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queen-scribbles · 3 years ago

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The Long Burning Torch ch 3

Oh, look, another chapter for the 20s AU I started for the @shepherds-of-haven Summer Event, which has taken on a life of its own. In this chapter: A couple new (but familiar!) faces, and the plot thickens.

----

Five minutes into Ashtown proper, Xaeryn was exceedingly grateful for the directions Mr. Syndran had provided. He hadn’t been wrong comparing the place to a warren.

“You look lost, doll.”

Her head snapped up from the paper in her hand to meet the gaze of a lanky man lounging against a wall, a soft cap slouched down over his forehead. His--very familiar--green eyes were much more vivid in person than they had been in her scry.

Xaeryn arched a brow coolly. “And what led you to that conclusion?”

He smirked and pushed away from the wall. “The way you keep checking that paper for one, Sunshine.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Also, we don’t get dames that look like you here all that often. Anything I can help you find?”

“You’re awfully helpful,” Xaeryn said, resisting the urge to run a hand down her outfit.

He doffed his cap and sketched an exaggerated bow, giving her a wink when he righted. “Consider me the Ashtown welcoming committee.”

“And what a charming first impression you make.” Xaeryn regarded him for a moment or two more, then decided to see how things would play out. “I’m trying to find Chase Trinaeste.”

The man’s eyes twinkled, bright as the scarf tossed ‘round his neck. “I think I can help with that. Right this was, Sunshine,” he said blithely, as if he wasn’t the aforementioned Trinaeste himself.

A large part of Mr. Syndran’s adamant belief Thieves guild had been involved in the theft rode on Trinaeste’s presence in her scryed vision. “He trusts his lieutenants with the vast majority of their... jobs,” Mr. Syndran had explained, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. “His being there shows it was a heist of high importance to their gang, fitting the theft of an artefact.”

Xaeryn had no reason to doubt his logic. But she’d be a fool to show all the cards she held at the outset.

“My name is not ‘sunshine’,” she said briskly instead.

“Well, then, doll, what am I calling ya?” Trinaeste asked, unruffled by her tone.

“Miss Shrike will do for now, I think. And what do I call you?”

“Who says you need to call me anything?” he returned as he led her down several new streets in quick succession.

“It might come in handy if I want to commend your hospitality to Mr. Trinaeste,” she countered, trying her best to memorize their route. Left, left, right...

“I’ll get by, Miss Shrike,” Trinaeste said with a light laugh.

He was very good at dodging, she did have to give him that. “For politeness’ sake, then. Perhaps I’d feel better about following you into the depths of Ashtown if I at least knew your name.”

He laughed again, pausing by a wall decorated with a... creative interpretation of a cat’s head. “Well, then. I have a confession to make, in that case.”

“Oh?” Xaeryn marked the two brunos nearby--one down an alley, the other lounging by a door--despite their affected nonchalance. “And what would that be?”

“Chase Trinaeste at your service.” He skipped the exaggerated bow this time, instead shoving his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo, and grinning at her cheekily. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

“First thing that comes to mind is ask why we couldn’t have the introductions back where we first spoke?”

“Let’s say I feel safer on home turf, doll. Just in case your reason for wanting me is less fun than I’m hoping.”

She glanced significantly at one of the toughs. “And if this arrangement doesn’t thrill me?”

“You can leave,” Trinaeste said with a shrug. “We ain’t going to stop you.” His grin widened, cat-like. “But you seem the type who doesn’t like leaving empty-handed, Miss Shrike.” He gestured toward the door next to one member of their small audience. “Whatever it is you’re after, I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, don’t you?”

She doubted he cared between the two locations as strongly as she doubted it was an actual office, but Xaeryn did have to admit some privacy for this conversation would be a good thing. “Do I strike you as the type to just follow strange men into unfamiliar buildings, Mr. Trinaeste?”

He laughed. “A dangerous question, doll. You strike strike me as the type who enjoys a good mystery.”

(Or even a bad one, Xaeryn finished wryly to herself.)

Trinaeste raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “On my honor as head of the guild, I promise you will leave in the same condition and carrying the same things as when you got here, so long as you don’t threaten me or mine.”

“A fair deal,” she said in assent, and nodded toward the door. “After you.”

Red would have a heart attack if he knew what she was doing. She swallowed a laugh at the thought; less than a week reconnected and his reaction was one of the first things to cross her mind. Her gut said it would be a worthwhile risk. While Trinaeste was indisputably a dangerous man, there was a clear sense of ‘only when necessary’ to his skill that gave her confidence she would be fine.

“One more condition,” Trinaeste said as he led the way into the building. “Call me Chase. No idea who ‘Mr. Trinaeste’ is, but he sounds too high-class to be me.”

He’d kowtowed to her chosen address easily enough, and she did want him amenable to talking. She could grin and bear the informality for one conversation. “Very well.”

They didn’t go far from the outer door before Chase swung to the side through another doorway. Xaeryn almost tripped over the abruptness as she followed. There was no desk, or any other typical office furniture save chairs. There were five of those; loosely grouped on one side of the room. Opposite them a stack of shipping crates were shoved against a tapestry-hung wall. It was eclectic and flamboyant and (she’d just bet) full of secrets. A perfect match for the man now flopped in one of the fairly-comfortable looking chairs and grinning at her again.

“So, Miss Shrike, what did you want from me?”

(From the way his eyes twinkled, that phrasing was very much on purpose.)

Xaeryn chose her seat and her reply with equal care; the former so she could see both her host and the door, the latter to convey intent without accusing. Yet. “I’m investigating a theft and have reason to believe you may have seen something helpful.”

Chase laughed. “You think I did it.”

“You do helm the Thieves guild, Chase,” she said lightly, crossing her legs and flicking dust off her hem. So much for trying to be subtle.

“Fair point,” he conceded with another laugh, before leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms with still-twinkling eyes. “So, what is it you think we stole?”

“An artefact.”

She was interrupted before giving a description as Chase’s grin went cat-like gain and the twinkle in his eyes shifted to a hard glitter. “Syndran set you on us, didn’t he? What did he lose?”

“Mr. Syndran didn’t lose anything. Transit is a possibility for when a piece was stolen,” Xaeryn said primly. “And while, yes, he may have pointed me in your direction as an avenue of investigation, I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I followed accusations that lacked supporting evidence.”

“Ah, you’re a private dick,” Chase smirked, eyes once again twinkling in amusement. “Tell you what, Miss Shrike, since you bein’ here is bountiful evidence Riel’s people not only dropped the ball, but bad enough he doesn’t want to involve the cops, I’ll tell you whatever you need to help. That being the best news I’ve had this week and all.”

She arched a brow. “Whatever I need?”

He spread his hands. “I’m an open book, doll.”

“Chase!” a new voice scolded. The owner, a slender brunette, paused in the doorway to scowl along with her critique. “You know better than to offer open season on guild secrets like that!”

“Calm down, Ari.” Chase slouched back, waving one hand in Xaeryn’s direction. “Our guest seems a smart enough dame to not ask for more than she needs.” That glimpse of danger was back under the last word.

“I’m not after your secrets,” Xaeryn promised. “Just trying to find a missing artefact.”

“And what artefact would that be?” Ari asked, still wary, and still poised in the doorway. Xaeryn noted but didn’t comment on the jangling stack of bracelets that sheathed a good three inches of the other woman’s wrist.

“A pendent, this big.” she indicated the size. “Black stone and bronze.”

“Wasn’t us,” Chase said easily.

“You were witnessed along the transport caravan’ route.”

“Oh, we were casing it,” he acknowledged with a wink.

“Chase!”

He just grinned at Ari’s beratement. “We didn’t steal anything, though. Couldn’t get a good shot at what we were supposed to nick.”

“Supposed to?” Xaeryn interjected. “So this is something you were contracted to steal rather than...” She waffled a moment over word choice, “...personal?”

“Yeah. Like I said, though, we didn’t get anything.” Chase shrugged. “Just as well; our butter and egg man never showed his face after.”

“Hm.” Xaeryn made a mental note to look into how popular a target the caravan had become. “Did you notice anyone else who seemed to be casing it? Aside from your people?”

“N-” Chase’s brow furrowed and he stopped mid-negative reply. “There was that one mug Kato saw right before the trucks made the museum lot. Don’t have anything more than ‘foreign-looking’ and green hair, and he didn’t see where he went, just was a little too casual in his loitering, gave Kato an odd impression.”

It wasn’t a lead solid enough for her to really follow, but it did seem confirmation multiple parties were interested in the caravan. “I see. And what was your... client after?”

“That’s not something you need to know,” Ari said firmly.

“Knowing what else was and might yet be targeted will help my investigation, so I would have to disagree,” Xaeryn said just as firmly. “I’m not going to rat you out, in fact I plan to tell Mr. Syndran you were not responsible. But this information could be useful. Please.”

“A necklace. Gold, rubies, opals; sounded worth a pretty lyss,” Chase said, turning to flash a grin at Ari. “She did say please.”

Ari sighed but didn’t protest.

“Alright I’ll be getting out of your hair, then.” Xaeryn stood, smoothing her skirt. “I appreciate your talking to me, It was enlightening.”

She held out a hand to shake, and Chase kissed the back of it instead, shooting her a wink as she rolled her eyes. “Not a problem, Miss Shrike. Good luck catching your bad guys.”

Xaeryn couldn’t help a small chuckle at the comment as she withdrew her hand and headed for the door. She half-expected to be blocked from exiting, but that proved unfounded. She retraced the route to the edge of the Ashtown district, then headed for her office to call Mr. Syndran just as it started to rain.

---

Her call to update Mr. Syndran went about as well as it could; he was disappointed Thieves guild hadn’t panned out as a lead--Xaeryn detected some personal disappointment as well as professional they weren’t responsible. “Do you have anything beyond their word they didn’t do it?”

“No,” Xaeryn said, leaning forward over her desk to skim her notes as they talked. “Well... their word and a gut feeling they were being level.” Which is all I really have that you aren’t responsible. She was polite--and wise--enough to not make the comparison. “They were hardly going to let me search their warehouse.”

“So what’s your next step? There’s not long until the exhibit opens, and I dislike the number of dead ends you’ve encountered.”

“Oh, I’m not happy about them, either, believe me.” Xaeryn pursed her lips and fought to keep a sharp note out of her voice at his implied censure. “Next is talking to the curator at the Hall. They may have seen this green-haired foreigner Thieves guild mentioned, or something else suspicious that didn’t show when I scryed. Either way, I can get more information about the exhibit and the pendent’s owner.”

Mr. Syndran sighed. “I highly doubt this convenient and vague ‘foreigner’ exists as anything other than a red herring to lead you away from the Thieves guild, but your other goals are sound. Let me know what you learn, if anything.”

“Of course.” They exchanged farewells and hung up. Rain still pattered against the window, and a quiet growl from her stomach reminded Xaeryn she was overdue for lunch, so she bumped back calling the Hall in favor of a quick bite to eat.

And it was quick; she loved mysteries but hated being stymied at every turn like this case had done. She wanted a workable lead. While she agreed with Mr. Syndran the ‘foreigner’ was too vague to pursue on his own, green hair was far from common in Haven, even in the Mage community. If someone else made mention or he was spotted later, it wouldn’t be hard to connect the sightings. For now, she’d call the museum, speak to the curator. Hopefully that would get her somewhere.

The secretary who answered her call sounded both bored and frazzled, which Xaeryn found impressive. “Haven Hall of History and Culture, how may I help you?”

“My name’s Xaeryn Shrike, I wanted to speak to the curator about-”

“Ms. Acquell is very busy,” the receptionist cut her off. “We have an exhibit opening in just over a week, she doesn’t have time for meetings with random curiosity seekers or history aficionados right now.”

Xaeryn let a bit of edge color her voice. “I’m a private detective Mr. Syndran hired in regard to the artefact caravan.”

A long pause, the line crackling with silence, then, “Can you be here in half an hour? I’m sure she can clear some space in her schedule, though there may be bit of a wait.”

I thought you might say that. “I can. Thank you.”

“Very well.” The secretary hung up.

Xaeryn arched a brow at the receiver before she placed it back in the cradle. “See you shortly,” she muttered. Wonderful attitude for someone in such a socially involved position. She glanced out the window and was gratified to find the rain slacking off. She’d still drive, of course, but it would be less of a headache.

Xaeryn cleaned up from her lunch, gave her outfit a quick check to ensure it was still presentable after her visit to Ashtown and the Merchants Guild garage, and tucked her notepad back in her handbag before tugging on a hat and heading out the door.

The drive to the museum was uneventful aside from a couple pot holes and a pedestrian chasing his umbrella into the street with nary a regard for traffic. Still, Xaeryn did arrive in one piece. A determined breeze tugged at her as she made her way up the steps, and she almost dropped her handbag in her instinctive grab to hold her hat on.

It’s pinned, you silly goose, she chided herself ruefully, and brushed drizzle off her clothes as she stepped inside. She exchanged a brief conversation--light on pleasantries--with the receptionist,and was waved toward one of the long cultural wings to wait for when Curator Acquell found a moment to speak with her. She perched on a bench that sat between a statue of the first High Augar and a glass case displaying a map of the known world at the time. At this hour and with this weather, there weren’t many other people, and the gallery was mostly quiet.

Ample opportunity for Xaeryn to ruminate on the irony her chosen seat appeared to be smack in the middle of an exhibit on the Castigation, or one of the uprisings that followed. At least, if the painting across from her was anything to go by; a group of determined Norms gripping pistols as they surrounded a cluster of bloodied but unyielding Hunters whose hands glowed with grace as they clung to their weapons...

Xaeryn shook her head and very deliberately focused on reading her notes.

---

It took half an hour--closer to three-quarters--and Xaeryn had switched to roaming the gallery to take in the sights before a short, bespectacled blonde approached.

She hesitated briefly but noticeably before clearing her throat. “Are you... Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn nodded and held out a hand to shake. “And you would be the curator?”

The blonde bobbed her head as she shook her hand. “Shery Acquell. I’m so very sorry about the wait.” She smoothed a hand down her rumpled brown and pink dress. “We’re terribly busy trying to get the new exhibit together.” She bit her lip. “Or, as together as we can get it, at least.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about,” Xaeryn said. “But I think it’s something better discussed away from potential prying eyes and ears.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Miss Acquell briefly clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip. “This way.” She gestured to a door. “We can speak in the Cultures of Blest wing if you don’t mind dodging crates and museum staff?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said as she followed the other woman through the indicated door. Getting to see behind the scenes of a museum exhibit was the opposite of an inconvenience, to her mind.

“It’s not terribly exciting, I’m afraid; lots of boxes and dust and swapping things around until you find the right arrangement. But I think we can find somewhere to talk. My office is a mess right now, or we could just go there.”

“It’s fine,” Xaeryn assured her. “A little dust won’t kill me. I dress practical for that very reason; no telling where an investigation will take me.”

“OH, that’s... smart.” Miss Acquell fiddled with her glasses and inclined her head toward an empty display pedestal. “That’s where the pendent will go, assuming it’s back before the exhibit opens.” Her face went red and she winced apologetically. “N-Not that I doubt your skill as a detective, Miss Shrike, it just seems to have vanished into thin air, and, well....” She half shrugged and let the words trail off.

“I’ve definitely hit enough dead ends for the comparison to be apt,” Xaeryn said, swallowing the spike of defensiveness to keep her tone level as she peeked at the other artefacts in the case. A belt with a snake-head buckle, a silver circlet set with a single moonstone, an ornately carved hair comb, a silver ring that resembled a basilisk eating its own tail. At least one item hummed quietly with magic of some kind, but enchantment and binding weren’t her forte, so Xaeryn couldn’t tell which. “So, to confirm, how long did the shipment sit before you and your staff started opening crates?”

“Oh, an hour?” Miss Acquell bit her lip. “Maybe two, at most? There was a... small kerfuffle in the art wing; some unruly children, and we didn’t get to the crates until that was settled. But there was a watchman outside and one in the museum, neither of them reported seeing anyone.” She played with her necklace. “As well as a Whitestone Couriers representative. Pink-haired young lady, very irate by the time I spoke to her, though that is understandable, with how long we kept her waiting.”

“Did you not have enough staff for someone to take care of the artefacts while others handled the... disturbance?”

“Normally we would have.” Miss Acquell stepped into a small alcove to move their conversation out of the way for the six or so staffers busily yet carefully removing things from crates to arrange in various displays. “But it was a lightly staffed day--Thursdays are usually slow--and I had a couple people who didn’t come in. We weren’t able to find anyone who could cover their shifts, so we were running a bit short.”

With Ms. Aerin keeping an eye on the artefacts once they reached the museum, it was no wonder Mr. Syndran was so convinced a potential theft would have occurred during transit. “What do you know about the pendent, Solimer’s torch? I’ve learn some things of its history, but what of more recent years? The last century or so?”

“A little,” Miss Acquell said, flicking a nervous glance to the side as a pair of workers fumbled the statue they were shifting. “The last century is a bit... muddy for that pendent. It’s changed hands several times, several people have made claims, few have been able to back them up. The current owner, Ms. Aescar, has the strongest claim. She can trace ancestry to the last known owner of the pendent.”

“Prior to the cheiftain of debated identity with whom it was rediscovered?”

She nodded. “Yes. The others who have tried to stake ownership claim ties to the debated chieftain, or the original tribe, or the first to conquer them, but none have ever clearly proven a connection like Ms. Aescar. And if they could, it turns into a debate predicated largely on the intricacies of right of conquest for who has the strongest claim.” She hesitated, wrung her hands. “There are some in the historical community--niche as this piece may be--who... feel it would almost be better if no further claims are validated. I-If someone can contest Ms. Aescar’s ownership, the pendent has to go in a vault until true provenance can be determined. Which means no one can display it....”

“And that process can take a very long time,” Xaeryn finished for her. It was an issue she’d run into a couple times during her years at Solhadur; an artefact she was researching was hard to get clear information about because three people had equally strong claims and it was tied up in the arbitration.

“Yes, it can.” Miss Acquell pursed her lips and looked back at the intended display. “For now, though, Ms. Aescar has a very open policy for lending it out. Far fewer requested protective measures than most. It’s as if...” she paused, brow furrowing for a moment, “as if she doesn’t really care what happens to it.”

Interesting. “Do you have her contact information? I’d like to speak with her if I could,”

“I do.” Miss Acquell nodded vigorously. “It’s in my office, so I’ll need a minute to dig it out.”

“No hurry,” Xaeryn said. “Are those watchmen here today by any chance? Accommodating as your staff has been with my other earlier inquiries, I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet.”

The curator, who had started for a nearby hall, paused and bit her lip again as she thought. “Theo is,” she finally said. “He was watching the outside lot that day. Today I think he’s in the exhibit on Norm innovation? But I can’t remember for sure. The schedule’s also in my office, I can check while I’m getting Ms. Aescar’s information.”

“Alright, I can wait.”

“Feel free to look around.” Miss Acquell waved a hand toward the progressing displays. “Just don’t touch anything? Some things would survive, but others are too fragile.”

“I generally avoid disturbing museum exhibits,” Xaeryn assured her. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

With a final nod and small nervous smile, Miss Acquell scurried off down the hall. From the way she’d talked about her office, Xaeryn gathered this might take more than a few minutes. She wandered through the half-assembled exhibits and display cases, careful to keep enough distance she didn’t disturb the staff or risk damaging anything.

A small smile curved her lips when she caught sight of a necklace--complete with matching cuff bracelets and a diadem--that fit the description of what Chase claimed his guild had been hired to steal. That backed his story up, at least. There was a placard declaring they had belonged to a Queen-Consort from Karzai once upon a time.

Xaeryn was engrossed in reading a Kettish tablet when Miss Acquell returned, and it took a moment to register her presence. In fact, it wasn’t until the curator cleared her throat timidly that Xaeryn’s focus was broken and she swung around.

“Sorry. This sort of thing is a passion of mine,” she explained. “Very easy to slip off to my own little world when I get a chance to indulge.”

“I understand,” Miss Acquell said with a faint smile. “I can be the same, when I get lost in my work. Here’s Ms. Aescar’s information” --she held out a small piece of note paper--”though I should warn you it’s for her estate out near the Jalis desert and she’s apparently not home much? Bit of an adventuress, away for weeks at a time without word of how long she’ll be gone. I’m honestly not sure if we’ve managed to contact her yet to tell her the pendent’s missing.”

“Thanks for the warning, both of them.” Xaeryn slipped the paper in her handbag after checking the legibility. “I’ll keep them in mind.”

“Theo is up in the innovations exhibit, if you want to speak with him.”

“Oh, I very much do. And if something comes up and I need to talk to you again, do you have daily office hours?”

Miss Acquell nodded, then blushed. “Oh, except... except Sunday,” she amended. “I-I have church.”

“Won’t be a problem, so do I.” Normally not a detail Xaeryn shared with strangers, but the woman seemed braced for blowback to the statement.

Her face lit up with the revelation, so it was apparently a good call. “Oh, really? Where do you go?”

“The Whitestone Cathedral,” Xaeryn said. She liked the crowds, the ability to simply sit in the back, worship, and slip out before too many people even noticed she was there and tried to be chummy.

“Oh, that one’s too big for me,” Miss Acquell blurted with a bashful laugh. “I go to the chapel over by the docks.”

“I know it,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She’d had a couple cases over that way. “Thank you very much for all your help, Miss Acquell. This visit has been very informative.”

“I’m glad to have been of help, and you can just call me Shery.” She held out a hand to shake farewell.

“Goodbye, then, Shery. And good luck setting up your exhibit.” Xaeryn shook her hand then headed off following signage toward the exhibit where this guard Theo was posted. She had some rather burning questions to ask him.

---

Her conversation with Theo held mixed success. His memory was fuzzy, which Xaeryn had expected after the time that had passed. He did remember some loiterers, but they were all far enough away from the lot he couldn’t discern features. One or two may have come across as “too casual” with hindsight, but he hadn’t clocked them as suspicious and thus hadn’t paid much mind in the moment. No accounting for street hooligans and how they spent their time, right? One might have had green hair, but they were wearing hats, and “like I said, I wasn’t payin’ much heed, Miss Lady Detective,” so he couldn’t swear by it.

With that tenuous connection possibly made slightly less tenuous, and a much-increased desire to speak with the elusive Ms. Aescar, Xaeryn wandered the museum a bit--might as well; she was here and it would help her think--before heading back out to her car.

“Ladies first,” a dark haired gentleman said, holding the front door open for her and allowing her to precede him down the steps.

Xaeryn nodded and flashed a brief smile of courteous thanks for his chivalry, noting he headed for a gleaming, high-end motorcar, black with red accents, that made hers look dingy. Bet it’s a nightmare to keep that fancy, she thought, paying the man no further mind. She started her car and flicked on the headlights to counter the settling dim of evening as she pulled away.

With her thoughts split between the road and mulling over the case, it took a few turns for her to notice a pair of headlights that appeared to be following the same route she was. That wasn’t terribly unusual, but the fact they were deliberately keeping back was. Tricky as surreptitious glances in a motorcar could be, Xaeryn managed one the next time she had to stop for traffic. Just as her... friend passed under a streetlight.

Black car, with red accents.

Gooseflesh prickled up her arms, and she shifted her planned route home to one with sparse enough traffic covert pursuit would be impossible. Two turns into the new path, her tail must have picked up on her plan and lammed off down a side street. Xaeryn wondered if he thought he was being subtle, and kept a careful eye out the rest of the way back. Despite not seeing any further tails, she remained on guard until she turned the key in her office door, slipped in, and locked it behind her.

“Intriguing development,” she murmured to the empty room as she unpinned her hat. And an interesting end to a very full day. Xaeryn sat wearily at her desk and kicked off her shoes. Even choosing comfort over style, her feet were sore from all the walking. Merchants’ Guild, Ashtown, the Hall... and barely a chance to sit all day. She returned her notepad to the desk drawer and locked it again, but left the stiletto blade in her handbag. She’d likely need it tomorrow anyway. Particularly if it was anywhere near as busy as today.

Busy enough to have missed any telephone calls that came while I was gadding about. Normally while already on a case, that would bother her less, but Red had said he’d call if he learned anything new. She’d hate to be missing information that could help the case, she mused, flicking a glance from the telephone to the clock on her wall. Hopefully this wasn’t too late for her to call him. She dug her notepad back out and flipped through the pages until she reached the section in Red’s sprawling shorthand. There, on the back of a previous page, tucked in the corner like a random doodle, was his office telephone number. Xaeryn smiled at the close resemblance of his eights and zeroes, but knew her own ones and sevens weren’t much better.

After only a brief moment of further hesitation, she pulled the telephone closer and started dialing. It wasn’t that late.

It was answered on the third ring, a slightly breathless, “Hello?”

“Liefred?”

“Xaeryn.” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

“Got it in one, smart man.” But I knew that.

He laughed. “Not that hard; you’re just about the only one who insists on calling me that, even if you don’t need to.” There was a small creak that conjured mental images of him leaning against the desk or slouched in his chair. “Everything alright? Did you need something?”

“Other way ‘round, actually.” Xaeryn fiddled with her notepad. “I’ve had a busy day and it occurred I wasn’t here much if you’d called, so I thought I’d check.”

“There are these people called secretaries, Xaeryn,” Red teased. “You might look into hiring one of them.”

“I know, I know.” She snorted softly. “Especially since most people don’t have your genial reaction to me missing their calls...”

“Most people haven’t known you since you were a gangly fourteen year old trying to cram yourself in the library loft to read in peace, either,” he said warmly. “I know how focused you get. And nothing new, I’m afraid. I got stuck lecturing first-years all day.”

“And you survived,” Xaeryn laughed, curling her toes in and out when they started to cramp.

“Barely,” Red said with a rueful laugh(she’d bet he was running a hand through his hair). “And that despite their best efforts.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to stick around,” she said, only half-joking.

“Smart woman,” he deadpanned. “But I knew that already.”

Flatterer. It sounded coy and thus stayed in her head, replaced with an equally joking, “I won’t guest lecture, before you ask.”

“Damn,” he said lightly, “At any rate, I’m sorry I don’t have more yet-”

“Don’t apologize,” she cut him off. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Only checking. Just in case. Your responsibilities come first and they kept you busy today. I had plenty of other leads to chase today.”

“Where did they take you?” Red asked. “You mentioned being busy...”

“Merchants’ Guild to start. Then Ashtown-”

“Xaeryn.” His voice was already bristling worry.

“--to talk to Thieves’ guild.”

“Alone?! Ryn-” Red huffed a sigh of exasperated, retroactive concern and she bit back a laugh at how well she’d pegged his reaction. “Do you... take risks like that often?”

“Only when I need to,” she said carefully. Wouldn’t be mentioning the tail on her way home, then. “I know how to handle myself, Liefred. I was polite, we talked, I left. It was fine.”

A long moment of silence. “If you say so.” He didn’t sound completely convinced. (She decided not to tell him her office-apartment sat right by the boundary between Astown and Smoketown) “What else?”

“Just the Hall of History and Culture to speak with the curator.” She shifted in her chair. “That one took a while, but I got some good information to follow up tomorrow.”

“Best of luck with that, and... be careful?”

Xaeryn smiled fondly, unsure whether or not to hope it carried into her voice. “As I can be.” A beat, then she added lightly, “I’d hate to wind up a cautionary tale in one of your lectures, Headmaster.”

“Xaeryn.” She could practically see him trying to glower at her(and failing; Red couldn’t be that mean) through the telephone. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” And I appreciate it. She sobered her tone to match his. “But my line of work comes with risks sometimes.The best I can do is promise not to exacerbate them.”

“I’ll take it,” Red said softly, then was quiet a long moment. “I should let you go; it sounds like you have another busy day tomorrow?”

“I do.” She’d still stay up til midnight talking to him in a heartbeat, but, “and you probably need to recover from this one.”

“Mm. I get to do it again tomorrow, too,” he said glibly.

Xaeryn laughed. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” she said with mock solemnity “Good luck to you, as well, in that case.”

“Thank you, I’ll need it,” Red chuckled softly. “Goodnight, Xaeryn.”

“Goodnight, Liefred.”

She stared at the telephone a long moment after hanging up, smile curling her lips, before pushing out of the chair. After a day like this, she needed dinner, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep. In that order.

She still double checked the door was locked before turning in.

----

(what you don’t see, bc I stuck with Ryn POV, is Pan was in Red’s office with him when she called. :3 Cue Pan promptly batting his eyelashes, making exaggerated lovestruck faces, and generally being a little shit bc He Knows, while Red’s gesturing for Pan to GET OUT of his office. and trying to get him to listen without actually talking so Ryn doesn’t know someone’s there(he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want her knowing that, he just doesn’t). Pan finally relents but hangs in the hallway til they’re done and comes back in with the biggest shit-eating grin “You’re still stuck on her, aren’t you?” Red, groaning and burying his face in his hands: “Pan, close your head, PLEASE. yes”)

#queens fic #shoh #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #chase trinaeste #shery acquell #tlbt #ryn/red

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remmushound · 3 years ago

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Curse of the Clans part 36! @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning!! Physical attack, restraint, cursing

SMACK!

April woke up to a solid, heavy thud. It took her a moment to recognize her own room; it was her first night staying in her house for almost three weeks. Every time her parents would go away on their business, the house would be too quiet for her to want to stay in it very long. But now the lair was just as quiet, and with her brothers gone, she didn't want to spend much time there either. It just made her sad. Her conflict with Splinter and Cassandra served to make things worse.

SMACK!

That sound came again, and this time her head snapped immediately to the window. Another impact, and another. A steady, drumming sound. April slid out of bed and into her slippers, slowly approaching the window and pulling back the darkened blinds. Surely the brothers couldn’t be back so soon?

April gave a shout and fell away as another projectile was launched at the window and smacked against it. Was that a rock? Quickly, she scrambled back over to the window and peered outside. Then she opened the window, just barely ducking her head in time to dodge another rock. She slowly peeked back over the windowsill and threw her arms open.

“What the hell Casey?!”

“Sorry!” Cassandra called back from the streets, “You opened the window!”

“No shit, Jones!” April snarled back, and then fell to a weak laugh. “What are you doing throwing rocks at my house at…” She checked the time, “Two in the morning?”

“Come down!” Sunita called up; she was in her human form, which hadn’t changed at all in the years April knew her. Skin a shade darker than April’s own, and hair of ink pulled tight again her scalp in braids.

“Not tonight, yall.” April leaned on her window sill and gave a tired smile.

“What?” Cassandra scoffed in an exaggerated fashion, “Why not?!”

“I have a headache.” Was April’s excuse; she didn't have one, but she certainly didn't feel good. She just couldn’t exactly pin point what part of her body it was that ached.

“I have ibuprofen!” Cassandra held up her purse.

“Good night, girls.” April closed the window.

***

“Well, that stinks.” Sunita put a hand on her hip as she turned to face the shorter Cassandra. “Should we knock again?”

Cassandra considered. She gave a smile that was undetectable due to her mask and cracked her fingers and neck. “I have a better idea~”

***

April was more than happy to enjoy the warm, weighted embrace of her comforter, hugging her childhood teddy bear to beckon sleep to return to her faster. With her injuries, this was shaping up to be the most boring summer of her life! But to be fair, the promise of a simple, normal summer of relaxation definitely appealed to her, no matter how far out of her reach she knew it was. A girl could always dream, right?

April’s body shuttered. It told her to open her eyes, and when she did it was like her worst nightmares came true, though for only a moment before her mind caught up with the fear in her heart and recognized the silhouettes standing over her like villains in the night.

“Casey? Sunita? What are you—?”

Cassandra grabbed April around her waist and hoisted the teen over her shoulder.

“Casey! Put me down!” April growled and kicked her legs, but Cassandra only laughed.

“Sunita— help me! Get her legs!” Cassandra howled, and Sunita hurried to restrain April’s legs while Cassandra supported her front, both of them holding April between them like a hammock. “You’re coming to girls night April!”

They started to carry April toward the open window. April’s initially startled screams slowly turned to laughter. She still struggled, but her actions were more playful than anything. They stopped at the window, though Cassandra had already climbed out of it.

“She ain’t got no shoes, get her shoes!” Cassandra laughed.

Sunita’s arm turned from human back to its slime form and extended out to grab April’s shoes and a pair of socks. Cassandra forced April’s feet still so Sunita could put her shoes on, and then they continued out the window and into the fire escape.

“Guys— I need a mask!” April laughed.

“Got one!” Cassandra reached into her purse and pulled out a blue mask, fixing it over April’s mouth and nose while still carrying her with one arm. Down the fire escape they went, and only when their feet had touched the ground did they put April down.

“Are you proud of yourselves?” April huffed, putting her hand on her hip.

“Very.” Cassandra smirked.

“You could at least have let me get dressed!” April laughed, “I can’t go out for girls night in my PJs!”

“Why not?” Sunita asked innocently.

“Cause It's not proper for a social setting!” April scoffed.

Sunita was quiet for a time before whispering, “Humans are so weird…”

“Oh yeah. Forgot you’re a slime dude.” Cassandra turned to face April, “You’ll be fine! It’s not like we’re going drinking! You’re not old enough; believe me, I’ve checked.”

“Then what are we doing?” April asked, genuine curiosity seeping into her voice.

***

The trio got close enough to see the mutant hippo known as Hypno Ron wandering the shadows of the streets; he didn't seem to have a care in the world as to being spotted. After all, he could always just Mesmer any human to forget! April wasn’t so keen on how reckless the mutant was being, but Cassandra locked on to the hippo almost immediately from the rooftops.

“Oh! Oh! I got this one!” Cassandra cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, it was in a heavy accent; her best attempt at mocking the way Hypno spoke. “Oh oh, deary me! I simply have to find a tiny suit for my tiny worm friend for our anniversary! How am I ever going to find one in time to enjoy tiny tea cakes and orange peels with the lovely Warren Stone?”

“Orange peels?” April scrunched up her nose.

“What? Worms taste with their body.” Cassandra shrugged.

“Oh! There’s one!” Sunita spotted the next mutant, Repo Mantis, buzzing around. She dropped her voice low and raspy. “Rrrrr. I just know there’s a birthday cake to repo ‘round here somewhere. That three-year old’s hiding well, but I’ll sniff em out with my sniffer.” Sunita made exaggerated sniffle motions that made April and Cassandra almost fall over laughing.

“This one’s mine!” April claimed a few buildings down when they spotted the mutant prairie dog wandering an alleyway, her nose twitching in the search for decent morsels. April didn't know her name, so she had to improvise, clearing her throat. “Can I dig here? Noooo this isn’t a good place for digging? Here? Maaaaybe not? Here? No. Man, none of these places are good for digging!”

Sunita and Cassandra were covering their mouths trying to keep their laughter to a minimum. The prairie dog seemed to hear them anyway, looking up from her curious search to twitch her ears in search of the noises.

The girls all ducked down low to hide from her sight, all covering their mouths and their snickers until the suspicions had died down. Then, at Cassandra’s command, all three of them peeked back over the edge and down at the mutant as she continued her work.

“Ohhhh the voices are back!” April carried on, this time in a lower whisper, “Hm? However will I pass the time? I know!” she cleared her throat and started to sing in her mock accent. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene! I’m begging of you please don’t take my man! Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeene! I’m singing this song just because I caaaaan!”

The prairie dog looked up again. “Did someone call me?”

That made the trio of girls fall apart laughing until their sides hurt and they felt like they might be sick if they laughed any harder. Through the next hour, they found more and more people to mock from afar, both mutants and humans, but after the hour had passed, April was starting to feel completely exhausted. The constant running and laughing made the soreness of her side ache even worse, and now her head really was hurting, and her stomach too.

“Sorry gals.” She told the two of her friends when she felt her body couldn’t hold out any longer. “Really gotta turn in for the night.”

“What?” Cassandra groaned, and Sunita seemed disappointed, “Come on! We still got two hours before the sun comes up!

“And I really should be spending it sleeping.” April sighed, “But I had a really good time! I’ll see you in the morning, girls?”

“Do you want us to walk you home?” Sunita asked softly.

“No, no, don’t trouble yourselves!” April waved her hand, “I know you two are having fun, and I can handle myself.”

“Are you sure?” Cassandra asked, “It’s no trouble…”

“It’s fine! I grew up with the turtles, I can handle myself!”

“If you say so…”

“I’ll be fine. Really.” April tried to reassure.

“At least take my knife.” Cassandra said, giving the long blade over to April, “I feel bad for abducting you without your bat.”

“You don’t have to do that.” April said.

“I want to!” Cassandra beamed. “Besides, I’ll just come back and get it in the morning! No big whoop.”

“Well then… thank you.” April turned the knife over in her hands a few times. “I promise I’ll give it back.”

April found where she was by checking the nearest street signs. She wasn’t more than a few blocks from home. The streets would be far easier to traverse than the buildings; as much as she had trained with the brothers, she never did quite get the hang of building jumping. That’s why Donatello had his special seat in his armor just for her! Thinking of Donatello, April felt a sudden sadness wash over her. She missed his sarcastic voice, his dramatic flare, his simple presence!

When she was out of view of Cassandra and Sunita, the first thing April did was let herself finally release the bile that had been churning her stomach for the past ten minutes, and she felt a lot better when the vomit was outside instead of in. Then she started to cry immediately after, but she didn't know why. She missed Donatello, sure, but enough to cry? And though her head hurt it wasn’t the agonizing, ripping headaches that usually plagued her, so it wasn’t the pain. Maybe it was just a bit of everything mixed into one, and that was why she felt so… not good. She wanted to feel better, and maybe crying could help that! It wasn’t like she could stop now. Once the tears started to fall, they just got heavier.

The tears fell hard as April entered a shortcut alley. Then she stopped when she saw a man at the other end; a man that looked to be just minding his own business, leaned up against a wall drinking from something within a paper bag. She already had a hunch of what it could be, and she certainly didn't want to cross his path. Not when there was a longer, but safer, path she could take instead. Gripping the knife in her pocket, April started to back away; it was preferable to turning her back on the man. At least, that’s what she thought before she collided with a bigger, heavier weight.

April tried to turn around. Powerful arms wrapped around her, one around her chest holding her in a grip so tight she thought her ribs might break, and another holding a cloth to her mouth. She held her breath for as long as she could, kicking out and trying repeatedly to strike the mans legs and groin, but all she met was muscle and what must have been an athletic cup protecting him. Figures! Just her luck!

When April could hold her breath no longer, she squeezed her eyes shut as the acrid fumes overwhelmed her, followed quickly by darkness.

#girls night out

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hazelrah · 3 years ago

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Chapter 13 - Hospitality

in which Vere's brain breaks trying to figure out this well.

The epigraph at the head of this chapter is perfect. The other epigraphs are too of course, but this one really hits the nail on the head. Tennyson's poem The Lotus Eaters is a reference to The Odyssey, in which Odysseus and his crew are tempted by a plant that is so delicious and addictive that those who eat it stop caring about anything else. Gives away the plot a bit there it's so on the nose.

It's immediately clear that these rabbits are much different than our rabbits, and every small irregularity against how we've known rabbits to behave ratchets up the vague tension. The rabbit holes and Cowslip's tracks being unconcealed, the weird dance the new rabbits perform as a greeting, their size and demeanor - "They felt mystified and slightly ill at ease" indeed.

Ohhh I WAS right! Hazel specifically places Pipkin directly behind him because "if the leaders do get attacked, I suppose we can spare him easier than some." I don't particularly see this as a slight on Hazel's character; my mantra has been that the rabbits are not people this whole time, and they approach life and friendships much differently than we do. It's perfectly logical to Hazel. He still tries to protect Pipkin when he can, but he's well aware of the strengths and weaknesses of his rabbits.

I love the idea that a large space underground is unnatural and strange, it makes so much sense considering they usually live in tight cozy burrows and tunnels. Rabbits are of the Buried, discuss.

Hazel's careful consideration of how to present himself and the group and his anxiety over it not being well-received are #relatable.

"To a greater extent than a human in a similar gathering, each rabbit, as he pursued his own fragment, was sensitive to the trend of the whole." Will I stop bringing attention to every time Adams does his thing of tapping into the kind of groupthink rabbits experience as highly social animals? No. No I won't, it never fails to impress me.

"Only Fiver sat alone and apart. He seemed either ill or very much depressed, and the strangers avoided him instinctively." lmao same

Hazel feels awkward trying to figure out his role in the group still, thinking Bigwig and Silver would take issue with him introducing himself as Chief Rabbit. Curious about Silver, I never got the impression that he was interested in leadership like that.

I don't know if my reading comprehension is piss on the poor, but I simply cannot figure out the well shaft and the Shape. There's a "steep tunnel leading up into the air," which I took to be the well itself, but Strawberry says the well was "filled up now - the men don't use it any more. That's the outer side of the well shaft. And this earth wall here is completely flat because of some man thing fixed behind it in the ground." Is the point of this incomprehensible description to illustrate how bewildered Hazel is? "How could a rabbit be called Poison? And how could stones be El-ahrairah? What, exactly, was it Strawberry was saying was El-ahrairah? In confusion he said, "I don't understand." I DON'T EITHER HAZEL.

Obviously Strawberry is acting super suspicious. The thing about Kingcup is very creepy, especially with the implication that Kingcup did used to travel down this side run and was presumably snared.

Overall a weird chapter for me. Any thoughts on this strange warren?

#watership down #vere reads watership down #another long chapter. i like the varying chapter lengths it helps with pacing

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danzinora-switch · 4 years ago

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Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 2 - Donatello

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Donnie: INTJ, 5w6

The Architect, the Investigator, the Problem-Solver, the Observer

Firstly, getting into this analysis means that we have to step away from the stereotype that all INTJs are cold, aloof, and unemotional. INTJs, especially Turbulent ones, do express emotion, and we’ve all seen Donnie’s dramatic ‘theatre kid’ side. I’m not going to ignore that. He manages to be both thanks to the INTJ’s tertiary function Introverted Feeling (Fi). Extroverted Feeling (Fe) really allows one to connect and empathize with others’ emotions. Fi, however, is a more internal experience of feelings, and has trouble connecting with others without having been in their shoes. I happen to think Donnie is in a strong Ni-Fi loop, as well, which would make sense because fighting bad guys every day while trying to save the world after discovering a Mystic City which upbends everything you ever knew is pretty stressful. https://www.psychologyjunkie.com/2017/06/21/intjs-loop-understanding-ni-fi-loop/

And it’s super interesting that he often expresses his emotions by literally saying them. “Evil laugh! Relishing chuckle! Gasp!” (Mind Meld) and, one of my favorites, he literally says “Sad face emoji” in Many Unhappy Returns.

So while we DO see Donnie experience and display his own emotions, we also DON’T see him all that affected by other people’s emotions. He’s still pretty stoic in Mystic Mayhem after the delivery guy gets mutated, cracking a joke about imitation crab. He’s unaffected by Todd’s puppies in Repo Mantis, and the only one immune to Warren Stone’s sob story in Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Pizza Pit shows it best when he’s unaffected when Mikey’s favorite pizza place collapses until the same thing happens to him. Fi at work vs Fe.

As for Donnie being a 5w6, keep this core motivation in mind: “[Fives] Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment.” https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-5

Donnie at his Worst: Donnie vs. Witch Town gave us this gem of a line: “Because I’m the science guy! If mystic powers can do everything I can do, but better, then why would you guys even need me?” And while people have pointed out his need to be needed, I argue it’s a little more accurate to say he has a need to belong. His role in the group is the Brainiac, the Science Guy, the Smart One, and so his very identity is tied into fulfilling that role. A 5’s core fear is of being useless, helpless, or incapable. Mystic powers rendering his tech redundant, and thereby him useless, would be a pretty big threat to the security of his role in the group (that 6 wing kicking in). And remember a 5’s core motivation: to understand the environment as a defense. And he still doesn’t understand mystic energy. It’s pretty infuriating, so he’s pretty insufferable about it.

[Note: seeing mystic power as a threat probably didn’t kick in until their fight with Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns. Prior to that, his brothers were still learning how to use their magic weapons, but Donnie already understood his tech well enough to use it effectively (see their first fight against Baron Draxum in the pilot). But against the Shredder… all his tech was useless. Only the hanky, the hanky, was even marginally effective. His brothers’ weapons were now way more capable than anything he had to offer… core 5 fear. And to cope? Learn all you can about your fear/threat. Except he still hasn’t figured it out; we see even in Air Turtle that he calls Draxum for the mystic expertise instead of formulating his own hypothesis].

We’ve seen this insecurity about his place in the group before. In Mind Meld, as his brothers become more like him, his role is challenged. “Hey, you’re trying to get rid of me, that’s what I do to you!” “But, I thought purple was my... my thing.” When he first meets the Purple Dragon he immediately wants to join them because he sees them as tech peers. In Man vs Sewer even though he professes that it’s his day off, he doesn’t react well whenever Leo does ‘his thing’: analyzing the situation and drawing a conclusion. His self-worth seems to be tied to what he has to offer the group, and we hear that even in his song in The Mystic Library about proving himself.

Besides his insecurity, Donnie is practically allergic to blame. (Interestingly enough, he’s more okay with being wrong and others being right sometimes… sure he’ll deflect, but it doesn’t seem to get under his skin the way being at fault does). He will repeatedly deny fault and shift the blame to someone else when something goes wrong. He denies creating AlBearto in Al Be Back, says the incident with the Purple Dragons in The Purple Jacket is entirely April’s fault (she is not amused) and puts the blame for ditching Todd off on his brothers in Todd Scouts. The one time we see him own up his mistakes is in Mind Meld when no one (except Shelldon) is around to see it. “Yup. I beefed up.” This is definitely an area he needs to work on.

Average Donnie: Donnie cares for his brothers, but that doesn’t always get across in the best of ways. Take the episode Donnie’s Gifts, for example. Donnie never actually got a chance to explain how the gifts work, but we can see protective elements in each of them. Raph: please use your head and don’t just blindly rush in! Mikey: ohmygosh that is so dangerous, please be careful and don’t get hurt! Leo: stop poking the bear, Leo, it only makes him angrier! It makes sense that a 5 who has external fears of the world and has their own protective equipment (the Battle Shells) would extend that to his brothers. And Donnie was able to recognize that even though his brothers got the wrong message, he could move past that and call for a group hug. In the Purple Game he is super anxious to make sure his brothers are okay and not mostly hurt. Insane in the Mama Train also reveals the invention of the Panic Button… and who designed that?

Donnie also seeks a lot of validation. He takes pride in his work, and when his work is appreciated he gives that appreciation back tenfold [such as when he shows off the Turtle Tank to his brothers (Fast and Furriest), or when Splinter says he’s proud of him (Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man)]. The flip side is that when he’s not getting the validation he needs from others he’ll create it himself, which comes off as arrogant and egocentric. See Smart Lair, when Sheldon 1.0 plays messages of Donnie’s self-worth all night, and is programmed to favor him. Or when he takes full credit for defeating a bad guy: the silverfish in Donnie’s Gifts, and scaring Draxum away with his disco ball in Shadow of Evil. When he gets the recognition for all his hard work from the right people, though, it inspires him to do great things. There is danger in getting validation from the wrong people, however, as we saw in Big Mama’s case in Bug Busters.

Donnie at his Best: Donnie’s at his best (and most relaxed) whenever he’s learning or building something. He gets super excited and happy attending April’s school (The Purple Jacket) or going to the library (The Mystic Library) and wants to attend college someday (The Mutant Menace). The INTJ/5 seeks to absorb information and he’s constantly energized by it.

He’s also energized when he can put that information to use, such as when building something. Did Albearto need a total tear-down in War and Pizza? No. But Donnie had fun making him ‘dazzle!’ How did Donnie cope being in the woods in Todd Scouts? By building an impressive tree fort. Donnie’s projects actually relax him, because he’s exercising his strength and capabilities.

This also works for his method of attacks and plans: Know Thine Enemy. He studies Warren Stone in Newsworthy when they meet him and is the only one who remembers he regenerates by Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Donnie and Mikey are able to successfully scam Repo Mantis in One Man’s Junk because they know how he thinks. Donnie thwarts everything the Purple Dragons do and can bring Shelldon home because he knows how they operate (The Purple Game, Breaking Purple). He can restore his brothers to their rightful minds in Mind Meld because he knows himself.

Also: music. The fact that one of his Battle Shells has a music mode (Mascot Melee), that he remembers things in song form (The Mystic Library, Donnie vs Witch Town), and that he likes to dance (Stuck on You) is so pure and adorable.

Donnie Relationships:

(while Donnie does see his brothers as dum-dums at times, he admits they’re fun and pretty great to have in Mind Meld)

Raph: We really need a Donnie and Raph episode, but even without one there’s some moments we can look at. I already discussed in Raph’s analysis their general similarities. Donnie doesn’t think Raph always has the brightest ideas, but still has soft moments with him such as giving him $20 at the end of Mind Meld, designing the ‘captain’s chair’ of the Turtle Tank to Raph’s lumbar settings, and appreciating Raph’s pirate accent in Snow Day. They are both protective of their brothers, Raph with his fists and Donnie with his tech. It’s interesting that (I believe) they’re the reverse of each other on the Enneagram: Raph is a 6w5, and Donnie a 5w6. So they both understand the risks involved in what they do (mostly: Donnie still ate poison and Raph still goes on ‘smashcapades’). I really want to see a team-up between them.

Leo: I’m all for the Disaster Twins trope, but to me an episode that epitomizes that isn’t one like Lair Games, where they’re at each other’s throats, but Operation Normal. They’ve apparently done the grandma-getup before. They wind up playing as good cop, bad cop in Fast and Furriest. Sure, one’s high-strung, and one’s laid-back, which can get on each others’ nerves, but there’s also a lot of making up. Brotherly betrayal passes back and forth between them, but never crosses a line. And the numerous times they unconsciously mirror each other can be found with a simple search of the Disaster Twins tag. I’m interested to see more episodes where they work together, even in the background, just because they can get up to wild shenanigans.

Mikey: Mikey’s probably the turtle Donnie most gets along with. They’ve had several episode team-ups: Repo Mantis, One Man’s Junk, Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man, Breaking Purple, etc. Donnie may be the team academic, but Mikey has strong emotional intelligence. They get along pretty easily, making plans together (One Man’s Junk) and protecting each other (we see Donnie protect Mikey in Repo Mantis and Bug Busters, but we see Mikey protect Donnie by pulling him out of the way in Smart Lair). Donnie helps Mikey focus on the goal at hand, and Mikey helps Donnie communicate better with others. They’re a good team with a pretty solid foundation.

Ultimately, Donnie’s an inventive turtle who wants his brothers to be safe but is still wrestling with a lot of insecurities and unhealthy stress levels. I’m excited to see how he grows into real confidence and utilizes his strengths as an integral member of the team.

For more information on the INTJ and Enneagram 5 personality types, click here:

https://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-5-wing-6

https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2016/01/mbti-and-the-enneagram-2/6/

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2k18 #essay #personality #mbti #myers briggs #enneagram #teenage mutant ninja turtles #INTJ #enneagram 5 #5w6 #i spent way too much time on this #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie

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philicheesecake · 4 years ago

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An Unorthodox Lecture (UL)

Synopsis: Warren is sick of being belittled by Eli and has become paranoid of giants, so he seeks out help from Olivia to learn more about giants and how to defend himself from them.

Warnings: Language, mentions of fatal vore, M/M soft, unwilling, nonfatal vore, near death, fear, and Eli being Eli.

---

A little bell rang out cheerfully throughout the dusty shop as the front door swung open. It was after business hours , but the front door was left unlocked for a brief time, despite the little neon lights at the front window saying the shop was now closed.

The small Hunter began to stride briskly into the shop. The alchemist shop (or more publicly known as an herb shop) wasn’t a very welcoming sight. It was dull and lacked any real proper decorations. Upon entry, one would find themselves facing rows upon rows of dusty shelves with jars and containers of every kind which contained ambiguous contents.

Warren’s boots clanked against the creaky old floorboards with each stride as he made his way toward the back of the shop. Oddly contrary to his expectations, the desk in the back of the shop was unoccupied. He paused in front of it for a moment before ringing the service bell.

There was a pause.

He ventured to try it again then his hand froze as the door to the back of the shop opened.

“I don’t need to hear that bell another damn time, Wilbur.” A woman’s voice called out.

Warren turned to see the shopkeeper to the side. She didn’t look like much from what someone might assume from a powerful alchemist. She looked like she was sixty years old. Her unkempt hair was divided into twin ponytails that were slung loosely over her shoulders. Perched on her nose were a pair of buggishly big spectacles with a silver rim to them that enlarged her eyes almost comically when it hit the right angle. Despite the comical emphasis on her eyes, she looked very tired and droopy with baggy eyes. She was holding an entire glass carafe of steaming hot coffee.

“Oh— sorry, Olivia,” Warren quickly retracted his hand away from the bell. He paid no notice to her getting his name wrong. She never got it right anyways. For the reputation she held for her own intelligence, part of him wondered if she actually messed up his name on accident, or if she was just messing with him.

Olivia ignored his apology and took a swig from her carafe. She motioned for Warren to follow as she turned toward the doorway. “C’mon, let's get this over with.”

Warren sighed and followed her inside the doorway. There was a stairway leading down into a basement with a higher ceiling. This area was furnished a bit differently than the area upstairs. There were bookshelves of ancient volumes, some titles were written in foreign tongues that couldn’t even be recognized. On the far end of the room was a workbench area and some pots and alchemist equipment that looked almost like what one might find in the lair of a mad scientist. Across from the alchemist equipment, there were a couple of armchairs to the far side of the room with a coffee table between them and a book set on the table.

Warren took a seat as he was directed to one of the chairs and Olivia set down her carafe of coffee, picking up the big, heavy book.

She paused, staring Warren in the eye with a very tired sigh. “Alright, so you wanted to know about how to survive being attacked by a giant, right?”

Warren nodded, opening his mouth to elaborate, but Olivia spoke first.

“I couldn’t neglect to notice that when you were returning my silver bullets from your little werewolf hunt that three bullets were missing… and the werewolf’s body. I needed that werewolf hair for my alchemy. I would have thought that you would be more concerned about how to kill a werewolf properly than try to learn about something as random as giants, especially since their rotation has already passed this town and probably won’t pass by for another three years.”

Olivia yawned for a solid ten seconds before sighing and took another swig of coffee. Warren frowned. “But-- you know what happened last time I was around giants. They kidnapped me! They nearly killed me! And they somehow tracked me down, too! I can’t just--” Olivia held up her hand with a tired sigh, instantly silencing the young Hunter. “Look, you don’t have to explain your whole merry tale. It’s fine. I’ll teach you anyways. And I think that this would be the perfect opportunity to bring in someone who knows a lot more about the topic than any normal Hunter or alchemist.”

She sighed, her eyes rolling toward the side of the room. She glanced at her small brass watch around her wrist impatiently. “Ugh, well he’s a bit late, but he should show up any minute now. Anyways… To begin I think you should get to know the different species of giants, or at least the ones you’re most likely to encounter in this particular area.”

Warren’s brow furrowed in curiosity, wondering what sort of co-teacher Olivia had in mind to bring. Even though he knew he should figure out soon enough, his curiosity made him impatient to figure out who exactly it was. Was it one of the veteran U.L. members? A weathered hunter who had seen decades worth of hunts and slain countless monsters?

He was a bit distracted in his own assumptions as Olivia flipped through her huge book and landed on a page titled, GIANTS. There was a diagram there that portrayed the size differences of all of the different species. The book, despite being weathered and torn in some places, seemed relatively up to date and printed out in at least the past decade or so. There was a size chart that showed several different species of giants, and to the far left was a tiny human in comparison to demonstrate the scale. He could instantly recognize the giant in closest resemblance to Eli’s height titled, Wood Giant. He could at least recall Eli using that term once or twice in the past, and previously wasn’t sure if it was just a term they called themselves, or the actual title of that species.

Olivia’s bulbous dark eyes followed his and she tapped the image with her weathered fingertip. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the wood giants. They’re some of the most common these days. Most other species only have a couple thousand to a few hundred left in the wild, such as the mountain giants,” She tapped the largest giant on the page which was easily twice the size of a wood giant. Warren’s eyes widened at the sheer size. It was difficult to believe that creatures of such scale could even exist. His eye followed the page where paragraphs elaborated on each species. He stopped as he saw the information on the mountain giants. 23-27 feet tall. That was insane.

“How have people never discovered them to exist?” Warren pondered. With creatures at such scale, it sounded impossible.

“Well, they were discovered back in the medieval days. There used to be a lot more giants in the past, and they were a lot bigger too. In the late 15th century, there was a movement to eradicate all monsters, and the king of England at the time was just desperate to get rid of them, so he teamed up with the outcasts, such as alchemists and sorcerers to get rid of them. The larger species were quickly run to extinction while the smaller ones evolved to survive under the radar. Out of nowhere, they seemed to gain camouflaging abilities, which you’re probably familiar with. Camouflage varies by species. Wood giants can disguise themselves as humans for brief periods of time. Mountain giants can merge with stone and camouflage into the mountain. Kapres can merge with trees. Cave giants can turn invisible. And so on.”

She stopped to take another few gulps of coffee. In the momentary pause, she glanced up as they could hear footsteps coming from the shop and the door at the top of the basement staircase opened. A tall figure stepped through, and he could be recognized immediately. Golden eyes, spiky black hair, tall, muscular build. Eli. And he was in camo form, currently standing at 6’1, instead of his usual towering height of 13’3.

Warren’s eyes widened slightly as he saw the figure approach down the stairs. The camo’d giant was smirking. “Hey there ya little humans!” He announced cheerfully in his rough voice. Warren shot a look towards Olivia in confusion, but from her expression, he could tell that this was an expected entry.

“Speaking of camouflage, hello giant.” Olivia spoke calmly. “Warren, this is your co-teacher for now.”

“Wait-- really?”

“Who better to learn about giants, than from a giant? This is a rare opportunity, since most giants just love killing humans at first chance.”

Warren sighed, frowning slightly as the camouflaged giant came closer, skipping over to slouch against the side of Warren’s chair. “So! What are we learning about here? We doin’ those lessons ya asked about, Tiny?”

Warren narrowed his eyes at Eli, not feeling all that comfortable with Eli standing that close. “Uh, yeah, I guess that’s what this turned into then. Olivia was going to help me learn how to stand a chance against giants.”

Eli laughed. “Ohhh. Welllll sorry to disappoint ya then. Humans in general don’t stand a chance.”

“That’s not helping.” Olivia said tiredly. “You should probably know how your ancestors were driven to extinction by humans in the past, unless you’ve forgotten, or if the giants tell different tales about what happened.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Aw, you’re no fun all talkin’ about history an’ shit. How about we talk about more fun stuff, like giants eatin’ people and all that fun jazz.” He smirked down at Warren and he scooted to the side of his seat uncomfortably. “Oh and by the way, since this room is big enough, I’m gonna get outta camo for a sec. I can’t stay in this form for very long anyways.”

Olivia shrugged indifferently, continuing to sip from her carafe. “Sure, just don’t break anything.”

Warren shot an uncertain glare toward the giant, “And don’t you dare try anything, okay?”

Eli chuckled. “Ya know I find it hilarious when ya put on that scary face, Tiny.”

He stepped away from the chair with a smirk and there was a sound of shifting and cracking of bones for a moment as his form regrew into massive proportions. He had to sit on the floor to avoid contact with the ceiling. His eyes became slitted like a cat’s, and they were lined with dark markings similar to a cheetah’s. His ears were long and pointed. His fingers were tipped with long, sharp claws. Ivory fangs protruded from his lips in a grin. Warren’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the creature at his full size again, not feeling all that thrilled to be so close to the very same creature that had eaten him twice in the past.

“That feels so much better,” the giant sighed in a deeper voice. His sharp eyes focused again on Olivia as she seemed completely unphased, even tired at the sight of the transformation.

“Can we get back on topic now?” Olivia tapped her fingers against her carafe impatiently. Warren could only guess one thing might be on her mind right now; sleep. She couldn’t seem the slightest bit interested or thrilled in the prospect of this “class” and just seemed to want to get it over with. But then again, her true expression never really changed, so it was difficult to read past this.

“Yeah, whatever.” Eli snorted. He smirked at Warren’s alerted expression, baring his fangs.

Olivia sighed. “Alright, so now that we have the species of giants out of the way, now we can work on some techniques on how to survive them.”

“Wait-- what about fighting them? I should have to know that at least…” Warren glanced at Eli uncertainly, who scoffed at Warren’s statement.

“Look, kiddo. I’ve got claws, fangs, I can run almost as fast as one of your cars for long distances, I have a lot more stamina and I’m a lot more durable than any human. Look at what you got. You’re just a soft little thing that needs all sorts of bells and whistles like guns and knives to make up for all that lot of nothin’ you’ve got goin’ for ya.”

Warren looked hurt. He looked to Olivia for some sort of contradiction to Eli’s statement, but she just shrugged. “Well he said it. That’s why knowing how to survive is more important than winning in any situation. A lot of Hunters need an assortment of tools and tricks up their sleeve in order to stand a chance. Hence why alchemists are often employed with a lot of the Legion’s affairs. Back in the medieval days, Hunters had tried to use blunt weapons, but they were pretty much useless in comparison. Giants, apart from other monsters, were the sole reason why alchemists ever got accepted as allies of the Legion.” Warren frowned. This wasn’t any sort of answer he had wanted. He would just have to get better at using his weapons effectively against giants, but against Eli he couldn’t really do that.

“So… How do you survive against giants, then?” Warren said.

“Ya don’t.” Eli quipped with a smirk. “The only chance that humans have against giants is with your little tools and tricks, and giants know that. We’ve been trained ever since we were giantlings, all of the best ways to disarm ya tiny fellas, and we know how to find any hidden knife and weapon from years of practice even before our first Bindings. We don’t just have the looks goin’ for us to be the perfect predators. We were trained for it.”

Olivia sighed, not seeming to like the interruptions. “Without weapons, there’s still a few ways. Blunt attacks such as kicking and punching won’t do much against that, so you shouldn’t waste your energy. And energy is key here. Because if you’re eaten, the temperature is high enough to send you into a coma-like state within an hour or so.”

Warren frowned, recalling how the heat had been the main thing to subdue him so easily both times, even sending him to sleep once. “But-- if you’re eaten, it’s already over though, right? That’s it. There’s no way to escape.”

“Yuuup.”

“No,” Olivia said at the same time, and gave Eli an unamused glare. “No, that’s not it. There’s still ways. Pressure points and weak points to get familiar with. For the exterior, the point between the thumb and index is a pressure point, as well as beneath the bicep. Immobilizing the arm with pressure points might aid in your release. Interior points, for instance, the lungs. If eaten, you’d be directly beneath the lungs, and continued, repeated pressure to them can be uncomfortable, even shock the giant into awakening again by changing their breathing patterns. Keeping a giant awake is your first priority. Though their digestive system varies slightly per species, for Elmo’s type specifically, wood giants only digest when they’re asleep in order to conserve energy when they’re awake.”

“It’s Eli. Ya keep gettin’ my name wrong.” The giant glared daggers at her. She ignored him.

“Another point is a cluster of nerves against the spine. Harsh enough pressure there can actually send a giant into temporary paralysis and knock them out. The giant digestive system is directly linked to their preservation of energy. Since they’re a lot bigger, their energy can only be localized to a certain number of functions. For instance, if they’re severely injured, but just ate someone, their body will divert most of the energy to recovery before digesting anything. For getting knocked out, same thing here, and momentary paralysis affects this. So by knocking them out, you can actually set back their digestive system by a few to several hours. This can really buy you time, but the key thing here is that you are actually able to stay awake for any of this.“

Eli’s brow furrowed as she spoke. “A bunch of bullshit. I’ve never had anyone do that to me before. It’s probably just a myth. Cuz they always try everything, and it doesn’t do much except feel good.”

Warren grimaced disapprovingly at Eli’s words, but at least found Olivia’s words informative. He still had reason to be hesitant to credit it however, because of Eli’s comment.

“So basically… The best chance you have of surviving a giant is if you have weapons, or if you’re already eaten… But I mean if you’re hurting them, it’s not the same as being released. It’s just… prolonging death.” Warren said, the corners of his mouth tilted in a lopsided frown.

“Not exactly. The pressure point against the spine can set them off long enough in repetition to drain them of energy overtime into eventual release, which must be timed properly if you’d have any better chance of escaping them there, or to eventually kill them slowly from energy deprivation. That could take days, though. And you’d need methods of keeping yourself awake during that period of time.”

Eli let out a very loud yawn, that was more of a statement of boredom than him actually being tired.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Olivia raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Nah, nah. This is riveting. Just thought it’s ridiculous that y’all think it’s possible to kill a giant from a technique as lousy as that. It’ll never work anyways. How about we get to the hands-on learning part ya told me about already.”

Olivia ignored him again, beginning to continue. Warren’s brow furrowed slightly upon the mention of hands-on learning, not because of the opportunity to learn to defend himself against a giant, but because of Eli’s uncanny enthusiasm about the prospect, which couldn’t mean anything good.

“Another technique is to block their airway long enough to get released. Giants can’t breathe while they’re swallowing someone, but can hold their breath for a very long time, up to six minutes easily. Stretching out your elbows in the throat if swallowed forward, or locking your arms around the jaw if swallowed backwards might help you buy time until they begin to run out of air.” Olivia gave Eli an almost curious look behind her tired eyes. “How effective do you think this is, with your experience?”

“That doesn’t really work all that often.” Eli huffed. “I think there was only one person who tried that against me that got close, and he was like, a football player, so he had the build goin’ for him. He just grabbed onto my lower jaw for a solid five minutes and I was really tempted to bite him in half. ‘Course I’m stubborn and prefer live prey and managed to get him down whole just by biting a tiny bit. Totally worth it though. He struggled real good. Tasted like laundromat detergent though.”

Olivia frowned slightly. “We didn’t need those details.”

Warren was listening to the story with wide eyes. “Wait— so you killed him?”

Eli snorted. “What do ya take me for? Some sorta merciful giant? Pfft. Yeah, I killed him. Oh, terrible me! What an evil giant! Who knew giants actually killed people!” His voice raised an octave in mockery and he smirked.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Can we get back on topic?” She took a swig from her carafe before sighing. “So what I’m gathering from what Ethan said is that if you try to choke them, you’ll get bitten in half.”

“It’s Eli. And most giants would probably want to avoid biting you in half unless they’re desperate. We like squirmy prey.”

Warren grimaced. Olivia ignored him.

“Anyways. Onto the hands-on learning part. Edgar?”

Eli’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, barely bothering to correct her on his name again. He leaned forward, now sort of kneeling on the floor to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. “Ah, right. The hands-on part. C’mon over here, Tiny.”

His eyes locked onto Warren’s hungrily. Warren’s heart skipped a beat and he jumped out of his seat stiffly, taking a few steps backward. “Uh-- hands-on? What… what exactly does this mean here?”

He was trying to hide the unease from his voice and expression. He knew that Olivia probably wouldn’t let the giant do anything outright terrible to him in her presence, but she also tended to be fairly apathetic enough to make things rather uncomfortable for anyone without seeming bothered too much by it.

“It means you’ll get a chance to try to ‘survive.’” Olivia sipped her coffee casually, her voice oozed of disinterest in the situation. She leaned back in her arm chair, seeming to halfheartedly be fighting off the ebbing tiredness that tried to draw her to sleep. Beneath her bulbous spectacles, there was a slight tinge of curiosity, though she dared not really show it. By principle, it was impossible to read what she really thought.

Warren’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Olivia. “Wait-- survive as in--” his eyes flitted back over to Eli who was trying to crawl towards him in the small space. His breath caught in his throat and his heart picked up pace. He stumbled backwards and quickly slipped behind the armchair. “Nononono-- wait-- Eli-- Eli stop.”

The giant rolled his eyes with an amused smirk playing over his face. “Yeah right… of course telling the evil ravenous giant to stop will work every time. You get a gold star for that, Tiny!” Warren felt a pang from his words. “But-- I don’t have any weapons! You should have told me I would--” “Blah blah, yeah keep complaining. C’mere Tiny.” The giant lunged forward in the small space, an arm reaching out to snatch the hunter. Warren dove out of the way, just narrowly grazed by the giant’s claws. He gasped, flattening himself against the wall. He glanced down at his arm that had thin lashes that shredded through the sleeve of his shirt. “Wh-- What the HELL, dude!” Warren shouted.

Eli only chuckled at his angry shouts, closing in on his prey that was now cornered. Warren could only see a small opening that led to the alchemy workbench. If he was quick, he might make it. He just had to make a run for it and hope that the giant’s disadvantage of size here could give him an opening.

Bracing himself with a quick breath, Warren burst forward. He ducked beneath the giant’s arm, flinching at the uncanny proximity to the beast. He had to keep running--

A hand roughly grabbed the back of his hoodie and yanked him backwards. Warren yelped. He struggled to pry off the giant’s grip. “Remember the pressure points,” He could hear Olivia’s voice lazily call out. Right! Think! The Hunter twisted to reorient himself in the giant’s grip. He could feel himself brought closer. The giant was now in clear view before him. Warren fumbled, recalling the pressure points mentioned. He quickly japped two fingers in between the back of the giant’s thumb and index finger to try to trigger release. Miraculously, Eli’s fingers reflexively came loose and Warren quickly tugged away. He stumbled onto his back, fumbling with his feet as he tried to get up or scoot away.

The momentary freedom was short lived as Eli’s hand clamped over the Hunter’s chest, pinning him to the floor easily. Warren pushed around the giant’s fingers trying to pry them off without much luck. He tried again to jam the pressure point, but without any success. Most of the force holding down Warren came from the arm after all, so his efforts came out useless.

“All out of luck now, eh Hunter?” The giant taunted.

Warren’s eyes narrowed. “Okay fine. You win. Let me try again.”

Eli let out a snort. “Uhh nope. I don’t think that’s how things will be working here. I’m not lettin’ ya go quite yet.”

Warren’s eyes widened by a hair. He shot a pleading look to Olivia, who appeared bored out of her wits as she sleepily sipped from her carafe. “Don’t look at me. Just practice those internal techniques we talked about.” She yawned, leaning back in the armchair, seeming almost ready to sleep.

Warren looked back at Eli nervously, but he knew nothing he said or did would change the giant’s trajectory now. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in deep breaths. “I f-frickin’ hate this,” he muttered under his breath.

Eli disregarded the Hunter’s nerves and lifted the little human off the ground, leaning back to kneel on the floor comfortably. Warren flinched as there was a pause before he could feel and hear the hot breath of the giant waft over his face before things became warmer. His cheek was pressed against a plush, slimy surface. The tongue rose up to slide over his face, slicking him down to be swallowed more easily. And from the pleasant sounds Eli was making, Warren was once again reminded about how much the giant seemed to enjoy his taste. Disgusting.

It was even more humiliating here, knowing that Olivia was just sitting there idly watching as she would drink her coffee. Warren’s head was pushed in deeper and the tongue pushed him firmly back as the giant made the first swallow. He took in a quick breath, and his head was now stuck tight in the confines of the throat. It was too tight to breathe, so he had to conserve air.

The giant took his sweet time tasting him for a while as more swallows sounded, bringing him in deeper. It was a necessary function in order for the giant not to be harmed during this to allow his prey to be slicked up enough to be swallowed more easily.

Warren should have been used to this process at this point. He had been swallowed two and a half times already (the half was a bit of an unpleasant story). It was still frightening to him nonetheless. Not to mention, he couldn’t breathe in the tight space, and Eli taking his time with this only deprived his lungs from air even longer.

The giant had only swallowed the human up past the hips when he heard Olivia clear her throat impatiently. He shot her a confused but angered glare, pausing in his swallows. His neck was filled out with the bulge of Warren’s slightly struggling form and the legs dangling from his maw would twitch uncomfortably

“You’re taking your sweet time. You know humans can only hold their breath for so long. Take your time any longer and you’ll suffocate the poor Hunter,” Olivia muttered. Her voice was still very tired by default, but there was a strictness in it.

A muffled growl sounded in his throat and he rolled his eyes, tilting his head back. He made several more powerful swallows, gravity aiding the smaller form to sink in deeper before Eli rose up his hand to pick off Warren’s shoes. He swallowed one last time, the back of his tongue rising up to squish the little feet into the throat before they disappeared. The bulge in the giant’s throat sank in deeper before it disappeared from his neck, reforming as a small protrusion from his torso that wasn’t too noticeable, as the giant’s larger form could harbor the little human quite easily.

Warren coughed up the stale humid air as soon as his head pressed into the tight opening of a wider area. The air was hot, and already he could hear the gross, squelching sounds of the stomach as it stretched to accommodate him. He could hear the giant’s muffled heartbeat pounding nearby, and his labored breaths as he caught his breath from his airway being cleared. The rest of the Hunter was forced and squeezed inside the tight space, curled up in a puddle of clear drool. He was dripping with slime, and that gross stuff slid down the ceiling, connecting with him and getting in his hair. Warren panted for air for a while, disliking the heat and foul air that filled his lungs. It smelled disgusting.

Once again, Warren was stuck sort of upside-down in the tight space, forced to curl up so his limited mobility made it hard to right himself. He aimed an angered kick near the throat’s opening, scowling and shaking in the darkness.

Eli smirked through his fangs between breaths as he felt the small retaliation, then shot an annoyed look to Olivia.

“Why rush it? That ain’t no fun.” He huffed.

Olivia rolled her eyes, getting up from her seat with another swig of her coffee before she walked over to the giant. Her expression was unphased, though despite this, Eli could still smell a slight tinge of fear from her. This amused him.

“You okay in there, Winston?”

Warren’s face contorted into a further scowl as he heard Olivia’s muffled voice from outside. He squirmed wildly in place, trying to reorient himself in the sweltering darkness. He kicked at the tight walls angrily. “You frickin— freak! You just let me get eaten by a giant! What the f-fuck is wrong with you!” He glared up at the ceiling, grimacing as slime dripped onto his face. “And stop taking your sweet time. I’m not a dang candy!”

Eli snickered, rubbing at the form in his gut, much to Warren’s annoyance. “Nah, candies are sweet. You taste more like meat.”

Warren’s eyes narrowed and he kicked angrily in defiance. “That’s disgusting. Don’t ever call me that,”

“Ya know, I might actually have room for seconds if you were interested in learning as well.” Eli sneered at the alchemist.

“You do NOT.” Warren’s muffled voice came from Eli’s middle, punctuated by an angry kick that was visible from the surface.

The giant smirked. “Oh yeah? Wanna test that?”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed by a hair. Her voice lowered threateningly. “That would be unnecessary. And if you try anything, you’ll find yourself stuck in your camouflaged form again without even realizing what hit you.”

Eli smirked, “Aww you don’t think it’ll be fun?”

“Can we focus now?” Olivia’s voice came in a tired drawl. Any alarm from Eli’s threat of eating her was quickly gone from her countenance.

The giant rolled his eyes. “Meh, boring, but whatever.”

Olivia moved closer to the giant and poked his middle with an unwavering expression.

“Stopit!” Warren’s muffled voice snapped angrily.

Eli snickered. “Yeah, stop it, alchemist lady.”

Warren paused. “...Olivia?” He squirmed slightly in place to try to get himself at least more upright, though without much success. All that could be seen were the bulges of his form shifting around from the outside.

Olivia pursed her lips for a moment, part of her was curious and interested, and another part was a little fearful of the giant being completely capable of swallowing an entire human being. She had heard of it done before, but she had just never witnessed it. It was surreal to comprehend. The analytical, scientific side of her brain was curious about how it was physically possible, and how the hunter was even able to gather air there, despite having studied recounts of hunters who had confirmed that it was possible. It was a very curious opportunity to be able to work and study alongside a real giant. As far as she knew, giants never worked alongside humans, so this was a very rare occasion.

“Yes, that was me,” Olivia withdrew her hand, her voice returning in her usual tired drawl. Any interest she had was impossible to guess from how well she concealed it. “Are you able to get your back to face me? Just by using the poke as a point of reference.”

Warren paused, panting tiredly. The heat was overwhelming here, and being upside down, the crown of his head was half-immersed into the gross puddle of fluids at the pit of the stomach. He was getting a headache from this. The darkness here was disorienting and made it even harder to figure himself out.

“I can’t move. I’m upside down.”

“I guess you’ll die then.” Olivia huffed apathetically.

“WHAT-!”

A flurry of struggles came from the giant’s middle and Eli shut his eyes, putting his hands against his middle with a grin. “Yeah keep up that stellar fighting and that’ll magically teleport you out.” He chuckled, looking down and poked at Warren’s form. “Ya can’t just expect every giant to let you go cuz you’re a little tired, or landed wrong.”

Warren grimaced, trying to push away the contact from Eli, but was stuck in too bad of a position to reach it properly. The best he could do was kick near the stomach entrance tiredly.

“Okay, okay,” He muttered. He dug his foot into the low opposing wall, grunting as he tried to get enough purchase into pushing himself more upright. His socked feet slipped at first, just sliding against the slimy, malleable surface. He tried again a few times, finally managing to push the sides of his feet into the plush folds and tried to extend his legs just barely enough to push his upper back against the wall, sliding into a slightly more upright position. He grimaced at the gross sounds that came from this action, but at least his head was no longer immersed in slime. He panted for a while, the small change took way too much effort, and it was so hot and humid in here. The difficulty of breathing here didn’t contribute to his lightheadedness either.

“H—O-Okay, my back is facing the ‘poke’ now,” he panted.

“Wowww… you moved like a grand total of like two inches…” Eli’s voice quipped.

“Sh-shut up. You’re n-not the one stuck in here.” Warren retorted between breaths. It was taking a while to gain his bearings, and the heat was really getting to him. But at least now being somewhat right-side-up, he was beginning to feel a little less light-headed.

“Be quiet and focus, Wilfred.” Olivia drawled. “So from there, you’re in the perfect position to reach two pressure points. The lungs should be directly above you towards the front, and directly ahead of you would be the pressure point for the nerves along the spine.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed at her words, crossing his arms over his middle. “None of that’s gonna work.”

Olivia shot the giant a drained, unimpressed look. “Wilhelm?”

Warren tried to catch his breath in the darkness, putting out his elbows out to try to conserve a proper air bubble, as well as trying to keep the slime and stomach folds away from his head so he could actually hear. Olivia’s voice was muffled and he couldn’t hear it very well over the sounds of the giant’s innards and how his ears were probably clogged with the stomach fluids at this point. He was able to make out enough and pieced together the rest.

He grunted, trying to bring his legs up near the stomach entrance in a weak kick, not bothering to use his arms if he didn’t want to compromise his little air bubble. He only heard Eli’s rumbling chuckle around him in response. His eyes narrowed in the darkness and he kicked harder towards the ceiling. Heat was rushing up to his head and the air was thick and hard to breathe, making the smallest actions exhausting. There was a jerky clench around him in response to his action and he heard a small “hic—“ come from the giant.

Eli winced for a moment, but quickly smoothed out his expression with a smirk. “Hiccups, really? Wow… What a fearsome fighter.”

Warren glared. “Shutup!”

There were several more attempts of kicks and nudges that were barely visible from the surface, but were only felt as enjoyable sensations against the giant’s innards.

“This is lame. Almost relaxing. What if I just take a nap here?” Eli feigned a yawn.

Olivia glared at him, lowering her carafe for a moment. “Like hell you would.”

Warren’s struggles weakened and he rasped for air shallowly. His arms which had splayed out on either side to preserve his little pocket of air had grown too weak to maintain that position any longer. It was hard to breathe. He was exhausted.

“P-please… just let me go… so tired… I’m gonna pa-pass out. I ca-can’t breathe.” The timid voice was barely audible.

Olivia raised a brow, taking a minute to actually interpret the words because of their diminished volume. “Giving up already? You didn’t even manage one good hit.”

”What did I tell ya. It’s useless tryin’.” Eli scoffed.

“I do-don’t frickin care. I can’t bre-eathe. I’m going t-to suffocate in here. Ple-please, Eli.” Warren just gave up at this point. Whatever position his struggles had landed him in just wedged him into the folds bad enough that he couldn’t gather breath properly. Normally, this shouldn’t be as much of an issue with the esophageal sphincter currently being lax enough to allow air to pass through. His current position had him curled up downwards with his back facing the sphincter to block off the only passage for fresh air. He was running out of air pretty quickly.

Eli narrowed his eyes, at first thinking this was some sort of trick, but by focusing on the small sensations of the human’s breaths against the sensitive lining, he could feel the breaths were a lot shallower. He furrowed his brow. This wasn’t normally a problem, at least not one he commonly came across (not that he would normally care. Accidents happen after all.)

The giant sighed and rolled his eyes. “Meh, fine. You’re one pathetic human being getting stuck like that aren’tcha?”

Warren didn’t bother retorting. He was feeling lightheaded. The giant’s voice, as close as it was, felt foggy and distant.

He was faintly aware of the walls crushing in tighter as they squeezed him up into the throat. The feeble breaths he had gathered were sucked from his lungs within the tight tube. The harsh muscles tugged at his limp form, slowly dragging him out of the confines of the stomach and completely within the throat and he was carried upward.

Olivia stepped back, her expression only read of mild disgust as she watched the giant hack up the small hunter. The small bulge in his middle disappeared to reform in his throat. The fanged maw opened as the hunter was eventually emitted onto the floor in a slimy pool of drool. He wasn’t moving.

The alchemist grimaced, moving forward as the giant wiped his mouth on his sleeve. She crouched down in the gross puddle of fluids, wrapping her arms around Warren to lift his face out of the puddle. Warren seemed unresponsive, or at least mostly out of it at this point. She scowled, squeezing an almost too-tight hug around him in a swift motion, collapsing his diaphragm enough to force a ragged cough out of his throat.

Warren coughed again, spitting and rasping for air. His eyes were half-lidded in exhaustion. Olivia relaxed her grip around him with a sigh, letting him drop back to the floor on his back. She glared at Eli narrowly through her bulbous spectacles.

“That was too close of a call, Elric.”

Eli quickly caught his breath after the harsh motions of coughing up the hunter and narrowed his eyes at the alchemist. “So? Most people eaten by giants don’t even get to live to tell the tale. Tiny here just got lucky.”

Warren tried to get up, but got too lightheaded from the small action and laid back down on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued to try to catch his breath.

“I need… a… a shower.” Warren rasped quietly.

Eli smirked. “Called it. See? He’s fine. Priorities, right?”

“I am not— f-frickin— fine.” Warren opened his eyes slightly to glare at the giant, but his gaze was more weak than angry. A part of him shuddered to see the creature that had just eaten him and nearly killed him effortlessly. “I could have died— and— and I learned nothing! Y—you can’t do that to me again. I— I can’t take it.”

Olivia sighed, getting to her feet. She disregarded the gross slime that was now dripping from her clothes from helping Warren. “If you really don’t want to train with giants, you can avoid giant related hunts. Just stick with the werewolves and spirits.”

Eli snorted. “Keepin’ your nose clean ain’t gonna deter giants from huntin’ ya. Might help your odds a bit on encounterin’ em, but your fightin’ techniques are still shit.”

Warren sighed in defeat, rubbing his face as he laid back on the floor. “People are still out there... getting killed by giants every day. Dying l—like that…. I hate it that I can’t do fr-frickin anything.”

Eli shrugged, making a slight grimace of nausea as his stomach settled again. “Why bother? They’re humans. They’re gonna die anyways. ‘Sides, giants do a good enough job killin’ themselves from what ya saw at the Binding.”

The Hunter frowned at Eli’s words. He winced as he tried to sit upright again. He still felt a little dizzy and lightheaded and his senses were beginning to return in full… only to realize how gross he felt right now.

“I need to go home and get cleaned up before Rebeka comes back from work.” The young man said finally. He managed to get to his feet, but he was still a bit wobbly.

Olivia frowned slightly, taking a small sip of coffee as she finished up her carafe. She glanced at the giant tiredly. “Well, I guess class is over then. And I’ll add to the Legion’s records that those techniques don’t seem to work.” There was a slight tone of disappointment in her voice.

“You can tell the U.L. I’m done. I can’t… I just can’t do this.” He shot a wary look at Eli. Even seated, the giant was still a good three or so heads taller than him. He shuddered, still weary and recovering. He headed towards the staircase out of the basement.

“Atta boy, tiny! I knew you wouldn’t stand a chance there!” The giant cheered.

Warren turned on the stair for a moment to glare back at him. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my sisters. I can’t do this to them. So you can shut the f...fuck up.”

He glared daggers at the giant before he stumbled up the rest of the stairs and left.

Eli snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sheesh. Humans are so dramatic.”

Olivia raised an unimpressed brow at him.

“What? Hey. D’ya wanna try out those ‘methods’ too, just for the sake of learnin’ something?”

Her eyes narrowed in mute disapproval.

Eli seemed to debate something for a while before backing down. “Fine. Fine. Some other time.” He’d rather not get stuck in his camo form again and didn’t want to give her any reason to do it.

Warren was still sticky and icky from all the gross fluids as he went towards his car. He quickly found his borrowed silver knife from Olivia and his magazine full of silver bullets. He frowned in disgust. It was a stupid idea to ever sign up for this. He had almost died and Eli wasn’t even trying.

Or was he?

The thought sickened him to dwell upon. He quickly loaded up his borrowed hunting supplies and set them down on Olivia’s desk at the back of the shop. He didn’t look back as he left them there. They were an ominous reminder of his foolishness. He couldn’t go back to that now.

----------------------------

Link to the rest of the series can be found here.

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back-and-totheleft · 3 years ago

Text

‘There’s still a presence out there reminding people not to speak about JFK’s killing’

Oliver Stone is not a fan of “cancel culture”. “Of course I despise it,” the Oscar winning filmmaker says, as if utterly amazed that anyone needs to ask him such a dumb question. “I am sure I’ve been cancelled by some people for all the comments I’ve made…. it’s like a witch hunt. It’s terrible. American censorship in general, because it is a declining, defensive, empire, it (America) has become very sensitive to any criticism. What is going on in the world with YouTube and social media,” he rants. “Twitter is the worst. They’ve banned the ex-President of the United States. It’s shocking!” he says, referring to Donald Trump’s removal from the micro-blogging platform.

It’s a Saturday lunchtime in the restaurant of the Marriott Hotel on the Croisette in Cannes. The American director is in town for the festival premiere this week of his new feature documentary JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass, in which he yet again pores over President John F Kennedy’s assassination in November 1963.

“I am a pin cushion for American-Russian peace relations… I had four f***ing vaccines: two Sputniks and two Pfizers,” Stone gestures at his arm. The rival super-powers may remain deeply suspicious of one another, but Stone is loading himself up with potions from both sides of the old Iron Curtain.

He has recently been travelling in Russia (hence the Sputnik jabs) where he has been making a new documentary about how nuclear power can save humanity. He also recently completed a film about Kazakhstan’s former president Nursultan Nazarbayev which – like his interviews with Vladimir Putin – has been roundly ridiculed for its deferential, softly-softly approach toward a figure widely regarded as a ruthless despot.

Dressed in a blue polo shirt, riffing away about the English football team one moment and his favourite movies the next, laughing constantly, the 74-year-old Oscar-winning director of Platoon, Wall Street, Natural Born Killers et al is a far cheerier presence than his reputation as a purveyor of dark conspiracy thrillers might suggest. He is also very outspoken. For all his belligerence, though, Stone isn’t as thick-skinned as you might imagine. I wonder if he was hurt by the scorn that came his way when his feature film JFK was released in 1991.

“I was more of a younger man. It was painful to me,” the director sighs as he remembers being attacked by such admired figures as newscaster Walter Cronkite and Hollywood power broker Jack Valenti for listening to the “hallucinatory bleatings” of former New Orleans DA Jim Garrison when JFK came out. “It was quite shocking actually because I thought the murder was behind us. I did think there was a feeling that 30 years later, we can look at this thing again without getting excited. But I was way wrong.”

Garrison, of course, was the real-life figure portrayed by Kevin Costner in the film; he was the original proponent of the theory that the CIA were involved in the killing of the US president, after his 1966 investigation. Garrison wrote the book On the Trail of the Assassins, on which the movie was partly based.

Even the director’s fiercest detractors will find it hard to dismiss the evidence he has assembled about the JFK assassination in the new documentary. Once I’d seen it and heard him hold forth, I came away thinking that only flat-earthers can possibly still believe that Lee Harvey Oswald shot President Kennedy all on his own. It’s that convincing.

Stone blitzes you with facts and figures about the Kennedy killing and its aftermath. At times, he himself seems to be suffering from information overload. “I am sorry. There are so many people,” he apologises for not immediately remembering the name of Kennedy’s personal physician, George Burkley, who was present both at Parkland Hospital, where Kennedy was first taken, and then at Bethesda, where the autopsy took place. Burkley was strangely reticent when giving evidence to the Warren Commission.

“I think there’s still a presence out there which reminds people not to speak. I’ve heard that in, of all places, Russia,” Stone says. He was startled to discover that the Russians knew all about his new documentary long before it was discussed in the mainstream press. “They said, ‘We heard about it.’ I said, ‘How?’ They said, ‘We have our contacts in the American intelligence business. They are not very happy about it.’”

Stone believes that no US president since Kennedy died has been “able to go up against this militarised sector of our economy”. Even Trump “backed down at the last second” and declined to release all the relevant documents relating to the assassination. “He announced, ‘I’m going to free it up, blah blah blah, big talk, and then a few hours before, he caved to CIA National Security again.”

The veteran filmmaker expresses his frustrations at historians like Robert Caro, author of a huge (and hugely respected) multi-volume biography of President Lyndon Johnson, for ignoring the evidence that has been turned up about the assassination.

“I can’t say [LBJ] was involved in the assassination,” explains Stone, “but it certainly suited him that Kennedy was not there anymore and he covered up by appointing the Warren Commission and doing all the things he did.”

Stone tried to cast Marlon Brando in JFK in the role as the deep throat source Mr X, eventually played by Donald Sutherland.

“I realise now I am grateful that he turned it down because he knew better than I that he would make 20 minutes out of that 14-minute monologue and it wouldn’t have worked.”

Nevertheless, he filled the film with famous faces. He thought that having familiar actors would make it easier for audiences to engage with what was an immensely complicated story.

Getting Stone to stop talking about JFK is like trying to pull a bone from a mastiff’s jaws. To change the subject slightly, I ask if he is still in touch with WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange. He is and is utterly horrified at how Assange is being treated, especially given that Siggi the Hacker, a key witness in the extradition case against Assange, admitted recently that he lied. Stone praises Assange’s partner Stella Morris as “the best wife you could ever have. She really is smart, she’s a lawyer … he has two children. He can’t even touch them or see them. It’s barbaric. It indicates America is declining faster than we know. It is just cutting off dissent.”

The mood lightens when I invite Stone to discuss some of his favourite films. He recently tweeted a list of these, which included Darling starring Julie Christie, Joseph Losey’s Eva starring Stanley Baker and Jeanne Moreau, and Houseboat, a frothy comedy starring Cary Grant and Sophia Loren. “I love films, always have. People don’t know that side of me. I could go on forever.”

Between his darker and more contentious efforts, Stone has made a few genre films himself, for example the underrated thriller U-Turn starring Sean Penn and Jennifer Lopez. He notes, though, that even when he tried a sports movie, he ended up right back in the firing line. The NFL was furious about his 1999 American Football film, Any Given Sunday. “They (the NFL) are arrogant, very rich people who close down any dissent, so I had to change uniforms and names… but they got the point.”

Last year, Stone published the first volume of his autobiography, Chasing the Light, which took him from childhood up to his Oscar triumph with Platoon. It was well received but it didn’t make nearly a big enough splash for his liking. “There was a curtain of silence about that. Maybe it is Covid… it was not reviewed by many people,” he says. “I wish the timing had been better. The publisher was terrible. They didn’t really promote anything. So now I have to start over again if I am going to do a second book, which I would love to do. But I have to find the right publisher.”

The book contains a barbed account of Stone’s experiences as a young screenwriter working in London for British director Alan Parker and producer David Puttnam on Midnight Express. “I wrote about it in the book, so you got my point of view. They were not very friendly people. I gave my criticism of Parker that he had a chip on his shoulder. He was from a poor side of the English. There is this phenomenon you see in England of hating the upper classes until they approve of you.”

No, they didn’t stay in touch. “And Puttnam is a Lord, right? He reminds me of Tony Blair. He is such a weasel.” For once, Stone feels he has overstepped the mark. He doesn’t want to call Puttnam a weasel after all. “Put it this way, Tony Blair is a weasel. I wouldn’t trust Tony Blair. Puttnam is a supporter of Blair. Let’s leave it at that.”

On matters English, he isn’t that keen on soccer either. He watched the semi-final between England and Denmark but had no intention of tuning into the final.

“Soccer is a different kind of game. It’s a different aesthetic. It is constant movement. The United States game allows you to re-group after every play and go into a huddle and so it becomes about strategy. I still enjoy it although people think I am brutal.”

Ask him why he so relishes American Football and he replies that he “grew up with violence in America … we were banging – cowboys and Indians, a lot of killing and that stuff. How do you get away from that? We weren’t playing with dolls.”

Stone’s feelings about the US are deeply ambivalent. He is old enough to remember a time in the late 1940s and early 1950s when “everything in America was golden” and part of him still seems to love the country but his mother was French and he talks about the US as a nation now in near terminal decline.

Perhaps surprisingly, his real political hero isn’t JFK. It’s the former President of France, Charles de Gaulle. “He said no to NATO and he said no to America. He understood the dangers of being a satellite country to America. You have no power in Europe. Don’t kid yourself. The EU is just an artificial body that was amazingly stupid in cutting off Russia and cutting off China too now.”

He doesn’t much like Boris Johnson either. “Boris, listen. He’d simply throw you in jail in a second.” He rails against the English for holding Assange in Belmarsh prison.

When he is not on a crusade or unravelling a conspiracy, Stone relaxes through Buddhist meditation. “Moderation in all things,” the man who came up with the phrase “greed is right, greed works” says with no evident sense of irony. He enjoys hanging out with his friends. “I have a nice life. I’m lucky,” he says before quickly adding, “I wish I had been more honoured and respected in my lifetime, but it seems that I took a course that is in conflict with the American Empire.”

Stone’s films have had relatively few strong female characters. Ask if he welcomes the #MeToo movement and the challenging of old gender norms and he gives a typically contrary answer. “It cuts both ways, though. There are reasons for patriarchy through the centuries,” he says. “Tribes tend to have a strong leader. You need strong leaders, but I do see the feminine impulse as being important, especially when situations become too militant. The feminine impulse, I’m talking about the maternal impulse not the Hillary Clinton/Margaret Thatcher version of feminism. They’re men. They’re not women,” he says. “I don’t want women in politics who want to be men. If a woman is a woman, she should be a woman and bring her maternalism. It’s a leavening influence.”

The director deplores the rush to judge historical figures about past misdeeds from a contemporary point of view. “I am conservative in that way… don’t expect to rejudge the entire society based on your new values.”

He met with Harvey Weinstein in Cannes a few years ago to discuss a potential Guantanamo Bay TV series. “At that point, maybe he knew he was on the ropes; he was delightfully charming and humble.” The project was scuppered by the scandal that that engulfed the former Miramax boss, who is now behind bars as a convicted sex offender. Stone’s gripes with Weinstein are less to do with his sexual offences than with the way that he attacked films like Born on the Fourth of July and Saving Private Ryan to boost his own movies.

“The press loved him [Weinstein]. Don’t forget, they loved him in the 1990s,” he says, remembering the disingenuous way in which Weinstein portrayed himself as the underdog taking on the big, bad Hollywood system.

“I think he robbed Cruise of the Oscar, frankly,” Stone huffs at the intensive Weinstein lobbying which saw Daniel Day-Lewis win the Academy Award for Best for My Left Foot, denying Tom Cruise for Born on the Fourth of July in the process.

Stone acknowledges his status in Hollywood has diminished. “All that’s gone. The people have changed,” he says of the days when the studios doted on him and his films were regularly awards contenders. Now, he’ll often finance his work out of Europe. He is developing a new feature film (he won’t say what it is). “Never say die, never say it’s over,” he says of his career.

Stone is based in Los Angeles and also has “a place in New York”. During the pandemic, he still managed to travel to Russia to make his nuclear power/clean energy documentary. “I got my shots over there because the EU is so f***ing stupid,” he says of the of the Europeans’ refusal to recognise the Sputnik vaccine. “It’s ridiculous, part of the political madness of this time.”

Now, he is putting all his energy into his new documentary about nuclear power. He waves away the idea that the Chernobyl and Fukushima disasters show what can go wrong – they were accidents.

“Accidents you learn from. If there were not a few crashes, how would you fly?” he says. It’s a line that somehow seems to express his entire philosophy of life.

-Geoffrey Macnab interviews Oliver Stone, The Independent, Jul 15 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #jfk #jfk: through the looking glass #the independent #julian assange #boris johnson #david puttnam #harvey weinstein #born on the fourth of july #covid19 #vaccine #chasing the light #cannes film festival

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Walls Rise ch 3

CHAPTER ONE / CHAPTER TWO / ....

Author’s Notes: This is a side story to Dumpling and takes place several years before the start of the main story.

Chapter 3

In the month or so that Jae had found himself a most unwilling guest of the King of Vhassal, the only improvement that he would begrudgingly admit to was that no one else had tried to eat him.

Though no one seemed eager to explain the particulars of just what had happened to Captain Baynor, they were not tight lipped when there was whispering gossip to be had. The female servants, those who Jae saw the most of, would chat endlessly with one another and not mind Jae much at all. Though he supposed it might have to do with the fact that he hid whenever they entered the room. From the bits and pieces he heard, Jae could guess what happened. Baynor was arrested for his actions, he and his supporters resisted, there was a fight, and the King’s men won. Matron Dana was apparently let go of her position and from the tone of the giant lady servants’ tones, it was quite a thing.

“How could the King send her away like that?” One said.

“She’s worked for the royal family for decades!” Exclaimed another.

“She’s practically the King’s mother!”

“What can His Majesty be thinking? Over a human?”

The following week had been chaos, but Jae mostly spend his days ebbing away the time in the King’s study. Alone mostly unless the King was there with him.

This day, the King was looking over large pieces of parchment, frowning down at the words and shuffling them about with no sense or meaning that the boy could discern. Jae was curled up in his little nest of blankets and was content to just watch from his spot just passed the large ink pot and quills. If he was quiet, the King wouldn’t bother him and he was less likely to be grabbed or moved or made to do things he didn’t wish to do. But today, he felt differently. Perhaps he was less tolerant of the quiet then he normally was or perhaps the King’s presence was beginning to not bother him as much. And in any case, he was curious.

“What are those?” he asked. Warren’s eyes glanced at the small head poking out from the layers of soft linen and raised his eyebrows at the human. He so rarely spoke unless directly addressed and the King found himself at a disadvantage for a moment. “I had a thought...” he began. “That I might set aside some land.”

“What for?”

“We’ve been seeing a lot of refugees,” Warren replied tiredly. “And the countryside is not safe for them in this current climate. So I am looking into making a village of sorts. Where they can be better protected.”

Warren baffled him to no end. He was the King of Vhasshal and in his mind, he should be a man eating monster who wanted to kill all humans. Vhasshal had destroyed his home, tore up the countryside, chased his people from their homes. And much worse. Instead, the new King was a calm, thoughtful person who always seemed preoccupied with how everyone around him was doing. When the King first found him in the moors, he had been terrified that the King was going to eat him. That’s what all the grown ups had said about the giants. But Warren had not eaten him. He had even punished the one giant who tried. He spoke softly to him, endlessly tried to make him feel safe as though there was such a thing anymore, and mad sure he had eaten and was made comfortable. The first week or so, Jae had entertained the idea that the new King of Vhasshal was just an idiot. And he waited for the charade to end.

But now, nearly month into his captivity, Jae was beginning to think maybe Warren really did have well meaning intentions. Stupid ones, but well meaning.

“Why?” Jae asked.

“Why not?” Warren replied with a small smile. “Would it not be better for your fellow humans to have a place to feel safe?”

“I don’t think there is a place like that,” Jae said. “Not anymore.”

“Perhaps you are right,” conceded the King with a small nod before pinning Jae with an almost conspirator look. “Which is why I intend to build it.”

Jae blinked at him a moment and then stared at the parchment. He couldn’t read any of it, but he recalled something.

“You should put it on a big hill,” Jae suggested, pushing himself into a cross legged position and pulling his blankets around him so only his face peeked through. “So if they get attacked, they can see it coming.”

Warren furrowed his brows at the little human as though wanting to protest, but then seemed to think better of it and huffed a small laugh. “You surprise me, Jae. That’s a very good suggestion.”

“It’s called strategy,” Jae said, rubbing his nose. “You have a better chance to win if you have the high ground. That’s what people say.”

“It is my intention that they will not need to fight,” Warren replied seriously and then added softly, “They’ve had enough of it. I know I have.”

“But why though?” Jae asked. “Don’t you hate humans?”

The King regarded the little human with enigmatic eyes. “Why would you think I hate humans?”

“...because the war,” Jae said, furrowing his brow. “And your family died.”

Warren was silent for several moments and then countered in that same soft voice, “As did yours.”

“And I hate giants,” Jae replied quickly and without hesitation, not seeming to grasp the weight of his own words. “But you say you don’t hate humans when you should.”

Warren placed the pieces of parchment down and set them aside before placing his hands folded in front of himself and regarding his small ward. “Do you really hate giants, Jae?”

“Yes.” The answer was simple and quick without any thought.

“Do you hate me?” Warren asked, more curious than anything.

“...no,” Jae replied after a moment of consideration. “Not all the time. Not now.”

“And do you think I hate you?”

“...I don’t know. If you do, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Well, I will tell you then, so as to not leave you in suspense. I don’t hate you.”

“Why not?”

“What reason would I have to hate you? You’re only a child.”

“Because...just because.”

“I understand why you would hate Vhasshalans. And I cannot say I would not feel similarly should I have ever found myself in your shoes. But we cannot move on if we just spent all our time hating each other.”

Jae mulled over that and after a moment he looked at the King. “Even if I want to?”

“You have lost a great deal and I do not make light of it, little one. I know you miss your parents and friends and your home. I cannot give them back to you. But I can give you the chance of a good and fulfilling life,” Warren said, not seeming all that bothered by the little boy’s words. “There is a time for grieving and then there is the time we must pick up what’s left and do something. Or we ourselves will die.”

“I don’t feel like doing anything,” he said, laying back down. “Not yet anyway.”

Warren smiled down at the boy and risk reaching out to him. The lump under the linen jerked when his hand laid down onto his back, but nothing else. Dull blue eyes peeked out at him from underneath the covers.

“It is my hope,” he told Jae. “That one day that will change.”

…………………………………….

Jae watched the strange birds from the window. Long winged with feathers that shined when the sun struck them and made the sky sparkle with dazzling light. He had never seen anything like them and he was entranced.

Warren had left Jae in his room with the promise of collecting him later that day as he had meetings to attend to. There was a telling quality to the King’s voice as he spoke that made Jae believe the reason he was not being dragged along to another meeting was that someone at the meeting would not take kindly to Jae’s presence.

Which suited Jae just fine. He didn’t like being forced into rooms with giants he didn’t know or who looked at him with mean eyes. He was getting use to Warren and a few of the kinder lady servants, but others were just too much for him.

Jae made a low sound of disappointment as the birds with the glittering wings disappeared over the rooftop and he slumped down to sulk. He leaned back with a sigh, dreading another day of silence and boredom, but then he noticed a small lever at the edge of the window.

A latch!

The window had a latch! With a jolt of excitement, Jae was on his feet and he grabbed onto the black painted metal and heaved. It did not budge. He tried pushing it. Nothing. The sun was high in the sky and bright, giving Jae plenty of light to see, so he studied the mechanism of the latch. It was definitely one you pulled, but by the looks of the gears, it had been a very long time since it had been opened and was in desperate need of some oil.

And then Jae remembered the small oil lamp on the desk. Whirling around, he spied the squat little glass pot on the small writing desk...on the other side of the room. He would have to climb down off the window sill, down the large bed, walk across the whole room, climb the chair, and then pull himself onto the desk. He could use one of his spare tunics to soak in oil and get the window latch lubricated!

This would be easy!

………………………………………………

It wasn’t.

As Jae climbed back onto the window sill an hour later, one oil soaked tunic in his hand and breathing hard, he cursed giants and all their stupid bigness.

“...why does everything have to be so big?”

But, his ruffled feathers were soothed when, after applying the lamp oil to the latch gears, he was able to pull it with relative ease. The window, unlike the latch, glided open smoothly under one firm push and the world was open to him.

With an excitable glee he had not felt in years, Jae climbed down and onto the tiled roof. With one hand against the stone facing, he carefully made his way his way down the slight inclined roof and towards the area he had seen the birds fly off to.

From his vantage point, Jae could see so much of the castle grounds as it lay sprawled out before him. The main road the lead to the gate, the stables and smithy, and from such a height, the giants mingling below him were so tiny. He took a long moment to appreciate his imaginary bigness and even going to far as to peering through his fingers and pretending to squish a few of the guards as they patrolled.

The roof was a complicated network of low planes going up into high pitches and low valleys, protruding dormers and gables, and low ornately decorated eves with stone carvings of all sorts of creatures. It was a trek in and of itself for Jae to make it to the area where he had seen the birds fly off to and as he crested a high pitched dormer, he spotted the flock of them congregating on the opposite roof. However, he was met with a new obstacle; an open aired courtyard. Windows lined the walls looking over the space below and just under them ran a small narrow edge. It would have been a perilless attempt for a giant, but it was plenty of space for a small human boy to walk across without much difficulty.

He used a gutter pipe to climb down onto the ledge and though there was space enough for him to comfortably walk, he was still awfully high up and took slow and careful steps. The courtyard below was sparse with only a small amount of decorative shrubbery, stone benches, and a plain stone paver pathway. In comparison to the other one he had seen, this courtyard was rather drab looking.

Jae was almost to the end of the ledge when all light and sound cut off abruptly and the wood beneath his feet vanished as an enormous gloved hand grabbed him up and yanked him through an open window. It shut behind him with a fatal bang.

…………………………………….

Jae’s feet kicked wildly in the open air as his upper half was gripped firmly by tree trunk fingers and his cries for release were nothing but pitiful wailing mewls, muffled by thick leather. His captor was walking briskly, the sound of booted feet stomping down the hall, and in Jae’s panic, he began to claw uselessly at the leather under his hands.

So stupid, he was so stupid! Why? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the room and taken a nap or something? Boredom was so much more preferable over being some smelly giant’s lunch. Now he was caught and whatever awaited him at the end, he hoped it would be quick and not hurt too much.

But he doubted it.

He heard the sound of a door being opened and closed, a few more loud stomps of the giant’s boots, and then light and sound returned just as Jae was tossed unceremoniously onto a wooden table. He winced as he rolled and cried out more from the shock than any pain. The giant sat heavily into the chair next to the table and grunted in displeasure.

“Can’t decide if yer stupid or suicidal,” said the gruff voice and Jae was met with the green eyes of a blue coated ranger, an unlit pipe between his teeth. Familiar, but still unsettling. “So which is it, pup? Ye got some sort ‘a death wish?”

Jae laid there on his belly and looked up at the giant and it took him a moment to pull his name from his memory. Keral. Farris’s brother. The giant who had caught him in the moors. He hadn’t seen the ranger since that first week and had almost forgotten him all together. And though the ranger still inspired a good amount of fear in him, Jae was certain that he was not destined for Keral’s dinner plate.

“Gonna just gap at me like a lipper or ye gonna answer me?” Keral asked, eyes narrowed.

It began as a small hiccup as Jae tried to take a breath and then the swell of fear that had been sitting heavily inside him bubbled up into a sob and he pressed his forehead down onto the wood, shoulders trembling as he began to cry.

“Oh fer the love ‘a...” Keral muttered and plucked Jack up by the back of his shirt. Jae squirmed weakly, reaching up to smack at Keral’s gripping fingers.

“Put me down!” Jae demanded through his tears.

“I’ll set ye down when ye stop yer squallin’,” the ranger countered. “Scare ye that bad did I?”

"Yes!”

“Good!” Keral barked. “What possessed ye t’think takin’ a jolly stroll ‘round the southwest corridors was at all a wise thing to be doin’? Ye know how many of these fellas would ‘a gladly snapped ye up? I know of eight who I’ve seen personally make a meal of a human. Not a pretty sight. So less ye be wantin’ to become some fucker’s afternoon snack, stay the fuck away from this place. Aye? What the fuck ye doin’ by yerself anyway? Tryin’ to make a break fer it are ye?”

“No, I just...I just...”

Keral lifted him higher and closer to him, pulling the pipe from his mouth, and peered into the little boy’s face with interrogatory eyes. “Ye just what?”

“I just wanted to see the birds...” Jae replied in a small pitiful voice, cheeks wet and dripping with tears. “Please…please put me down...”

Keral snorted, but carefully sat the boy back onto the table. “The birds,” Keral said flatly. “Ye risked getting gobbled up to go watch some fuckin’ birds...”

“I...I wasn’t trying to get eaten!” Jae protested. “I just wanted to see. Their wings sparkle...”

Keral reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch. He pulled a wad of dark colored plant matter from inside and stuffed it into the bowl of his pipe and regarded Jae with a raised eyebrow. “Ye were looking at Silverwings?”

“I don’t know what they’re called. I’ve never seen birds like that before...”

“Aye. Silverwings,” Keral said, putting the pipe back between his teeth as struck a match and lit of tobacco inside. Flicking the match, he tossed it onto the far corner of the table and took a few small puffs. “Ye wouldn’t be seein’ ‘em anywhere else. Native to Vhasshal.”

“I just thought they were pretty...I just wanted to see,” Jae said and then coughed as the smell of the smoke hit his nose, but Keral merely smirked and shook his head.

“Hopeless lil’ git,” he chuckled, reaching down below the table’s edge and pulling open a drawer. He rummaged inside for a moment and pulled something out. It was as long as his hand, almost pure white save for the iridescent stripe along one edge. Keral held the bottom of the feather between his fingers and held it out to Jae. “Here ye go, pup.”

Jae’s eyes grew wide as he held onto the feather. Though it was taller than he was, it was light enough for him to hold without much difficulty. He twisted it in his hands and watched the sun bounce off the glittering edge, sending speckles of light around the room. Jae smiled widely and laughed, twirling the feather around in his hands with more fever.

Keral puffed at his pipe, a warm smile on his lips.

“Do...do you know why the have silver on their wings?” Jae asked.

“Not much of a naturalist myself,” Keral said. “But my Mum told me a story once when I was...hm, maybe ‘bot yer age, about the Fairy Queen rewardin’ a crow fer savin’ her son so she gave him a bath in magic waters to turn ‘im pure white and then dipped his wings in silver as thanks and that all Silverwings are descendants from that one crow.”

Jae’s face was alight with intrigue and Keral couldn’t help but grin. In that moment and in the back of his mind, Keral was aware of how very little separated himself and Jae. Size be damned. If the little boy could be magically grown to the size of a Vhasshalan child of similar age, there would be no telling the difference between them. Jae could just as easily been one of his cousin’s little boys and when he pictured any of them having gone through what Jae had...it struck something deep inside and made him angry and sad.

When Warren told him he was going to keep the little human, Keral wanted to slap his King. It was a selfish thing for the young monarch to do. It would be better to find other humans to take the boy and then Keral and his men could take them to a safer place as they had with so many other refugees.

But Keral could not help but feel glad Warren had kept the boy afterall. Seeing his little face light up over such a small trivial little thing such as a discarded Silverwing feather…

...it reminded him of why they were all working so desperately to build something worthwhile.

…………………………………………….

Keral walked through the halls of the King’s Keep with purposeful strides, the little body in his cupped hand breathing lightly in his sleep, little hands still holding onto the feather. He knocked on the door to the King’s study, ignoring the looks from the two guards and did not wait for Warren’s answer before pushing his way inside.

Warren was bent over a stack of papers, an empty decanter of wine next to him, and he looked up as Keral entered, his face set into a firm frown.

“Rough day?” Keral asked, closing the door behind him.

“Some days,” Warren said with a sneer. “There just isn’t enough wine...”

The ranger laughed and nodded as he reached into the pocket on the inside of his coat, pulling out a flash. Stepping up to the desk, he held it out to Warren. “Try something a bit stronger.”

Warren gratefully took the flask, twisting to top off and raised it to his lips, but paused when he noticed Jae curled in his friend’s hand.

“Keral,” he asked with deep suspicion. “Why do you have Jae? And why isn’t he in my quarters where I left him?”

“Ye seemed to ‘ave fergotten what it’s like to be a lil’ squeaker,” Keral replied. “Can’t just shut ‘im up in a room with nothin’ t’do and expect ‘im not to go find ‘is own trouble.”

“What happened?” the King demanded.

“Found him wandering around near the southwest corridor.”

“...what? H-how?”

“The roofs. I’ll be bettin’ yer gonna find an open window in yer room tonight. The pup saw some Silverwings and thought it’d be a grand ol’ time t’be scamperin’ ‘round t’try and see ‘em proper.”

“Seven Hells, Jae,” Warren said in exasperation to the sleeping boy and then noticed the feather clutched in his hands. “And the feather?”

Keral shrugged. “Lil’uns like shiny things. Gave ‘im a good fright when I caught him, so I gave ‘im the feather to calm him down. Seemed to work all right. Took him to the garden to watch the birds fer a while and the pup fell asleep. Figured ye might want ‘im back.”

Warren sighed and took a long swig of the flask. “How can someone so little get themselves into such big trouble?”

Keral laughed as he held the sleeping human out to Warren. “Welcome to parenthood.”

#DEAD WALLS RISE #Dumpling #SIDE STORY #Jae #Keral #Warren #G/t story #Giant/tiny #g/t fantasy story

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reflectionsofacreator · 4 years ago

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So like. I kinda sat down to write about this one, and I feel like I don’t know what to write about. There’s a lot to write about, but like... [scrubs face] it’s like, there’s a lot of emotional (sledge)hammers with this one, and it’s hard to pick apart so I can actually talk about it. Paralyzed by there being so much, you know?

God writing this one was like pulling teeth, tbh.

Buckle up lads, this one clocks in at over 2k. Mobile users I’m so sorry.

I think the first thing I’m gonna tackle is the name of this one. It’s called The Truth, but in the context of Clay, that previously had an incredibly specific meaning. “The Truth” wasn’t so much a phrase as it was referring to the real truth of the Precursors and the nature of Eve and Adam, and the truth of humanity as a whole. Historically, every mention of “The Truth” around Clay refers to that specific idea, and now we have a new thing that uses the same name. It’s kind of interesting too, because the Truth that Clay shared was very explicitly something he was giving to other people, after learning about it for himself. And in this case, this is Truth that he’s being given, either about his situation, or the situation of his successor.

This memory opens up with a doctor and Warren Vidic talking, after the episode that Clay had with the Bleeding Effect, and the doctor makes mention of Clay having been here a year already. He administers a medicine that’s actually an anti-psychotic, as a way of trying to stabilize Clay’s deteriorating mental state. There’s no guarantee that it’ll actually work, is the issue, mostly because the Bleeding Effect isn’t exactly a well known mental condition, and what everyone knows about it is simply what they’ve found out via the Subjects. Which is a very small group of people. I do wonder, though, about the Bleeding Effect as a .. hmm, genetic thing? It’s seeing the memories of your ancestors superimposed over your own perception of the world, and it’s implied that it’s because of the Precursor DNA that you can even have that happen, because it’s linked to Eagle Vision. Or at least, that’s what I’ve gotten so far, I could be completely wrong.

The conversation with the doctor gets shooed away in favor of a conversation between Clay and his father, and like. I really wonder at the timing of it, if it’s supposed to be a conversation that Clay had while he was in Abstergo. It’s possible that it was a conversation that happened before Clay got sent in, but he sounds too resigned and weary I feel like, to have it happen outside of his imprisonment. Another reason why I feel like it’s after is because the last conversation we heard with Clay and his father was during the Bleeding Effect, when Clay was telling him about the Assassins, and things dissolved into a fight when Harold made it about money. This conversation feels like it’s a while after that, after Clay’s resigned himself to not being able to really convince his father of anything.

Before Clay dives into the mainframe, there’s another glitch, which causes your controller to rumble. The screen goes noisy, and what shows is an exit at the end of a long walkway. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen glitches or hallucinations, but it’s freaky literally every time.

We watch as Clay starts to hack through Abstergo’s systems after that, and the actual design of “going into” the mainframe is covered in a dozen different firewalls. It’s a neat sort of visual way to show just how hard Clay’s hacking is, as well as how many firewalls there are, because if he gets caught, he can get killed.

Right before he goes in, on the right side of the “mainframe” is a code cipher.

This is a Caesar cipher with an alphabetical shift of 3, and it reads "Lucy, she Is aLways behind You." The capital letters spell out LILY -- traditionally lilies were associated with death. Now, you could interpret this as “Lucy’s got his back, she’s his teammate.” Which like, maybe. But with the addition of the word lily, and knowing that Lucy betrays him... nah. It’s more like she’s a threatening presence that needs to be watched.

Clay snoops through Vidic’s mainframe and learns that Vidic is specifically after Desmond. Now, we know that this is at least over a year of Clay’s being here, and that Desmond was captured September 1st. What I’m really saying is just how long did Abstergo know about Desmond, and what lengths did they go to research him before they took him? Another question I have is like -- I know ac1 said that Abstergo found him via his fingerprints for his motorcycle license, but just how would that give them access to his genetic profile. Granted, that’s probably some early installment weirdness of ac1, but. (That being said, I remember reading a fic where they made mention of Desmond donating plasma for cash, and that’s how Abstergo found him, which is more believable than fingerprints....)

I also can’t help but wonder like -- what’s going through Clay’s mind as he realizes that the Desmond Miles that Juno spoke of during his Bleed is the next Subject, and his successor? Or is it that he was completely unsurprised because Juno gave him a look into the possible future with the Calculations?

Anyways, Clay finds out what Vidic wants, and excitedly says that they can leave, and we follow the path to see what looks like a broken stone circle at the base of two beams of light.

(The wireframe is just the gameplay mechanic) I have... no earthly idea what this is, or what it could possibly mean. I think this is the only broken structure you see in all the memories, Desmond or Clay’s. It’s vaguely reminiscent of a broken film wheel, but I’m not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to be. But like, it’s so goddamn conspicuous because it’s the only broken structure we find. ls it supposed to symbolize a broken trust, a loss of faith after witnessing the “play” unfold?? .

Speaking of the “play”-- what the fuck. What the actual fuck. Is it supposed to make me uncomfortable? Because by god it did that. The sharp departure from how the rest of the narrative has been told is jarring as fuck, especially because it’s so like, proper. I swear, all that’s missing is like, a slightly off-key oldtimey music track and you’ll have a full blown horror segment. Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but like -- finding the broken wheel when that’s already something weird, having the camera forcibly taken away from you so you can watch this performance. And like, just listening to Warren monologue at Lucy is disturbing as well, for reasons that are hard to articulate.

It’s like -- Meta wise, I know why she’s not talking. Her voice actress, Kristen Bell, had left and didn’t renew her contract (as her contract was only for 3 games), thus not being able to voice Lucy for any further appearances. IIRC, this is actually why Lucy was written to die, instead of simply recasting her, and then they had to scramble to make the “She’s a Templar!” twist work. Jury’s still out if it did or not, but like -- I do appreciate them trying to explain why she defected during her undercover years, but like... Ugh. It still leaves such a sour taste in my mouth, because it’s obviously a writing scramble and not a cohesive narrative that was plotted from the beginning.

For a comparison, Clay’s story and ultimate fate feels complete, it feels alright. Yeah, it’s arguably a worse fate than Lucy, he died twice over, but like. We knew he was dead from the first moment we saw him, we knew that there was only one way that this could really go, a tragedy. There was a clear progression of his story, and the fact that you know how it ends. That being said, I do wonder about Clay’s death as a Subject in ac2, before the plotbeats of Lucy being a Templar were set in stone for Brotherhood. I know that the 20 glyphs in ac2 did talk about how Lucy was there when Clay killed himself, but I kinda doubt that it was in the same context of “she was supposed to save him but deliberately betrayed him due to her loyalties”. I guess what I’m getting at is that Lucy’s story feels terrible due to the writing surrounding it, while Clay’s feels deliberately terrible because that was the point.

Back to my original point of “Lucy not talking”-- while there is a meta reason for it, I kinda want to ascribe a narrative reason, despite the meta outweighing the narrative.

Lucy is characterized by almost never showing the full extent of her feelings or motivations, leaving you to wonder what’s actually going on in her head constantly. Sure, she leaned on Desmond a lot, but there’s also an undercurrent of a power imbalance there, and we always got the sense that she kept more to herself than she revealed. By having Warren talk at her, we’re further kept from knowing just what she felt about all of this, and instead we’re given another glimpse of the strange relationship that Warren and Lucy had.

Warren was her boss, but also her superior in the Templar order, and the man who saved her life from his own company. Back in ac1, Lucy recounts to Desmond how she was attacked in the middle of the night, going to be silenced by Abstergo so she couldn’t talk about the Animus, only for Warren to save her life by telling the men to stand down. The assailants were people that she interacted with every day, even ate lunch with. This is after she’d been with Abstergo for a while, and finally feeling like she was being taken seriously with her work (as well as her undergrad thesis/work) she was going to be killed to keep quiet. We don’t actually know why Warren saved her, but it’s my firm belief that that’s when Lucy changed alliances to the Templars.

However, I do wonder about the confrontation between Lucy and Warren at the end of ac2, during the credits. I know, I know, her being a Templar wasn’t really a thing in ac2 (I think), so therefore you have to take it all with a grain of salt, but like. The conversation here brings attention to it, where Warren tells her “Make sure you look very upset. You need to be convincing.” And I can’t help but wonder if Warren and Lucy ended up trading insults that hit way too close to home in order to further the deception... It wouldn’t be hard to pretend to be hurt if she actually was hurt by what he said, y’know?

I think the last thing about Warren’s speech that really bugs me is like -- he tacks on the whole “Oh, yes. Once inside their hideout, perhaps you might ask the Assassins why they left you alone for so many years.” And like. That just gets under my skin in a lot of ways because like-- he’s got a point, the Assassin’s methods are Rather Horrible™ with how they completely cut her off for a deep cover mission at seventeen (no I will not ever be over that), but the way he says it just. He’s clearly manipulating her to entrench her further onto his own side, and I just. Ngh. I kinda wonder if the delivery of the line was intended for the audience rather than Lucy herself, because she already knows all this, and for him to bring it up feels like an insult to her intelligence. It feels kinda slimy in a way that I can’t really describe. Or maybe it’s just because I just do NOT like Vidic.

There’s also the question of like, how did Clay see this -- this is all dramatized for the sake of us, the audience, but did he watch this via video feeds or something??? The thought of him watching Lucy and Warren talk about his successor is kinda jarring tbh. Also this throws a wrench into the ending of ac1 (though tbh what DOESN’T throw a wrench into ac1) where they were going to dispose of Desmond only for Lucy to intervene. Is it because Warren and Lucy were operating on their own project that wasn’t exactly approved by the Templar higher ups?? Or something??

This whole memory says that Desmond was their goldmine for the amount of genetic information he held, so why would the higher ups -- wait. Unless the whole thing was a ploy by having Lucy speak up in “defense” of Desmond in order to get him to trust her some more.... Hrm.... Granted that fits, it’s just a sort of way of re-contextualizing the ending of ac1...

Waves hand anyways Clay finds out about this plan for Lucy to gain Desmond’s trust and give them the data, and then we finally have control again. There’s this sort of distorted error noise, and the red blocks start to fill up the room, threatening you as they force you closer and closer to the screen, which only shows a picture of a door with a strange symbol on top of it.

This is the symbol for 3 Juno, an asteroid in our solar system that’s the 11th largest, and contains 1% of total mass of the asteroid belt. It was discovered September 1st, 1804, by Karl Ludwig Harding, and initially considered to be a planet, along with a few other asteroid/dwarf planets at the time. It was given this symbol, ⚵, like how Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter all have their own symbols.

Aside from the obvious “hey that’s Juno, she’s the big bad of this shit”, there’s a couple things that stood out to me. The date of discovery, September 1st -- that’s the same date that Desmond got captured by Abstergo, gives me pause. I’m not sure if it’s something that was intentional on the dev’s part, or if they were just looking for a symbol that would represent Juno. Either way, that’s enough of a coincidence that it makes me feel unsettled, the same way that Lucy was bothered by the date of the satellite launch being 72 days away. It might just be an honest coincidence, but considering that this is Clay we’re dealing with... nah.

Another thing that the AC wiki told me is that this is also the symbol for the Instruments of the First Will, an in-universe religious organization that worships the Precursors, and specifically Juno. Now, this organization doesn’t actually appear until at least ac4 Black Flag, and continues on all the way through Syndicate. This is more like an early bird cameo than a full blown reference, as we still have to get through ac3, But it’s still interesting to point out and look at, and wonder what’s going on with it all.

Anyways, the door itself is actually part of the screen, and impassible, and it stays that way as the bricks come closing in, chasing you. It’s really tense tbh, with this feeling of claustrophobia on top of the revelations you were forced to watch. It also doesn’t help that like. You had control wrenched away from you so you could watch the conversation, and the speech was long enough to lull you into maybe putting your controller down to watch, and then with a rumble you suddenly have control again and are being chased towards a door that doesn’t open.

The picture of a door becomes an actual door after the blocks get closer and closer, and we break through into the light, and onto memory 7.

If you like what I do, or want to see any other sort of analysis, consider buying me a ko-fi!

#Lucy Stillman #Clay Kaczmarek #Assassin's Creed #fuck it this goes in the main tag cause i'm proud of it #i'm so fucking sorry mobile users #motherfucker unlimited #creator plays ac rev #creator plays ac lost archive

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homeforchristmas-au · 5 years ago

Text

Character bios pt 2!!

Decided to continue the bios for the rest of the fam squad, the full extended family!! Might change things around a bit, we’ll see!!! Here’s part one in case you missed it :3

Emile Sanders (formerly Picani):

Age: 46

Pronouns: he/him/they/them

Height: 6’1”

Curly medium golden mahogany brown hair and sky blue eyes, subtly tanned skin covered in freckles, red framed rounded glasses, likes dressing like a cartoon character or just wearing cartoon merch (his prized possession is his Mabel pines jumper) but wears a brown cardigan over a white button down shirt with a pink necktie when he goes to work

A big goofball that has a lot of love to give, but he still knows when to be more subdued and calm and when to activate “serious picani”. He’s always loved helping people work through their issues which is why he’s a therapist

Like patton, he’s excellent at reading emotions, though he’s a bit better at it since he’s a professional

Has ADHD, but has developed the necessary coping skills to help keep his symptoms under control

Has two siblings; Catarina (Patton’s mother) and Leonard (Patton’s other uncle). Emile is the baby of the family while Leonard is the oldest

Emile met Thomas when they were both in college. They shared an ASL class and quickly began getting along, and frequently practiced sign language together and feelings developed from there

It was quite some time before they got married, but it was well worth the wait

Thomas Sanders:

Age: 43

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 5’10”

The standard character Thomas look; floppy medium brown hair, chestnut eyes, fair skinned, wears the same three shirts periodically for five years until he buys three new shirts, the usual stuff

He’s a sweet, down to earth guy. Loves cartoons almost as much as Emile does, has a passion for pizza, theatre, and the cats of the world he’ll never be able to pet without dying. He can be impulsive at times, but his heightened anxiety oftentimes outweighs that

Has three brothers named Christian, Patrick, and Shea, but I won’t describe them in depth cos I don’t wanna get any facts wrong since this is based on Thomas himself oop-

I’m literally just describing the canon character Thomas except slightly older im-

There’s like nothing else to add to make this fun and unique it’s just character Thomas welp

Thomas and Emile’s kids:

Anton Sanders:

Age: 16

Pronouns: any/all

Height: idk uh ??? 5’7” ???

Medium length wavy black hair, electric blue eyes, fair skinned with a beauty mark on his right cheek beneath his eye, usually wears fashionable clothes and declares himself an eleven, often wears scarves and turtlenecks (almost exclusively black) as well as his round mirrored sunglasses

Can and will kill you with a single look. Especially if you mess with his family. He’ll never admit it but he loves them with everything he’s got, even if he never acts like it for even a moment

Especially adores Remy and respects that they’re discovering themself and exploring new possibilities. He knows from experience how tough that is and how much of a challenge it can be

Was adopted at age three after his parents were busted for child abuse and heavy drug addiction. It took quite some time for him to come out of his shell but Emile and Thomas were nothing but patient and loving and kind. He still has a lot of trust issues but he knows he can trust his family

Will never admit it now but became insanely jealous when remy was adopted into the family. He did not want a brother because he knew that meant he was being replaced and he wasn’t loved anymore

Eventually Thomas and Emile sat him down and they all talked through it and assured Anton that he was still loved and he was not being replaced

It still took a very long time for Anton to trust Remy, even if he was only a baby

His heart was won over when Remy said his first word to him

All he said was “no” but Anton admired his defiant spirit

also yes this is the Critic how did u know

Remy Sanders:

Age: 12 (birthday January 16)

Pronouns: he/him/they/them/it/its

Height: damnit how tall are 12 year olds

Shoulder length hair dyed dark purple at the roots that fades into magenta at the ends (hair colour changes periodically depending on what it feels like having), chocolate brown eyes, fairly dark skinned but not heavily so, gender expression changes at the drop of a hat but it often wears leather, skirts, beanies, and a heck ton of earrings (when it turns eighteen it starts getting a lot of different piercings like angel bites, nostril, and industrial piercings, etc) (that’s worth noting)

Almost always sarcastic but that’s its way of showing love really. It’s a helluva punk that can and will fight anyone to the death if they deserve it (or if they hurt someone Remy likes). It’s actually a huge nerd but doesnt usually show that side of itself. It loves reading, watching shows like doctor who, and doing puzzles with Logan

Was diagnosed with adhd after Emile noticed it experienced similar symptoms for quite a while

Was adopted by Thomas and Emile when it was a baby (and Anton was four), having been found by Emile when it was left in a box in an alleyway, which was a long and complicated process but one hundred percent worth it

It has a trio of male rats named Holmes, Watson, and Splinter. Thomas was a bit reluctant to let it adopt rats but they all went to a rat breeder and when Thomas saw them all and even held one he realised it wasn’t so bad and they were actually kinda cute

When it was nine years old, it nearly died in a nasty hit and run. A truck had swerved into it when it was by the side of the road. It was fine after a lengthy recovery except it had to use a wheelchair after some spinal cord damage left it immobilised from the waist down. The driver was never identified

It probably wasn’t a coincidence that this event occurred not long after remy started talking about how much it loved boys just as much as it loved girls, but that teas a bit too hot for this post

Logan’s sisters:

Ellen Adams-Waterson:

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Height: 5’6”

Light auburn hair going just barely past the shoulders, honey eyes, fair skinned though mildly tanned, covered from head to toe with freckles, red framed rectangular glasses, usually wears clothes for comfort and especially likes turtlenecks

She’s a determined, steadfast kinda gal who fights for whats right and gives everything she has for her loved ones, especially her immediate family. Although she can be pretty blunt with her words she’s also kindhearted and wants whats best for everyone

She’s an avid writer, and has actually published a novel. She also dabbles in fanfiction and is unashamed about it

She’s married to a wonderful wife named Elizabeth and they have a daughter named Kaylee (15)

She’s also been trying to quit smoking but so far that has yielded no results

Ashley Fletcher (formerly Adams):

Age: 24

Pronouns: she/her

Height: 5’10”

Long light ash brown hair that reaches her tailbone that she keeps parted to the right, electric blue eyes, fair skinned and a face full of freckles, black rectangular glasses, tries to be fashion forward but mostly just wears T-shirts and denim jackets

She’s a trans woman and has been transitioning for a few years now with lots of support from her family. She’s a nice person but let’s people walk all over her a bit. She doesn’t like confrontation much because of her anxiety disorder, but she’s trying to get better with that

Loves acting and wants to pursue it as a career, but her anxiety makes it difficult to put herself out there

Married to a trans man named warren and they have a son named jack (11) and a daughter named Emma (6)

She met warren at a pride event with Logan and Patton, and it was actually Patton who met him first (although at the time he went by a different name and didnt know he was trans yet) and then introduced him to the others

They actually talked about adopting a child long before even considering marriage. Although they realised it would look better to adoption agencies if they were married, and that was the main reason they even went through all of that

Renae Adams:

Age: 21

Pronouns: she/her/he/him

Height: 6’8”

Short wavy hair dyed bright pink, amber eyes, fair skinned, a black *dabs* styling pair of Warby Parker’s, often wears high neck shirts and suit jackets, basically always business casual because she can, and loves wearing hoop earrings

There are two sides to Renae; either stone cold businessperson or happy go lucky memelord with a heart of gold. She’s a lot like Logan in that regard, although it’s harder to predict what side of her you’ll see at any given moment. She can either be a super soft bean or the scariest person on the planet

Has been dealing with OCD her whole life, and sometimes it gets particularly bad (especially the intrusive thoughts) but she has a therapist and psychiatrist she sees somewhat regularly

She runs her own coffee shop called Real Bean Café and it does fairly well. She’s always thinking about how she can improve her business

She’s aroace so she isn’t in a romantic relationship but she is in a queerplatonic relationship with a beautiful enby named Pigeon

They actually met in her coffeeshop. Renae saw Pigeon’s Attack on Titan T-shirt and was immediately compelled to talk to them

And that is it for part two of the character bios!!! Might make another post talking about Logan’s sisters’ kids and partners but idk we’ll see 👀

I just really like character designs man lmao

Lemme know if I need to tag anything else my brain box isn’t generating the required tags rn lmao

#ts home for christmas #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides au #thomile #thomas x picani #thomas x emile #emile picani #adhd picani #adhd emile #character thomas #remy sanders #critic sanders #it/its use #car accident mention #hit and run mention #injury mention #ocd mention #long post

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nestofstraightlines · 5 years ago

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The Daemon-Cages

So second viewing for me and some thought shake more clearly into place.

That set design is *chef finger kiss*, it’s so oppressive and confusing.

And it really shows something that has been frustratingly lacking in this series: finding creativity within limitation. I suspect the motivation for making Bolvangar this stone warren and then keeping the battle within it was probably budgetry but it’s the first time I’ve thought they’ve done something significant that really springs to life in its own way. It’s a brilliant adjustment.

Another biggish bold new angle on is Sister Clara. This episode actually choked out a couple of Feelings from me this week and her remembering her daemon Nicholas was a rare moment that touched on something like the emotion and existential quality of daemons.

It's a bit undermined by Roger rallying the daemon-less kids. I liked their inclusion, the horror of their situation was handled a lot better than the Lost boy’s approach. And it was lovely to see Roger doing something awesome. But his ability to appeal to a sense of justice and hope that they shouldn’t possess any more undercuts the fact that these children have been spiritually lobotomised.

Lyra and Mrs. Coutler screaming from either side of the door: nice idea for a sequence but totally unearned in buildup. The preceding scene would need to be a lot better written to get us to that without it feeling silly. It got an uncomfortable laugh from the room full of series enthusiasts when I went to the screening.

Love, love, love that we got a bit of time with the dorm-mates, I have a huge soft spot for Lyra’s time with them, and I am very fond of Annie and Kyrillion (my user name on the old Republic of Heaven message boards even used to be Kyrillion!). At the Q&A that came after the preview screening of the episode which I went to, they said that some of the Bolvangar girls had auditioned for Lyra. I think Annie’s actor Raffiella Chapman, would have been a great Lyra!

Someone - I think one of Myles McNutt’s review on the A.V.Club noted about The Lost Boy that is really should have had the confidence to end with Billy’s funeral, not on a cliffhanger, and I agree. Similarly, this episode rushes through any emotional tie-off of one of the book’s major set-pieces and climaxes to fit in the attack on the balloon.

The consequences of that are several and annoying. Lyra going off in the balloon is a bit of logistics and emotional gear-changing that even the book knows it needs to be careful with. The chapter and the section of the book ends with it, giving us a sense of a pause and a change to catch our breaths before opening with the calmer atmosphere on the balloon flight.

The episode similarly should have ended the episode there, given the audience a week to absorb all the Bolvagar stuff. And when we came back next week, the conversation between Serafina and Lee about how Lee apparently loves Lyra now wouldn’t have felt so abrupt. Sure, there wouldn’t in-universe have been any more time spent but it’s all all about managing your audience’s emotions. We would have spent a week having last see Lyra is the balloon and thinking of her in the context of Lee’s company, it would have landed a lot better.

I guess they are just running out of time. They’ve got two episodes to get through the Svalbard stuff? Hmm. I feel like ep 9 could have ended on a cliffhanger in the bear fight and ep 10s events though climactic don’t take long to cover but who knows...

I’m not really a fan of Lyra and Iorek’s reuniting dialogue, it feels like character and relationship sacrificed to a joke. This is a love that the events of the episode has to rest on. Generally Thorne has felt out of his deapth stepping outside of quite a narrow range of mundane emotions and this is a fantasy epic that requires a boldness to go big. I think partly that sense has come from a bit of a flatness in Dafne’s performance too. She just never seems very passionate.

And the Silver guillotine Scene. Oooh boy.

Really the nicest thing I can say is that based on the storytelling around daemons all along and especially their handling of the first big Existential Horror Based Climactic Moment last week, I had very low expectations, and I was not disappointed. I was able to focus elsewhere and overall really enjoy the episode because I knew before I saw it that this scene just Wouldn’t Be It.

The lack of hugging between Lyra and Pantalaimon is almost comical in its wilful absence. And this is the kind of reason I say it’s the storytelling and not the budget that’s lacking with daemons. It’s about how you deploy what you have. For example, having one shot of Lyra and Pantalaimon clinging together after being let out of the machine would earn you that whole daemon-less scene afterwards.

Thorne, as I’ve mentioned before, is just not the right writer for an ideas-led story. He is interpersonal-drama-led. And so like the golden monkey v. Pan fight before it, he takes a moment which is all about the human/daemon bond in the book and makes it about Lyra’s parentage and the drama there.

It’s probably just as well to lean into something he’s good at. And he is telling a good story just not this story well, if you see what I mean. He’s taken something and made it much, much smaller.

#His Dark Materials #HDM spoilers

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spn-meanttobe · 5 years ago

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Spn Meant To Be Masterlist -2011

RPS

Title: Once Upon a Breakup Author: anyothergirl415 Artist: favoritedarknes Pairing: Jared/Jensen, past Jensen/OMC Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 26K Warnings: AU, minor violence, extreme schmoop, background character deaths, an abudance of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter references. Prompt: Getting Rid of Bradley Lucy Savage is finally getting rid of Bradley—and his hideous green recliner. Bradley is out of her life for good. Or so she thinks. Turns out Officer Zack Warren wants to arrest the very same Bradley for embezzlement and figures the lovely Lucy can lead him straight to his target. Good thing there's a cop around. Because someone shoots at Lucy and then blows up her car. Zack insists she needs twenty-four-hour protection. What does he think her three dogs and attack cat are for? Still, he insists on moving right in to Lucy's house. Now there's danger lurking outside and in her own kitchen, bathroom—and bedroom. Or maybe Zack is just what Lucy needs.… Summary: Jensen would consider his life pretty magical, buried in fantasy and cookie dough, and free of the ex that was really no good for him. Everything was on the right track, which was probably why he suddenly had a Detective in his shop, guns waving in his face, and a whole mess of trouble he didn’t sign up for. Bloody Hell. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: That a Broken Bone in Your Pocket, Or You Just Happy to See Me? Author: dugindeep Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 26.5K Warnings: language, sex Prompt: Here I Am: Born into a real-estate dynasty, Brandt Wainwright chose football over the family business, and now he's a Super Bowl MVP. That streak of good fortune runs out the day Brandt crashes his SUV into a tree. During the long recuperation, the fun-loving quarterback becomes cranky and sullen—until private nurse Ciara Dennison shows up for duty. Ciara has zero interest in sports, or in tall, blond jocks with overblown egos. She's dated a man in the public eye before, and she's not repeating that mistake. Somehow Brandt keeps breaking down all her defenses, seeing through her facade to the sexy free spirit underneath. But once his recovery is complete, will he return to the celebrity life he knew—or choose the woman who can fulfill his dreams? Summary: Jensen Ackles is a physical therapist who couldn't give less of a crap when he's assigned to help Chicago's hottest basketball player recover from a wrecked knee. As an NBA All Star, Jared Padalecki's crass and smug as all hell, but he's also persistent and committed to this thing they've got going on. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: Love Burns Author: dante_s_hell Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 26K Warnings: minor character death Prompt: Wild Fire. Battling a fire at a friend's house turns into a nightmare when firefighter Shelby Fox becomes the only witness to a murder. Unfortunately, a bad fall at the killer's hands leaves Shelby with traumatic amnesia and plunges her life into danger. Assigning himself as Shelby's personal protector is Detective Clay Jessup, her best friend and someone she always counted on. But as they work to find the murderer, a fierce desire begins to replace the simple friendship they once saw in each other's eyes.After all these years, could there finally be something more between them, or are they just flirting with danger? Summary: Jensen is a firefighter with a close knit group of friends. One night, he's called to fight a fire at a friend's house and he witnesses a murder. Only he doesn't remember. His best friend, Detective Jared Padalecki, decides Jensen needs his protection. Over the course of the investigation, Jared and Jensen realize their feelings for each other have changed. They are growing closer, but will a murderer intent on killing Jensen halt their burgeoning relationship in its tracks? Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Some Things Stay the Same Author: peggy_lane Pairing: Jared/Jensen, background Misha/Sebastian Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 24K Warnings: none Prompt: Ramona and the Renegade Deputy Joe Lone Wolf never would've guessed that helping someone at the side of the road in a thunderstorm would throw his carefully controlled world into a tailspin. But that's exactly what happens when he realizes the sexy "stranger" is his childhood best friend, Ramona. He's spent years convincing himself that she deserves more than a former rebel with a scarred past. But all it takes is one stormy night in a deserted cabin with Ramona to make the fierce lawman change his mind. Falling for Joe is a risk veterinarian Ramona Santiago knows she shouldn't take. Everyone she's trusted has let her down and left her alone…except him. Can she possibly hope that she and Joe were always meant to be more than friends? Summary: It just feels like more bad luck when Jared's car breaks down in the middle of a thunderstorm. But when the Good Samaritan who brings him in from the rain turns out to be Jensen, his best friend from childhood, things start to look up. For Jensen, seeing Jared again after so many years could be the best chance he's had yet to get everything he's ever wanted. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: One Small Step Author: sandymg Artist: apieceofcake Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 38K Warnings: Jared/Jensen, Jensen/Tom, Jensen/OMC Prompt: For Business … Or Marriage: She'd always been in love with her boss. Secretly. And it had almost killed Abby Morrison each time magnificent multimillionaire Cade Stone began dating another woman. And now ... he wanted her to plan his wedding! Abby knew Cade was making a mistake -- marrying for business reasons a woman equally uninterested in love. For too long she'd been the mousy little secretary. But now she refused to keep quiet. So she had one month to plan Cade's wedding? That gave her one month to change his mind. Summary: Jared has had a secret crush for months. But it’s not like publishing genius and gay activist Jensen Ackles is going to notice the tall, weird guy pushing the mail cart. So when Jared’s best friend and Jensen’s assistant, Sandy, tells him that Jensen is getting married in one month to a fellow activist -- something about being the first gay couple to get married in the state -- Jared knows some things just aren't meant to be. And now Sandy is insisting that Jared help her plan the wedding. She thinks it’s a good idea. Jared thinks she’s nuts. Because the only thing this could lead to is heartbreak. Right? Link to fic: on Ao3 Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: Home Is Where the Hurt Is Author: tebtosca Artist: fiercelynormal Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 15K Warnings: Total schmoop Prompt: My Favorite Cowboy Rugged, rough and rowdy, Jarred Riddell is everything a cowboy should be. That's the problem. 'Cause Jarred has set his sights on a pretty lil' socialite who has no use for his unrefined ways. Luckily, he has a plan: get the local librarian to whip him into charm-school shape and that city gal will fall right into his gentlemanly arms. But co-conspirator Serena Higgens has more on her mind than proper manners. She's pined for years after the sweet, hardworking rancher who lacks a bit of polish. To earn some much-needed cash, she'll put her feelings aside and give Jarred a crash course in respectability. Besides, throwing out mud-caked boots and correcting double negatives should help Serena get over her crush. It's the perfect situation…until Jarred adds kissing to the lesson plan! Summary: Librarian Jensen Ackles has been secretly in love with cattle rancher Jared Padalecki since high school, but Jared's been pining after the Big Oil socialite that got away. When said socialite returns to their small town newly single, Jared decides to finally woo her by having Jensen teach him how to be a proper gentleman. Jensen never could say no to those stupid dimples. Link to fic: on Ao3 Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: Deception Bay Author: zubeneschamali Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 15K Warnings: none listed Prompt: A Caribbean island...a honeymoon suite...sexy lingerie. Emily Wright has everything for the perfect honeymoon—except a husband! Although her nuptials are off, Emily takes her honeymoon, hoping for peace and quiet. Instead, chaos erupts when a stranger crashes into her suite and tackles her to the ground, protecting her from flying bullets. His chiseled physique sets off a wild desire in Emily.Delta Force Commando Tyler Matheson wasn't planning on a gorgeous civilian to come between him and the assailant he's chasing. Now he needs her help even though it means jeopardizing her life. Neither of them counts on the very real danger their sizzling chemistry provokes....Summary: While trying to enjoy his honeymoon-turned-solo-vacation, Jensen's party for one is literally crashed by a handsome, mysterious stranger who saves his life. Before he knows it, he's thrown into a world of danger…and passion like he's never dreamed. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: How a Writer Survives His Sister’s Wedding Author: matalinolukaret Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 18.5K Warnings: None Prompt: The Rogue Wedding GuestHannah couldn't wait to get back home for her sister's wedding. But it's hardly a holiday—to research a new TV show, her boss has decided to come with her! Hannah doesn't want the roguish Bradley Knight with her as her wedding date! How can she act professional with karaoke as the wedding entertainment? She's harbored a secret crush on Bradley since she started her job—so spending the weekend with him is a little too close for comfort. Especially when she finds out he's booked the penthouse suite for them both to share.Summary: Jared’s ready to go back home to celebrate his sister’s wedding. But that all changes when his crush/somewhat boss joins him on the trip to Texas. It’s going to be an interesting week, that’s for sure. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: Making Opportunities Author: raeschae Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R Word Count: 21K Warnings: None listed Prompt: The Bikini Car Wash: After Andrea Wolkowicz abandons corporate life to help care for her sister, she quickly wears out the want ads in their rust-belt hometown. Time to be her own boss. Every mogul knows the best idea is an old idea with a new twist. So Andi proudly revives her father's business: an old-fashioned car wash…staffed entirely by bikini-clad women. That ought to get traffic—and blood—flowing on Grosvenor Street! This gutsy gimmick soon has the whole town in a lather, and not necessarily in a good way. Scandalized citizens are howling, neighboring businesses are worried. But straitlaced grocery-store owner Pete Guthrie is definitely intrigued. He knows it's hard to run a small business in a big-box world. To him, Andi's brains and bravery are as alluring as the bikini she calls business attire. Summary: LA event planner Jared doesn't take many trips back to his small, Midwestern hometown these days, but when his first crush, Jensen, is in need of his services, Jared can't resist the urge to drop everything and drive half way across the country. Now he has one week to raise thousands of dollars, save a youth center, and show Jensen exactly what he missed out on all those years ago. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: Shadows of the Past Author: myficjournal and saklani2 Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 26K Warnings: violence, some hurt!Jared, almost undoubtedly some mistakes in regards to police procedure Prompt: Rogue Stallion: "I don't want kindness—or your kind of woman."Sterling McCallum gave the plain, hard warning to Jessica Larson. The brooding rogue cop had a stone in place of a heart and a past as mysterious as the case that had brought them together. But this time Jessica couldn't back off. Something compelled her to stand her ground and brave the emotions this man had long aroused. Suddenly, their darkest secrets, their deepest desires, shimmered to the surface…about to explode.Summary: Detective Jensen Ackles was betrayed by his former partner and lover. Ever since, he has driven away all his partners and been alone. But new partner, Jared Padalecki, and the murder of a man tied to his past will force him to change everything. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: I see great things in baseball Author: withdiamonds Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R Word Count: 8K Warnings: None Prompt: In Bed with the BossFor three years, Kalera has been a model secretary to Duncan Royal, with only one hiccup in their otherwise perfect relationship: a one-night stand that should never have happened, and which both have tried to forget. Or so Kalera thought. But Duncan is haunted by their one night of unbelievable passion, and secretly longs for their relationship to develop after office hours. As a rule, he can have any woman he wants—so he's furious when Kalera announces her engagement to another man! Whatever it takes, Duncan intends to entice Kalera into his bed once more—and this time it will be forever.Summary: For the five years that Jared Padalecki has owned the Albuquerque Isotopes, Jensen Ackles has been his perfect assistant. Two years ago, they had a one-night stand. It was awesome, but they decided business and pleasure really didn't mix and agreed to forget it ever happened. Jared has no clue that he harbors real feelings for Jensen. He merely thinks that he thinks Jensen is hot, but when Jensen announces his intention to marry another man, Jared realizes he's actually in love with Jensen. Now he has to figure out how to convince Jensen that he feels the same. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: The Long Way Home Author: jesseofthenorth Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R (language) PG-13 (Action) Word Count: 11k Warnings: none Prompt: Texas is a long way from Oregon, but Amanda Allen isn't planning to make her stay in Brody's Crossing permanent. All she wants is to meet the brothers she only recently discovered she had and head back out—mission accomplished. But what to do about Leo Casale? The tempting Texan is doing his level best to make her feel right at home. Leo is completely captivated by the stranger with secret! written all over her. He wants to help her, but Amanda refuses to confide in him. Does she have to be so stubborn and independent? Things are happening way too fast. Suddenly, Amanda has a whole new family to get to know, including a certain irresistible charmer who's making her believe that she belongs here too! Summary: That, mostly. Except more gay. And told from Jared's point of view. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: It's so easy loving you Author: the_milky_way Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R Word Count: 15K Warnings: None Prompt: Her Best Friend's WeddingWhen did Sadie Beecham get those curves? She'd always been the geek next door, his baby sister Meg's brainy best friend. Smart, sure. But hot? He never would have imagined it…before. Now, Trey Kincaid's imagining all sorts of things. And none of them has to do with Sadie's gifted mind. A mind, he discovers, she's clearly lost. Because she thinks she's in love with Meg's fiancé. And that's an obsession he's determined to put an end to—one way or the other.Summary: Jensen looks up then and stares. Open mouthed and all that. He must look quite idiotic, sitting on the stairs with a kitten hanging from his little finger, mouth open and eyes wide. Because, holy hell, is that really Jared Padalecki standing there? Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: The Tampa Connection Author: tcs1121 Pairing: Jared/Jensen, past Jared/JDM Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 17K Warnings: Harlequin Romance. (Please read in the spirit it was written.) GuySex. Some Hurt/Comfort eventually. Prompt: Summary: On paper, Jared Padalecki Morgan had a lifestyle most people would envy. Only he knows what a sham his marriage really was. So when his politician husband is killed in a hit and run accident, he moves to Florida and takes a job as a personal assistant to Jensen Ackles, a powerful CEO with an intimidating reputation. Jared's intelligence and social grace prove invaluable to Jensen, and on a business trip to South Carolina's lush Low Country, their business relationship takes a sensual detour. But when threatening letters arrive at Jensen's office, Jared realizes that his husband's death was no accident—and that he will meet a similar fate unless they can uncover the scandalous truth together... Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: Let the sun rain down on me Author: trinipedia Artist: theblackrose16 Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R Word Count: 15K Warnings: language Prompt: The Angel and the OutlawHe wants her as his bride, but the law wants him! No one asks the dark, brooding stranger about his past. People gossip, but daren't question. He and his young daughter live alone--and that's the way Stuart Taylor wants...needs it to stay. When the spirited new schoolteacher, Rachel Houston, is touched by Stuart's shy little girl, who's never uttered a word, everything starts to change. Stuart's surly manner doesn't worry Rachel--she can see the vulnerability hidden in the depths of his blue eyes. She's convinced there's more to the rugged, handsome stranger's story. But when the truth comes out, has Rachel the courage to stand by her man?Summary: Jensen Ackles is a moody petty-thief who marries his parole officer's nephew, believing that he can use the honeymoon to escape to Canada. Jared Padalecki is the sweetest guy you can ever hope to meet. He truly believes that Niagara Falls will change Jensen for the better and won't let anything stop the honeymoon...not even his own death. The story of a marriage that truly is forever, based on the movie "Camille".Link to fic: on Ao3 (art embedded in fic) Title: Quite So, Sir and Other Code Words Author: forelyse Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 9K Warnings: None Prompt: What's a Housekeeper to Do?Being housekeeper to crime writer Cameron Travers should be a pretty simple, safe job—just what Lally Douglas wants. Once burned, forever shy Lally wants to blend into the background. Cameron Travers is attractive, intelligent, fun and very charming! Soon Lally wants to wear all colors of the rainbow and embrace life. Most of all she wants Cameron to notice her, in that way.Summary: Being housekeeper to novelist Jensen Ackles should be a simple, safe job—just what Jared needs. Once burned, Jared wants to lead a pleasant but otherwise generic life. Jensen is attractive, intelligent, thoughtful and very charming! Soon Jared wants to wear all colors of the rainbow just to get Jensen to notice him, especially in that way. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Title: ho'ololi (transform) Author: topaz119 Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 8K Warnings: None Prompt: #31 Pleasure in HawaiiGene Malloy is finally ready to get on with his life. And he just may have found the perfect woman to share it with him. From the moment Gene rescues Sloane Hepburn from a rogue wave on the beach, she makes his most passionate fantasies come true. With her sultry beauty and lively spirit, Sloane is turning the divorced Maui B and B owner's life upside down—and he's loving every minute of it….Relocating to Hawaii is a big step for the overextended career woman. But with hunky, seductive Gene Malloy romancing her under a tropical island sky, how can a woman keep from falling? Now he just has to make her see that their love is here to stay. And that the pleasure is just beginning…Summary: They were good together, in bed and out, but Jensen didn’t know if that was only because they really weren’t together all that often. Link to fic: on Ao3 Supernatural Title: Cover Art Artist: gold_bluepoint Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: PG-13 Word Count: N/A Warnings: None Prompt: "Responding to a 911 call, Whitehorse Deputy Halley Robinson is stunned to find herself face-to-face with her teenage crush, Colton Chisholm. The schoolboy who had teased her is now a strong and sexy man—and he's on a mission to solve a case! But if he plans on unmasking a killer, he's going to need her help. Colton can no longer run from the truth…someone in his small town has gotten away with murder. Now it's up to him to bring the killer to justice—with the help of local authorities, which, to his surprise, include Halley. The girl who had once idolized him is now a woman he must fight to resist. But as they work on the case, the attraction between them only grows stronger. Their rocky past may lead to a future together…unless the killer parts them forever." Summary: Interning at a local police department while at Stanford, Sam is stunned to find himself face-to-face with his older brother, Dean. The overbearing sibling who had teased Sam is now a strong and sexy man - and he's on a mission to solve a case! But if Dean plans on hunting the killer, he's going to need Sam's help. Dean Winchester can no longer run from the truth... a violent creature is taking victims in the San Fransisco Bay Area. Now it's up to him to find the killer - with the unwitting help of local authorities, which, to his surprise, include Sam. The boy who had once idolized him is now a young man he must fight to resist. But as they work on the case, the attraction between them only grows stronger. Their rocky past may lead to a future together... unless the killer parts them forever. Link to art: on LiveJournal (art is no longer visible)

#masterlist #spn meant to be #meant to be #2011

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