAMN LONG. SHE COMES THROUGH IN THE END BUT GOD HOW LONG YOU GONNA STAND THERE?
I love them, they're disasters.
"Fine but I still don't like you." "I'M USED TO IT." This is very much like Hunter with Phee in season 2 he just gets so fucking cranky.
WRECKER HEARING "GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS" IN CROSSHAIR'S VOICE IS SO FUCKING MUCH. Love this set up for next episode by which I mean I am horrified by it.
I'm easy, I find it hilarious when Echo makes a dad joke about their name.
THIS WILL HELP ME ACCESS THE PROGRAM. *TECH LITERALLY STABS THE DROID WITH SOME FORM OF SPIKE*
Honestly seeing Rafa again makes me remember those fake leaks when everyone was freaking the absolute fuck out over the idea that Rex/Rafa was going to be a thing in season 2 and honestly I still love the idea. I think that Rex falling for a garbage girl with thieving little raccoon hands is the funniest thing I've ever heard. He found a girlfriend in the dumpster.
Our first real push towards 'you can't just endlessly run away while doing it all for the money' from Trace. Again I am stuck on this, that you can't push for two seasons for the batch to actually stand up to the Empire and fight, to actually push back, and then have it turn out they should have just kept never getting involved anyway if they wanted to live. I'm chewing on the walls and the beams.
"in the end, we all choose sides" anyway this is why I think the very end of the show will be the batch together and actively choosing to go against the Empire, not because they're soldiers but because they're a family and they're fighting for each other. But unfortunately I don't think it will be as simple as retirement even if it's what they deserve, because of bits like this. At the very least, they're active in helping Rex get the other clones somewhere safe, even if they're not diving in to fight directly.
The way they hide who Rex is to make it look like the girls immediately turned on them doijsofd
SOON WE'RE GONNA HAVE REX THOUGH. THE BOY.
9 notes · View notes
mal-urameshi · 10 months
Note
Can I request a fic about Mama Okoye giving Riri advice after an argument with Shuri?
Chronicles Of Mama Okoye and Riri! X
Turbulence
Riri's jaw was tensely set as she bounced her leg with folded arms. A TV show was running in the background but she wasn't paying attention. She'd long since given up on trying to distract herself and decided to stew in her irritation instead.
Riri huffed for what she believed to be the millionth time that day before she decided to go seek out her mother. That wasn't a particularly hard task because Okoye was relaxing on the back porch, doing her evening stretches.
Okoye looked up from her place on the floor at Riri's grim expression, "Are you finally ready to talk?" Okoye noted Riri's foul mood all day, but left her be until she was ready to talk. That was the best course of action when it came to her daughter. She would explode eventually.
Riri paced in front of her mother, "It's Shuri. She's pissing me the fuck off."
"Language." Okoye warned as she stretched her hamstrings.
"Shit, sorry Ma. " Riri winced, "Sorry."
Okoye didn't answer, leaving the floor for Riri to continue.
"Shuri made a comment about one of my calculations being off. And I told her that her eyes were f- messed up because I knew that. Then she went ahead and adjusted my equations without my consent. Like who the fu- heck does that?"
Okoye shifted into chest-to-knee stretching as Riri flexed her fists at the air, "I told her that she was wack for that and then she was all like, 'You usually are better at your work than this. You've gotten sloppy. Or is the better word, complacent?'"
Riri made a face and rolled her eyes, "She basically insulted my intelligence! Me? Sloppy? Complacent?"
She huffed and paced again, "So I ended up nitpicking every little thing she was doing. Like, she could be more thorough with the way she handles her experiments. Cuz like, the tridimensional calibration of the harmonic flux modulator is of utmost importance for achieving optimal transpositional harmonization within the intricately interwoven oscillation matrix." Riri stomped around the porch as she spoke a mile a minute.
"But nooooo she was all like: 'I must diligently synchronize the quantum phase differentials of the entangled electromagnetic resonators to ensure an efficacious deployment of the quantum hyperconductive interface.' Which makes no sense by the way. She's so ass backwards sometimes, man."
RIri sucked her teeth and plopped herself down on the hammock, "I dunno what happened after that; we are literally at each other's throats every time we see each other. There's like...this invisible line between us that we dare not cross. I don't want her checking my stuff out and I don't look at hers."
Riri slouched into her seat as she scowled, "And now, we're ignoring each other." Riri's lips quivered, "When I went over earlier she didn't even look at me and I...I guess it was maybe because I was giving her the cold shoulder." She wiped her eye of a stray tear.
"She tried calling me maybe an hour ago but I ignored it." Riri sniffled.
Okoye got up from the floor and joined Riri on the hammock. Riri wasted no time in leaning heavily into her mother's side as she wiped away a few more stray tears. Okoye wrapped an arm around her distressed child and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.
"And I don't like that I'm ignoring her, but she just pissed me off so bad. But it hurts, you know? Especially when she wouldn't acknowledge my presence or even give me a glance?" Riri tried to keep herself under control, not wanting to give herself an asthma attack.
Okoye pulled Riri closer, "You know that two wrongs don't make a right, Riri."
"Only in algebra." Riri tried to joke, but she couldn't find it within herself to laugh.
"So this all started with the comment Shuri made about your calculations?"
Riri silently nodded into her mother's neck.
"And I can imagine how wounded you felt since you admire Shuri so much." Okoye continued calmly.
Yea, her mother was right. In the moment it had stung when Shuri had called her work sloppy. Usually she was met with praise and Riri basked in the commendation, but what Shuri had said had her completely off kilter.
"And even though Shuri is a perfectionist...what's the saying? 'It is not what you say, it is how you say it.' She could have had a better approach with her criticisms. Especially when it came to adjusting your calculations without your approval."
Riri wiped her eyes as she listened to her mother.
"And speaking of criticism, it is not bad when you are critiqued, Riri. You and Shuri are both exceptional in your field and I know you are used to being right a lot of the time, but there are instances when you will make mistakes. It is only natural as you are human." She tapped the side of Riri's head, "That brain in there may work like a computer, but remember, you're not immune to error at times."
Riri wrapped her arms around Okoye as she kept quiet. She wanted to open her mouth with a rebuttal, but she decided to listen to her Mama as she talked.
"Now, instead of giving each other the cold shoulder, you should be more communicative with one another. You've known each other how long now? It should be natural." Okoye rubbed Riri's arm affectionately.
"I know how things can get in the heat of the moment, but instead of being petty." She gave Riri a playful side eye, "You should tell her how she made you feel when she made that initial comment. Tell her how it wounded you."
Riri took a shaky breath, "I can do that."
"Trying to 'get back' at her for what she said shouldn't be the way to handle squabbles. That should never be even be a thought. Because look at where that has you."
Riri cast her eyes downward as she played with her hands.
"I think you both should exercise communication. Because what if one day you both decide to give one another the silent treatment and end up never speaking again?"
Riri swallowed at the thought, "I don't want that to happen. I care about her too much, Mama"
"Then you both should act accordingly." She gently raised Riri's chin, "You should be able to tell her how you feel about certain things and the same should be for her when it comes to you."
Riri felt her heart quicken with nervousness, "But I ignored her call. What if she doesn't want to answer me, Mama? What if she doesn't want me around anymore. Oh Bast. What if she hates me now!" She smoothed a weary hand over her cornrows.
Okoye rubbed RIri's neck, "Relax, my love. Deep breaths." She demonstrated and gestured Riri to follow.
Riri allowed her chest to rise and fall a few more times until she calmed down again, "Okay, okay. I think I'm good."
Okoye smiled, "Do you think you can call her now to try to make amends? You know that Shuri could never hate you. She adores you too much."
Riri knew her mother was right. She let her nerves get to her sometimes.
"Thank you, Mama. You always keep me sane."
Okoye wrapped her daughter in a hug, "Anytime, my darling."
Taggies: @somethingcleaverandwhitty @karimwillia @neptoons1998 @pantherheart
25 notes · View notes
rollforfelicity · 7 months
Text
On Mind Flayers and Safety Tools
or Why Aren't You Having Fun, You Miserable Fucks
Apparently some assholes read something in a D&D book that was like "hey there's an option in this module that could be upsetting to players, so before you do this, make sure you have consent from players," and got SUPER upset about it, and it's got me thinking about GMing and how I feel about it.
Idk if it's a D&D thing or a dude thing, but there's this narrative about DMs* where they're like, these all powerful gods whose job it is to punish players who "make dumb decisions." When players express preferences, or ask that certain material be off-limits, these guys act like players are trying to cheat their way to "winning the game," by avoiding consequences. They get mad even THINKING about it. They don't want to collaborate on a story, and I don't think they even want to be a glorified referee. They want to be cops. They want to impose their will on the people around them, and they want to be petty, vengeful shits while they do it.
That has not been my experience DMing, nor has it ever been my desire (because I'm not a fucked up dude-monster). GMing is an act of service, one that I love to provide.** I GM because I want my friends to have a fun time, and I want to have a fun time with them. I want to hear their ideas. I want to hold their hands and guide them back to a state of childlike imagination, before they were afraid of looking stupid. I want them to feel safe to explore emotions they push away in day to day life.
When something bad happens to their character, I want it to be the bad thing THEY want it be: the inevitable tragedy we've been foreshadowing since character creation, that fatal foible they've been mentioning all session, the darkness they've been treading further and further into.
People tend to simplify "safety tools" into "don't trigger your players." That's obviously one goal, but my view is that safety tools are a lot more than that, and avoiding triggers is the minimum of what safety should do. I want to know what stories we're tired of telling. I want to know what tropes we dislike. I want to know if a character from someone's backstory is one they'd like to stay alive, or one they want to find dead at the hands of the BBEG. I want to give them the chance to name their own parents and siblings. I want them to decide if the sports team they play on is doing well or not when the story begins.
Even outside the narrative aspect of safety tools, when I stream, I always explicitly tell players "You know your needs more than I do. If you need to get up and get a drink or a snack, or tend to any other need, get up and do it. You don't need to ask for permission." I consider this part of player safety. I want people to be comfortable.
Regardless of your role at the table, if you're playing and you don't give a shit about whether or not everyone at the table is having a good time, I think you're fucking up the most BASIC aspect of what a TTRPG is. It's a game.
It's supposed to be fun.
These asshole DMs are failing TTRPGs at the most basic level. "How am I supposed to punish my players if they say they don't want to get turned into a Mind Flayer?" Why the fuck are you punishing people in a game? When your friends sit down to play Monopoly, do you call dibs on being banker and then say "oh btw if anyone does what I think is a stupid move, I'm going to tase you."
If you want to run a game where you can turn people into a Mind Flayer when they fail a roll, then find a table of people who would enjoy that.*** Some people have genuine fun playing Dark Souls, whereas if I ever played a souls-like game, I would die of frustration. I'm not here to tell you how to have fun. I'm just here to tell you that everyone should be having a good time playing games, whatever that looks like.
*I would usually use the more generic term GM, but this seems to be a specifically DM thing
**This gets into my thoughts comparing different GM styles to different kinds of sex but sadly my brand isn't horny enough for me to write that.
***Honestly a lot of this has sexual parallels but again, I must consider my sexless brand
14 notes · View notes
sweetrevxnge · 2 years
Text
Like Phantoms, Forever
Tumblr media
Chapter Fourteen | If It Bleeds
Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader
Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.
What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death
Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA
*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!
Masterlist
Spotify Playlist
Word count: 3.8k
Chapter-specific CW: descriptions of injury, violence, blood, abduction
A/N: I am once again apologizing for the long wait for this chapter, I basically gutted it and rewrote it over these past few days, but here it is!
───────── ⋆ ☆ ⋆ ─────────
The first thing you registered when you came to was the coppery tang of blood coating your tongue. That, and a violent throbbing in your head. A weak groan rumbled in your throat, coming out as nothing more than a croak to anyone listening.
Your vision was cloudy, with solid, black edges that made discerning the details of your surroundings nearly impossible. The only thing you could make out was the outline of a building of some sort directly in front of you, its dark exterior a stark contrast against the cloudy sky. 
Two hands were wrapped around either of your arms, both gripping tightly at the junction of your shoulder and body as they pulled you across the paved ground. Your bare feet dragged beneath you, catching on scattered debris and sharp gravel, tearing into your flesh. The pain hardly reached you as you drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling as if you were detached from your body as your captors corralled you into the building.
“All of this trouble over some Jedi girl?” a modulated voice said, gruff and low. The words were muffled in your ears, but still clear enough to make out.
“I don’t know, Card. I stopped asking questions a long time ago,” said a different, but equally as modulated male voice.
The two men continued to carry you unceremoniously through a dark corridor and as they did, you felt yourself starting to slip away once again. Whatever strength had possessed you to rouse long enough to catch a glimpse of your surroundings was dwindling, the cold darkness quickly chipping away at your consciousness.
Before you slipped back under, you caught one last comment from one of the men. 
“All I know is that the General better fucking be happy with this one.”
It’s raining. Not any ordinary, light drizzle, but rather as if the heavens were determined to soak your very bones in cold rainwater. The night is starless under the coverage of the gray storm clouds, leaving the landscape blanketed in darkness.
Thick mud coats your hands and knees as you push yourself up, scanning your surroundings to the best of your ability in the storm. Rainwater streams down your nose, dripping off the tip of it as you stand to your feet, feeling as if your legs might give way at any moment.
Lightning rips through the sky, illuminating the uneven terrain beneath you for a fleeting moment. Nothing about this setting looks familiar, but that isn’t hard to say given the time of day and ceaseless weather.
Utterly disoriented, you arbitrarily choose a direction and set off into the night, unsure where you were running to or what it would lead you to.
Your efforts are short-lived as your feet catch on something in your path, sending you tumbling into the cold, wet soil. The air in your lungs escapes as you hit another anomaly, one that was soft and absorbent of the impact of your body.
As you search blindly for solid ground, you feel the unmistakable texture of cloth under your palms. Your eyes widen as you pull your hands away, scrambling backwards as a flash of lightning shows you what had cushioned your landing.
The lifeless corpse of one of your classmates lies beneath you, mouth agape with empty, half-lidded eyes that stared into oblivion. You try to scream, but no sound leaves your throat, as if your voice was trapped in your chest under a dense layer of cobwebs.
In your effort to separate yourself from the body, you collide with another, one with mangled limbs and a seared hole through the center of its chest. You stare in horror as you stagger to your feet, your eyes fixated on the remains of your peer. In order to avoid crossing paths with another corpse, you pull your gaze away and focus on the earth moving beneath your feet.
Before you can manage to escape the expansive minefield of carnage, a glowing, red blade roared to life a few meters behind you. The sound alone sends an icy shiver along your spine.
You whip your head around, discovering that the owner of the blade is a tall, masked figure wielding a shoddily made lightsaber. Other than the long, black robes that ripple in the wind, the only discernible feature of the man stalking towards you is the silver ridges that line the eyes of his black helmet.
Adrenaline takes over your instincts as you turn and run, navigating the maze of bodies littering the dark field. The lightsaber blade hums in an unsteady rhythm as the masked man follows behind you, quickly scaling the distance between the two of you as you struggle to run through the viscid mud.
You glance behind you every few paces, trying to gauge how close the assailant had come, finding that he was now no more than a meter away. When you turn your attention back to the path ahead of you, the scenery is entirely different, one you recognize immediately. 
The dark landscape had transformed into the Jedi Academy, its array of wooden buildings now engulfed by tall, raging flames. Smoldering ash replaces the rain falling around you as the remaining structures crumble under the weight of their rooftops, collapsing and giving life to new, bright flames as they did.
The still-warm ash lands on your face and arms, your eyes burning as you watch the scene unfold, walking back on your heels. Nearly instantly, you collide with something—someone. The solid, unrelenting frame of your hunter.
Before you can react, a big hand snakes up your waist, holding you firmly in place. You open your mouth to scream, but as you do, everything vanishes.
A stifled cry escaped your lips as you jolted awake, finding yourself yet again in an unfamiliar setting, only this time, the cool ground beneath you felt too tangible to belong to a dream. 
The room was dark, with the only source of light being a sole stream of sunlight pouring in from a small crack in the ceiling. Around you was a continuous, jagged wall, as if it were not by design, but rather a natural inlet that had been repurposed as a holding cell. The smell of mildew permeated the air, coupled with the rhythmic sound of water dripping and broken fragments of stalactites littering the ground. 
Your thoughts raced by at hyperspeed as you tried to understand what was happening. The last thing you could remember clearly was drifting off in your hut, before a dart pierced the side of your neck. Carefully, you reached up to touch the same spot, discovering that there was a thin, cotton pad taped over it. How considerate.
Something warm slowly trickled down your face, originating at a weeping gash in your left temple. You raised a hand to touch it, only to find that you were restrained by two heavy, silver bonds attached to the floor.
Panic swelled in your chest, tightening around your ribcage and snuffing out all of the air in your lungs. You bit your lip to stop it from quivering, warm tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You felt utterly powerless.
The familiar aura of the Force was absent, just like it had been at the Academy. It made sense now. Whoever had taken you had planned this thoroughly, even taking your Force sensitivity into consideration and somehow quashing it, before and after your abduction.
Your breath became shallow and quick as your vision turned into a field of bright, white spots. A multitude of questions crossed your mind at once, all too overwhelming to process in a single instance. Only one stood out for longer than a millisecond: were you going to die?
Silent tears rolled down your face, cutting through the layers of sweat and dirt that coated your skin. The restraints tore into your wrists as you instinctually moved to wipe them away, their sharp edges slicing fresh wounds into your flesh.
A strangled sob escaped your mouth, sounding only half as desperate as you actually felt.
“Good to see that you’ve finally awakened…” a disembodied voice echoed through the small room.
You froze, silencing your whimpers and stilling your movements, like prey that had been backed into a corner.
“I was beginning to worry that you had hit your head a bit too hard on the way here, but I am relieved to see that that is not the case.”
The voice belonged to a man, that much you could tell, but every other quality of him remained a mystery, including which shadowy corner he was inhabiting in the small space. His voice sounded closer now than it had just a moment ago, encroaching on you where you lay, a sitting duck in silver chains.
Your throat knocked as you swallowed a dry gulp, mustering up every ounce of strength you had left to fire back. “What do you want from me?”
“What? Not even a ‘hello’ to start?” The man stalked forward, passing under the stream of sunlight that illuminated him at the left end of your enclosure.
You narrowed your eyes as he stepped closer, trying to make out the details of his face as he approached you.
His pale features absorbed the white light, matching the trimmed beard that framed his chin. The man’s fiery red hair was littered with flecks of gray, the wiry strands combed back with an excessive amount of gel. He wore an onyx black suit with a tight, starchy collar, complete with a cape made from the same material pinned at either shoulder. It flowed behind him as he moved like a wave of darkness, utterly devoid of warmth. Arranged in two tidy rows on his left breast was a collection of blue and red squares—the same ones that represented Imperial rankings.
The blood in your veins ran cold at the sight. It was true then, the Empire had never really been defeated, it had merely been lying dormant, operating in the shadows of the New Republic as its loyal subjects rebuilt what was once theirs.
Nausea rolled through your stomach as the man towered over you, standing just far enough back to stay out of your limited range of motion. He crouched down to your level and extended a leather glove out to cup your cheek. The sensation intensified the unease in your stomach, curdling whatever food was left from your last meal.
“I’m told that you have the spirit of a true warrior,” he said with a cold laugh, his short fingers tracing up to the wound at your hairline. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Your snide response died on your tongue as he buried his thumb into the wound on your temple, destroying the scab that had begun forming and sending fresh blood running down the side of your face. Pain ripped through you, forcing your eyes shut and your teeth to clench as you staved off the sensation for as long as you could tolerate. He continued to prod his fat finger inside the gash, uncovering new, tender nerves until he earned an anguished scream from you.
“How wonderful,” he said, an ugly grin stretching across his round face. He pulled his thumb free from the wound, taking in the sight of the crimson sheen that coated his black glove.
Raw, senseless anger instantly replaced the pain, clouding your thoughts and warping your perception of the world around you.
He procured a white, silk handkerchief from his uniform and ran it over his glistening glove as he spoke. “I must say, I did not believe the Captain when he promised such a strong fighter, but perhaps he was correct.”
“What ‘Captain’?” you asked with an irritated cadence. 
Before tucking the cloth away, he lowered it to your face, wiping up the blood that oozed down your cheek. As he retracted it, you could see what appeared to be an Imperial insignia sewn into the corner of the fabric, but it didn’t look quite the same as you remembered. This one appeared to have more divots in its design, as if to show the evolution of the organization since its downfall, its rebirth from the ashes of the Empire.
“Oh, what a terrible host I am,” he sneered. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am General Brendol Hux, joined by the brilliant Admiral Sloane and her loyal Captains.”
You dropped your head back against the wall, feeling dizzy and weak from everything you had endured up to this point.
“Brilliant? Loyal?” you managed to ask, turning the corners of your lips up as you let out a weak scoff. “You must think highly of them. The sentiment clearly isn’t shared, considering that they sent you into this shithole to do their dirty work.”
A stinging sensation spread across your face, searing the nerves where the back of Brendol Hux’s hand had landed. The taste of iron spread across your tongue, coating your white teeth in a red wash.
“Insolent girl,” he spat. “You’d be wise to shut your mouth in the presence of the First Order.”
The First Order. After spending years sulking in the shadows and countless hours planning their great return to power, that was the best name they could come up with?
“What could you possibly want with me? I’m the least experienced student at the Academy, for fuck’s sake!”
A chilling grin stretched across his face, revealing the yellow-stained teeth beneath his thin lips. "You're right. But it is not experience we are concerned with, my dear."
The statement made your heart plummet through your chest. It wasn’t difficult to deduce his meaning. The First Order would never be able to break the mind of an experienced Force-user, but they could undeniably bend a naive mind to their will.
It was then that you realized you had no idea if you were alone in your capture. Acid bubbled in your throat at the thought of harm coming to any of your classmates, especially one in particular.
The thought of Ben being trapped in a similar situation as you were, shackled and bloody, made you sick. But there was no use dwelling on the possibility right now. For all you knew, he was safe. Even so, nothing would put your mind at ease until you could see him and know for certain.
“I’d rather die than serve you,” you snapped, your bottom lip nearly trembling as the last word left your mouth.
Hux only clicked his tongue in response, crossing his hands behind his back as he paced the cell. “While that can be arranged if you’d like, I think you’ll find your role within our ranks more fulfilling than mindlessly lifting rocks for that lunatic, Skywalker.”
The biting remark made anger rise in your chest, but you pushed it down. “Please, do enlighten me.”
He dug around his breast pocket for a moment before retrieving a small, sleek remote with two buttons. He swiped his short thumb over the controls and in an instant, the chains detached from your restraints. Before you could enjoy your newfound freedom and land a weak punch on him, the chains coiled into a tight rod and reattached to your bonds as one unit between your wrists.
“Allow me to show you instead,” he said, stepping back to allow you room to stand. “Besides, somebody here has been anticipating your arrival.”
“I’m sure they have,” you said facetiously, groaning as you hoisted yourself up, struggling to do so with the bar between your wrists.
“Get up. I don’t have all day.” Hux lifted his chin, motioning for you to stand.
It was as if you had inconvenienced him when you didn’t immediately follow his order, a look of contempt written across his hardened features. 
You sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to throw vile insults at the bastard man, and stood. Though it would do your current predicament no good, it would be thoroughly satisfying to get under his skin.
You felt as if your head was full of cotton as blood rushed throughout your body, your toes and fingertips tingling. The ragged wall caught you as your balance faltered, nearly falling over yourself on the first step forward.
Hux’s footsteps receded as he walked back toward the corridor where he had emerged from, evidently already having lost patience with you. Given the grim situation you were in and the even more grim chances of escaping this fortress, following him would likely be your only opportunity outside of your holding cell.
Begrudgingly, you followed him, focusing all of your remaining energy into every step you took, trying to ignore the pain that shot through your feet with every movement. 
As you crossed the threshold of the hallway that led away from your cell, you stopped for a moment, resting your forehead against the coarse wall in the hope of relieving the throbbing in your skull. You blinked, trying to erase the black specks that were floating in your vision. 
A volt of energy surged through your restraints, stinging the raw skin at your wrists.
“Keep moving, girl,” he hissed, calling behind him without so much as turning his head.
With a huff, you pushed yourself away from the wall and continued to drag your feet down the dark corridor, the rage from earlier amplifying within your chest. While the despair and suffering had worn down your spirit more efficiently than you wished it had, there was one thing you were certain about: you would not be someone’s pawn. In the face of evil, death was a noble option in comparison to a lifetime of servitude for a corrupt organization.
With every passing second, the gravity of your situation was becoming more real and less like a waking nightmare.
The hallway was astonishingly narrow. It would have been difficult to navigate on any normal day, let alone in as you were now. Brendol Hux walked confidently, the stiff seams on his shoulders never once falling forward as he led you to your fate. Everything about him disgusted you, from the scant patch of hair on the back of his head, to his heavy, bowlegged stride.
Just then, a reckless curiosity entered your mind, and against your better judgment, you gave it merit.
“In the interest of keeping an open line of communication between us, may I ask where we are?”
As soon as you had asked the question, you wished you hadn’t. 
Hux stopped abruptly in his path, turning to face you with an irate scowl. You retreated on your heels as he marched towards you, slamming you into the stone wall by your throat, crushing your windpipe with a bruising grip.
“You really expect me to disclose where our covert operations are taking place?” He squeezed your neck tighter. “Hopefully your brawn outweighs your intelligence, you stupid twat.”
Gasping for air, you clawed at his hand, disregarding the sting of the cuffs as they sliced into your wrists repeatedly. Your lungs began to burn as tears filled your vision, distorting the world around you. Not only are you an idiot, but you’re about to be a dead idiot, you thought.
“P-please,” you choked out, quickly losing the energy to continue fighting back. “I’m…s-sorry.”
He released you, snickering at the sight of you hunched over, sputtering and coughing violently. “Consider that a warning for any other questions you may have.”
Wiping away a string of spit from your bottom lip on your sleeve, you stared at him, blind rage sweeping through you. “Noted.”
He snickered and continued walking, prompting you to follow. Your hands tightened into fists as you both walked in silence, racking your brain for a way to knock him out and still manage to escape with your life. It seemed a bit contradictory to beat the life out of you in order to earn your cooperation, but then again, the First Order was the Empire’s younger sibling. You hardly expected them to treat you with anything but utter disrespect.
“We’re here,” Hux announced, stepping aside from your line of vision to reveal a dimly lit, cavernous room. 
Similar to your holding cell, the walls were made of rough stone, with remnants of massive stone arches and carvings strewn haphazardly along the perimeter of the room. Lanterns lined the walls, emitting weak, fluorescent light into the room.
In the center of the room stood three silhouettes, shrouded in darkness. Each one varied in height and size, but before you could make out any more details, Hux pushed you forward, sending you staggering towards them.
Like an item up for auction, you could feel their shadowy eyes on you, scrutinizing you. One of the figures shifted, moving to properly inspect your condition. To your surprise, this shadow was a woman. Donning a tailored, white Imperial uniform with gold bands on either shoulder, she appeared before you. Her hair was black, with a sole streak of silver running through the ponytail that held her thick curls. Her face could have been carved from stone with how stoic she was, not a single muscle moving out of turn as she spoke.
“The girl we’ve heard so much about,” she said flatly. “Come closer, child. I don’t bite.” 
You did as you were told, taking timid steps forward until Hux shoved you again, closing the distance. The woman was less than a foot away from you now, her dark eyes boring holes through yours.
With a gloved finger, she traced a line down your cheek, smearing the tacky blood onto the white leather. She rubbed the blood between her thumb and index finger, as if she were appraising the quality of it.
“Would you look at that? It seems that Jedi do bleed, after all,” she whispered, her face contorted into a sneer. “You’d better be worth the trouble you’ve caused, scum.” Though she spoke softly, the sentiment behind her words was deafening.
“Last I checked, I didn’t ask to be abducted,” you hissed, flaring your nostrils as you exhaled loudly.
She let out a low chuckle and rolled her eyes, moving to circle behind you. You followed her with your eyes, matching the intensity of her stare. Drawing on all of your energy, you furrowed your brows, attempting to draw upon the Force surrounding you, but felt nothing but a cold draft coming from an unseen vent. Whatever they had done to suppress your abilities had been effective, and its potency was unwavering.
From the shadows came another voice—a male voice, one with an unmistakable timbre. He stepped forward, revealing his face in the flickering light as he spoke.
“I can assure you, Admiral, she’ll be worth the effort.”
The warmth in your blood vanished, the same blood that coursed through the man standing before you.
71 notes · View notes
alittleposhtoad · 10 days
Text
Stranded [pt 4]
Tumblr media
Mass Effect Fic | f!human x m!turian Synopsis:Andromeda starts to come to terms with her situation, while Kalus weighs his next move. Wordcount: 1.3k a/n: SORRY DOT THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER, I JUST FORGOT TO POST THIS ONE HERE. anyways nothing much happens in this one. Andi wallows and Kalus is socially maladjusted.
Mass Effect Masterlist | AO3
Hello Andromeda Smith.
Andi collapses against the wall of the crawlspace, equal parts thrilled and exhausted. The ship VI is back. It took extensive rewiring, and many crying fits, but it worked.
Unfortunately, an engineer she was not.
“You're back, I need help.” Her voice cracks.
No response from the VI. Its barebones conversational coding wouldn't support it, Andi knows this, but she also needs to speak out loud. She never thought she’d miss her own voice; she lived a life where she never had a chance to miss it.
“I need to figure out how to restore full power and regain access to the ship’s systems.”
Regardless of no longer being space worthy and not having enough fuel to get anywhere meaningful, the ship had the capability of powering its auxiliary systems for years. This would be the first step among many towards setting up an emergency beacon. It also meant having access to a water purification system, at long last.
After a spiel of safety and legal precautions, the VI spat out: Access datapad A-1000A.
Below the jerry-rigged console, a panel pops out, revealing a docking bay for datapads. A detailed breakdown of the ship’s modules, protocols, and redundancies. It was a start. A fucking start.
Small miracles, she supposes, but the deep black and purple mottled skin leaves her gasping for relief. Minor cuts and scrapes and wrenched muscles pull at her energy and focus. Her desire to do … anything.
And all her future plans are bogged down in compounding issues. Getting clean water is a necessity. Restoring auxiliary power meant having the ability to test alien plants for toxic or nutritional values. Getting into the ship's life support meant she could connect one of the medi-gel dispensers from the cargo units. That would fix her up real nice.
Rifling through and using the already paid-for shipments was a dangerous thing these days.
Sirta Foundation might fine her into oblivion, the Alliance might slap a prison sentence on her; she liked to think they'd take pity on her circumstance. Probably not. Proprietary assholes.
She touches her chest gingerly and swallows all of nothing down into a hungry belly.
According to the aid kit's ration and nutrition chart, she has another four hours before she should consume anything. A spike of fear accompanies the pang of hunger. A wave of what ifs.
What if she can’t resist and runs out? What if the plants here boast no nutrition for humans? What if the water is toxic? What if there is weather or seasons she, or the wreckage of her ship can’t handle?
What if there are spores in the air, eating away at her lungs right now?
Her heart pounds in her chest, a wild thudding pulse in her neck. Breathing grows rapid, and the air grows thin. Scrambling after her helmet, she connects it to her suit as quick as she can.
Without an oxygen hookup, it simply filters out basic bacteria, but it's enough of a stop-gap measure to calm the building panic. Sinking to the floor at the edge of the ramp, she slumps over and stares out at the alien land. No tears spill this time, and she thinks she might prefer if they did.
Tumblr media
Kalus settles on his perch and watches the human, same as he has for the last number of days.
Under his watchful eye, she mills about the outside of the wrecked ship, prone to great emotional outbursts.
He gathers she possesses minimal mechanical skill, without any true technological expertise. He concedes, due to her continued survival, she must maintain a scrappy sort of luck. Seven years ago, she would mean nothing to him. Back when the only reason to consider a human was when it was strategically necessary—a laughable concept on its own.
Seven years of isolation changes a man.
There are no outbursts today. No shouting or wailing. With little grace, she sinks heavily onto one of the many crates dragged out from the ruined ship. He raises his scope for a clearer view.
Seeing that useless fluff sprouting from the scalp was enough to make him pity the entire race. What possible use could it have, he wonders, staring at the spirals hanging from her head.
With nothing else to do, he watches as she begins her day. He feels no voyeuristic shame, this was cauterized from him sometime during the first year of being stranded. Nothing stranger with this than observing a new breed of animal wandering close to his camp.
If he was to guess using his knowledge of the species, he might say she finally resigned herself to her fate.
Her face scrunches and wrinkles as she unzips her coveralls and carefully removes her undershirt. With human anatomy, the Hierarchy prioritized teaching its dutiful civil servants how to kill them, but his position afforded him a broader understanding. He knew enough to understand that the marks and discolouration across her alien chest were signs of minor injuries. She slathers a salve on the wounds, and he clips the scope back onto his belt.
After sitting through countless hours of surveillance on human soldiers, he still didn’t understand the fascination they had with their lumps of soft flesh. Looked cumbersome and poorly protected. Similar to asari, but without their protecting scales. Evolutionarily unfortunate.
Even without the scope, he was content to observe the faraway scene as she went about her morning. He had yet to decide whether he would approach her. After all, their respective species were on opposite sides of a skirmish, and he learned quickly not to let his guard down around these soft, fleshy creatures. It would be prudent to find out what this one was capable of.
The human redressed and secured a tool belt around her waist. The expectation was for her to attend to the ship in some manner. Instead, she treks around to the forest edge, towards the plants she marked with string the other day. She spent her morning diligently extracting each of the marked plants, digging them up from the roots. Not an incredibly interesting task to watch, but after seven years of forced isolation and spirit crushing loneliness, he can't tear himself away. Everything she does, every mundane thing, holds his interest. His isolation from her and careful observation is necessary. He is certain he wouldn't simply let down his guard, it'd be torn asunder.
She spreads out her plunder, and he pulls out his scope once more to watch her bisect the roots from the plants. The urge to simply walk over was overwhelming. His curiosity, insatiable. That a human made it this far out of their section of the galaxy would point to their species not yet being subjugated. It did not mean, necessarily, that they won their little first contact spat with the turians. He admits to a begrudging respect of their resourcefulness and strategy, but there was nothing that would have him believe humans pulled off any sort of martial victory. Still, he has a thousand questions to ask, and the desire to ask them was reaching a point where he no longer cared if they were enemies.
Fool.
The voice of his CO rattles through his head. He shakes himself. No, he needs independent verification of the state of the galaxy. It would inform his approach with this human. With knowledge of her routine; he would wait for her to leave the remains of the ship and finally attempt an intel gathering mission.
3 notes · View notes
triflesandparsnips · 2 years
Text
Unfortunate Theories (NOW EDITED TO REMOVE NONSENSE AND TO BETTER PROMOTE NEW FAV IBRAHIM THE QUARTERMASTER):
Izzy Hands was not, in fact, Blackbeard's First Mate. Not on Blackbeard's ship, anyway. There's another guy over there, a Quartermaster, let's call him Ibrahim. Ibrahim is watching all these shenanigans from a good distance away, drinking endless cups of coffee and making a note in the log every time a new crazy flag goes up or down the Revenge's main mast.
So who was Izzy?
We know that, canonically, Ed's actual direct requests of Izzy seem to be comprised of:
Collect gossip for Ed
Do small tasks that could otherwise be given to others for Ed
Make Ed tea
Fetch people who Ed would rather talk to
Listen to Ed as he describes clouds
Help Ed down from his high-wire act
These... are not matters for the second-most important person on the crew.
So my questionable theory? It's Ibrahim the quartermaster who does a bang-up job of actually running the dang ship for Ed. But Izzy... is basically Ed's assistant.
(...maybe rising to the level of Toxic Personal Assistant. But even that is giving him a level of management over Ed's actual day-to-day life that just isn't present in the canon. He doesn't even own a Blackberry.)
So Izzy's whole Thing about getting to have power of his own really starts with him coming over to the Revenge and no longer just being responsible, primarily, for random gofering. But hey, we believe in upward mobility! Shadowing opportunities! Gaining important industry experience in a competitive field! Izzy's been in the same position for a while and hasn't really developed the additional skillsets it takes to earn a promotion, so Ed thinks this is a nice chance for Izzy to maybe try taking on more responsibility in a low-impact environment, giving him a title he absolutely doesn't have the experience for but doesn't particularly need to be great at anyway while he gets some key on-the-job training with his fellow staffing professionals.
Meanwhile, Ed is on this rather nice office retreat with his new friend Stede.
(Ibrahim is, in fact, also having a nice time back on the Queen Anne, having the crew tidy up the decorations from the most recent fuckery, meditatively making himself endless pots of coffee, and drawing up new pages in the inventory so everything is set for the new fiscal year. It's great.)
But anyway. Izzy, unlike everyone else, is not have a good time. He's fairly sure he's acing this First Mate thing, but Ed doesn't seem to be giving him the, ahem, Respect he deserves now that he's no longer a lowly assistant. (Izzy is still very much an assistant.) Izzy still somehow has admin-things he has to do (help Ed down from the fuckery! also probably do the laundry!), but no real First Mate duties, and even his previous daily tasks seem to have taken a cut (he didn't make the best cup of tea or whatever, and it was certainly no task for a Very Important First Mate, but... now Stede was making it? What the fuck?)
So Izzy, rather than seeing all this for the relaxing vacation and/or training module it could be -- as, in fact, everybody else on the ship has decided it is -- takes all this as some kind of, well, demotion. And, from there, decides to become what even the kindest HR rep would term "a goddamn nightmare."
So we end season 1 in a significantly worse state than we started: Ed, saddled with an admin who could at any moment poison his tea and yet still thinks he should have access to Ed's calendar; Izzy, attempting to both recreate his previous job and engage in a low-level administrative coup that wreaks havoc with everyone's work-life balance in the process; and Stede, who's fucked off to a conference without telling his team or remembering to charge his phone, thereby putting the whole retreat off schedule.
Suppliers are raising prices, stocks are going down, and the company newsletter is three days late. Disaster.
(But, completely uninvolved in this extended office drama, there's Ibrahim. He finally has a chance to shift everything in the hold for the first time since November, really get the crew in there to scrub the corners, do the regular repair work, it's great. He wonders if this is that "vacation" thing he's heard so much about. He loves being able to really catch up on all these backburner projects.)
(...This is his coffee pot.)
(...and okay, I have spent too long as an admin. Write me fic about Ibrahim the quartermaster instead, I want him drinking coffee and being competent, I beg of you.)
55 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
[Communications commence, Boris sounds reasonably normal_] 
Day Three salvage ship The Wretched. Flight Engineer Boris reporting. Crying yourself to sleep every now and again can be good for the body_
I’m not optimistic at all, but doing nothing just lets intrusive thoughts and imminent death creep in. I’ll do stuff_
Tumblr media
Maybe luck isn’t entirely abandoned. Poking at the systems has granted me access to LANDING-04. I thought all the landing modules were lost when the asteroid hit since it was over that way. Maybe this one escaped unscathed. I won’t be able to tell the extent of it til I get down there but maybe. Maybe I can hope_
[Footsteps and doors opening and closing, Boris mutters to himself inaudibly for a little bit and then speaks up_]
ADAM would’ve been able to run me diagnostics without a manual look - save me the time and step count. But now it’s “if I want it done, I do it myself” around here. ADAM would’ve probably complained about running diagnostics anyways. Might’ve interrupted him and Ada playing chess again or something. God forgive the AI do its job_
[A pause, more footsteps and a keycard being used_] 
LANDING-04 don’t let me down_
[The sound of a door lock sliding open and a rush of air and steam escaping. Boris sighs_]
Hope is a thing with feathers and my bird got fucking plucked_
[Pause_]
Considering the scanner has been fucked and showing screwy blobs I should have figured it was wrong to show me this place was working just fine. Looks like it got hit just as bad as the rest. No breach in the hull at least and no depressurisation or anything drastically bad - but it still looks like LANDING-04 is not going to be doing any landing safely again_
[The clink of something metal being kicked and a small yelp_]
Fuck’s sake_
I just can’t have anything can I Arya? Nothing goes my way on this rustbucket of a ship. Urgh_
[Boris swipes his keycard again and it beeps. The door lock closes audibly. There’s a small pause and then the beep of a manual code being entered onto the pad_]
No point hauling extra useless baggage. Maybe if I jettison it the thing will go play fetch?_
[Boris laughs_]
There_
[A loud rumbling noise as the module detaches and breaks away. The main hull of the ship creaks and groans_]
Gone. I don’t want to hope any harder_
Tumblr media
With LANDING-04 being a waste of time, I might as well see if anything else in this bucket of once-moving bolts is still operational. I’m no mechanic, or the kind of engineer who knows every part of a spacecraft, but I can try at least. I’ve done basic fix-up work on smaller crafts before and this is just… A really big version of them, right? I remember the schematics from training. Engines systems and such… I’ll take a look_ 
[The recording goes silent for a long while and there are some brief instances where it records sound. Footsteps, doors opening and the creak and groan of the ship struggling to maintain itself in space. Boris’ talk is mostly muttering about the works he’s attempting to do or is incoherent. A few loud huffs and bouts of swearing as he clambers about the engines_]
No… Nothing in this one. Not there… Ah_
[A loud thud_]
Ow! My head!_
[More rummaging about, the static on the recording device hums as there’s the sounds of tinkering_]
Well. That didn’t work_
Is nothing gonna work in this damn system?!_
[Boris huffs and there’s the sound of him slumping against a wall. Around him the hull creaks_]
No good. I don’t think I’m getting anything out of this at all actually. One problem fixed just sets up seven more issues I need to look into. Things need parts I don’t have, or need additional power and pairs of hands I can’t use. It’s a huge job. Even a full crew working back home would struggle with this one. Wouldn’t be shocked if they just said it’s a full write off on these engines_ 
[He bangs the metal a few times for emphasis and they echo around him. A loud creak in return makes Boris yelp_]
Still at least it's holding together the minimal systems I do have? I think. We’re not moving but we’re also not driving headfirst into a nearby star so there’s that… Fucking hell is that what it’s really all come to? I think being alone and drifting in space is really starting to get to me. Still I have no answers on the engines. I think there’s no point wasting more time on them at all really_
Tumblr media
What the_ 
[An eerie hissing noise is just about caught on the recording device. Much of it is out of the range of the recorder but Boris’ breathing picks up_]
The… The fuck is that. Is that the comms system? Doug this better not be some legacy audio you left on the data system or some shit!_
[Running footsteps, the muffled sound of scratching and an incoherent, eerie voice speaking over the ship’s communications system_]
ADAM Are you playing a joke on me!? You’re dead and offline but if you’ve decided now to not be this is not fucking funny!_
[A quiet, suppressed whimper as a door opens_]
It’s using the comms. I don’t know how the fuck but it’s using the comms… I… I_
[Typing noises_]
I’ll kill the audio system. Before it says even more. It’s talking to me and I hate it! It’s like it’s inside my own fucking head! Stop it! Shut up shut up shut up!_
[Boris yells and slams his hand down on the panel_]
DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT ARKADY THAT WAY!_
[Silence. Boris’ breathing steadies carefully_]
No more comms. They’re shut down. This recorder just backs up onto the server mainframe but it’s otherwise disconnected. I can’t go broadcasting myself if that thing knows how to broadcast back. Jesus I didn’t even know it could fucking talk… Let alone say… Fuck! I don’t want to know that this thing has sentience!_ 
No more. No fucking more. The audio hack was a step too far for all of it and I need out. I need… Urgh I need a nap and a long break away from the comms room. That voice was unlike anything. Inhuman, unreal. It sees me as a toy it wants ahold of - like it played with Arya and the others. I… I’m just a game to this thing_
I hate it all_
Flight Engineer Boris Strugatsky Signing off_ 
Tumblr media
7 notes · View notes
barovianbitches · 7 months
Note
how did someone get away with playing someone from Barovia? seems like it would really fuck with the module or give the player unnecessary knowledge or metagaming power :/
love your blog though lol everyone else is so cute!
Thanks for the question!
Here are what the two in question have to say;
(yardyarm who plays Constantin) For starters, I had this discussion with the DM long before the game started and backstory, prior knowledge and anything that might otherwise be construed as metagaming was discussed, and as she’ll hopefully attest I’ve often checked in to ensure what Constantin knows makes sense. I’m normally a forever DM and have run CoS enough times that I have nightmares about running certain parts of it. I’ve even analyzed the module to the core for a spaghetti western rewrite called Spurs of Strahd. Constantin being a Barovian was initially meant to be a bit of a buffer to prevent accidental metagame slips IF THEY HAPPENED - not to enable it.
So, yeah. Constantin is a Barovian from Argynvostholt with a soul and motivations against Strahd. He’s more than a ‘metagame enabler’ and I resent the accusation as well as the implication of ‘everyone else being cute’ - constantin is goddamn adorable. Motherfucker.
What the DM (mysticmothi) had to say:
I will say that I as the Dungeon Mother, am not running Curse of Strahd 100% raw out of the book! I LOVE homebrew and currently I am running about 50/50 raw versus my own works. I have basically entirely rewritten a lot of the Forgotten Realms Faerun AND Barovia for my own pleasure lmao. So the possibility for metagaming is immediately cut in half! The fun part about being the God of this campaign is that my word is the final word, and only I can say whether or not something is true. In addition to that, even my truths are only viewed through the perception of my PCs. Another fun thing is that I am a master improvisor. Woah, I got a player who knows there is gonna be an ancient red dragon beneath the castle and in-game they are suspiciously trying to amass water-based weapons and magic? WHABAM suddenly the dragon is actually silver and now they know not to pull that on me. I have changed enough that I am fully prepared to pull the rug out from under anyone who tries to run MY game by trying to go behind my back, especially since that ruins the fun that is D&D! I am all-seeing, all omniscient, nothing can hide from my many, many keen eyes.
That being said, I do see why many dms advise against a Barovian PC. If I ever dm another CoS campaign, I'm probably going to not have one! The metagaming isn't even a problem for me, I think it's more that the PC then has a pre-disposition to not like Strahd that occurs BEFORE the game begins, instead of their opinion developing as we play. And for me as a storyteller, it makes me have to pivot in my approaches to some things! Just a little hindsight thing I am stowing for later games I may dm.
2 notes · View notes
mommybard · 2 years
Note
What dnd module is your favorite
None of them, really. I mean, they're good for getting inspiration from to run similar campaigns, but the books themselves don't tend to leave very many guidelines for what to do if your players DON'T play the exact way they expect the journey to go. Or just have instant-death things happen if they go off the rails. Perfect example I can think of. My partner was running us through...I think it was Rise of Tiamat? And early one there's a part of the adventure where your party and the people they're with are challenge to a fight to the death by an evil guy. And my partner let us know ahead of time that they, if this fight happens, someone might die if we volunteer for it, so it might be smarter to let an NPC offer themselves up to die, which the module kinda leans towards. I took this as a fucking challenge. I had an armorer artificer, and we had just hit level 4, so feat time! I grabbed mobile. For my infusions, I grabbed the boots that let you teleport to wherever you were at the start of your turn. The entire fight was me running up to the guy from 40ft away, Booming Blade-ing him, and then teleporting back to where I started the fight, with him unable to reach me or catch me. My partner was reaching so far for a solution to it for the BBEG that she had him THROW HIS FUCKING GREATSWORD AT ME LIKE A JAVELIN. The campaign though didn't really have any options on how to handle it. If multiple people joined in the fight, then yeah his cronies would join. If we sent out an NPC, yeah they would get killed. But I wasn't allowed to kill the BBEG, because he was supposed to come back later in the story and the campaign never planned for the players to really be able to take them down. It had a little blurb on there that was basically "Uh shit if this happens...I guess someone comes save the BBEG??? Cause we need him later on." I completely cheesed the fight, just really for shits and giggles to try to break the game a bit, but the campaigns solution was to go "That doesn't matter because we have -1- way for things to go" and didn't really change the setting, or the rewards we got. There wasn't even really any acknowledgement in the module if you did it that you had done something that should've killed you. Because it wants you to only act in -1- way.
7 notes · View notes
ridiculousblogging · 11 months
Text
Session 2
Posting my D&D sessions’ notes here so that I can find them again
It's Travelling Time!
We get zip-zap-zoomed-temporarily dissembled- re-assembled- and we were suddenly in a new realm
This place is spooky, dreary, and hella stinky
Like it literally smells like death here
Gross
There's a fancy gate that closes when you approach it and opens as you walk away from it which is like the worst fucking automatic door I think I've ever seen
Oh also we're all gothy and evil now!
....at least temporarily
....We hope...
We find the dead body and it has a note on it about abandoning hope and shit like that
Whatever (eye roll)
We find a nearby village as it nears dusk and its quiet
too quiet
well except for that one lady that's sobbing so loud that it echos through the whole village
We go to a tavern, and they won't give us a room, but this guy called Ismark said we could stay at his house
(also I thought Drake called him Bismark, like the donut, and then all I could think about was donuts, which was honestly like really distracting??)
Oh and we asked him where we are
WE ARE IN BAROVIA
AKA WE ARE IN ONE OF THE MANY REALMS OF DREAD IN RAVENLOFT!
AKA THESE MIST REALMS ARE ALL THE RAVENLOFT REALMS OF DREAD
(Ravenloft is a Horror D&D setting with Realms of Dread (each worse than the last), its known to be some of the most difficult terrains and areas in the greater canon D&D multiverse)
(I've spent so much time in my D&D life as a player and DM actively avoiding everything to do with the Ravenloft settings and especially the Curse of Strahd aka Barovia module...)
(and this Motherfucker throws me into it with no fucking warning?!)
(BRUHHHHH)
so like, anyways
we're fucked
and this is the first fucking realm we've come to like what the fuck?
Ismark is apparently the son of the Bergermeister (town master/mayor) and has a sister named Irene
(possibly Irena? it was hard to tell over Born coughing while Drake was talking)
Oh and Strahd, the noble that runs this fucking place (hence the module being named "Curse of Strahd") has a major jones for her
Oh and he bit her
But not in the kinky way, just in the vampire way
well unless it was intended in the kinky vampire way, but Drake refused to elaborate on that
so anyways we come to their mansion and meet Irene and their dead dad that's just like chilling on the floor
Like most other places in town, there are wolf scratch marks all over the outside of the house and all the windows are boarded up for safety
In exchange for a place to stay for the night and some information, we help carry their dead dad to the church for burial in the graveyard and then help to move Irene to a larger village nearby that's supposed to be safer
easy peasy
we all (including Ismark and Irene) slept on the floor in the dead body room, which was sketch but like whatever)
night was weird bc of the wolves scratching the house all night
and the random lady voice consolling the wolves
and someone walking up and down the porch steps
Next day we take the dad for burial and meet Father Danovich
we see him praying with a noose just like hanging behind him
he does the funeral and there's screaming from below the floorboards
turns out Strahd sorta turned his son into a vampire, so he locked his son in the basement and isn't feeding him in hope that he turns back
which is also really fucking sketch but everyone shrugged it off???
also the priest is gonna hang himself, but I was confused, bc I thought he would hang his son to put his son out of his misery, but I guess that's not where that was going
Oh well
We travel to a Vistani (basically Russian nomads/travellers) camp just outside of town to talk to Madam Eva (their leader that's super ancient)
She tells us that Strahd controls the mist
Also, that Barovia was removed from the prime material plane to imprison and punish Strahd, so that's why it's all misty
Eons ago General Glaive (the reason there's a continent in Azaroc named Glavon) recruited him to help fight for his master
No clue who Glaive serves though
You need Strahd to be able to enter and/or exit these realms but he's a high-key jerk about the whole thing and only lets the Vistani out and even then it's iffy
Strahd has been hella distracted by Irene recently and has been shirking his mist gate duties
like an asshole
Also dude has 3 or 4 wives already
but no kids?
I asked if since he was undead, his swimmers would also be undead and that would be why he doesn't have kids
DESPITE HAVING 3 OR 4 WIVES LIKE GOOD GRIEF
Drake once again refused to answer my well thought out and totally appropriate question
Also he took another young woman like 2 weeks ago so can he just like chill for a second?
Anyways everyone keeps calling him the devil and the game closed there
0 notes