#mostly its fine. its just when someones trying to manage the data files so i kno im gonna have to go back thru and update my code | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry3point14 · 4 years

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Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Lusting. Tumblr Meta. Word count: 2,400. Chapter Summary: What’s worse: reading fanfiction about two men you just met, or a narrator who wants to push you into one of their arms? A/N: lol tumblr. You guys should let me know who wants to be in this thing. I kid, I kid... OR DO I?

Ao3 if you prefer

Y/N pushed forward onto her elbows and pressed her fingers into her temples. Outwardly it might look like an attempt to relax but she was actually attempting to massage away the oncoming headache. It had been a tiresome, stressful day that had exhausted her long before Sam and Dean Winchester had arrived. Up until then, her biggest concern had been catching up on her mounting work, something that was now trivial in comparison to the monster roaming her neighborhood.

Her disorientation was not aided by the Winchesters themselves. Or Dean. He was a problem, a curse, and a mystery in one flannel-clad package. Y/N wanted to strangle him, mostly. He’d sauntered into her domain and attempted to take the lead where he hadn’t been invited. He was short-tempered and disrespectful. Yet when she considered what it might be like to wrap her fingers around his throat and finally silence him—a fantasy she wouldn’t have been prone to normally —her mind wandered of its own accord. No, she didn’t usually indulge in flights of fancy, which is why she read so extensively, that is until Dean drifted into her life. Now what would begin as a simple imaginary tirade towards the man, morphed into her nails carding through his hair while she brought her lips to his. His lips that were suddenly so fascinating…

“Erm, Y/N?” Sam interrupts you, well her, causing you to slump into your hands where you’re still leaning on your desk. You could only hope that the way you’re staring at nothing doesn’t appear quite as wistful as it feels.

Your narrator had started this absurd new direction in her story shortly after you’d accepted the men in front of you to be Sam and Dean Winchester. She’s been filling your head with these seemingly endless paragraphs about Dean. Bubbling new emotions and how you notice each of his seemingly perfect features for the first time. So, while you're trying to have a conversation with the two men, you simultaneously have to listen to her pining after Dean on your behalf. And then there's the way your body reacts to everything the voice is saying. You’re not sure if you’re lusting after Dean or if the voice is, either way, you find yourself licking your lips in anticipation or trying to suppress a shiver in your warm office.

It’s exhausting.

“Sorry, you were- I mean you’re telling me that because the first victim's murderer has an alibi, you came to check it out and linked four deaths because they all had life insurance policies?” You pause, unsure, “no offense but that doesn’t sound very, uh, weird. I mean- I have life insurance.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “of course you do, you work at a damn insurance company.”

You’d actually been asking Sam but it’s so easy to fall into the trap of arguing with Dean since it’s been happening for the last thirty minutes now. “Life insurance is very common, you know, maybe you should consider getting some.”

The problem is whenever you do decide to engage with Dean, your benevolent narrator takes the opportunity to inform you of something else attractive about him. Thus neutralizing your annoyed reaction.

She couldn’t help it. Though she fought and struggled to control herself she found herself looping through the same motions again. Warmth bloomed over her chest to accompany the spark of aggression. Her tongue fired off a response like a bullet leaving a gun. As she hit her intended target, marked by Dean’s creased brow or the clench of his jaw, she’d experience a pleasant moment of weightlessness as a small, relieved sigh would leave her body. This petty behavior would be uncharacteristic for her if this were a regular acquaintance whom she simply disliked. He was not any other offender. Dean was both her tormentor and tormented, not just because of the way his tongue peeked out over his bottom lip for a teasing second.

Sam clears his throat, again, “we found the insurance connection after we figured out what it is. The first case, the murder victim? We saw the shifter on video before they-”

You brighten up, interrupting, remembering the fact from your reading, and happy to have no internal monologue. “Oh, the eye thing? Like the shifter who pretended to be Dean in the books?”

“It wasn’t only in the books… how many times, that happened!”

Dean has been getting more and more agitated by your slow realization that everything you’d read was real. Sam, in trying to explain why they needed the information about the claim beneficiaries, has been worlds apart more understanding.

“Right, of course. Don’t worry this isn’t weird for me or anything.” You cross your arms over your chest like you can block out Dean’s negativity with the action. Or stop the flush on your skin from continuing up your neck.

Sam scrunches his face as he gets to the end of even his patience, although you’re not sure whether it’s you or Dean.

“Yeah, the um-eye thing. Anyway, we found three other unsolved cases except these weren’t as big news because no one was arrested for them. But all died the same way, all had sizable insurance policies with First National, and all the spouses practically went into hiding after the claim was paid.”

“Right. And you think Maggie Hall is a shifter who killed her own husband?”

Sam nods, “something like that.”

“Ok, ok. What can I do to help?” You’re not ok with monsters or guns, or all the crime. Although little data protection infraction seems in your wheelhouse. “Do you have the names? I could get you all the information.”

Dean barks a laugh from the chair he’s sunk into, crossing his own arms at some point.

His broad shoulders are slung low, his head bouncing against the back of the chair. She’d be forgiven for thinking that he’s a teenager asleep in class for the way he’s sitting and the lack of interest he has in talking to her. Except he’s not treating her like the dull teacher, quite the opposite. She’s offering to break the rules and so he’s treating her like a child trying to stay up past bedtime. He infuriates her as much as he makes her want to prove him wrong. She thinks she could do it too, given enough time, she could prove everything he’s said wrong and then perhaps he’d show her a modicum of respect.

You’re reminded then of your own strange circumstances. Where you’d had a comment waiting for Dean’s apathetic laugh you stop and consider for the first time if you should tell someone. Them even. Not screaming at Laura to ask if she heard it too, but honestly tell someone. If you’re committing to believing the Winchesters exist does it make sense that they would be the only people to actually believe you?

“And you’re sure that it’s a shapeshifter?” You don’t look up to see their faces, hoping it’ll make this easier.

Dean doesn’t notice the soft change in your voice at first. “ Just because you’ve read a few books and think you know a few things…”

Sam waves a hand in Dean’s face to shut him up, making you wonder where that trick has been for the last forty-five minutes. “What makes you ask that?”

You bring your eyes to theirs now, flicking between them. Both of them are wearing those intense stares, boring into you again, softer now. Something tells you that you could take twenty minutes to gather your courage and they’d still wait.

Sam is looking at you kindly and Dean, for the first time since you’ve seen him, is patient.

You know that lightning isn’t supposed to strike twice but it feels like maybe you have been hit with two realizations at once. Firstly, you couldn’t tell them. As absurd as the voice is it somehow seems too weird even for them. They are hunting an actual monster and you are struggling with possible mental illness. If they didn't cart you off to a head doctor at the very least they'd think you're crazy.

Secondly, and it pains you to prove your narrator correct, but Dean really does have a rugged yet boyish charm when he’s not scowling at you.

Not that it matters if you play along with the voice and her desires for you to fall for Dean. Because you’re going to help them find this shifter and they’ll do what the Winchesters do in every Supernatural book you’d poured over. They’ll get into their car and leave.

“It’s nothing. I’m was thinking-it’s fine. We should get going before security wonders why I’m still here.” You stand up ready to go digging through the filing cabinets. “I guess you need to look at those files now?”

It’s Thursday. A regular and normal Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary. You hadn’t spent the night before re-reading Skin because shifters are real and there is one stalking your companies’ clients. And you’re definitely ignoring the notification icon on the Tumblr app.

Sure, before you’d met them maybe you’d read one or two, or twenty unpublished short stories written by independent writers. The books had ended and you’d had nothing new to read. You’d already known the fan-created content was out there because you’d glanced at it when you downloaded the books. It had been so easy to retrace your steps.

But knowing what you knew now, knowing that the Winchesters were real, you certainly couldn’t go around reading fanfiction anymore.

Definitely not.

Which is why it’s Thursday morning and you’re at your desk. Jittery from another late night, on edge because what if they are killing the shifter right now and curious as to where the voice has gone. Again. Adding the Tumblr notification on top of that pile was like throwing lighter fluid onto a burning building. Not really going to make things worse in the grand scheme of things, still probably frowned upon.

The notification only bothers you as much as it does because it’s something that should be manageable. Unlike everything else, you can deal with this little red badge.

“Y/N, I brought you a coffee!”

As you search for the source of the voice you see Laura coming across the office with two cups in her hands from the coffee shop down the street.

“Coffee?” You cock your head at her.

Laura makes it to your desk and sets down the brown to go cup directly on top of the paper on your desk as if trying to force you to engage with it before continuing to work. “You seemed a little tired this morning. Thought you could use a pick me up.”

It’s nice of her to have noticed. It’s even nicer that she didn’t tell you to your face this morning since you’d have been annoyed by the comment first thing. The strange thing is that she’s brought you coffee of all drinks. The cozy little coffee shop is where you lunch together when you both decide to treat yourselves and, as at home, you drink tea.

Still, it's the thought that counts. “Thanks, that’s nice of you. My treat next time.”

If she catches the confusion still lingering in your tone then she ignores it, electing to wink at you, unaware. “Don’t be silly. Anything for you.”

Today wouldn’t be the first time that Laura’s perkiness had continued throughout the day so you write off the weirdness and let her walk away. Now would be an excellent time to pick up your phone. You're going to drink the coffee in front of you out of politeness anyway, why not take a break at the same time? You pick up the cup first to signify the start of your coffee break. Unfortunately with actual coffee. Laura did at least add cream so it's slightly more palatable.

Flicking at your screen you open your emails first under the pretense of checking all your notifications at once. There aren't many since you checked at breakfast. Then your Facebook because surely someone in your life has done something horrific enough that they want to share it with you. Nothing except your cousin's pregnancy announcement, which you mom had told you about days ago. Finally, you can't avoid it, the Tumblr app calls for you and click it. The notification was for a message and it's a reply to one you sent.

It's important to note that you'd sent the message before you met Sam and Dean.

Although since this conversation has been started already there's no harm in messaging back. It would be rude not to. You'd only wanted to tell someone that you enjoyed their story, and they messaged back thanking you for your feedback. It was perfectly innocent. It's not like you were choosing to read more stories. And you weren't going out of your way to find the Dean ones.

Hey, thanks for getting back to me. I only read the books last week and I loved your story. Great characterization. Looking forward to reading some more!

It does feel like a cheap shot since the Winchesters are not characters anymore, they're people. Although it's not like they'd find out.

You click send on your reply at the same time as you take another sip of your free coffee and wince. Laura is safely back out of sight at reception now so hopefully you will get away with it without offending her.

The notification is gone. That's one less itch to scratch. Only the remaining laundry list of problems in your life to deal with now.

Starting with the email from Mark that pops up in the corner of your computer screen, asking you if you'd cleared Maggie Halls' file yet.

Continue to Chapter 6.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblue

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

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squeeneyart · 4 years

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 9

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Filing systems are discussed.

Someone has been poking around.

“These locks haven’t been replaced in years,” Sasha mumbled. She was on her knees, gently poking and prodding the old padlock that secured the storage house’s back door. “Should be easy work, but it may take some time to avoid breaking it.” Unrolling a bag, Martin could see thin, metal tools with different heads and lengths.

Jon and Martin kept themselves pressed low against the wall. Every once in a while, Jon would check his phone for any warnings from Tim, careful to keep the light covered with his hand. Martin kept his eyes and ears trained on the woods nearby.

It was largely useless, as Martin couldn’t see shit. There was security to that, in a ‘he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him’ sort of way. The others hadn’t been concerned about things like night vision goggles or cameras. Something about wealthy families being tightfisted and how Martin’s salary was a miracle. In the dark they would be secure, unless a bear chose to join the party.

With every second that ticked by, tension grew in Martin’s stomach. The tiny clicks of Sasha’s instruments were an alarm in his ears with nothing to cover them. His eyes wouldn’t adjust in the thick dark surrounding them, and eventually he screwed his eyes shut to stop his vision from shifting and swirling.

“Ha!” Sasha said, setting the lock beside her and stowing away her tools. “Okay, careful now.” With a gentle pressure, she turned the handle and pushed open the door. The three waited, listening for any disturbances in the darkness of the storage house. When nothing happened, Sasha motioned for the others to follow inside.

“All right,” Jon said, his voice low. “Based on the outside, we should head to that side area. The far door should go into that room connecting to the front entrance.”

“Should? Didn’t you check this place out before?” Martin asked, his voice jumping up a register.

“Of course we did! But as mentioned previously, getting inside was-”

Sasha said with gritted teeth, “We can go over our planning abilities later. We need to get moving!”

Martin continued forward but added quietly, “Wow, very reassuring.”

From both of his companions, he earned a resounding “Shut up” that would’ve hurt if it weren’t for their perfectly matching inflections.

Keeping their torches off, they let the wall lead them to the entryway. Through it, a few windows to their left were just visible by the small amount of light that periodically entered with the turning of the lighthouse beam. With this small illumination, Martin could make out the edges of large shelving units.

Sasha and Jon set themselves to work, taking thick blankets out of their packs and hanging them over the window frames. “Don’t worry, we tested these with our phone lights.” Sasha said, covering the last window. She hesitated, then added, “Well, probably best not to point your torch directly at them, but otherwise they should be fine.”

With their torches (mostly) safe to use, Martin could now see the room in full. Tall bookshelves sat in several rows facing the entryway. In the nearby corner was a small set of drawers. The wall was lined with filing cabinets, and all the way in the back right corner sat a small number of wooden crates.

Martin pointed in the direction of the crates. “I’ll check those out, unless either of you want crowbar duty?” In response, Jon slipped between the bookshelves. Sasha smiled and waved her tools toward the cabinets. He sighed. “Right. My fault for volunteering.”

Before heading over, Martin went to the drawers up front and found some nails of different sizes, perfect for covering his tracks. Pushing them into the wood with a crowbar would be slow going, but it was better than risking the pounding of a hammer in the middle of the night.

Sasha swore as he walked by. “Some of these are locked. It’ll take some time if I try to open them all.”

“Do what you can with the unlocked ones for now. I’ll look for some sort of catalogue,” Jon said, and Martin heard what he judged to be the most academic sniffle. “If these people bother with a proper filing system.”

Sasha snickered. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the Lukases have thrown everything around willy-nilly just to vex you.”

“And yet it would still be better than our own archive. If you ask me, Elias prefers the mess of it, as if it helps us any for him to know where everything is.”

“God, you’re bringing this up now.”

On his way to the crates, Martin peeked at Jon who was scowling at the shelves. “So, what, you just have to ask him where anything is? What happens if you can’t reach him?”

Jon grimaced. “You spend several hours getting stabbed with the edges of old, misfiled reports on haunted petunias.”

Sasha laughed, and Martin continued to the back corner, accepting that he must’ve missed some inside joke. Bending over the first crate, Martin braced himself on the side of its lid and checked for labels. All he found was a small series of letters and numbers.

“Fuck.” He straightened and went for the bookshelves, walking back and forth along them to scan for anything obvious. What would a file directory look like? A bound book? A file folder?

After a couple of frustrating minutes, he heard from the other side, “Try looking for a binder. Easy to remove and change organizational data. I haven’t found anything on my end yet.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Martin replied, his face burning. “Not exactly familiar with this sort of thing.”

With new direction, he located a low shelf with several binders, and tucked between two dusty tomes was his target: page after page of a coded file system with labels and descriptions, split into different storage types. He let the others know, and Sasha looked through them until she found something of interest in the cabinets.

Flipping through the pages, Martin located the proper entry and walked back over to the crates.

It was some personal belongings of an N. Lukas, some long dead relative. Nothing jumped out as important, so he dismissed it and went to the other crates. He had to climb on one to get a proper look at the one sitting on top of it. Checking the entry, he huffed out a small sound of curiosity and slid the crowbar out of his bag.

“Found something?” Jon said, peeking from behind the shelf.

“Yeah, I think so. Time to learn about my predecessor.”

With as little sound as he could muster, Martin slid the crowbar under the wood and used his weight as leverage. It was difficult from where he stood on the other crate, but eventually there was a sharp crack. Everyone froze, but after a moment of nothing they returned to work. Carefully pushing the top, Martin peered inside.

The contents were sparse considering the size of the crate. A sturdy leather jacket was neatly folded in a corner. A stack of documents in a file folder were held together with a red rubber band. Finally, in a small plastic bag, he could see a worn wallet and a mobile phone.

“There we go.” Opening the bag, he took the phone to examine. Dead, of course. He turned it over to check the charging port. “Does anyone have a charger for this? It uses one of the older universal ones.”

“Check in my bag. I’ve almost got this,” Sasha said, hands still busy with their lockpicking.

Digging through the pack, Martin found the charger and plugged it into a nearby outlet. It would be a few minutes before Martin could learn its usability, so he started flipping through the banded-together papers. There were some school transcripts, job and school applications, and other documents that felt strange for a family to be holding onto, but Martin couldn’t judge sentimentality.

Tucked in the back of the file was a newspaper clipping from the date of Evan’s death. It was as Martin had heard before: cause of death was an “unspecified congenital heart problem”; died on his way home from work; found by his mother on the day of; vague mention of a nameless fiancée.

He checked the phone again, which seemed to be charging at a slow but steady rate. Another crate would have to do in the meantime. With its lightweight cargo, Martin managed to move it to the floor and check the one underneath. Nothing of interest, same with the one stacked on top in the corner. He enlisted Jon in lifting it up off the one below, then checked for the latter’s entry in the book.

“Oh thank goodness,” Martin breathed, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders. “It has to be in here.” Removing the lid, he found himself staring at a treasure trove of what the entry had referred to as Peter’s “personal collection”, a vague term for a disorganized mess.

The items varied wildly, thrown across each other with no care or preservation. Some of them were, to Martin’s untrained eye, seemingly precious artifacts belonging on display in a museum, not rotting away in an old crate in the middle of nowhere. Many were books bound in different styles. He tried to be gentle with the older ones as he looked across the covers and set them aside one-by-one. If any of these items were lost in a bet like Simon’s, the person involved must still be kicking themselves.

He almost missed it. In the corner of a book, Simon’s neat, tiny signature was etched into the leather. The urge to open it made Martin’s hands tingle. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around the sketchbook, placing it carefully inside his bag. Curiosity had pushed him far enough that night. Whatever might’ve been going on with that book, Simon was threatening enough for Martin to use extra caution.

Using his crowbar, he lightly tapped a nail into the already-made hole. It wouldn’t be strong under scrutiny with the splintered wood, but from the outside, it looked good as new.

A small hum came from between the shelves. “Anything interesting?” Martin asked.

Jon coughed. “Possibly. Information on some of the industries the Lukas family are involved in. The list is… extensive. I think they might’ve also destroyed the local fishing economy, but that’s just conjecture on my part.”

Sasha sighed from the cabinets. “I’ve found a little on the lighthouse, but nothing on its origins. I can’t even find where the Lukas family would’ve purchased it from. However-” She waved a sheet of paper. “Turns out, Simon Fairchild made an attempt at a joint ownership of the place years ago. Rejected, of course, but I wonder what he wanted from it, besides another nice view.” She took a quick photo of it and replaced it in its file.

Martin enlisted in Jon’s help once more to re-cover the crate of Peter’s collection with the other crate. As they finished, the phone beeped from the floor, and the two swung around at the noise. “Okay, okay,” Martin jogged over and swiped at the screen. “Shit, of course.”

While it hadn’t been wiped completely, all email, phone, and text messages had been erased, along with any photos or videos. No record of Evan’s days at the lighthouse, or why he had come back in the first place. Shaking off the disappointment, Martin looked through Evan’s contacts.

His many, many contacts.

Sure, he had been a popular guy in school, but he’d spread himself out in the years away from the little town. It took all of Martin’s will not to scroll quickly through the myriad of names. With the sheer number, it seemed Evan had resorted to leaving notes on them. To avoid mixing people up? Most likely, considering he had at least four Daves listed.

Evan had kept track of a lot of people. Many had clearly been his friends from his little notes about them. Where he met them, or who he knew them through, or little things that Martin could only assume were inscrutable inside jokes.

The mere thought of talking to Evan had sent a younger Martin running. The intimidation factor had been so strong in the moment. It felt stupid now, and Martin sat for a moment to take in the volume of people who hadn’t let something like fear stop them from talking to a genuinely nice person.

It was no time to regret dumb social decisions from his teen years. He continued scrolling until a contact jumped out at him. Cheesy little hearts trailed after the name.

Naomi Herne.

He looked up at Sasha, who was thumbing through the binder. “Sasha, could you check something for me? A name, Naomi Herne. I think it might be Evan’s mystery fiancée.” He noted down her number along with Evan’s just in case.

“Sure thing,” Sasha said.

Martin finished scrolling and failed to find any other pertinent names. The fact they hadn’t been erased felt odd, but when no explanation came to him, he turned the phone off and placed it back inside the plastic bag. Along with the stack of documents, he dropped the bag back into the crate, sealed it shut and climbed back down to the floor.

From behind him, he could hear Jon back between the shelves, mumbling to himself. His phone camera’s flash reflected off the finished wood of the bookshelves. Martin was about to ask Jon about his findings, but Sasha made a noise of recognition.

She focused on an entry, then walked over to one of the cabinets. “Huh. Guess not everything is locked.” She sifted through the folders and slid one out to browse its contents. It was heftier than Martin had expected.

Sasha’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. Ms. Herne was very busy.”

“What?” Martin walked across the room to read over her shoulder. Sasha’s current focus was… a restraining order?

“What the hell?” Sasha said. She flipped through some more papers. “There’s… there’s location info. Looks like they’ve been keeping tabs on her. And here, some kind of documentation of her movements in town months back.”

The wheels turned in Martin’s head. “They didn’t want her in town. Maybe she-”

There was a small thump from the bookshelves, and Jon ran toward the windows. “We need to go. Now!” Jon hissed, pulling down a hanging blanket.

“Shit.” Sasha looked at Naomi’s file and placed it in the drawer, shutting it tight. The three of them grabbed the blankets and stuffed them into their bags, and through the window, Martin could see the smallest hint of light near the street. Sasha slipped toward the exit. “Quick, out the back door!”

Doing their best without light, the three snuck down the hall and out from where they had come. Martin heard the door across the hall being opened just as they slipped outside. Jon was quick to slap on the padlock, and the three bolted into the dark wood.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Martin gasped, refusing to look behind him. He heard footsteps close by, and from near his shoulder he could hear Jon’s hoarse, quiet breath. “If we go this way, I-I think I can keep us off the road.”

“As long as they didn’t see the blankets get torn down, there won’t be any other signs we were there,” Jon said, managing to get a bit ahead of Martin despite his shorter stature.

“You’d better be right. Sasha, was there another meeting point?” Martin asked.

No one answered, and Martin’s blood went cold. The only steps around him were Jon’s. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Should we go back?”

Jon hesitated, then said through his own panting, “If something happened, w-we can’t stop now. It’s possible she ran in another direction. Going back wouldn’t be of any help. We need- we need somewhere to wait and hide. Once we have that, I-I’ll text Tim something innocuous in case something happened outside.”

Martin felt sweat running down his neck under his many layers of clothing. From where they were, he charted a course in his head. “Okay. I think I know a way to avoid town altogether.”

Using the distant beacon of the lighthouse as a reference point, the two ran through the forest. Every once in a while Martin would make a sharp turn, causing Jon to stumble after him. Trees jumped into their path, slowing the pace considerably, and after a few minutes the ground began to dip downward.

There was no running on the slope without risk, and Martin slowed them both down to stop and listen for the sound of pursuers. As they waited in silence, holding back gasps for air, Martin could feel tiny scratches on his cheeks from branches that had caught him unawares. The only sounds were the screeching of insects and the beating of his own heart.

“Okay. No more running, but keep moving down,” Martin said, willing the blood in his ears to be still.

The sun still had some time before properly rising, but exhaustion slapped Martin in the face as he stood on his front porch, fiddling with his keys.

“...You really think this is a good idea?” Jon said, straining to keep his voice low while still maintaining an appropriate level of incredulity. A yawn crept in at the end, lessening the effect.

Martin shushed him, unlocking the front door. “They have no reason to look down here. The woods are thick, and the path I took us through is weird enough that we could’ve gone in any direction. If anyone ever was following us.”

Jon grumbled and checked his phone again. He had texted Tim once they touched the stone-covered beach with no response, and grew visibly more worried with each passing minute.

“You all have plans for this sort of thing, right?” Martin asked, one hand on the door. “Covered your bases?”

Swallowing hard, Jon said, “Y-yes. I’m sure Tim and Sasha are fine. They’re resourceful people.” He checked his phone one more time, then stuffed the phone in his pocket. “I have full confidence in them.”

Tim had been right. Jon was a terrible actor, avoiding eye contact and letting his voice falter when he should’ve kept strong. Of course Jon was worried about his friends.

Martin cleared his throat. “Good. I’m sure we’ll hear from them soon. If we managed to escape, there’s no way Sasha got caught.”

It took a moment, but Jon took in a deep breath and nodded. “Right. We’ll hear from them soon.”

Martin ushered him inside and toward the stairs. “Mum is a heavy sleeper, but still, be quiet please. We’re heading to the attic. She can't get up the stairs on her own, so there's no risk of her finding you.”

They walked up the steps and kept a slow pace across the upstairs hall. Martin pulled a rope at the end, releasing a ladder he just barely caught and set against the ground. Jon crawled up and into the small space.

“I’ll be right back,” Martin whispered. “Gonna stuff some things back where they’re supposed to be.” He left to replace his supplies into their proper drawers and boxes.

After most of his things were put away, he took the sketchbook, still wrapped in a scarf, and slid it into the drawer of his nightstand, underneath his small notebook of poetry. He would have to figure out a good delivery method another time, when he wasn’t exhausted and filled with dread.

Before returning to the attic, he checked his own phone. He had also received Tim’s warning text, a simple “Time to go!”. It didn’t look like a message sent under duress. If Sasha had gotten into trouble, Tiim would’ve been around to help, and vice versa. Chances were they had all made it out okay, and the other two were being careful on their way back to their hotel.

Martin climbed up the ladder to the attic. “Any news?” he asked, pulling the ladder up behind him.

From the other side of the room, Jon faced away from him and knelt in the corner. “They’re fine. She took a different route and met up with Tim. They’re at the hotel now.” There was a tremor in his voice.

Martin’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he shut the small trap door. “That’s good. Are you doing okay? I know it got bad at the end there, and-”

Jon stood and turned. His face was contorted with confusion and fury, and clasped in his grip was the limp, dusty skin of a seal.

Every muscle tensed in Martin’s body as all but the thing in Jon’s hands faded from sight. Martin barely choked out, “Why-”

“You’re going to explain what this is doing here. Now.”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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greyias · 4 years

Text

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 16

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | Crossposted to AO3

As far as targets went, Rian Darok was proving to be an exceptionally dull one. The contents of his schedule turned out to be incredibly mundane, as it just consisted of meetings with other SpecOps officers. Once he returned to Coruscant, there had been a brief hope that would uncover the proverbial smoking blaster. However, it seemed to lead to just more meetings, and an interminable amount of time spent in front of a data terminal searching for nothing of interest whatsoever.

The low-profile made sense, though. If Darok had a hand in what happened with Tython, that kind of thing would have taken a lot of time to plan out. Theron had tried scrubbing through the man’s personnel files on his breaks, but it was spotless. There was zero indication that Darok was anything but a loyal citizen of the Republic, and had no reason to collude with the Empire. In fact, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. In fact, according to his personnel record, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. He was the sole survivor of an Imperial attack on the Dorin’s Sky while it had been serving in the Nanth’ri System...

The location gave Theron pause, and he stared at Darok’s file. The galaxy was a big place, and seasoned veterans would have served all over the map, but that particular system was familiar. Wasn’t that the same system where Revan had fallen to an Imperial strike team? That same funny feeling that had been haunting him since this whole thing had started crept up again, starting at the base of his spine and slowly crawling its way up, until every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was circumstantial at best but… it was odd how connections to Revan kept popping up. First with Jensyn, and now Darok.

If he didn’t know better, he’d almost suspect they had some little secret club. Of course, that didn’t make much sense. Revan was dead, and all of these connections were just… coincidence. Funny. The timing of the attacks on Tython and Korriban were supposed to be coincidences too.

He glared at Darok’s file, but it didn’t yield any further insights or secrets.

The Tython investigation was beginning to wrap up, and Trant had begun to redirect resources. The Analytics Division was moving on from post-mortem reports to dig into the data that Theron had managed to extract from Korriban during the strike team’s raid. Of course, that wasn’t sitting well with Theron either. His data was clean, he knew that, but the intel that had started all of this mess, the one that they’d raided Korriban for had yet to be turned over to the SIS yet.

The last time Theron had asked the Director about it, the face that Marcus had made would have been almost comical. Almost, because a lot of people had died for that data, and now it was apparently lost in some military bureaucracy. Theron considered calling in a favor from dear old dad, see if maybe he could grease the wheels. But that might call too much attention to the fact that Theron was very interested in the origins of all of this.

So unless he wanted to try and involve more people in his crazy conspiracy chase, it was best that he not attract to much attention. He still hadn’t found any proof yet to sound an alarm, just a bunch of odd coincidences and interesting pieces of trivia with nothing to connect them all together. He stared at the terminal in front of him, absently tapping his finger on the keys.

Highwind had reported that Darok, or some men under his direction, had been unusually interested in the Jedi’s library. Theron pulled up the official investigation into the Tython attack. He tried to scan through the findings, but only found reports on destruction, compromised terminals, and some missing artifacts.

With a glance to his surroundings, he slipped out the private datapad he’d been conducting his own personal investigation on, and did a quick check on the current whereabouts of The Defender. It appeared that she’d been called back into duty to help mediate a dispute of succession for House Barnaba in the Tapani sector. He tapped the bezel of the datapad, wondering if it was too soon to say anything, considering he hadn’t uncovered anything yet. The nagging thought about the Archives wouldn’t leave him, so he pulled up his empty inbox, and began to compose a message:

To: Greyias Highwind From: Theron Shan Subject: Nothing Noteworthy Yet

I wish I could say I’ve found something, but it’s been a slow two weeks since I last wrote. The life of a SpecOps commander is apparently very mundane most of the time, filled with meetings, meetings, and more meetings. And when not meeting, apparently they’re in front of a terminal cruising the HoloNet. I’d say your taxes at work, but you don’t really take a salary do you? Still, you get that fancy ship, so I guess that’s something.

I’ve been knee deep in this investigation on Tython. There’s a lot of data on damage inflicted, suggestions for beefing up security, how security failed, and what was taken. It’s a lot, is what I’m saying, and I’m still sorting through it. I keep thinking about our mutual friend and the library though, and what might have been so interesting there. Just trying to find some correlation between that and what we’ve gotten from Korriban.

Just to keep busy mind you, since our buddy is boring me keeping such a low profile. You ever hear anything interesting about that before your trip to Barnaba?

He stared at the letter for a few moments, recalling the previous communication he’d received, and added one last bit:

I also feel the need to let you know that as vast as they are, the SIS databases aren’t all-knowing. There’s a lot of entries on famous pieces of jewelry around the galaxy, but nothing about this bracelet you keep bringing up. Still want me to keep looking?

Satisfied, he sent off the letter, and stowed the datapad away for now. He’d have to wait for answers, and in the meantime, had to close out the official report on Tython.

When he’d mentioned that the intel side of his job was boring, he wasn’t kidding. There was a lot of snooping, and occasionally some fast-paced running, but there was a lot of waiting that wound up happening between discoveries. The first one came in via official channels, an intel request from Darok on "Isotope-5 Proliferations and Deployment in the Empire". Theron was pretty familiar with the contents of that already, and it made perfect sense for the colonel to be requesting it considering the devastation wreaked by the Iso-5 bombs on Tython.

The second one came to him as he was getting himself another cup of caf from the community carafe, although the sudden arm flung around his shoulders made him nearly spill his drink. Theron at first thought he was being assaulted, and it was only his quick recognition of who the arm belonged to that saved its owner from having his face shoved into the wall.

“Shan,” Jonas exclaimed, “why haven’t we gone out again?”

“Because you’re still banned from the Dealer’s Den for cheating?”

“I do not cheat!” Jonas proclaimed loudly, then leaned close. Theron felt something being slid into his pocket and heard a quick whisper. “This qualified as weird for me. Mind telling me what you’re up to?”

Theron shot him a glance and shook his head minutely, and then made a show of elbowing him away. “You might be right, I hear there might be a crooked dealer there.”

“I don’t like to accuse people of cheating without proof,” Jonas said carefully. “Being wrong about that’s almost as bad as cheating itself.”

“As I said, I just heard, never confirmed.”

Jonas pressed his lips together in a thin line, a little concern surfacing through his cheery facade. “I’ve got to run to Denon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it for a rematch at Dealer’s Den for a while.”

“That’s too bad,” Theron said casually, “I wouldn’t mind having another go myself.”

“I’m not a fan of drinking alone, Shan. Gets rather lonely. You really shouldn’t either.”

“I’m touched by your concern for my social life, Balkar, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m more concerned about that face jumping in front of more incoming fists. Or maybe getting a vibro-knife in the back. Bar fights can easily get out of hand.”

“Funny how that doesn’t stop you from getting into them when I’m around.”

“That’s because we’re both there,” the joking edge from Jonas’s tone was rapidly fading away. “I’m just saying, it’s not a good idea to take on heavy hitters without someone backing you up.”

It probably had been too much to hope that Jonas wouldn’t get some clue of what Theron was doing in his off time after their last drinking session. It was clear that his occasional partner was not going to let this drop, and if he kept the conversation going too long it was going to attract attention.

“What if I took a date?”

“I might get jealous if you start running around on me with another drinking partner. Does he have a good right hook?”

Theron shrugged. “Hers is better than yours, that’s for sure.”

“Her?” Jonas’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued. “This the same girl we talked about last time?”

“Could be.”

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? What are you, my keeper?”

“When you’re being a careless idiot? Yes,” Jonas ground out. “You don’t always look both ways before leaping into oncoming traffic.”

“I’m always careful, and I’m never an idiot,” he corrected.

“You still leap into traffic, though.”

“Have to get across the street somehow. Crosswalks are boring.”

“You’re the worst sort of pedestrian.” Jonas shook his head, and then fixed Theron with a hard, serious look. “Just watch yourself, okay?”

“Don’t I always?”

“No,” he said, “that’s why I’m saying it. Don’t make me find another drinking buddy, Shan.”

“I already told you, we’re not bud—”

Jonas cut him off with a glare, and the usual retort died on Theron’s lips. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll get another round next time we’re both in town. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Jonas said flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the least chatty person in the Denon system. Can’t be late for that.”

“Have fun,” Theron intoned as his fellow agent left as quickly as he came, leaving Theron alone with his caf.

He glanced around, sipping from his mug and making his way back to the data terminal he’d staked out. As he sat down, he fingered what had been slipped into his pocket, marking out the familiar shape of a data chip. Considering the ruckus Jonas had made, it would be best to look at it in the relative privacy of his apartment.

The rest of the hours dragged by, as he found it hard to focus. His eyes kept straying to the chronometer at his station, as his mind kept straying to the data chip and Jonas’s ill-concealed concerns. He’d tossed Highwind’s name in the conversation to get the other man to back down, but he still wasn’t sure exactly what role the Jedi should play in all of this. She’d provide ample muscle if he needed to make a show of force, but he still had to wonder about her reliability.

She’d been all too eager to throw in with him to uncover the truth behind the attack on Tython, but enthusiasm didn’t earn any extra points with him. If anything, it only puzzled him more. He’d expected a far more grizzled, no-nonsense Jedi from what he’d read in her dossier, and he’d seen some hints of a more battle-hardened personality emerging when she was leading the strike teams. There almost seemed to be a different person that emerged when the pressure wasn’t on. He wouldn’t describe that as normal, because she came across far too earnest and almost compassionate to a fault. When he tried to mesh those observations with her record, including the curious gaps and sparse mission details that smelled of a coverup—he was just left with more questions.

Theron didn’t like questions, as it meant he was lacking intel. And not having the right answers could get him killed in the wrong situation. It was hard to say if this was one of those cases, as he tended to lean on the more paranoid side of things. It still bugged him, though. He preferred to know exactly what and who he was dealing with. Maybe if he’d known more about Darok before taking on the Korriban op, things would be very different right now.

His eyes strayed back to the chrono, watching as another minute ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace, and he tried to calculate the time that had passed since his last missive to The Defender. The previous replies had come in rather quick, but he was already nearing seven days without a response. It didn’t bother him exactly, as it was obvious that there were more important things for a Jedi Knight to be doing than checking her inbox constantly. And considering the six-month gap in her dossier, her being out of contact wasn’t exactly an abnormal occurrence.

Maybe after he looked at whatever Jonas had dug up, Theron would check in on the HoloNet and see what was happening in the Tapani Sector.

Just out professional curiosity. That was all it was.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Jonas Balkar #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #brotp: spyboys #brotp: theron shan & jonas balkar #SoR Fic O Doom #smoke and mirrors #swtor #fanfic #greyfic

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bicon-korra · 4 years

Text

Entrapta Week: Free Day

Beast Island Log: Property of Entrapta

Summary: Entrapta logs her daily life on Beast Island and starts to uncover a mystery…

[Written for Entrapta Week - Day 7 (Free Day), 1,700 words, notes in tags]

Beast Island Log: Day 1, Entry 1

My name is Entrapta of Dryl. I was banished from the Horde to Beast Island on Force Captain Catra’s command. Before leaving the Horde, I managed to sneak one of my precious voice recorders with me. I may be a prisoner, but I’m still a scientist, after all!

When I first heard tales of Beast Island, I imagined this mythical land inhabited by savage creatures. No one, and I mean no one, told me what a treasure trove of First One’s tech this is! The possibilities for transport, shelter, food gathering, you name it, are endless! I don’t know how anyone can dispose of such beautiful equipment! One man’s trash is another’s treasure, I suppose. I just need to figure out how to clean up their data. It looks like most, if not all, the files are corrupted. Should be simple enough.

Beast Island Log: Day 1, Entry 2

I suppose I should introduce myself. I am a princess of Dryl, where I was born and spent most of my life. In a strange turn of events, I joined the Princess Alliance led by Princess Glimmer of Bright Moon and her co-leader Adora-slash-She-Ra. I was left behind in the Fright Zone on a dangerous mission, and that became my new home. The name sounds scary—kind of like Beast Island—but it’s not as bad as it sounds! I was actually pretty happy there. I had friends: Scorpia, Hordak, my dear Emily...Catra was my friend, too. And then she wasn’t. I try not to dwell on it too much. I’m trying to stay positive. These technological monstrosities are my friends now.

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 1

Today, I will try to determine what’s food and what’s not food. I’ve been studying the eating patterns of the creatures that most resemble mammals, if you can call a four-eyed winged primate-looking-thing a mammal. They mainly thrive off of a spiky fruit that grows inside the trees. There’s another creature with razor-sharp claws that digs the fruit out of the trunk to grab them. It only grabs what it needs to and the rest fall to the ground for other creatures to eat. Fascinating.

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 2

I extracted the juice from the fruit. If it was poisonous, I figured my forest-dwelling friends wouldn’t have survived this long. Boy, was it tough to peel! I’m going to name it scorpion fruit because of the stinger-shaped spikes on its skin. Earlier I put a drop on my wrist to test for an allergic reaction. There was no reaction, so then I put a drop on my tongue and waited for one hour. So far I feel fine. It didn’t taste bitter either. I’m going to try two drops next time, then three.

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 3

My three-drop feast of scorpion fruit has made my stomach just as ravenous as some of these creatures. I’m going to take a small bite now and wait thirty minutes. I drank enough water (thank the First Ones there’s fresh water here!) to purge if I need to. There may be food yet!

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 4

I’m on my second scorpion fruit and nothing has tasted better.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 1

I managed to scrape some parts together to make a small radio. Problem is, I can’t find the right wires to make my antenna. The bigger problem is these corrupted files. To fix them, I’ll need to charge these machines and most of them are hanging by a thread. Still, they’ve managed to stay alive this long, poor things.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 2

I discovered another edible root. It’s very tough and stringy, but I found boiling it made it more edible and savory in general. I miss dessert, especially tiny ones.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 3

Day three on Beast Island, and I’m in a strange state of peace. Of course I miss my friends and my lab. But here? Here I have the opportunity to learn an entirely new skillset. A wilderness explorer, imagine that! Hordak always said that my optimism was somewhat unnatural, but I never knew what he meant until now. I probably have Scorpia to thank for that. She’s the most positive person I know. If only she could see me now. Friends, if you’re listening, I’m going to be okay! Everything will be okay.

Beast Island Log: Day 4, Entry 1

I ventured deeper into the forest to find food that isn’t berries and roots. It’s hard to describe, but I felt a slight vibration coming from the ground. If I close my eyes and listen, it’s almost as if there’s a humming sound all around. Perhaps the area is magnetized? I want to go further in, but I don’t think my forest friends would like that.

Beast Island Log: Day 4, Entry 2

As I suspected, some of these creatures are not very friendly! I came across a small nest near the foot of a tree. I wonder if it fell from the branches. It had small blue eggs with red speckles, similar to bird eggs. I was tempted to hold one, just to get a sense of its weight, until I saw what I presume was its mother. As expected, she saw me as a threat and flew towards me, squawking like mad. I managed to run fast enough into the bushes where she couldn’t reach me. I realized that my body does not handle cardio well. Exercise is not my forte, but I’ll have to add that to my list of survival skills. I’m famished now, so until next time!

Beast Island Log: Day 5, Entry 1

I made a new friend today! As in, actually made one. Her name is Tiny Emily. She’s a cute little thing, the size of my fist. She rolls around while I’m sleeping and alarms if she senses any creatures that come close. These woods can get scary at night, so now I have a protector.

Beast Island Log: Day 6, Entry 1

Today Tiny Emily and I explored one of the marshes just outside the giant scorpion fruit tree. There was some sort of hut, mostly branches and leaves, that something had made. I need to do more exploring.

Day 6, Entry 2

There is definitely a buzzing sound coming from the island’s center. I know because Tiny Emily and I have been marking the perimeter and listening very closely. I wish I had equipment that could help detect the sound wave patterns. I could make one; I just need the right parts and the power. Well, that’s why I have ears! Sometimes you don’t need fancy tech. Sometimes.

Beast Island Log: Day 6, Entry 3

Today was our first rainy day. The first thing we did was take cover under the husk of an old battle tank. I’ve learned to treat every element as potentially dangerous. We determined that the rainwater is safe, so we’re safe. The battle tank was also a fortuitous find. It helps block out water and wind and offers protection from predators.

Day 6, yes 6. Entry 3? 4?

Remember when I said the battle tank was safe? Well, I’m afraid I spoke too soon. The metal is very rusty and corroded and a piece of it fell when the storm outside picked up. We’ll have to seek shelter elsewhere since these machines aren’t structurally sound. Perhaps the hut we found? It looked sturdy enough. I’m very nervous to leave the junkyard in favor of the forest. I find that I don’t do well with bugs and mud. Oh well! There’s always danger in exploration.

Beast Island Log: Day 7

We had a close call today. Tiny Emily rolled down a hill and nearly fell into the river! Though we did make another important discovery. We found a spear near the water. The dexterity and attention to detail needed to craft such a tool...Could we still be dealing with some sort of animal? If something could make this weapon, I’m not sure I want to find out.

Day 7, Entry 2

We found another spear. The pointy end was charred, like it was used to cook food. We found a nest of grub nearby, so perhaps that’s why. We’re not talking about an animal anymore, not even close.

Day 8

I’m not alone on this island.

Beast Island Log: Day 8. 9? Entry 1

We circled the areas where we found the hut and the spears and found an abandoned campfire. No traces of footprints. I would normally never say this, being a practical scientist, but it’s as if we’re tracking a ghost.

Day 10

It has been ten days on Beast Island. I know I just got here, but something inside me is itching to explore the forest, as if it has all the answers I need. I won’t lie. I am frightened. Tiny Emily has been chirping away these past two nights. This might actually be the first night where I feel far away from home.

Beast Island Log: Day 30, I think. Entry 1

I’m afraid I’ve been a very bad scientist. This is the longest break I’ve taken from creating my logs, probably ever! Whoever made the hut and the spear is nowhere to be found. Me and Tiny Emily have searched everywhere. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with finding them. Maybe it’s someone like me who was sent here. Maybe they came here on their own. To explore. Or to escape. I’ve thought of every possible scenario as to why this person would want to be on this island and I cannot find a single reasonable answer. I don’t know if people were truly made to be alone. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that’s my problem...

I’m going to keep exploring. I’m going to find whatever is out there and share with them what I know about how to survive on this island. And maybe, together, things will be okay. It’s dinnertime. Signing off.

[WARNING: LOW BATTERY!!]

#writing #entrapta #entraptaweek #entrapta week #she ra #spop #my writing #notes:#it's really short (I could write countless entries) and I know nothing abt technology but here we are!#blah blah

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wntrsnat · 5 years

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Trying | Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes

(psd by allscallie on deviantart)

- Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes

- Summary: For a first time, Natasha and Bucky are on the mission together. While searching for the files about HYDRA’s bases, they somehow manage to engage into the conversation about love.

- Warnings: None

- Word Count: 2.9k

- A/n: A fanfiction for @softhairbarnes‘ “I love you 3000″ writing challenge. My prompt will be in bold.

_______________

The air was heavy, filling a dirty basement of HYDRA’s base with an awful scent of chemicals and dust. They seemed to crawl into the lungs further and further with each breath, covering every little bone and area, making it almost impossible to breathe freely. It only seemed like that, in reality, those scents where causing nothing besides feeling of disgust.

Both ex-assassins were covered in cuts and blood from a barbarous fight. Their enemies had appeared right by the door as they were trying to break into the underground laboratory, located in the basement

The fight was brutal. They grabbed any weapons they could get their hands on: guns, knives, tear gas pellets and of course, Bucky’s metal arm, which Natasha had to admit he used rather gracefully along with other weapons.

The metal arm always was a flaw in his eyes; a reminder of winter soldier, a reminder of how many lives he has destroyed, how many sins he carries on his shoulders and how much blood he has spilled, but that ‘flaw’ still was helpful during missions, it was his main and most powerful weapon which always will be with him.

But this fact was not helping and would never help him emotionally.

Everyone in the team understood that. Everyone knew what he went through, but no one besides the Black Widow fully realized and felt every part of his story, and even though she and Bucky basically never talk, she partly knew what he felt after killing so many people, what it’s like to live with that thought and guilt which slowly destroyed you from inside. She has been through something like this too when she joined the SHIELD. After all, don’t forget that once she was the Russian spy and the assassin which has killed thousands of innocent people

“Barnes, mind stopping looking on the floor and helping me?” the redhead hissed out with unhidden annoyance in her raspy yet soft voice as she opened another cabinet in the desk with small glass bottles of colorful liquids (which were giving out that disgusting scent) on the top, in an attempt to find the file that they needed.

Male’s eyes quickly moved up on the Natasha as she called him out, by that bringing him back to reality.

With apologies, Bucky slowly made his way to her, asking what to do.

“Help with searching for the file which contains data about all HYDRA’s bases” she explained, still kneeling opposite the right part of the desk, pulling out yellow files from the last cabinet and reading each of them. “Go to the left part and search there” she said and glanced upon him, carefully studying his appearance before going back to work.

“I’m not sure that they would save such kind of information in the simple, unprotected cabinets” Bucky stated as he took a few steps forward to the left side of the desk, slightly bending over it and opening the first cabinet.

“I doubt that too”

“Then why are you searching there?”

“Keyword: doubt” Natasha told him and slightly shook her head, glancing over at Bucky once again to check if he started doing his part of the job. “I’m not hundred percent sure and even if I was, we would check everything anyway she explained and watched how he opened one of the yellow files before searching through its papers with a cold, almost blank facial expression. It was a little bit hard for him to read all those things. They reminded him of the past, all the terrible things they forced him to do, dark laboratories in which they were wiping him over and over again, the physical and mental pain which he had to experience and accept.

“S-so, what do all those files contain overall?” He asked her, slightly stuttering as he did not move his gaze from the file. He wanted to know if all files would give him that feeling. Natasha had been searching and reading them for a long time already, so he was sure she knew the answer to the question.

“Mostly they are about laboratories, chemicals, and experiments that they have done with them, but I still hope that there will be at least a little information about bases” she answered and pulled out few of them from the cabinet “For example, this one is about…” she paused as she quickly opened a file to read papers and finish the sentence “About a now closed laboratory in South Carolina”

“South Carolina? Never been there but I’m sure it is a beautiful place” Barnes suddenly said in an attempt to keep talking and distract himself from thoughts about the past which kept floating up in his head more and more as he read papers.

The redhead got a bit ...when her teammate continued to talk in such a casual manner, unrelated to their work. But they were doing a simple task that didn't require much focus, so she didn't mind. Even if she wasn't the most open or talkative person.

“Once, I have been there on a mission. That’s why that laboratory is closed now” she said with the corners of her lips curving into slight smirk at memory of the mission “it was indeed a very beautiful place but unfortunately I did not have time to go on the beach and fully experience its beauty” she said “as they say – зло некогда не спит (evil never sleeps), so I always have to be on guard, no time to relax” she said and put the file back in its place.

“So, you don’t have any day off?” he continued the talk, matching his own tone to hers.

“Nope. No day offs”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal” Bucky joked while still doing his work, without even suspecting that Natasha’s gaze was on him the whole time when they were talking.

“Darling, I’m the definition of illegal by itself” she teased back and drew her lower lip between her teeth with the smirk still present on her face.

A small but genuine laugh escaped from his fine, pink lips, leaving a light trace of a smile for the first time in a while.

Seems like talking with her to get distracted from the dark thoughts worked. He would even say – more than worked. He did not expect to enjoy the talk that much.

“Oh, are you?” he continued teasing, refusing to give up “Because you seem pretty innocent to me,” Bucky said, turning his head to her direction with a small devilish smile playing on his lips as he caught her biting her lower lip with a smirk.

“Innocent?” repeated Natasha, raising her eyebrows “Since when is knocking out five men in three minutes – innocence?!” she asked as if she was offended.

“I don’t know. Maybe you knocked them out, out of love?” Bucky said with his tongue running over his lips. Of course, he did not mean what he said. He perfectly remembered how Natasha fought, how violent, fast but graceful and smooth her moves were. He felt like he was fighting alongside her his whole life even though this was their first mission together. He was not surprised that Natasha was great like this, Steve had told him a lot about her, what an amazing fighter and person she was.

“Love? Love is just a pretty lie” she said, meaning it even though her tone did not change.

“Well, I will have to disagree with you there, Ms. Romanoff” Bucky told her, a bit surprised when he understood that Natasha really meant it “Love is a quite real thing” he said, looking into her emerald green eyes for a few seconds before moving his own gaze to the files but still waiting for any kind of answer from her.

“Hmm… I’m not surprised that you disagree, Mr. Barnes” Natasha told, knowing that most of the people believe in it “But I’d be glad to hear what love is in your opinion” she suddenly said without thinking, by surprising not only Bucky but also herself.

“Well… love” he started, glancing down on Natasha before opening the second cabinet “Love is something that we usually believe in by default without acknowledging it,” he said, trying to find the right words “But we know the true taste of love once we fall for someone. Even the word is as magical and mysterious as the feeling by itself: passionate, deep, fiery but yet calming and full of warmth, as if it is a blanket which covers you during cold days but surrounds with care and affection, throws a shade on your past, helps you to accept yourself and deal with inner demons” Bucky said, his voice became softer and softer with each word. He remembered perfectly what it was like to be in love and be loved. After all, he had quite a colorful life before fell down from the train to darkness “trust me on this one: The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return”

“No” Natasha snapped looking upon the male and gently closing the cabinet “Maybe it feels great but in the end they always hurt you” she said and recalled a memory with Bruce Banner in her mind as she stood up “You slowly fall for them, give them little pieces of yourself, show them that you care and love and they seem to return the same feelings but then later they crush your heart in the nastiest, worst way, leaving you alone to fix it by yourself”

“Then they were not right for you” Bucky snapped back, glaring at Nat, his eyes burned with confidence in what he said “The one who truly loves you would never leave you” he said and returned his gaze on files “If they ended things then there was no true love, and it is better to be with a broken heart than in one-sided relationships”

The widow clenched jaw after inhaling the air. She knew there was a piece of truth in his words but from another side – he did not know all ‘events’ that convinced her into this.

“Nothing is eternal, including love,” Natasha said and turned her head to the side to avoid looking on him. Her voice was calm but with a mix of slight coldness “So, why should you let yourself fall for someone if at the end they hurt you anyway?” she asked rhetorically, keeping her gaze away from him.

“and what if they don’t hurt you? What if they promise to never leave and love forever?”

“The promises are nothing but empty, meaningless words thrown into the air”

“They are not”

“They always break them. Don’t lie, Barnes, you have done that too – promised a girl love and happy life together but dumped her on the next day. I have heard that you were ladies’ man back in the forties” she said, mentally slapping him with those words without even moving a single muscle on her face.

His eyebrows snapped together as soon as those words reached his ears. Yes, he was a ladies’ man, a bit of a player, he’d been on numerous amount of dates with different girls, not to even mention his one night stands, but he was always honest and treated women with respect. He was a man of his word, always completing what he has promised, so he would never use such a dirty way of flirting and getting a girl. To say more, he has been only in few relationships, and he never promised them anything if he was not sure in his ability to complete it.

“I’m not one of those men and never was” Bucky stated, referring to empty promises “No man should do such a thing to a woman,” he said and took a few steps forward to the redhead.

With each step the tension between them was growing. It was either because of Natasha’s cold attitude or slight offense which he faced after her words… or both. It was surprising how joyful talk so quickly turned into this mess which was hard to label.

“And if someone did that to you” he started again, figuring out that Natasha might have gone through tough relationships in the past. After all, she must have a reason to think like that “If you went through empty promises and heartbreak, then they are not worth it” he said, gently sliding his flesh index finger under her chin to move her head to face him once again “But if you never experienced relationships, then it is worth to give a shot for the first time and try” he said, moving away his fingers from her chin and crossing arms as Natasha’s gaze remained cold.

“No,” she told him, still being stubborn about her opinion. She did not want to accept the truth. It was hard. Maybe she got rid of Red Room but the beliefs with which they raised her, stayed with her.

‘You are one of the black widows. You are not supposed to feel love,’ ‘Love is for weak, and you must be strong– old voices echoed through her head, reminding her of the true reason why she did not believe in it, and the reason she later got stronger instead of got destroyed by previously mentioned ‘ex’

“Why?” he asked as he took a few steps towards her, not understanding what or why he was doing that but he knew that he wanted to change her opinion.

“Love is a lie. Love is for children” she repeated once again, finally looking into his eyes, not bothering to take step away

“But deep down, we all are children, are we not?” Bucky told her with his arms still crossed and pressed against his chest “All of us need a bit of affection in our lives”

“Not me”

“How do you know that?”

“Never had a desire” a small lie left her mouth. Of course she had such wish a few times in her lifetime but each of them ended badly.

“I don’t believe you” the soldier said without hesitation, getting closer and closer to Natasha “You can’t tell me you never wanted to even kiss someone” he said, taking a deep breath in “to feel their lips on yours and melt under their touch” he continued, not planning to stop yet “Even if you did not love them. Just wanted to kiss them”

”No. Never”

“Liar” he said almost instantly, getting closer and closer to her, not knowing even by himself what intentions he had, but one thing was for sure - they both forgot about files “You just don’t let yourself feel it”

“What about you, James?” she asked and took step towards him as well. Now they were a few centimeters away from standing chest to chest “You say that I don’t let myself feel such things but you are doing same since returned, are you not?”

Bucky did not answer.

“I was always acting like that towards romances but you…” she started but never finished the sentence. The words faded into the silence which fell between them.

It did not last long. Bucky broke it soon enough.

“The main difference is – I don’t mind trying”

“Then why don’t you try?”

“You are not going to give up, are you?”

“No”

Her words left him wordless. He did not know what to say to break her. She was stubborn but so was he. Neither of them wanted to give up nor leave without a fight. After all, both of them were soldiers - they were taught to fight until the last drop of blood.

His eyes slowly travelled down to her lips as he stood there for a few more seconds, doubting his actions. She was right, he stopped himself from even thinking about it since he returned. He did not want to hurt someone physically (with the metal arm) or mentally (with his own mental state) but now it was a whole different type of situation.

The soldier took a step closer to her, closing the gap between their bodies. He could feel her hot breath against his skin, he could feel how tense she was, he could feel the coldness in her…

“What are you doing?” She asked carefully with a whisper as she tried not to touch him.

“Trying” He answered, pressing his lips against hers, tasting blood & dirt along with her strawberry-flavored lipstick as if winter soldier got in the perfect mix with his old days. His heart raced faster with each passing second as he parted her lips using his to slip his tongue inside her mouth and slowly take over the kiss before she could process the situation and act. He expected a push, a slap, a punch or a kick but neither of them happened. At first, he felt how her body tensed more but eventually started to relax. She did not try to break it, but she did not try to kiss him back yet. He was confused, he did not know what she thought and felt, did not know if she enjoyed or hated it... honestly, he did not know what he felt either. A few seconds passed, neither of them broke the kiss, none of them even tried to do it, instead, he felt how she kissed him back, blending two broken souls into one and shattering the wall of chaos around them. Neither of them understood why they kept kissing but it did not stop them anyway, they paused only when Bucky pulled away for a little bit, only to softly whisper something against her lips

“Never had a desire, huh?”

#natasha romanoff x bucky barnes #winterwidow #bucknat #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #winterwidow fanfic #bucknat fanfic #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfic #avengers #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #shb3000wc #my writing

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verdigrisprowl · 5 years

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Donuts and Viruses

Prowl visits Tarantulas, partially to socialize and partially to see about moving some projects forward. The project they end up discussing is a defensive virus, meant to protect potential victims from being assaulted by mnemosurgeons. By the end, Prowl promises to get Tarantulas the brain modules of some deceased mnemosurgeons to use for research.

Prowl and Tarantulas also agree to set up space bridge drop boxes in their homes to send each other stuff.

Tarantulas

Visits from Prowl had always been a treat for Tarantulas, but these days they were particularly so. For one, visits happened far more frequently than they had millennia ago, and more importantly, this time the visit had also been preceded by a literal treat. He suspected the donuts were from Prowl himself, but he wasn’t totally sure, so…

“That was you, was it not?” Arms wrapped around arms wrapped around arms, all in greeting. “The donuts, that is. If it was, you have an incredibly accurate memory, but unfortunately so, hyeh.”

Prowl

That was. So many arms. He only had two to offer in return, but offer them he did. "They were me, yes. Er—accurate?"

He was pleased that Tarantulas had found them (and, Prowl hoped, consumed them). He hadn't wanted to interrupt Tarantulas's work with them, but, well—Prowl worried, from time to time, about whether he was remembering to refuel himself properly. His sleep schedule was erratic enough, Prowl doubted his other self-maintenance habits were much better.

Tarantulas

Thank goodness. Now Tarantulas didn't have to worry about delayed-onset poisoning via donut intruder anymore.

"Accurate - well, accurately positioned, according to where the cabinet was the day before." A bit of snickering, and Tarantulas let Prowl go. "The donuts didn't fall terribly far though, they were only slightly jostled. It didn't affect the taste, anyhow." A brief smooch of mandibles.

Prowl

"Ah. Yes." Right, most people didn't just... casually memorize the positions of everything they saw.

Prowl held on a moment longer. To even out the disparity in hug quantity due to his lower number of hugging limbs.

Okay. Okay, letting g—smooch—letting go. "I would have put them on the counter on the other side of the room, but I was worried there might be an experiment running on it." Tarantulas had eaten them, though. Good. "... Perhaps if you set up a, hm. Mailbox? That I could deposit things in?"

Tarantulas

No mech had the space to memorize things like that - at least, things they didn't consider worth keeping data on. Prowl, as per usual, was extraordinary.

Ah, how Tarantulas loved when Prowl hung on like that... "You were rightfully concerned. A mailbox, though...?" Tarantulas looked around, his visor squinted thoughtfully. "I'm sure there's somewhere I could set one up. But you'd have to arrange one of your own as well, or check mine in turn; I can't have you sending me things without proper reciprocation, now can I?"

Please say yes - because then it'd mean Tarantulas could send Prowl gifts, right

Prowl

Prowl considered that. "... I'll set up a drop box on the balcony." That wasn't IN the apartment, but it was within Prowl's property. "That could be very useful, actually." Beyond the obvious gift exchange functions.

Tarantulas

Score! Now Tarantulas had to think up a proper return gift, hm...

"Actually? Howso? For other mechs as well, you mean?" Tarantulas hoped not - it was much more disappointing to think of it as a general mailbox instead of a romanticized vessel of Tarantulas's affections.

Prowl

"No, in terms of shuttling supplies and projects back and forth. Dataslugs and devices and whatnot. Everyone else can just mail me things like normal." Or chuck them at his balcony door, if they happened to be a neighbor from a block away with a half dozen violent deployers.

Tarantulas

Oh, good! For presents and science, then. Romanticized vessel still intact.

"Ah, I see - far less lossy than comms, especially. I can't believe I'd never thought of that before." Tarantulas rocked on his pedes, fighting the urge to start roaming his labs for some reason. That'd be a little rude with company over. "Do let me know exactly where its parameters are once it's established. And - if there's a project that'd require greater volume than the balcony permits, I could connect the mailbox to a mutual subspace instead? That'd be simple enough

Prowl

"And far less hackable. ... Although more steal-able. But we can work on those details later. At the moment, I don't think we're working on anything incredibly sensitive that you'd need to drop off rather than having me come here to get it."

Prowl considered the possibility. "... We can discuss that once we have such a project."

Tarantulas

"I'd say our projects do lean more toward the tangible over the digital, so theft would be more of a problem." A fluttery tap-tap of mandibles. "That aside - yes, of course. It's a standing offer, whenever."

What projects was Tarantulas working on for Prowl at the moment? He'd spent so long researching Prowl's moral compass that he'd nearly forgotten everything else. There had to be something he was forgetting...

Prowl

"Some are digital. There's the virus, for instance." Prowl took the slightest step back, to a moderately more professional distance. "How is the virus going, anyway?"

The mnemosurgery virus wasn't the only reason Prowl had come over—Tarantulas's company was, of course, a major draw—but he'd come with it on his to-do list. He didn't think they'd discussed it since—since their whole... blowout. But that was now in the past, and prowl hoped very much to keep it there. It was time to get back to work.

Tarantulas

Professional distance? Prowl of all mechs knew that when it came to matters of science, professional distance meant basically squat. Prowl's slight step back was, of course, mirrored by a two-toed step forward.

"Virus? What do you -"

Oh. That virus. The anti-mnemosurgical malware Prowl had requested, a key project that had managed to completely slip Tarantulas's mind for months now. Yes, that virus. There wasn't any excuse for forgetting this one, moral compass research or no.

"Virus! Yes, of course." Alright, refocus your visor, you've been staring blankly at Prowl for too long. "It's - well, technically it's not going anywhere, since I haven't installed it in a host yet, hyeh." Fidget fidget. Where had he been when he'd left off? Time to hastily skim his abandoned files for some clues, and meanwhile think of a way to stall the ongoing conversation.

"Oh! First the donuts, though - shame on me. You graced me with such sweetness and I haven't uttered a single 'thank you' yet." Tarantulas put on his most apologetic expression as he reached out to Prowl in one swift movement again. Adios, professional distance. "They truly were delectable. Did you make them yourself, perchance?"

Prowl

"You know what I mean. Progress on making the virus." He paused. "Unless you're saying you're at the point where it can be installed in someone?"

Tarantulas was so inclined to jump from topic to topic that, for the moment, Prowl didn't realize he was specifically trying to dodge one. (Okay, they were touching again. Prowl was fine with that.) "Hah! No. Someone gave me a box. I don't even know where they were from. They were good?" "Delectable" was high praise for cheap goods.

Tarantulas

Was Tarantulas at the point of installation? No, he didn't think he'd gotten that far. Where was he, really...

"Hyeh, well it's really the sentiment that matters, not the exact origin of the goods. I'll admit I have a soft spot for donuts with filling especially, and the jelly-filled one -" Tarantulas pinched his fingers at his lips and dramatically outward in a mwah gesture of deliciousness that few could pull off without shame.

That arm fell in distraction as Tarantulas continued to skim the files. No, he really hadn't achieved much - gotten hung up on an intellectual snag and left it for his future self to handle. What was he supposed to do now? Prowl expected progress, and what Tarantulas had to offer him was meager at best, given how much time had elapsed.

Mmmmmaybe he could just... own up to it? That's what the whole not-lying-to-each-other deal had been about, right - transparency and honesty? Hopefully Prowl wouldn't be too disappointed with what he'd find.

"I..." Erk. This was already harder than he'd thought. "I, ah, back to the malware, though. Unfortunately it's... nnnnnowhere near comprehensive enough for installation. As a matter of fact, it's hardly progressed past the point of my last update, mostly because... I may have..." Squirm squirm. "Forgotten about it. R-regrettably."

Prowl

... And now, Prowl was focusing on Tarantulas's mouth. He was trying to figure out how to get a jelly-filled donut in there. "Wouldn't... How do you not make a mess when you eat them?" Unless he DID make a mess. Which wouldn't surprise Prowl.

He'd forgotten it. Prowl stared at Tarantulas a moment. He'd FORGOTTEN it. And then huffed in amused exasperation. Of course he'd forgotten about it. Prowl hadn't mentioned it in months—including a couple of months during which Prowl wasn't sure he'd ever even want to speak to Tarantulas again. The virus couldn't have been high on his list of priorities.

"It hasn't been immediately pressing," Prowl said. "Consider it back on the table, though. I WOULD like to receive the completed project." Preferably before he got too comfortable keeping his hands clean to do what needed to be done with Chromedome.

"Where did you leave off, then?"

Tarantulas

“I could give a demonstration sometime.” Tarantulas waved dismissively. “It’s really not that difficult.”

A tense moment passed as he waited for Prowl’s reaction – then a sigh of relief. Thank goodness it was exasperation and not pointed disappointment. Tarantulas was used to dealing with exasperation on a daily basis, that was nothing new.

“Duly noted, hyeh. The last section I recall completing…” His hands found their way to Prowl’s waist, never quite settling down. “I’m certain I’ve finished the coding required to activate the program upon mnemosurgical invasion, but that was simple enough. At least part of phase one is complete as well – preventing immediate access to your brain module, of course – but phase two I’m not as clear on. That’s – ah, the exact method by which the malware would disable their future abilities.”

Prowl

Did Tarantulas actually know how distracting hands fluttering everywhere were? He put his hands on top of Tarantulas's to trap them on his waist. Distraction managed. "Brain modules in general. Not just MY brain module." (He said, as though he was still fooling anyone that this virus wasn't first and foremost meant for his own protection.)

"That's massive progress. That alone is a stellar defensive tool." They could stop there and call it a success. ... Not that they were going to, but. They COULD. "Where are you having trouble with the method?"

Tarantulas

Judging by the tapping claws and shifting frame, the distraction wasn't entirely managed, but probably as best as it could be for now. Tarantulas was more than happy to keep his hands on Prowl's waist, at any rate.

"Ah yes, that's what I meant." Totally not specifically Prowl - because Tarantulas totally hadn't pieced together that Prowl had suffered mnemosurgical trauma and totally wasn't also hiding the fact that he knew. "But I did say part of phase one; it's not entirely ironclad. Put into action, it would prevent mnemosurgical alteration, but one would still be able to read another's mind, so to speak. So, yes - there's that to add, and then the actual virus module itself. Which..."

Tap-t-tap went his mandibles, rippling thoughtfully. "Disabling a surgeon's ability to operate requires two facets, in turn. Erasing current ability, and stymying future reacquisition. When I say I'm not clear on the method of disabling, it's - how do we attack the knowledge? Do I erase memories of having learnt mnemosurgery in the first place? That may help in the moment, but wouldn't one be able to discover what'd occurred, and maybe relearn such a thing? Reconnect with old contacts, actively seek to fill in holes of missing information? Or is there possibly a physical flaw in the process, some circuit to be permanently disrupted, as if chopping off whole servos to void their needles? Because if there is, I haven't found such a flaw, and it's so -"

Tarantulas would go on spilling the contents of his brain module as long as Prowl let him, words tripping over his mandibles in their haste to be said. Although, fidgeting and agitation would become a bit of a problem pretty soon.

Prowl

"Those are different functions? Alteration and reading? I suppose that's... not illogical." More than that, it sounded familiar. Like Prowl had been told so before; but attempting to recollect it was hard, the memory fuzzy and distant, and he couldn't quite grasp it. Had Chromedome tampered with that memory, too? Damaged Prowl's memory of how mnemosurgery worked during his invasion? Or did Prowl only suspect him because he happened to be thinking about the attack?

If what Prowl thought he knew about mnemosurgery had been tampered with, did that mean Chromedome might have inserted fake information? Prowl should look up mnemosurgery on his own, see whether the literature out there agreed with what he thought he knew...

Without noticing it, his grip tightened on Tarantulas's hands.

He listened to Tarantulas's questions and speculations until he was fairly certain that he'd gotten a sense for the problem he was grappling with, and decided he ought to cut in and attempt to help rather than wait for Tarantulas to run out of words.

"Maybe not a physical flaw in the circuitry, but—what about brain function? Their processors have to be doing something specific when they're doing mnemosurgery, I don't know what. Is there something in there that can be damaged, or made to malfunction, or just made incompatible with other brains, or...?"

Tarantulas

Tarantulas noticed Prowl’s tightened grip – had he done something wrong? Fidgeted too much? He’d quiet his hands as best he could for now, still letting his thumbs rub vertical lines on each side of Prowl’s waist.

“Yes, it’s akin to the difference between being able to reach through an open window, or only looking through a closed one, or simply looking at a wall. But -” Moving on. “The thing about mnemosurgery is that it’s really just another form of data-focused interface.” Like hardlining with needles - but Tarantulas figured that phrasing wouldn’t go over well. “As far as I can discern, there aren’t any specific brain patterns or centers that are unique to mnemosurgical activity, only ones that are key, by which I mean of course the robocampus. If I could simply delete the entirety of their robocampus, or - or maybe corrupt the needle compatibility software, I don't know – those would be effective, but I doubt they're viable options.”

Prowl

Prowl could feel his optics glazing over as Tarantulas started in on a metaphor— Oh, it was only a sentence long. That was fine.

"And... how bad would deleting their robocampus be? Pretty bad, right?" Prowl didn't entirely remember what the robocampus did, but he knew the word, so it had to be important. "I don't want to do permanently debilitating brain damage, here. Outside of the effect on their mnemosurgery abilities, I want to inconvenience them, not—not do damage that will leave them permanently hospitalized, or the like."

Corrupting software? Prowl frowned hard as he thought that over. "... Wouldn't they be able to just redownload the correct software?"

Tarantulas

“It depends on what you qualify as an inconvenience,” Tarantulas chuckled. “Inability to convert short-term memory into long-term? Impaired spatial perception and navigation skills? Among other things – I haven’t tried wiping a robocampus before, so I don’t know specifics.” He’d definitely wiped other module sectors though, with amusing results.

A defeated sigh. “Yes, that’s technically true... Unless somehow I were able to convince their system to permanently accept the corrupted software. That seems too… unreliable a solution. Someone’s bound to find a way around mere software glitches sooner or later – that is, if they don’t skip the whole debacle and install all-new hardware instead.”

Leaning down to bunt his helm against Prowl’s, Tarantulas grumbled something unintelligible. “I think - I think - the solution might be found in incompatibility. From what I’ve researched - what scraps I’ve gathered - it seems there’s something different about the file properties. It’s far-fetched, but it’s possible that mnemosurgery flirts with an entirely novel file system. I just don’t know if it does, or how.” Grumble grumble.

Prowl

"... I think the inability to store new memories is a bit farther than we want to go." This was, after all, not about revenge, but about preventing future incidents. Revenge was only an incidental second bonus and certainly not to be pursued to excess.

Prowl nodded; expert in viruses he was not, but it sounded unreliable to him, too. He bunted Tarantulas back, optics dimming as he listened. "What's different about the file properties? Which file properties?"

Tarantulas

“I thought as much, hyeh.” Revenge would certainly have been amenable to Tarantulas, given the situation that led to all this – but no.

He gave Prowl a strangely frustrated nuzzle. “I only know this information second-hand. I haven’t been able to get my claws on any primary reports or data or anything for me to actually dig into. There’s no chance you could be of any help? Even if it were just snagging a Primus-forsaken brain module for me, I’d be pleased.” A snort, then a thoughtful pause. “…I’d be thrilled, as a matter of fact. A mnemosurgeon’s robocampus alone would speak volumes more than any reports ever could.”

Prowl

That was the hard part, wasn't it? They were supposed to figure out how to make a virus that could take out a mnemosurgeon without the benefit of a mnemosurgeon to test it on. They could get so far simply by knowing the theory behind how they worked and general truths about how ALL brain modules worked, but to get something specific, something targeted... Well, up until now Tarantulas hadn't specifically asked for a mnemosurgeon's help, so Prowl had hoped they might not need it. They might be stuck now.

Except. Tarantulas hadn't asked for a mnemosurgeon. He'd asked for a mnemosurgeon's brain module.

Could Prowl supply that?

"... Does it need to be alive?"

Tarantulas

Tarantulas pulled back slightly, squinting into Prowl’s optics. Was this a trick question? “No, no of course not. I’ll be able to glean plenty from it so long as the robocampus is fairly intact. Did you think I would want a live sample? Goodness no, I’m much more comfortable with posthumous operation than having to deal with a living mech.” A noise of displeasure to go along with that half-truth. “But – you could acquire a brain module, truly?”

Prowl

(Tarantulas was pretty from this angle. Prowl could just lean in and...)

(Stay focused.)

"Data in brain modules decay and artifact quickly after death, I don't know if you needed a live sample to get whatever data you were looking for." Mnemosurgeons themselves preferred live subjects. Prowl didn't know how he knew that. Chromedome again, probably. The thought of it made him very faintly sick. "I'm not certain I can; but I know several places I could go looking."

Tarantulas

Tarantulas wouldn’t have minded if Prowl had kissed him - he never minded - but the moment passed. Instead, Tarantulas shrugged dismissively. “The decay is systematic and capable of being unraveled under the correct circumstances. I don’t require 100% recovery in any case.” If his vague hypotheses were correct, mere shreds of data could tell him everything he needed to know. “Curiosity compels me though – where would you even look? I’d adore anything and everything you can scrounge up.”

Prowl

"Classified. Of course." Sorry, Tarantulas. But he wasn't about to talk about the hidden stockpiles of resources left over from the New Institute—resources that, Prowl hoped, included the bodies of the Autobots who'd worked there. They'd kept stranger things. And the possibilities got more far-fetched and more secret from there. "Is there anything else you want me to try to scrounge up?"

Tarantulas

Would a little pathetic whine get Tarantulas any more information?

“Specifically, aside from the robocampus…?” A moment of thought. “I couldn’t care less about any actual experiments, but the background research and formative papers in the field – those, those I could use.”

Prowl

No, but it would get him a kiss. "I can certainly manage that."

Tarantulas

Yes, please. And it was only fair that Tarantulas returned the affection - once, then twice, three times. "But of course you can. There really isn't anything you can't do, after all. ...I ought to have just asked originally, if I'd had any sense, but..."

A leaned-forward nuzzle. "Is this the reason you came today, then? To tend to our poor, neglected project?"

Prowl

There really isn't anything you can't do. That was something Prowl ought to be saying to Tarantulas, not the other way around. Sure, Prowl could do anything—as long as he had an army of agents or a scientist ten times smarter than he'd ever be to do the hard work for him.

"It was an item on the to-do list," Prowl said. "But I would have come without it."

Tarantulas

Clearly each of them depended on the other to fully realize their potential, then, because Tarantulas certainly thought he was nothing without Prowl.

A pleased churr. "I'm flattered. Unless you mean to say there are more business items on the to-do list...?"

Prowl

"There are always more business items on the to-do list. Are you interested in doing any more right now, though?"

Tarantulas

Tarantulas hummed and pulled Prowl in even closer. "At the moment? Not exactly. I don't have anything planned, but I'd fancy a bit of quality time, if you don't mind?"

Prowl

He gladly let Tarantulas tug him in. "Ah, yes. That is, as it so happens, the last item on my to-do list." He offered Tarantulas a slight smirk. "Let's skip right to it, then."

#araneamechanica #chat

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sibillascribbles08 · 6 years

Text

Red Blue Chartreuse

Little E and Frigidus drabble for oc x canon day in which I attempt to not massively spoil my fics lmao

(Title from the song Chartreuse by Capital Cities)

“Just what do you see in that nerd anyway?” Harumi asked him when he told her he was heading out to Borg tower yet again. They were jobless right now, after all. At least until Ronin found something else to steal from another realm.

And what else was E to do with his freetime these days? He could train, of course, but he always felt much better spending his afternoons hanging around Frigidus’s lab, watching him work, helping out when he could. Sometimes the hacker would ask him to hang onto some information and E would hold his hand against his face, wondering what it would feel like.

Frigidus still thought that was the only way to transfer data into his systems. E almost felt bad for lying but no harm no foul, right?

What did he see in Frigidus? It was as simple as the fact that he was always happy to see E, right?

Most people were frightened of him, probably rightfully so. The only exceptions were Dareth, Ronin and Harumi, all of which were his family now. He always did his best to give off a gentle impression in public but it never lasted. He had trouble emoting. His dark sunglasses were intimidating, but the red glowing eyes underneath weren’t any less so. Sometimes he thinks he has a chance, picking up things someone dropped or holding open the door. Their thankful smiles would always vanish when they caught a glimpse of his eyes underneath his glasses.

People still didn’t trust nindroids after all, even if Zane and Echo were an exception. Perhaps Pixal as well, but no one outside of the ninja knew the identity of Samurai X.

People were afraid of him. It was a fact E knew from the start, and one he accepted, mostly.

It was still frustrating from time to time.

But Frigidus wasn’t like that. The hacker’s face would light up whenever he entered the room, already prattling on about his current project. It was surprising how much he could talk, but maybe he just didn’t like the silence, as E mainly communicated with sign language or by texting.

There wasn’t a hint of fear or intimidation. He didn’t hesitate to get close, look him in the eye, complain that the sunglasses made it to hard to read what E was thinking. E would take them off, or put them on top of his head, wondering how the intense red didn’t bother him.

Even when they first met Frigidus hadn’t been scared of him. Nervous, of course, but anyone would have been considering the situation. Ninjago was falling apart and he’d suddenly been slammed with the responsibility to patch up a broken nindroid he’d never seen before.

It was a blessing he knew sign language, made it a little easier for E to communicate.

E entered Borg Tower with the visitor pass that Frigidus had finally gotten for him. Borg had been hesitant, but Frigidus said it was either that or E would keep breaking in by hacking the system or slipping in from the roof. E gave a polite nod to the receptionist at the desk, who just eyed him with caution.

The usual.

He got stuck in the elevator with another poor employee. The man stayed pressed against the back corner, never taking his eyes off E. If the nindroid turned up his hearing he’d knew he’d hear the man’s racing heartbeat.

When they reached the man’s floor, he scrambled out of the elevator. The pair of women who were waiting just gave him an awkward smile. One said, “We’re going down so we’ll wait for the next one.”

Probably a lie, E didn’t argue. He just let the doors close without a word.

When he reached his destination there was a crowd waiting. They completely split apart as he exited the elevator, giving him more than enough room to move down the hall. He didn’t glance at them, or apologize, it’d only make them more nervous. Every now and then he’d hear the people who worked here gossiping to each other, asking why he was here, what did he want. Today they were silent.

He used his pass again to open the door to Frigidus’s lab. The room was fairly impressive, huge, despite Frigidus’s insistence that he didn’t need all this space. He was a programmer first, inventor second. Anything he did with machine parts was out of necessity rather than curiosity.

Despite that it was fairly crowded, boxes of spare parts and old files. His work desk was littered with with his current projects, still trying to design weapons that could tap into elemental powers. He’d made breakthroughs with them ages ago, but still refused to release it.

“You know the villains of this country.” He’d said. “You build something like this and they flock to it like desperate parents during a holiday sale at the department store.”

E laughed at the analogy, and Frigidus’s face lit up at the sound.

“E!”

That same expression was on his face now as he slid his chair away from the computer.

“Man, you’re just in time. I’ve got a big surprise for you today.”

E tilted his head.

“Well, you know.” Frigidus got up and headed over to him. “I asked Ronin if you had some kind of birthday and he said not really? But he gave me the date he activated you after repairing you so I guess today counts? I mean, maybe you don’t really celebrate it but…” He was rubbing the side of his head, pushing his hair out of his face only for it to bounce back.

“You got me a present?” E signed.

“Well sure, I think you earned one if nothing else.” Frigidus smiled at him, blue eyes glittering behind his glasses.

E wanted to be happy but he was confused. He was still so confused. “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Frigidus’s smile dropped. “Huh? Should I be? I mean, I know you have the whole death biker look going on.” He gestured to E’s jacket. “And I know you can tear the shit out of almost anyone, but you’ve been nothing but polite to me since day one.”

That was true but… “Most people are still frightened of me, regardless of how nice I act.”

“Cause they’re stupid.” Frigidus glared for a moment. “Did some other jackass from the engineering department talk shit about you? I’ll flood their email with awful heavy metal covers.”

E smiled and shook his head.

“Fine, just keep me posted on that. Don’t worry about it right now anyway, come on.” Frigidus grabbed his hand and pulled him to the corner of the room. There was a blue sheet covering something that was domed on top. “Now I can’t take all the credit for this, Zane gave me the idea, but I thought it could help you out, you know?”

Zane had the idea? What could that possibly mean? E prayed it had nothing to do with his ridiculous hairstyle.

“Alright, here she is.” Frigidus ripped the sheet off.

Underneath was a bird cage, a fairly large one, and perched in the center was a… vulture? No. E blinked, trying to get a closer look at it. The shape indicated a vulture, but not a real one. It’s black and red feathers were synthetic. It’s face looked more like a skull, eyes glowing red. Its head tilted with a click. It shifted on its mechanical feet, long claws curled around the post.

“I named her Cherry Berry, or just Cherry.” Frigidus snickered. “Not that you have to tell anyone that. Figured if Zane had a bird companion you could too, something more fitting to your style. I programmed her system to work almost effortlessly with yours. She’s built with heat vision, infrared, and can even shoot lasers out of her eyes.” Frigidus pointed to his own and grinned. “I tried to give her a flamethrower too but it kept causing her feathers to burn so I’m working on that.”

Frigidus opened the cage and gestured to her. The huge bird hopped out, landing on his arm. She seemed to be almost too heavy for him to manage.

“Claws are already sharp.” Frigidus cringed. “But they can extend some too, latch on tighter. Built her out of light material but still durable so she can take a few hits.” He tapped on her chest. “Go on, see if you can connect to her and communicate a bit, get her up and running.”

E wasn’t entirely sure about this, but he trusted Frigidus. He did a quick scan for nearby signals, picking the bird’s up right away. There seemed to be security clearance for it, but he must have already been added in as it let him through with no trouble.

“Hello, E.” The bird’s voice was soothing, gentle, far different from her appearance. “It is nice to meet you.”

E wasn’t sure what to do at first. Eventually he held out his arm, much how Frigidus was. Cherry hopped over to him immediately. Her weight didn’t mean much to him, but she was lighter than he expected.

“Let me know when you start taking her out for test runs, send me some data. I can make improvements from there.” Frigidus grinned at him. “Think she’ll be pretty handy next time you and Harumi stake out a place. She’s got a bunch of other features but I think I’ll let you figure them out as you go.”

“If you like I can go ahead and build a map of the city.” Cherry tilted her head. She moved so much like a bird.

E figured that was a good idea, and Frigidus’s eagerness to test her out only pushed him further. They rode the elevator up to the roof of the building. The hacker was practically skipping around before finally settling against the railing.

Dork.

“Don’t strain yourself.” E told the bird. “If something isn’t functioning correctly you should come back.”

“Of course.” She nibbled at his ear before she jumped off his arm and over the side. Her wings caught her, sturdy and well put together. The wind lifted her back into the air and she flew on over the city.

“Awesome,” Frigidus grinned. “We tested flying in the lab but it’s so much better seeing it out here. I was a bit worried how her wings would handle the outside air.” He opened the holoscreen from his jacket, taking a few notes.

E waved to get his attention before signing, “Thank you.”

Frigidus shut the screen down, still smiling. “No need to thank me. About time I returned the favor for all those times you saved my ass.”

E decided to be bold, taking a step forward. “I will save it as many times as I need to.”

“Come on, I can’t be that special.”

He shook his head. He wanted to tell him that he was, that he was wonderful, that E wouldn’t know what to do if he stopped being a part of his life.

But he wasn’t sure how, and maybe it would take too long to sign it out, so instead he just brought up his hand to say, “I love you.”

Frigidus’s cheeks turned pink, then his ears. His eyes glanced away but he was still smiling. “Yeah, love you too.”

“Just what do you see in that nerd anyway?” Harumi had asked. It really wasn’t anything thrilling or complicated. E just loved being around him, because the feeling was mutual, and that was that.

His hand moved slowly to Frigidus’s face, cupping his cheek, tilting his head up. E always hesitated with things like this because he didn’t want to spook him. He didn’t want to do something that would push Frigidus away for good. But maybe now–

A light clack interrupted them. They both turned to see Cherry sitting there, red eyes fixed on them.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.” If she had the ability to smile no doubt she would be.

E felt his system heat up as he let go. Frigidus’s face turned even more red.

Cherry’s laughter echoed in the back of his mind.

#scribbly fics #ninjago #oc x canon #debut of Cherry Berry #Nora gave me the idea for her #cause we were like Falcon needs a gf #so I made a huge goth gf for her #E is very intimidating but he's riddled with self doubt and insecurity #lmao #he is an absolute SOFT if he cares about you tho #everyone else can perish tho #LSDKJF

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 6 years

Text

[38] Glitch in the System - The Sound of Silence (Crossroads pt. 1)

By E.

A 3-parter based on a prompt by @thatoneshortbandgeek. It’s not EXACTLY what you asked, but we have a similar story in the works so I tweaked a few details. Hope you enjoy it! :)

Some hard truth happens. _

“You’re sending me to go get paperwork?”

Sombra stood before Akande, face contorted in indignation. It had been almost a month since their failed infiltration, and she’d beenatoning ever since. She got it; she fucked up. Even she agreed that she fucked up. What else did she need to do to prove her penitence?

Akande sat at his desk, fingers steepled in a typical show of removed professionalism, regarding her distantly. “I am. Locate, acquire, and destroy. That’s your mission.”

She looked at him petulantly, reflexively unwilling to perform a task so glaringly below her abilities. “You want me to scan a repository of old files,” she repeated slowly back to him, “and then what - set it on fire? Tear them up piece by piece?”

“I am certain you’ll figure out a creative method for removing the evidence,” he replied evenly, unfazed by her annoyance. “Once you have acquired digital copies.”

“Then you need an omnic and a cleaning crew, Akande, not me.”

“I want you on this mission specifically, Sombra,” he insisted, not cracking in the slightest.

“I’m the world’s best hacker.”

“And the world’s worst teammate,” he replied without missing a beat. The tide of guilt she’d been slowly dealing with over the past few weeks, that she’d tried to ignore for the sake of the holidays, came flooding back from the cave she’d banished it to. It was, perhaps, the only thing strong enough to override her indignation at the task given her: collect literal paperwork from a thousand-year-old German castle Talon once employed as a base of operations in its post-Omnic Crisis infancy. It wasn’t even important paperwork - Akande just wanted someone to clean up an old mess, and was using it as a way for her to prove her loyalty. Truth was, as always, that she didn’t give two shits about Talon, but she did care about Widowmaker, and right now she couldn’t see much of a difference between the two.

She took a deep breath to steady her voice.

“Fine.”

The trip was easy, but long. So as to avoid any unwanted attention, Akande sent her on a train from Venice through the north of Italy, then Austria, before eventually landing in a small secluded village in the northwest of Germany. It was a 15 hour ride and she’d thought that, perhaps, it would have afforded her a nice break. It was almost like a vacation, and it may have even been enjoyable had she not been dining on a steady diet of frustration, boredom, and guilt. The country was vibrant and the weather ideal as she curled up in an isolated train car, and instead of the respite she’d hoped for, all she could think about was how badly she’d screwed the pooch.

She should have just taken a plane anyway and gotten it over with.

The castle was not difficult to get to, but it also wasn’t a particularly easy trip, either. It was not a tourist destination so much as a place that saw occasional foot traffic, and as a result had largely functioned as a historical site maintained by locals with some funding from the government for the past several decades. It had little to offer in the way of intel and even less to offer in the way of a challenge.

Sighing, Sombra hiked her bag up onto her shoulder and stepped inside the grounds.

If nothing else, the castle was a sight to behold: huge and strangely colorful with sharp angles both inside and out. There was none of the carnage here that had destroyed most of Germany; just typical entropy found in a building that had been standing for a very, very long time. Still, it was a picture of symmetry typical of Renaissance architecture, and something about the stark geometric framework appealed to the hacker’s logical mind. Were she not so deeply frustrated with having to be there in the first place, she may have been inclined to spend more time exploring its depths. As it was, however, she planned on getting in and out as quickly as she could.

“Hello?” she called out, expecting there to be a guard or two stationed at the front door. Akande had implied that she might face some minor resistance, but hand waved it away as “nothing you can’t handle.” Usually, that meant she had carte blanche permission to shut up any witnesses on a permanent basis, but after loudly making her presence known, there didn’t appear to be anyone in the building, so she continued on with only the smallest nod to caution.

The stonework stairs were crumbling - not dangerously, but unappealingly so. Sombra had never been a fan of ancient history. It was cold, dead, and the stories housed within the stone foundations were secrets she couldn’t hope to extract through manipulation or interfacing. The world around her was silent, and there was nothing Sombra hated more than information she couldn’t take for herself.

Looking at the map Gabriel had drawn - literally - on a piece of paper, she couldn’t help but think that this entire mission was just one giant, frustrating trick. Give the hacker a paper map and send her into a glorified library to bring back information that was so unimportant no one had bothered to transcribe it into digital form? She hadn’t thought Gabriel to be quite so petty, but they’d found their personalities intersected in stranger ways before.

Frowning and turning the paper around, she found her general location on the map and headed down the stairs.

The subterranean basement was dark, damp, and deeply uncomfortable. Sombra kept her hand on the wall to guide her until she hit a patch of slime that nearly made her retch; after that, she simply activated her screens and used the light coming off them to better illuminate her passage.

“Thank God,” she muttered as she cleared the last step and into a dimly lit corridor. Someone had strung up a basic network of electric lights. Waving her screens away, she squinted at the map again and continued on.

The archive was easy enough to find: it was the most modern-looking room, with a sign on the door reading “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”

“That’s me,” she sighed, tentatively pushing it open with her palm, wary of reprising the previous slime situation. The door was dry, and she proceeded inside where she immediately noticed that there were boxes and loose papers lying around the room.

Everywhere.

“Well, I’ve come this far,” she sighed. Pulling a chair over from the wall to sit at the desk, she got to work.

Trying to make the best of what was far from an ideal situation, she glanced over the paperwork before her. It was mostly blueprints and old personnel reports filled with names and places that were unimportant to her, but apparently important to Talon. There had to be something in there. Penitence aside, they wouldn’t send her out for nothing. She scanned them dutifully, setting the data aside for the long trip home in which she’d have more than enough time to parse over any nuggets of interesting intel that might be located therein. For the time being, though, she was just a collection bot: flip, scan, store, destroy, repeat.

She worked for hours, diligently marking and shredding the documents she’d looked over while pointedly ignoring the sheer number she hadn’t gotten to yet. Sorting through the papers, she couldn’t keep her exasperated sighs to herself, even though there was no one around to appreciate them. The things she did for…

Well, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was doing this, but here she was regardless.

She was starting to get hungry and considered packing it in for the day and taking a trip to the village for dinner when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the barren hall.

“Finally,” she hissed under her breath, unholstering her weapon. “Thought the only casualty in this little adventure was going to be me.”

She stayed at the desk, unconcerned about the approaching footsteps. Flipping through the paperwork before her, she didn’t even bother looking up when the door opened; she just pointed her gun and yawned.

“I’ll be out of here in a moment, amigo,” she said, scanning in one final paper. When she looked up, she expected to see a terrified guard.

Instead she found herself face to face with three Vishkar.

“Huh,” she said, dropping her weapon in the face of the vastly superior firepower now aimed at her. “Well, shit.”

They put her in the dungeon; in one of the cold, barred cells dotting the subterranean catacombs of the castle. It would have been hilarious had it been anyone else, in any other situation, and with any other niche. Instead, it was perfect, if only in its efficacy in keeping the hacker locked up with no real manner of escaping.

Turns out technology didn’t exist 1000 years ago. Who’d have thought?

Despite this knowledge, Sombra ran her hands along the walls, searching for any frequency at all, any remodeled tech to latch into and exploit, but what she found was pitiful at best. The thick walls of the castle and the remoteness of their location were really cramping her style. She was certain there must have been tech there at some point, but the castle had been unused for so long that it looked as though someone had forgotten to pay the wifi bill. Despite her best efforts, she found nothing save for some tendrils of a connection coming from the village and her own ineffective hot spot hitting dead air.

Still, it was something, and Sombra prided herself in making even the worst situation work in her favor. Using every ounce of finesse she had, she managed, for a brief moment, to hitch onto some connection and make the link to Talon.

“Hey, guys?” she said into her ear piece, reminding herself to be succinct in case the tenuous line she’d leeched onto dropped. “I’m kind of in the shit.”

“Sombra?” came the raspy voice, made harsher by the terrible connection. “What’s wrong?”

Sombra held back a shout of joy. “Gabe? Thank God, there’s practically no connection here. I’m going to need an extraction.”

There was a pause Sombra wasn’t sure to attribute to the poor connection or the palpable incredulity emanating through the call. “You need an extraction,” Gabriel said, voice dry, “from an 11th century medieval castle?”

“They put me in the dungeon. It’s embarrassing.”

She could hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need an extraction from the dungeon of an 11th century medieval castle?”

“I mean I’m not exactly happy about it, but -” “What did you do?”

Sombra frowned, still on her tiptoes and struggling against a growing cramp in her foot. “What do you mean? I did as you asked, Gabe - I went into the woodland of Germany to dig through old papers.”

“I mean what else did you do?” he asked, the unspoken again ringing in her ears.

“What else?” she said, her elation at having reached her team shifting abruptly into anger. “Nothing. I followed the plan, Gabe. Your plan, if I remember correctly. To the T, in fact. No variations on a theme, no heroics, no deceit - I did everything I was told and you sent me into a sleeping den of Vishkar.”

“Vishkar?” he asked, and she could hear him beginning another sentence when their connection was abruptly cut off.

“Ya valió madres,” she hissed, wishing she had something to slam down in anger. She settled for a petulant kick at the dungeon wall, immediately loosing a cascade of dirt and stones. For a moment she wondered if she could somehow dig herself to freedom, but the thought passed as quickly as it had arisen when she realized she was a hacker with no tools and not an excavator.

Finally giving up, she groaned loudly and flopped to the floor, doing what she could to ignore the cold, filthy ground and the chill in the castle air. One of the Vishkar had set up a teleporter, and the glowing portal lay just beyond her reach, the closeness of the lifesaving tech frustrating her all the more. She didn’t know her captors well enough to know whether this had been performed as an act of pettiness or not, but the result was the same regardless. Sombra was, without question, deeply annoyed.

Even worse: she was bored.

With little else to choose from, she began sifting through the files she’d scanned in from the store room, idly flipping through them one after the other, not paying much attention to them as they passed until one in particular caught her eye. She paused after flipping past it, scanning backwards to reexamine it. It was a photograph from the early years of Talon’s infrastructure, showing all the formative members around a table.

And there, at the center, next to Moira O’Deorain and Maximilian, was Sanjay.

“No mames,” she exclaimed under her breath, fingers flying as she cross-referenced the old photo with the rest of her database. Of course she’d suspected it - she’d been through Talon’s database ten times by that point - but she’d never seen actual, undeniable proof.

It was almost enough to distract her from the rumbling her her stomach. Cackling to herself, she perused the rest of the files, bookmarking things to come back to and backing everything up when she was done. Maybe this little trip had borne fruit after all. All she needed now was to get out and savor it.

It seemed like forever before she finally heard the soft whoosh of the teleporter being activated. A woman stepped through: tall, elegant, head held high as the man who came after her spoke in low tones, all the while casting Sombra several not so subtle looks.

“Thik hai,” the man said, sighing loudly enough that Sombra could hear him, “lekin jaldi karo.”

“Zarur,” she replied. The man looked over at her once more before stepping back into the teleporter, the ethereal blue mist within grasping his body and pulling him out of sight in the space of a second.

The woman approached her cell with little concern, knowing full well Sombra was harmless in her current state. Her gun, of course, had been taken, and there was little she could do about her situation. Her translocators were too big to fit through the bars and she certainly wasn’t squeezing out herself. No, she was right and truly stuck, and it was obvious to an embarrassing degree.

“Sombra,” she said, hands clasped behind her back. “It appears as though you are somewhat - how should I say?” She paused, tapping her chin. “Ah, yes. Impotent, in your current situation.”

“You don’t have to be crass about it.”

Satya smiled; her mouth set in a thin, pert line that was equal parts prim and pretentious. “I would have figured the world’s greatest hacker might be a bit more difficult to capture.”

“Yeah, well, I would have figured the world’s greatest hacker wouldn’t be digging through dead trees for data no one actually gives a shit about, and yet here we are,” she said, standing and walking slowly toward the cage, emphasizing each step. “Face. To. Face.”

Curling her hands around the bars, she brought her face as close as she could get to the gap between them, smiling mischievously. “You know we can talk a lot more easily without these bars in the way,” she said, tapping her nails against them as she spoke. “Woman to woman. Let me look at that fancy teleporter over there.” She nodded her head at the glowing portal and winked. “Oye, I could make it sing for you, Satya.”

The woman flinched at her name, looking at her with such a deep distaste that Sombra couldn’t help but laugh. “What did I ever do to you?” the hacker asked, half facetiously. She knew what she’d done and she knew why the Architech wanted to speak with her.

“You stole my technology.”

At least they were on the same page.

“Stole is such a harsh word. You clearly still have it,” she said, pointing through the bars at the teleporter. “So what’s the big deal?”

Satya was trying her best to remain impassive, but the physical effort it was taking to maintain her composure ruined any chance of her appearing nonplussed. She took a step closer, hands still held stoically behind her back, approaching just within Sombra’s reach. Sombra had no intention of harming her, but Satya didn’t know that. It was a power move.

“You took my creation,” she said, hitting each dental with the harsh plosive nature of her native tongue. “You took it and you changed it.”

Sombra narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at the Architech, assessing the creases in her brow and the slow dawning anger in her face for the truth behind her words. It was there, dancing in the cracks of her expression - she just needed to catch it.

“Sí, verdad - a few tweaks here, some alterations to the base code and hard light structure. I just fixed a couple errors was all,” she said, shrugging casually while keeping her eyes fixed to the woman’s face. “Nothing’s perfect.”

It was the final jab, she figured, that got far enough under Satya’s skin that her true feelings showed. Her expression flickered the slightest bit, her eyes shifting for just long enough for the hacker to realize what was actually bothering her.

It was not that Sombra had stolen her tech; it was that she had deigned to improve upon it.

“I mastered the art of manipulating hard light,” Satya said, voice low and steady, but with a nearly-imperceptible quaver to it that Sombra picked out like the melody of a complicated orchestral piece. “There were no ‘errors.’”

Sombra laughed, stepping back from the bars to place her hands on her hips and regard the woman with no small amount of incredulity. “And people say I’m conceited.” She smirked, leaning against the wall to continue picking the Architech’s brain. “Tech is only as good as the user; I just needed it to work harder for me is all. Don’t get bent out of shape about it.”

“Its purpose is to help those who cannot help themselves,” Satya maintained, her course set. “To further the Vishkar goal of creating a better world.”

“A better world, huh? Like the favela you leveled in Brazil?” she laughed, and this time Satya didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Good job there, by the way. Talon loved that. Really sowed some discontent among the masses. Something to pick at down the line.” Looking down at her nails, she shrugged as she casually dropped her bomb. “Helps having friends among the Vishkar, I suppose.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her arms crossed now. Sombra watched the movement of the jewelry dangling around her wrist, a subtle fashionable departure from the austere nature of the Vishkar uniform.

The hacker regarded her for a long moment, trying to figure out how best to leverage what she was about to say next. “You really don’t know, do you?” she said at last, testing the woman’s investment in their little chat, and seeing just how easily she was baited by the promise of a good secret.

Satya, she could tell, did not want to bite. She remained silent, regarding Sombra coldly for a long time. It was only the two of them there, though, and she really had little choice in the matter unless she wanted to engage in a standoff she couldn’t hope to win.

“What?”

Sombra grinned, pushing off the wall again to get closer to the other woman. She tossed her hair and crossed her arms to mirror her. “Sanjay,” she said, raising one notched eyebrow to enunciate her words, “sits on the board of Talon.”

“Chup raho.”

Sombra shrugged, inferring the meaning of her words by the sharpness of her tone and the blaze of anger in her eyes. “No one ever appreciates when I tell them the truth.”

Satya shook her head and looked away, but before she did, Sombra could see a glimmer of doubt in her expression. There was something keeping her from completely disregarding the hacker’s words; something she remembered that made her think, perhaps, there was a grain of truth to what she was saying. It reminded her of the time she played Zaryanova like a pawn, watching the light of reluctant realization dawn in her eyes as she tore down her idol in one quick truth. It just never, ever got old.

Yet again, the seed of doubt had been planted, and Sombra was going to have one hell of a time watching it sprout from afar.

If she ever got out of there, of course.

“You are lying.” “Usually, yeah, but not this time.” Sombra shook her head. “That was a really good one, too, and you got it for free. Can a girl get some dinner in exchange for international secrets, maybe?”

“No.”

“Cruel,” Sombra sighed. “Anyway, if you need some proof, I can give it to you. Just say the word.”

“I do not need your ‘proof,’” Satya said after a long pause, not looking at Sombra as she spoke, and not waiting for her to respond. She turned abruptly and stepped through the portal, leaving Sombra alone with her thoughts and nursing a particularly vehement curiosity.

“See you soon,” she chuckled. Smiling to herself, she sat down on the ground and waited.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

Text

Hope Is Not Lost - Five

A/N: I literally just finished writing this pretty much, I was going to rush it out yesterday, but I knew this chapter was something that couldn't be rushed, hope you guys like it cause...you know...this is where the smut comes in ;)

Pairing: Rebelcaptain

Rating: M

Words: 3,964

AO3: (x)

Jyn had to convince herself that it was all just part of her mission to figure out who Joreth Sward was and what his motivations were within the Empire. She didn’t want to think about how good his lips felt against her skin, or how he managed to hit just the right spot every single time. She was drunk last night, that was it, that was why everything he did felt so good, she had half a bottle of liquor, she could have gotten suckerpunched in the gut and it wouldn’t have hurt, so naturally tender kisses in a heated moment would have felt fantastic. Tonight she’d be sober, clear-headed, and her own brain wasn’t going to betray her; all she had to do was get him in bed and he’d be putty in her hands by the end of it all. Joreth Sward was a sleazy Imperial Senator, he worked for the worst of the worst, he funded the planet killer himself and was more than eager to see it in action from what Jyn could piece together from his eagerness. Jyn just had to keep that mindset tonight, and everything would go by smoothly, once she got what she needed she’d just drop him like the rest and use the information to her advantage.

Or at least that’s what she had planned, until a rather panicked looking Bodhi Rook scurried into the lab around lunchtime, his eyes scanning the entire room and shifting around uneasily. Of course something had to go wrong, things were going by just a bit too smoothly, something always had to go wrong.

“Where the hell were you last night? We have a problem!” Bodhi hissed in a hushed whisper, despite them being the only two people in the lab.

“I was busy with the Senator, what happened?” Jyn asked, Bodhi didn’t need to know what her methods were, he struck her as the innocent type - the kind of person who wouldn’t understand what she was doing.

“The Senator audited my flight records yesterday morning.” Bodhi said. “He asked me if I knew Saw Gerrera.”

“What?” Jyn asked, she was trying her best to not let it show that this worried her. “What did you say?”

“Everyone who grows up on Jedha knows who he is, I said I heard of him but that’s it.” Bodhi replied. “The Empire knows about Saw surely, right?”

“He’s not exactly subtle.” Jyn murmured, Saw Gerrera was an extremist to say the least, even the Rebels themselves had separated ties with him from what her father had told her. “If something else happens let me know.” Jyn tried to assure him. “It seems like it was normal, they’re always looking for defectors in the lower levels. Just keep your head down, alright? As soon as I get something more on this guy, we’ll be fine, for now just keep doing your pickups, stay away from Saw on Jedha.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Bodhi mumbled. “Be careful, alright? I don’t know what you're planning on doing to get more information on him, but he seems like he knows more than half the people on this base.”

“I guess that means he really is high ranking then, which is exactly what we need.” Jyn said. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” Bodhi sighed, giving Jyn a slight nod before leaving the lab, trying to blend in with the rest of the base as always.

Jyn already knew that Senator Joreth Sward was a threat, but now he’d only asserted himself as a real threat to what Jyn, her papa, and Bodhi were trying to do. He had to be dealt with, now more than ever, Jyn just had to make sure her heart wasn’t in it when she did so, otherwise things could become far more difficult than they already were.

As dinner time drew closer, Cassian began to get a bit antsy; he found it hard to keep still and focus on the files in front of him, knowing that a dalliance with Jyn Erso was on the horizon. He was a spy, he'd done this more times than he cared to remember, seducing someone into bed for secrets wasn't the problem, it was that damned look he gave her the night before, and those words she'd elicited from him that made him want to posses something he knew he couldn't have. Jyn was a loyal member to the Empire since birth, or so it seemed; his cover as Joreth Sward could have been was drew her in since it was always about status and power within the Empire, the minute she discovered his true nature things would be different, and by the end of three months that day would come. For now, he couldn't let the delusion of Jyn genuinely wanting to be with him cloud his thoughts, she could just want a one night stand for all he knew; though no matter what happened, he had to remember that all of this was a lie.

He was on his way out to go grab something to eat, though it was mostly to keep his mind distracted from lingering thoughts on Jyn when Kaytoo walked through the door, his new coat of paint seeming to shine even more than beforehand.

“I cannot wait to leave this place, those infernal service droids are obsessed with keeping the rest of us spotless.” Kaytoo complained. “Either way, a message came through for you Captain, it’s from Mon Mothma.”

The messages Cassian received were almost always from General Draven, so a message from the Chancellor of the Rebel Alliance was more than strange. Kaytoo grabbed Cassian’s data pad that he brought with him from the base for the sole purpose of sending and receiving messages, he uploaded Mon Mothma message to it and handed it back to Cassian for him to read over.

‘Captain Andor, the orders that General Draven has given you has come to my attention; Galen Erso is to be brought back to Yavin 4 alive to stand trial before all of the senators. From your reports, Erso is possibly in contact with Saw Gerrera who is a fiercely dedicated rebel, someone who wouldn’t speak to an Imperial scientist civilly unless they were proved to be rebels themselves by Saw. Erso is a possible ally that we need in the alliance now more than ever, especially with his knowledge of this supposed super weapon. Extract Erso from Eadu as soon as the chance presents himself.’

This only made things far more complicated than they already were. It was one thing when his mission was to kill Galen Erso, now to save him and bring him to the alliance - that meant exposing his cover and earning trust as Cassian, not as Joreth Sward. For the first time since joining the alliance and becoming a spy, he had to trust someone else with his life in enemy territory where he could easily be betrayed. He almost wished that his mission had stayed the same, but there was a thought that crossed through his mind - Jyn. He didn’t have to kill her father, but he had to earn her trust as Cassian and make her see that he wasn’t lying, getting in her pants wouldn’t exactly help the problem.

“Cassian?” Kaytoo questioned as Cassian walked out the door.

For the first time, Cassian had no idea what he was going to do about his current situation, he had to talk to Jyn, and he had to make her believe the truth which would be easier said than done.

Jyn may have dipped into her secret stash hidden in her room before she head off to the lab to wait for Joreth to arrive, she always got nervous before going through with things like these and liquor always seemed to help in the past. She was a little wobbly, it might have been because her little sip turned into the rest of her Corellian Red, but her nerves didn’t vanish until she’d taken the last sip. Jyn figured she'd just sit down and wait for him, try to let some of the alcohol run it’s course since she was early, but to her surprise, there Joreth was, sitting at her cluttered desk like he had last night - apparently he was eager for everything she promised.

“You’re early.” Jyn announced, catching his attention; she couldn’t help but notice the rather somber look on his face.

“I wasn’t hungry.” He shrugged. “You weren’t out there either.”

Maybe if she hadn’t been so busy trying to drink her nerves away, she would have done the smart thing and gone to dinner.

“I ate early.” Jyn lied.

There was a bit of an awkward silence between them until Joreth rose to his feet and Jyn walked over to him, quickly closing the distance between them and just trying to throw herself into the moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss at his jawline, he still hadn’t shaved but Jyn didn’t mind, it made him different from the rest of the awful men in the Empire, easier to forget he was part of it all.

“Jyn, I have to talk to you.” Joreth spoke up, his hands grabbing at her waist to push her back slightly.

“Yeah?” Jyn asked, looking up at him with her slightly blurry vision, a smile on her lips.

He just looked down at her, that somber look on his face still there, he was struggling to try and say something to her, but he just couldn’t seem to get the words out. Growing a bit impatient, Jyn took advantage of the moment again and started kissing at his neck, laughing a bit against his skin, the alcohol was slowly starting to take its full effect on her.

“You are far too sad for what’s going to happen.” Jyn mumbled against his skin, waiting for him to interrupt her mission again, and she wasn’t surprised when he grabbed at her to pull her away again.

This time the look on his face had shifted, it was serious and his eyes were twinged with something darker, and instead of trying to speak, his lips captured hers greedily while his fingers tightened around her waist and pulled her closer to him again. Jyn didn’t know what he wanted to tell her, but if he kept kissing her the way he was, she wouldn’t think twice about it. It didn’t hurt either that Joreth was an attractive man, not much older than her, and seemed to know exactly what he wanted when it came to intimacy; at least she knew she wouldn’t have a bad time with him. She didn’t know where his sudden desire came from, but she wasn’t complaining when his lips strayed from hers and started to kiss down her neck the way he was the night before, the kind that elicited moans from her beyond her control. The moans seemed to make him pursue her even more, pushing her up against her desk, Jyn hearing some things fall to the ground as he did so - she needed to clean off her desk anyway.

While all of the others were still up in the mountains with her father, there was still the very strong possibility of someone just walking by and seeing them in such compromising positions, and while it wasn’t exactly against the rules for Jyn and Joreth to be like this, it was discouraged. Not to mention the last thing she wanted with his lips on her like that was for their time together to be interrupted and the moment lost, she liked him much better like this than with that sad look on his face.

“We should take this somewhere else.” Jyn was a bit breathless as she spoke now, all her energy focused on biting back loud moans from escaping her lips. “My room is closer.”

“Whatever you say.” Joreth replied, mumbled against the base of her neck.

“You’re going to have to stop kissing me like that.” Jyn laughed, her hands moving to his shoulders to push him away from her slightly. “Come on.” She reached down and grabbed one of his hands, leading him out of the lab and back to her room.

She shouldn’t have been so giddy and excited about the events unfolding, but she was.

Jyn caught Joreth off guard as soon as they entered her room, the doors sliding shut and locking behind them. She guided him right to her bed and pushed him down onto it, no hesitation in her actions and her grinning like a fool as she climbed into his lap, straddling him and continuing their kissing.

“You’ve been drinking.” He mumbled against her lips, though Jyn could see the barest hints of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Maybe I have.” Jyn replied. “Do you want some?”

“No, I don’t want to be drunk for this.” He replied more confidently now, resembling more of the side of himself that Jyn saw last night.

Jyn fought back a blush, or tried to at least, she knew she failed when Joreth’s face lit up with a warm smile as he was looking up at her. He didn’t say anything thankfully, he just initiated another kiss, this time it was sweet and slow, something almost tender that caught Jyn off guard from the playfulness of the moment that she had initiated. Joreth wrapped his hands around her waist gently, and just the slightest amount of pressure to her was enough to guide Jyn down onto her bed while Joreth climbed on top of her and took control. He was tender, far beyond what she expected to come from him, no one in the Empire was sweet or gentle in any capacity - Joreth was different, and it certainly didn’t help her situation of keeping her heart out of the whole ordeal. If anything the drinking managed to make her feelings flare up even more.

His fingers started to tug at the bottom of her tunic, gently lifting it up inch by inch until Jyn grabbed ahold of it from him and ripped it off herself, tossing it aside on the floor. He didn’t touch her after that, it almost made her wonder if she misread something about the situation, it also made her a bit self conscious about being so bold and choosing to not wear a bra or band of any kind. He just looked at her, his eyes studying every inch of her skin, Jyn feeling the urge to cover herself back up after being so stupidly bold, but he saw her hand move and he gently took ahold of it, leaning down and continuing his mission of kisses down her chest.

“You’re beautiful, Jyn.” Joreth mumbled when he pulled away from her for just a moment, his hungry eyes locked on hers.

Jyn couldn’t think of anything as a reply, she didn’t really have time to as he reached up and undid the simple bun in her hair, letting it cascade down just barely past her shoulders, then starting the process of kissing down her chest again. He paused when he reached her breasts for just a moment before he went and took one into his mouth, his hand on the other and massaging it. He got louder moans from her when he started to take his time with both actions, his thumb grazing over one of her nipples while his tongue paid attention to the other. She might have moaned a bit louder than she intended to, perhaps loud enough for one of her neighbors to hear, though most people were likely still working, but everything just felt too damn good with his hands on her. He eventually switched sides and everything was still far too sensitive and electric for Jyn to truly contain herself.

Joreth pulled away for just a moment, and Jyn took the opportunity to grab at the bottom of his uniform shirt and tug it up over his head herself. She had to admit that she was a bit shocked by what she saw he was hiding underneath that shirt. He was a Senator, so what was he doing with all of these scars on nearly every inch of his body. Joreth knew she was studying them, he appeared almost as self conscious about them as Jyn had felt when she’d taken her shirt off. She let her fingers lightly trace over a few of them while she continued to stare in silence, noticing him tense up, Jyn finally found the words to say.

“They’re beautiful.” She mumbled while he looked at her curiously. “They tell a story, maybe I’ll get to hear about them sometime.”

She didn’t give him time to reply as she started pressing kisses to the scars she could reach, tracing the others down his back with her hands while Joreth returned to kissing her neck. Jyn wasn’t sure how long they were like this, it seemed like an eternity, enough for her to get comfortable being so bare in front of him, and then he pulled away to kiss down her stomach, pulling her pants down slowly as he did so. Jyn didn’t feel so self conscious this time for some reason when he tossed her pants to the side, she didn’t even mind when he started kissing up her legs, nipping at the inside of her thighs to leave marks behind. He finally got a reaction out of her when his kissed right at her core, his hot breath seeping through her underwear and causing a small moan to escape from her lips.

Joreth repeated the whole process painfully slowly down her other leg, though this time when he reached her core again, he pulled her underwear down slightly, glancing up at Jyn for approval. She gave him a nod though she wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing down there, most men just wanted to shove themselves inside of her and get things over with, Joreth seemed to be enjoying the whole process which was more than foreign to Jyn. When he finally got her underwear off, Jyn kicked it off the bed while Joreth leaned towards her center with a smile on his face. She wasn’t expecting what happened next; a few gentle kisses pressed to her core, and suddenly his tongue was exploring inside of her, searching for all the right places, though in all honesty, everything felt good right now.

Jyn weaved her fingers through his hair and tried to resist the urge to close her legs, Joreth’s hands helping her with that by keeping ahold of her legs. It was a sensation that Jyn wasn’t used to in the least, something she found herself to be utterly enjoying and she wished she could have indulged in the feeling even longer. Though all it took was for his tongue to hit just the right spot and without much warning, her muscles tensed and she couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped her lips. Joreth didn’t seem to mind, taking pride in bringing her pleasure so quickly, his tongue still exploring her now overly sensitive clit and cleaning up the mess he made of her.

“That was nice.” Jyn managed to say in between her gasps for air, a thin layer of sweat already covering her body.

He finally pulled away, licking his lips and kriff, if Jyn hadn’t just spent herself moments before, that image alone would have been enough to send her over the edge.

“Just nice?” He questioned.

“Maybe more than nice.” Jyn grinned.

At that, Joreth grinned himself too as he crawled back up her, kissing her lips as soon as he reached her again, and something about the odd combination of Joreth and herself mixed on his lips was a bit of a turn on. Jyn let her hands travel down to the waistband of his pants, tugging down at them, she told herself it was so he could get some pleasure himself now, when really Jyn was a bit selfish, she wanted to keep chasing the good feeling he’d left her with. She got his pants and boxers off in one fell swoop, feeling something almost like pride when he kicked them aside. Had Jyn been of sounder mind, she probably would have thought up protection, but the Corellian Red had clouded her mind over completely, leaving her to think of nothing but her own pleasure, and Joreth was so caught up in the moment with her that he didn’t think of it either.

Instead, Jyn just let out a series of moans at the delightful feeling of him slowly sinking inside of her, taking his time to test the waters and ensure that he didn’t hurt her - he was definitely different from every other man she’d met so far in her life. Jyn let her nails sink into his back while Joreth’s surprisingly rough hands dug into her sides, sure to leave bruises that would be reminders of her experience here in the morning.

“Joreth.” Jyn said in a breathy moan.

He went just a bit faster, speeding up their pace at the sound of his name falling from her lips. She kept it going, his name eventually turning into something completely unable to understand, but it still made him moan out in reply - her saying his name seeming to turn him on more than anything else. Jyn wasn’t exactly sure how he got her into the position of one leg over his shoulder, her hands now so far away from him that she missed the feeling, but it felt too good to be complaining about the lack of skin contact with him when every thrust brought her a bit closer to him.

“Kriff, Jyn.” The words slipped from Joreth’s lips as more of a hiss before devolving into a series of moans.

It didn’t take long for Jyn to be pushed to the edge again, though it took everything in her power to hold on, she didn’t want to be the first to let go this time.

“Joreth, please Joreth.” Jyn whimpered, it didn’t make much sense even as she said it, but she knew her saying his name just did something to him, and she cried out in wonderful pleasure and surprise when she felt him his control and spilling inside of her, a delightful feeling that sent her over the edge finally.

They’re final thrusts and groans were a last attempt at keeping up contact before Joreth finally had to pull out of her and crawl up to her side, collapsing beside her. The sweat he’d built up caused some of his hair to stick to his face, Jyn could only imagine how she looked right now feeling like an overheated mess. Despite all this, she was more than grateful when Joreth grabbed one of the blankets on her bed and used it to cover the both of them up, making sure Jyn got the most of it before he pulled her closer and pressed kisses to the side of her face. Jyn couldn’t help but be slightly mesmerized by him when she got a good look at him, rolling over onto her side to face him, he was something different, someone softer than he was portrayed to be. In that moment, the Empire and the Rebels didn’t matter, nothing mattered other than how she felt in his arms, looking at that smile of his, and feeling as content as she did.

“That was nice.” Joreth spoke up.

“Just nice?” Jyn countered knowingly.

“Eh, maybe more than nice.” He laughed and Jyn couldn’t help but laugh too.

#rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #rebelcaptainficrecs #my writing #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor

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npmjs · 7 years

Text

My First npm Publish

My first npm publish was unusual. npm didn't exist at the time, so that presented a bit of a challenge.

This is the story of helping to inventing a universe so that I could make an apple pie from scratch.

SSJS

Back in 2009, I was working at Yahoo! as a Front-End Engineer. That meant that I wrote a lot of PHP and JavaScript. I had just finished a project where we had front-end components generated on the back-end and shipped to the client based on some data being parsed into a template, and then later on, on the front-end, do the same work in JavaScript with the same templates and data services.

These days, that'd be called "fast boot" or "isometric templates" or something clever, but back in those dark days, it required tediously maintaining two implementations of a view layer, one in PHP and the other in JavaScript. Maintaining the same thing in two languages was downright awful.

"Well", I figured, "JavaScript is a language, and we can control what's on the server, why not just run JavaScript on the server?"

The state of the art in server-side JavaScript (SSJS) was Rhino on the JVM. The problem was, unless you compiled your JavaScript into JVM bytecode using arcane special magicks, it was godawful slow. I started messing around with V8 and SpiderMonkey, thinking "I want something like PHP, but JavaScript".

The SSJS community at that time was a very different place than the Node.js of today. There were dozens of projects, any one of which could've seemed like it would be the breakout hit. SpiderApe and v8-juice were trying to make it easier to embed spidermonkey and v8, and add a standard library to each. v8cgi (renamed to TeaJS) provided a CGI binding to use v8 in Apache2. I started messing around with K7, which provided a bunch of macros for using V8 in various contexts, and Narwhal, which was the only one of these that seemed to be delivering a fully thought-out platform for making programs. There was also Helma and RingoJS, and probably a bunch of others I'm forgetting.

A few years ago, we used to joke that every Node.js dev had their own test framework and argument parser. Well, in 2009, every server-side JavaScript developer had their own SSJS platform.

The contributors to all of these platforms got together in a mailing list and tried to form some kind of standard for server-side JavaScript programming. Front-end JavaScript has the DOM, so we thought, and right now, writing server-side JavaScript suffers from a dearth of portability. What we need is a standards body, clearly! This was initially called "ServerJS", but then expanded its scope to CommonJS.

The first proper "module" I wrote in JavaScript was a port of a url parser I wrote for YUI. I landed it in Narwhal. There was no userland, really. Just lots of little cores.

Some time later, in August of 2009, I gave a tech talk about SSJS and demonstrated using Narwhal and Jack, a Rack-like thing built on top of Narwhal, using the JSGI protocol.

After the talk, one of the people in the audience asked if I'd ever tried out Node.js. As it turned out, I had, but like so many SSJS platforms:

It had a single developer working on it, and no other contributors or community.

The documentation was extremely sparse

It failed to build on my mac laptop.

Ergo: Not a thing.

"I dunno," he said. "Maybe try it again. It's pretty nifty."

He insisted that it was fast, and I was like, "Meh. JVM is fine."

Node.js

I checked the website again, and they'd added a "Community" section. Also, the docs still sucked, but it was version 0.0.6 now, which was like, 4 more than it was the first time I'd checked, so whoever this Ryan guy was, he was at least working hard on the thing.

It compiled successfully, and I was hooked! It started up so fast compared to Rhino! And it had tests that ran when I did make test, and they passed!

3 important lessons for OSS success:

Docs and tests matter.

At least have a link to a mailing list or something. (Remember: this was before GitHub connected us all with Issues.)

It has to build and be fast.

I gradually stopped paying much attention to CommonJS, and instead just threw my efforts at Node. I hung out on the mailing list and in IRC during all my free time.

The problem with Node back then was that even though a growing number of people were all writing really interesting programs, it was hard to share them. So, I wrote this thing, which was a port of a bash script I was using to play with people's code.

The Registry

Technically that wasn't "publishing" though. In order to actually publish to npm there had to be an npm registry. Today, that registry is a webservice at https://registry.npmjs.org/, run by npm, Inc.. The first registry was a git repo called "npm-data". I collected up the handful of modules that'd been shared from on the mailing list and in the Node.js wiki page, and made a JSON file with links to them.

One principle of package management that I felt was really important was that no one person should be the bottleneck in community growth. Especially if that person is me. Because I really hate that crap.

I don't mind working really hard on lots of challenging stuff, but if I have to do some simple task over and over again, especially if other people are depending on me to do it, it's like torture to me. The prospect of being in someone's critical path for deploying their module was just... ugh. Gross.

I needed a web service type thing that would let people publish packages and then could download those packages and install them.

I got to talking to Mikeal Rogers, who worked at Couch.IO. He built the first npm registry CouchApp, and got it functional.

Fun fact! For a little while, anyone could publish any package, and we relied on the honor system to keep anyone from clobbering anyone else's name. It was an ok system for a short while, since there were only about 4 or 5 people in the world who knew this thing existed, but we got an authentication and authorization system set up before anyone could take advantage of it.

By that time, I'd quit my job at Yahoo! and was taking a sabatical. If you can afford it, I highly recommend saving up a little nest egg and taking a few months off to see what comes out of you. Muses can be fickle, and tend to call when least expected.

I know what you're thinking...

You're thinking that the culmination of this story is that I published npm to npm and that was my first npm publish, and it'll be super meta and awesome like that. It'd be a beautiful punchline.

Real life is sloppy sometimes.

I knew that I wanted npm to be able to accept abbreviated versions of commands, so that npm inst would do the same thing as npm install. (To this day, the friendly CLI shorthands are some of npm's most beloved features.)

The first thing I published to npm was abbrev. I'd written it already, mostly as a sort of coding crossword puzzle some... Saturday? Wednesday? All the days were pretty identical during those two lazy/exhausting months of funemployment.

Since abbrev was only one module, no build command, it was really easy to publish and install repeatedly. Ever since then, it's always been one of my go-to testing modules to make sure things are working properly. Not only was it my first npm publish, it was the first npm publish, and it was published probably dozens or hundreds of times to http://localhost:5984/ while I was working on npm. So, of course, when I had a registry running on my little DreamHost instance, abbrev was the first thing I published to it.

The really wacky part: despite it being the first thing I'd published with npm, I didn't actually use abbrev in npm until 5 months later. That whole time I kept trying to figure out how to have proper dependencies in the thing that installed dependencies. Eventually, I gave up and threw it in a utils folder.

Looking back over abbrev now, it's amazing to me how little it's changed. Most of the code is still that initial implementation from May 2010.

The moral of the story is that you don't know how it's going to end.

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greyias · 4 years

Text

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 14

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | Crossposted to AO3

The report didn’t get finished that night, but his automated trace on Darok did. It would help monitor most public and low-security information. Any high-clearance snooping was a manual process systems had been put in place to prevent automated data mining. Several of which were of his own design after he’d found the flaws several years back.

Of course, having such an intimate knowledge of the SIS systems helped him keep off the radar, as long as he kept a clear head about him. It also helped that his official assignment was to assist with the investigation on finding out how the Imps had managed to get to Tython. Which he was, just… splitting his attention some.

Officially, none of it led to Darok, which was frustrating, but not to be unexpected. Thus far, Theron had been able to identify two leaks associated with the attack on Tython, but had several more flagged for follow-up. The first was the Sith capture of a Jedi Archivist that worked in the Tython library, and the other was an ignored report from a cargo pilot that frequented the temple regarding the theft of a manifest that included information on her route and the hyperlanes.

These leaks mirrored his own datamining into the Korriban op too closely for his own comfort. If he were a suspicious man, which he was, he would suspect that the information he had found had been planted. By someone leaving just enough bread crumbs for a clever enough intelligence operative to put the pieces together. If that was the case, someone had used the SIS, and more specifically him, in whatever this was.

His implants pinged him with an alert from his automated trace, cutting through his sour mood. Seeing that it was a passenger manifest of a flight departing Tython, he pulled away form the terminal he’d been manning most of the day and surreptitiously pulled out his datapad to review the passenger list. It appeared that Darok was leaving the Temple, and his current destination looked like it was Carrick Station.

Theron was about to do some minor slicing into the colonel’s schedule to see exactly what he had planned, when he got an inbox notification.

To: Theron Shan From: Greyias Highwind Subject: HI!

Heya Spyboy—we haven’t met officially, but the boss asked me to write to you from this address. (I’m Kira, I’m sure you’ve read about me. I hear you have a file on all of us! What does mine say?) She got pulled away with a meeting with the Pilgrim Matriarch. Or a hugfest, not really sure what’s going on over there. Anyway, she wanted me to let you know right away that some ‘mutual friend’ of you two had to leave the planet on a meeting?

Good riddance I say. He was cramping our style. Scourge almost started a lightsaber fight with one of his men when they kept blocking the door to the Archives. But this is Scourge, so it could just be Taungsday.

Okay, I’m getting a look now, so maybe this letter was supposed to be shorter. I promise I’ve only looked at like all of your messages to her. What’s this about a mythological bracelet? Are you two going treasure hunting? Can I come? I promise to bring snacks.

Theron couldn’t suppress a groan, massaging his forehead as he read the contents of the message. He had only just gotten to the end of it, when another notification pinged.

To: Theron Shan From: Greyias Highwind Subject: Apologies

Apparently my former Padawan can’t be trusted with the simple task of writing a sentence and pressing the send button. I got pulled away in the middle of my message and asked her to finish it since I thought it was important to keep you updated on… our “friend’s” whereabouts. Clearly my inbox was too great a temptation for her to pass up.

To: Greyias Highwind From: Theron Shan Subject: Really?

I’m making the bold assumption this message is being read by its intended recipient now, and that you’ve changed all of your security protocols and passcodes? And that in the future you won’t be handing off future dictation requests to your nosy secretary?

I’m aware of our our friend’s movements, and if there’s anything noteworthy I will let you know. I trust you’ll also inform me if I need to be aware of any incidents between your crew and SpecOps? Things that, say, might hamper my efforts on this end?

You should probably also let Kira know that we’re not going on a treasure hunt. I think she was far too excited about that.

He stared at the screen for a few moments, debating whether he should ask about Dentiri. Seeing as she hadn’t brought it up, he decided against it, and just pressed send before he thought on it too long. Besides, he didn’t intend to start a letter writing campaign here. His time was better spent on the investigation—both the official one he was conducting and the private one.

Of course, if he didn’t want a reply, he shouldn’t have asked any questions.

To: Theron Shan From: Greyias Highwind Subject: Yes Really

There was nothing noteworthy to report on this end regarding my crew’s interactions with SpecOps. We’re simply trying to do what we can right now, and most of the Republic forces arriving are of great help. We will likely be called away soon, but I’m hoping that some members of the Council will arrive before then. No offense to the military, but I would feel more comfortable leaving with one of the Order’s leaders in charge. I hope we do not have to miss the memorial service, but a Jedi must go where they are needed most.

Until then, I will await your reply of these “noteworthy” revelations.

I have also informed Kira that there will be no hunt for the Lost Bracelet of Darth Lahvvish. I have never heard of this Sith nor know why she was so careless with her jewelry, but I don’t want to ask. Kira seems crushed enough as it is.

However, maybe you should look into the mystery, since you’ve got access to all of those special databases to know where everyone is at all times. Maybe they can give you the clue to the location of the missing Bracelet of Fellowship, last seen in the Sea of Hypothesis? Just a thought.

“Hey, Shan, you okay there? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

“What?” Theron was torn away from the datapad to see Jonas Balkar’s stupid smirking face leaning into his cubicle.

“Well, that or you might be starting to form a smile, and I know that’s not physically possible.”

“Shut it, Balkar.” He quickly stowed the datapad away before it attracted the other agent’s attention. “What are you doing here? Thought you were living it up on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Trant pulled me back, said he needed more eyes on this Tython thing and wanted the best.”

“I think you got the memo meant for me. You can run back along to playing nice with the Hutts.”

“Pass.” Jonas sauntered over, throwing an arm around Theron’s shoulders. “Now, since it’s quitting time and your old buddy’s back in town—“

“We’re not buddies.”

“—I say it’s high time we go get a drink.”

“I’m not—“

Jonas apparently wasn’t listening and already in the mood for a good hangover. Using his grip on the other man’s shoulders, he propelled his fellow agent towards the door. Sure, Theron could have popped the other man’s arm out of its socket and reclaimed his personal space and evening plans of spying on Darok… but he really didn’t want to have that conversation with Marcus again.

“Fine,” Theron muttered darkly, “one drink. But if this winds up being another one of your stupid schemes, I’m going to rearrange that pretty face so all the girls run away at their first look at you.”

“No need to get possessive, Shan. You’ll always be my number one.”

“Bite me, Balkar.”

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #kira carsen #jonas balkar #otp: adorkable #brotp: spyboys #brotp: theron shan & jonas balkar #SoR Fic O Doom #smoke and mirrors #swtor #fanfic #greyfic

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

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2020 Daily Trail Markers: Candidates chase cash as July comes to a close

Hard to believe, but it’s the final day of July, meaning presidential candidates and political parties were making their final pitches before the monthly filing period closed, according to CBS News political unit associate producer Sarah Ewall-Wice. In fundraising emails over the past couple of days, the Biden campaign was racing to raise $8 million more to close the month while the Trump campaign said it wanted to see $25 million more in donations before July came to an end.

This comes after the Biden campaign and Democrats outraised the president and Republicans in the last two monthly filings for May and June. Meanwhile, the Democratic National Committee had its best online fundraising day and its third best online fundraising day ever Thursday. The online cash haul came in the same day that President Trump tweeted about delaying the election and former President Obama spoke at the funeral of John Lewis. Committees are required to file with the Federal Election Commission by August 20.

FROM THE CANDIDATES

JOE BIDEN

Joe Biden zeroed in on why he has mostly stayed mum on President Trump’s election date change tweet on Thursday, stating the president was trying distract from the funeral of Rep. John Lewis. “By the way, as these numbers have gotten worse, what did he do today,” Biden asked the donors who joined him and House Majority Whip Jim Clyburn virtually. “He called for not having the election on November 3. He wants to postpone the election…He doesn’t want to focus on what’s going on today with our buddy and your close friend, Jim, who you just buried.”

The fundraiser was also hosted by potential veep pick Rep. Karen Bass, who Clyburn urged Biden to consider, CBS News campaign reporter Bo Erickson reports. “Clearly Trump has dusted off the ‘George Wallace for President’ playbook and over the next few weeks we are going to see hatred and division like we haven’t seen in a long time,” Bass said last night. Friday evening he will be joined by another potential running mate: Sen. Elizabeth Warren, at a “grassroots” fundraiser.

PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP

The Trump campaign has temporarily paused TV ad spending as it undergoes a “review and fine-tuning of the campaign’s strategy,” according to a Trump campaign official. CBS News campaign reporter Nicole Sganga confirms the reevaluation under new campaign manager Bill Stepien does not extend to digital advertising. The Trump campaign has spent more than $84 million on television advertisements alone since the outset of the coronavirus pandemic in mid-March, including a whopping $17.6 million in political battleground Florida and $10.4 million in Pennsylvania.

Two weeks ago, Mr. Trump promoted Stepien into the top job at the campaign, ousting Brad Parscale. After he was bumped up from political director to deputy campaign manager in late May, Stepien initiated a review of the operation’s infrastructure and spending. NBC News first reported the television ad pause.

So far, there’s little indication of change in strategy. A new digital ad released Friday falsely claims opponent Joe Biden supports defunding of police. Biden has said he supports redirecting some police resources to address mental health or to change the prison system, but he told CBS News he opposes defunding the police. The ad also utilizes images of protests taking place under President Trump’s leadership to make the argument that a Biden administration would not keep Americans safe.

While the campaign may be reevaluating its ad strategy, Mr. Trump is still forging ahead, announcing by tweet, “We are doing a new ad campaign on Sleepy Joe Biden that will be out on Monday.” A Trump campaign official told CBS News, “After the campaign reviewed ad strategy, we are going back up on the air with a focus on states that begin voting early. The 2020 calendar is different from past years and there are many states where a majority of votes will be cast before election day. This is a smarter strategy.”

CBS NEWS COVID CHRONICLES

FLORIDA INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY GAP

CBS News is chronicling what has changed in the lives of residents of some of the biggest battleground states in 2020 amid the coronavirus pandemic. Less than a month out from schools restarting in districts across the country, COVID-19 has forced school administrators to incorporate distance learning in the upcoming semester. In this edition of CBS News COVID Chronicles, CBS News campaign reporter LaCrai Mitchell explored how education leaders and local stakeholders are assessing the internet and technological gaps facing students who want to opt for remote learning but can’t afford technology, or live outside of the range of internet connectivity.

“When they can’t connect because they lack the technology, it instantly means they’re not learning,” said Whitney Johnson, a math teacher in Broward County. “If I’m teaching a class and it’s via Zoom, they’re missing that instruction. If they have questions that they need to ask me but they don’t have technology, they can’t ask me those questions…there’s a complete disconnect.”

In Leon County in Tallahassee, South City Foundation partners with the local school district to ensure that the south side of town, a particularly vulnerable community, has the educational information and resources needed. “This digital divide that we talk about, it spans rural and urban areas,” said South City Foundation co-chair Loranne Ausley, a state representative whose district includes Leon County. Ausley noted that high-speed internet is a “basic essential right” in today’s learning environment.

“It is something that families need not just for kids to access homework, but for families to access telehealth, to be able to work remotely, to be able to find out information about the health pandemic.” Leon County Schools Superintendent Rocky Hannah said his team is tackling the digital divide by offering creative solutions like WiFi buses that were dispatched to low-income neighborhoods in the spring, to provide internet to students who didn’t live near internet access points.

His district has also spent $11 million to buy enough laptops for every student in the county. “This may be the future of education…but it’s not the future if our kids don’t have the devices, and they don’t have access, and then they get left behind,” said Hannah. “And that’s unacceptable.”

ISSUES THAT MATTER

VOTE-BY-MAIL

Top Democratic senators are demanding answers from the U.S. Postmaster General Louis Dejoy about reported changes to mail delivery, according to CBS News campaign reporter Adam Brewster. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, Michigan Senator Gary Peters, Delaware Senator Tom Carper and Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar wrote a letter to DeJoy raising concerns about changes, which they called “questionable,” especially as more Americans say they plan to vote by mail in November. “Your failure to provide Congress with relevant information about these recent changes or to clarify to postal employees what changes you have directed as Postmaster General, undermines public trust and only increases concerns that service compromises will grow in advance of the election and peak mail volumes in November,” the senators wrote.

KEY CONSTITUENCIES

HISPANIC VOTERS

At an Arizona mask production site in May, President Trump thanked factory workers, GOP elected officials, and the owners of Sammy’s Mexican Grill. “I think most of us, all of us, all the Latinos are going to vote for you,” Jorge Rivas told the president.

Now Rivas is lending his voice to Trump campaign ads that have blanketed the state, arguing in Spanish that the president’s Democratic rival “doesn’t have the energy or capability to be the great leader this country needs.” The spot is among more than $400,000 in ads that have aired on Spanish-language TV channels in Arizona in recent weeks, according to Kantar/CMAG ad tracking data, outpacing spending in battleground states like Florida, which has nearly three times the number of Spanish speakers. Though Arizona awarded its 11 electoral votes to Donald Trump in 2016, Biden has tied or topped the president in nearly every recent poll here. If the former vice president were to win the Grand Canyon state, he’d be the first Democrat in three decades to do so.

Much of Biden’s lead comes from Hispanic voters, who comprise a third of Arizona residents. Sixty-nine percent support him in the latest CBS News Battleground Tracker poll. In 2016, 61% of Hispanic voters cast ballots for Hillary Clinton here. “In 2016, we left too many young Latino votes on the table. In 2018, a lot of us put local investment here to turning out younger Latino voters and they did,” said Congressman Ruben Gallego. Exit polls reported Hispanic or Latino voters cast 19% of all Arizona ballots cast in 2018, up from 15% in 2016. The Phoenix-area Democrat serves on the Biden campaign’s “Latino leadership committee” of surrogates attending virtual Zoom events and fundraisers. “The fact that they are investing this much time and money and effort in Arizona this early is impressive,” Gallego added. Read more here from CBS News campaign reporter Alex Tin about President Trump and former Vice President Biden’s fight for Arizona’s Hispanic vote.

YOUNG VOTERS

Meme 2020 is working on a political campaign aimed at getting out the vote predominantly among Gen Z and Millennials leading up to the 2020 election, according to CBS News political unit associate producer Sarah Ewall-Wice. The goal is to help give them the tools that they need to register to vote and cast their ballot come November. The effort is especially focused on informing people on how to vote by mail in their state given the coronavirus pandemic.

“Humor is a really amazing vessel to get someone to engage with content and also think about stuff that they might not want to think about on a daily basis like voting or politics, especially given today’s state,” said Meme 2020 chief of staff Ryan Patrick Kelley of their approach. “The goal is to engage and then direct them to the website to get them all the information that they need, starting with how to vote by mail.”

Meme 2020 is partnering with names like @MyTherapistSays which has 5.5 million followers on Instagram, @TankSinatra with its 2.6 million followers on IG and @Betches with its 7 million followers. It’s now also teaming up with the anti-Trump Lincoln Project, which has attracted attention for some of its more traditional ads that have gone viral, and others, like Rhyme Combinator, including on an animation project released Friday on YouTube. The campaign financing comes through tech entrepreneur Reid Hoffman. This week, Meme 2020 also filed paperwork for the creation of a super PAC called Meme America PAC.

LISTEN UP

“THE TAKEOUT”

Senator Ron Wyden slammed President Trump’s response to the coronavirus pandemic, saying the president “will go down in history for turning a public health crisis into a culture war.” Wyden added, “What a mess Donald Trump has made of coronavirus policy.” The Oregon Democrat made the comments in an interview with CBS News chief Washington correspondent Major Garrett for this week’s episode of “The Takeout” podcast. “Donald Trump will go down in history as turning a public health crisis into a culture war. I just believe that’s led to the needless deaths of so many of our friends and neighbors.” You can listen to the full podcast here.

STATE-BY-STATE

OHIO

The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), the ACLU of Ohio and the Lawyers’ Committee are suing the state of Ohio over its system of matching signatures on absentee ballots and absentee ballot applications. The federal lawsuit was filed as more voters are turning to vote-by-mail as the COVID-19 pandemic continues across the nation, reports CBS News campaign reporter Jack Turman. Alora Thomas, a senior staff attorney with the ACLU’s Voting Rights Project, said in a statement that county election officials may not be equipped to assess matching signatures and ballots, and therefore could toss out ballots. “Ohioans’ fundamental right to vote is at risk here, and state officials can and should fix this broken system immediately, especially given the COVID-19 pandemic,” she said.

PENNSYLVANIA

Pennsylvania will pay the postage for mail-in ballots in the November election, Secretary of the Commonwealth Kathy Boockvar announced Friday. The state’s move to provide every county with funds to pay for prepaid postage comes after over 1.5 million Pennsylvanians voted by mail in a June primary, about 15 times the number in the 2016 general.

“Our goal is to make voting as accessible, safe, and easy for eligible voters as possible,” Boockvar said in a statement. “Mail-in or absentee voting with prepaid postage means Pennsylvanians can vote from the comfort of their own home, without having to make a trip to the post office to buy a stamp, during the COVID-19 pandemic.” CBS News campaign reporter Zak Hudak says this is the first year all Pennsylvania voters are eligible to send their ballots through the mail, following bipartisan legislation in the fall.

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lesliepump · 4 years

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Best Laptops for Lawyers: A Computer Buying Guide

In general, lawyers in our Lawyerist Insider and Lawyerist Lab communities spend way too much time worrying about getting the best laptops for lawyers. You can run a law practice just fine on a $400 Dell desktop (but you shouldn’t).

Best Desktop Computer for Your Law Office

You don’t need to waste time and brainpower obsessively comparing specs or agonizing over whether to get a Mac or PC. You can just get something from Microsoft or Apple and it will do the job. (Lenovo and Dell are also good choices.)

Not satisfied?

Okay, here are a few things you could think about if you want to put more work than strictly necessary into buying a computer.

Mac or Windows?

It doesn’t matter.

If you need to validate your decision to use one over the other, you’ll find plenty of proponents of both systems. But the bottom line is that you can practice law just fine on either. Use what you like.

However, it’s worth debunking a couple of common misconceptions.

Law Firm Computer Specs

First misconception: price. If you want a cheap computer, there are plenty of Windows hardware manufacturers that will be happy to sell you one. While Apple does not sell cheap computers, you should not buy a cheap Windows computer. Good-quality Windows PCs are usually priced in the same range as an equivalent Mac.

Second misconception: performance. People often switch to Mac because they are unhappy with their cheap Windows PCs. But if you buy good-quality Windows PCs, they won’t feel any slower than an equivalent Mac.

In short, you shouldn’t buy cheap computers. I’ll give you a ballpark budget below, but the point is that good computers aren’t cheap, and you should buy good computers.

Third misconception: compatibility. The days of worrying about incompatible software and hardware are mostly over, as well. Microsoft Office works perfectly well on both, and since a lot of the software you use is almost certainly in the cloud, you can use it on anything with a web browser.

However, sophisticated users of Microsoft Office will be quick to point out features that are not available in the Mac versions. And users of legacy practice management software may also find that a Mac is not an option. If those exceptions apply to you, then Windows will obviously be a better option.1 If not, then use what you want.

For the record, I don’t think it matters at all whether you buy a Mac or a Windows PC. Both will allow you to practice law just fine. And despite what some say, neither will make you a better lawyer.

That said, I usually recommend Macs because they generally result in fewer headaches for lawyers who do their own tech support. And if your Mac breaks down, the nearest Apple Store is a pretty friendly place to get help.

However, many complaints about Windows are overblown. Windows “just works” just fine if you set it up properly.

So let’s call it a wash. If you are a long-time Windows user and you are perfectly happy with Windows, stick with it. If you are in love with Apple’s smooth aluminum slabs, get one. There is no objectively compelling reason to use one or the other. Conversely, there is no compelling reason not to use one or the other. Use what you like. But whichever you choose, get decent hardware.

What About a Chromebook?

Chromebooks run Google’s Chrome OS instead of Windows or MacOS. Chrome OS is similar to using the Chrome Browser. Not exactly, but close.

For lawyers, there are basically two use cases for Chrome OS:

You use the web for everything. All your files are in the cloud (probably Google Drive, OneDrive, Dropbox, or Box), and you use G Suite or the Office web apps for all your documents, email, calendar, etc.

You just need secure remote access to your computer, whether it is sitting in your office or in the cloud.

If either of those use cases describes your need, Chrome OS has some real advantages. The operating system is extremely lightweight, so Chromebooks don’t need to have high-end specs. As a result, Chromebooks tend to be thin and light with all-day battery life, but inexpensive.

Chrome OS is also very secure. Your data stored on a Chromebook is encrypted, and there are various safeguards against malware and other malicious hacking.

On the other hand, most lawyers need access to local software—Microsoft Office if nothing else—making a Chromebook an inexpensive option for a second computer at best.

Laptop, Desktop, or Tablet?

If you only want to have one computer, you should get a laptop or tablet (with keyboard). If you buy a desktop you will also need something portable that you can take home, to court, to board meetings, etc. You need to be able to get work done and access your client files no matter where you are.

Many lawyers use a laptop or full-featured Windows tablet like the Surface Pro as their primary computer. Others have a desktop at the office and an ultralight laptop, Surface, or iPad Pro for everywhere else. There are also a multitude of laptop variations such as the Lenovo Yoga line.

When deciding on your setup, consider where and how you need to be able to get work done. Here are a few common setups to consider:

MacBook Pro or ThinkPad T-series laptop, with a docking station at the office for connecting to a monitor, full keyboard, and trackpad or mouse.

iMac or Dell Inspiron desktop at the office, and an iPad or Chromebook for mobile computing.

Microsoft Surface Pro with Type Cover, for everything.

Whatever you do, avoid the temptation to get a big, heavy laptop. If you need desktop power, get a desktop computer. If you need portability, get a lightweight laptop. Don’t mix the two. You’ll regret it every time you hoist your briefcase or bag with your 7-pound laptop in it.

How Much Do I Need to Spend?

Instead of poring over spec sheets, you can use price as a rough proxy. Price is not perfect, but most computers have similar hardware at similar price points, so you should get what you need. And while specs change quickly, prices tend to stay fairly constant for a given tier (i.e., entry-level vs. graphics workstation).

Here—with a fair amount of arbitrariness, I admit—is what I think you should spend on a computer you intend to keep for 3–4 years before you upgrade. If you are buying a laptop, spend a minimum of $1,000. If you are buying a desktop, spend a minimum of $750, not counting the monitor.

Those really are minimums. I usually spend closer to $1,500 on laptops, and around $1,200 on desktops.

If price alone is not enough detail for you, consider using Apple’s base Mac configurations as a minimum-standards guide. Apple doesn’t sell a computer it doesn’t consider capable of giving a first-rate computing experience. That means the specs of its cheapest computers in each category are a good guide to the minimum you ought to get (although keep in mind that Windows, as a rule, will use a bit more disk space and memory than OS X).

So if you are shopping for a laptop, use the 13″ MacBook Pro specs as your baseline. If you are shopping for a desktop, use the base Mac mini as your reference point. Don’t get a Windows PC with a slower processor, less memory (RAM), or a smaller hard drive. And if your Apple reference point has a solid-state drive (SSD), don’t get a traditional hard drive on your Windows PC.

I think it’s a good idea to upgrade the processor and memory from the base configuration no matter what you get, but even if you don’t you will be in pretty good shape by following either my price guidelines or the Apple spec sheets.

Should You Get a Warranty?

For laptops and tablets, yes. For desktops, maybe.

I always buy a three- or four-year warranty on my laptops that includes accidental damage. Laptops are meant to be portable, and I take mine everywhere. They have the scratches and dents to prove it, and sometimes a hard-enough whack will put even a ThinkPad out of commission. I think a three- or four-year warranty that includes accidental damage is a must for any laptop you intend to carry around.

Desktops are a different story. Since all they do is sit in one place, the parts aren’t as likely to break, and the parts aren’t all that expensive to replace (on Windows PCs, anyway; Mac desktops can still be pricey to repair). I figure that by the time a hard drive fails or a graphics card burns out on a desktop, I’ll be just as happy to upgrade that part, anyway. Skip the parts warranty.

However, depending on how often you find yourself calling tech support now (whether that means Geek Squad or your niece), you might want a warranty that includes general support. For example, if you sometimes get hung up getting a printer or scanner to work properly, or you get lost when you accidentally hit a key combination that closes a panel in Outlook, you might want to get something like Dell’s Enhanced Support or Apple’s AppleCare. With these, you can just pick up the phone and call someone who can help you solve your problem.

I’m perfectly happy using Google to answer most of those kinds of questions. If you aren’t, it may be worth spending a couple hundred bucks to add a basic warranty.

Where Should You Buy Your Computer?

It depends. If you want a Mac, go to the Apple Store or shop Apple’s website online. The prices are the same, and the shipping is free. If you want a Windows PC, avoid Best Buy and shop on the manufacturer’s website, where you can customize your computer and get the best deal. If you want a fairly standard configuration, you may be able to find a better deal on Amazon or NewEgg. It doesn’t hurt to look, anyway.

The point is, make sure you get what you need, not just what happens to be on the big-box store’s shelves. Retailers generally carry only one or two configurations: the cheapest one and the most expensive one. If you want to max out the memory but you don’t care to pay for the top-of-the-line processor and a bunch of hard drive space you won’t use, you will probably need to order online, from the manufacturer.

If you feel like you need to try out the keyboard first, by all means visit a store that carries the brand you want. Before you do, though, use the manufacturers’ website to configure your computer the way you want it and to check the price. That way, if you find what you want at the store at a reasonable price, you can just get it there and take it home the same day.

Best Laptop Brands for Lawyers

The Microsoft Surface Pro is the best Windows tablet, hands-down, and it may be the best Windows hardware, period. In fact, if you are considering a Windows laptop, you should probably try the Surface Pro with a Type Cover, first.

If you want a Windows laptop and the Surface Pro isn’t for you, Lenovo makes the best Windows laptops: the ThinkPad T- and X-series. ThinkPads are fast, rock-solid, and have the best keyboards you can get on a laptop. The ThinkPad X1 may be the best ultrathin Windows laptop you can buy. Lenovo also has some of the best customer support you will find outside of an Apple Store.

If ThinkPads aren’t your thing, check out the Dell XPS laptops. The XPS 13 may be the best traditional laptop you can buy. It is thin, light, and well constructed (but not as thin and light as the ThinkPad X1). The hardware itself rivals the MacBook Pro for design and build quality.

For Windows desktops, Dell is usually the best value. There is nothing wrong with Lenovo desktops. They just tend to be more expensive. Dell makes solid, reliable desktops at good prices. Dell’s UltraSharp displays are also some of the best monitors you can find anywhere. Add one to your order and your eyes will thank you.

There are lots of other Windows computer manufacturers out there, but Microsoft, Lenovo, and Dell are the ones that have produced consistently high-quality machines for many years.

If you want a Mac, you should obviously get it from Apple.

Takeaways

It doesn’t matter if you want a Mac or a Windows PC. Get what you like.

Get a 13- or 14-inch laptop, or at least a 22-inch monitor for a desktop.

Get a warranty with accidental damage protection for a laptop or ultrabook; skip the warranty for a desktop.

Order online, or decide what you want before you go to a store.

Spend at least $1,000 on a laptop and at least $750 on a desktop.

Buy from Microsoft, Lenovo, Dell, or Apple.

Originally published 2012-11-12. Revised 2016-02-16. Republished 2019-11-06.

Mac diehards can certainly use Parallels or Fusion to run Windows apps on a Mac, but that is an imperfect solution, at best. ↩

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#Legal #law

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maxwellyjordan · 4 years

Text

Best Laptops for Lawyers: A Computer Buying Guide

Best Desktop Computer for Your Law Office

Not satisfied?

Okay, here are a few things you could think about if you want to put more work than strictly necessary into buying a computer.

Mac or Windows?

It doesn’t matter.

However, it’s worth debunking a couple of common misconceptions.

Law Firm Computer Specs

In short, you shouldn’t buy cheap computers. I’ll give you a ballpark budget below, but the point is that good computers aren’t cheap, and you should buy good computers.

However, many complaints about Windows are overblown. Windows “just works” just fine if you set it up properly.

What About a Chromebook?

Chromebooks run Google’s Chrome OS instead of Windows or MacOS. Chrome OS is similar to using the Chrome Browser. Not exactly, but close.

For lawyers, there are basically two use cases for Chrome OS:

You just need secure remote access to your computer, whether it is sitting in your office or in the cloud.

Chrome OS is also very secure. Your data stored on a Chromebook is encrypted, and there are various safeguards against malware and other malicious hacking.

On the other hand, most lawyers need access to local software—Microsoft Office if nothing else—making a Chromebook an inexpensive option for a second computer at best.

Laptop, Desktop, or Tablet?

When deciding on your setup, consider where and how you need to be able to get work done. Here are a few common setups to consider:

MacBook Pro or ThinkPad T-series laptop, with a docking station at the office for connecting to a monitor, full keyboard, and trackpad or mouse.

iMac or Dell Inspiron desktop at the office, and an iPad or Chromebook for mobile computing.

Microsoft Surface Pro with Type Cover, for everything.

How Much Do I Need to Spend?

Those really are minimums. I usually spend closer to $1,500 on laptops, and around $1,200 on desktops.

Should You Get a Warranty?

For laptops and tablets, yes. For desktops, maybe.

I’m perfectly happy using Google to answer most of those kinds of questions. If you aren’t, it may be worth spending a couple hundred bucks to add a basic warranty.

Where Should You Buy Your Computer?

Best Laptop Brands for Lawyers

There are lots of other Windows computer manufacturers out there, but Microsoft, Lenovo, and Dell are the ones that have produced consistently high-quality machines for many years.

If you want a Mac, you should obviously get it from Apple.

Takeaways

It doesn’t matter if you want a Mac or a Windows PC. Get what you like.

Get a 13- or 14-inch laptop, or at least a 22-inch monitor for a desktop.

Get a warranty with accidental damage protection for a laptop or ultrabook; skip the warranty for a desktop.

Order online, or decide what you want before you go to a store.

Spend at least $1,000 on a laptop and at least $750 on a desktop.

Buy from Microsoft, Lenovo, Dell, or Apple.

Originally published 2012-11-12. Revised 2016-02-16. Republished 2019-11-06.

Mac diehards can certainly use Parallels or Fusion to run Windows apps on a Mac, but that is an imperfect solution, at best. ↩

The post Best Laptops for Lawyers: A Computer Buying Guide appeared first on Lawyerist.

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#law #justice

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