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ironwhumper359 · 6 months ago

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Tenets of Growth: Part 9

Honor and Obey

First: The Path of Cultivation Prev: Groundwork || Next: title

CW: conditioning, kneeling, restrained, stress position, humiliation, conditioned whumper (whumper is also a whumpee, who believes they are doing the right thing), religious themes, religion used to justify torture, fantasy world.

Word count: 2,300~

Author's Notes: This chapter is a little lighter on the whump itself, and is more a way to exposit some stuff and set future scenes up, but there's a little bit of whump there too!

— — —

After a successful replanting, Initiate Cedar has responded relatively well to his first meditation. The subject was the Vow of a Seed. Additional goals for his first day of study include the Initiate’s Code of Conduct, and I hope to introduce the First Tenet of Growth either today or tomorrow.

Aster hesitated, her quill hovering over the page of the logbook Lady Lantana had given her. Her instructions had been to write about every aspect of Cedar’s training for the Cultivator to review, but something held her back from putting her question to paper. She had learned that she was not to show any doubt, so how would Lady Lantana react if she expressed her difficulty?

A challenge I have encountered is my own inexperience with the–

She paused, considering her words.

–physical aspects of cultivation. I find myself wishing for the knowledge that Pruners have of the human body, of how much it can take before succumbing to pain or exhaustion. Still, I remain optimistic about Initiate Cedar’s progress.

Nodding to herself, Aster set her quill down on the desk and stood. It had been perhaps two hours since she left Cedar’s cell, instructing the youth to meditate privately on the Vow of a Seed. In that time, she had taken a meal, spent some time in personal study in the Nursery’s library, and meditated on the Vow of a Cultivator. The shape of the Vow in her soul was still new and unfamiliar to her, and she knew she had many more hours of meditation ahead of her before she truly understood it. But for now, she had to put all of that from her mind.

“When you are working directly with Initiates, your focus must be entirely on their growth,” Lady Lantana had instructed. “For as a Cultivator, their growth is your growth. You yourself become closer to Perivyta as you guide others to her.”

Aster took a deep breath, then turned and left her room, leaving the log open on the desk. She attempted to find her way through the Nursery’s corridors on her own, but she was still so unused to navigating the Nursery without a leader. Eventually, after ten minutes of wandering, she was forced to ask for directions to the kitchen, where she procured a bowl of thin, watery porridge to bring to Cedar. Thankfully, she managed to make it from the kitchens down to the training cells without further incident, and soon found herself outside his cell door.

She took another breath, straightened her spine, then opened the door and stepped into the room.

Cedar was still chained so that he knelt on the floor, unable to look up, but the flinch at the sound of the door clanging shut let Aster know that he was awake and aware of her presence.

“Initiate Cedar, what is the Vow of a Seed?” she asked.

“I am a Seed,” Cedar said immediately. “As a Seed, I am helpless. I am dependent on Perivyta for every gift of life. I owe my very breath to Her, and so I give Her thanks.”

“And what does this vow mean?”

“I am a Seed. As a Seed–”

“I did not ask you to recite the vow again,” Aster interrupted. “I asked you to tell me its meaning. Or has your time of meditation been in vain?”

“No!” Cedar said quickly. “Um, it means…” he took a shaky breath. “It means that without Perivyta, we can’t survive. She gives us everything, and we…we are nothing, without her.”

Aster nodded, though Cedar could not see the motion.

“You are beginning to understand,” she said. “Though you have not yet fully embraced the meaning of the vow in your heart. The sooner you do so, the sooner the fullness of Perivyta’s gifts will be made known to you.”

She sat the bowl of porridge down on her cart, then leaned forward and put her hands on the collar around Cedar’s neck. As she suspected he would, the boy flinched and tried to jerk away from her touch, but she simply gripped the leather edges tighter.

“Be still,” she commanded, and after a moment, Cedar complied, his breath coming in shaking gasps.

He clearly expected to have his air cut off again, and for a moment, Aster considered doing so. He would need to meditate on the Vow of a Seed many more times, why not do so now? But no, this was not the right time for such an exercise. She didn’t want him fainting while trying to memorize the Initiate’s Code, he needed his strength for now. So instead of pulling the collar tight, she unclipped the chain that forced him to keep his head down.

Cedar began to straighten, looking up at her with fear and confusion in his eyes. Aster’s heart twisted at his expression, but she did not let it show on her face.

“Did I give you permission to move, Initiate?” she asked, and Cedar immediately bowed back down, nearly touching the floor with his forehead.

“No,” he whispered.

Already, he is learning to show proper deference, Aster thought to herself as she selected a longer chain from her cart. He’s a faster learner than I was.

She attached the longer chain to his collar, then retrieved the bowl of porridge.

“Now you may rise, Initiate Cedar.”

Slowly, Cedar obeyed, straightening as far as the longer chain allowed. He was still on his knees, but now his back was straight, and he could lift his head to look up at her. Nodding, Aster dipped a spoon in the porridge and held it out to him. He stared at it, and she could see the conflicting emotion in his eyes.

He had to be starving; Aster knew that this was the first meal he was being offered here in the Nursery, and Perivyta only knew how much he’d been fed at the prison they’d brought him from. But to accept the spoonful was to relinquish this final bit of control over his life. It would not come naturally to him, which was why these few early days were so crucial. Aster herself had failed to submit fully to Perivyta and the Order as a young Seed, and she had paid dearly for that failure. She would not allow Cedar to suffer the same fate.

“You will eat this now,” she said simply. “Or you will not eat at all.”

Cedar hesitated for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the floor and he opened his mouth. Aster bit back a smile as she fed him the first mouthful.

A much faster learner than I was.

“This too is meditation,” she found herself saying as she spooned the porridge into his mouth. “And meditation is a gift. We rely on the Goddess for every aspect of our lives, but it is so easy to lose sight of her presence in our day to day existence. But when we walk the Path of Perivyta, we are constantly given opportunity to take notice of her gifts and give her thanks for them. Whenever we finish eating, we say ‘I give thanks to Perivyta for this gift of her bounty,’ to acknowledge our reliance on her.”

Aster set the empty bowl on the cart behind her, and looked down at Cedar expectantly.

“I…I give thanks to Perivyta for…this bounty.”

“For this gift of her bounty,” Aster corrected, and Cedar repeated the words.

“Now,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “We return to your training.”

— — —

“You embark on the Path of Perivyta, a path that others have walked ahead of you. In order to prevent you from going astray, there is a Code that you and all Initiates must follow.”

After his meager meal, Cedar had been forced to lower his head back into a bow while the girl swapped the longer chain she’d briefly given him back for the short one. His skin chaffed uncomfortably beneath the leather collar around his neck, and his back and knees ached from being forced to kneel for so long.

Still, he forced himself to pay attention to Lady Aster’s words. He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on or what she wanted from him, but an “Initiate’s Code of Conduct” sounded an awful lot like “rules” to him, and he had a feeling that knowing what exactly the rules were to be in his new life would be very useful. Every time he had failed to uphold one of these standards that he hadn’t known about, he’d been met with pain and derision, which was something he’d like to avoid as much as possible going forward.

“Understanding the guidelines of this Code is paramount to your walk with the Goddess, and thus, questions for clarification will be permitted during this lesson. Now, repeat this after me:

“As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions.”

“As I honor and obey Perivyta…” Cedar said slowly, trying to match the girl’s words exactly. “I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions.”

There was a pause, and when Lady Aster didn’t speak immediately, Cedar hesitantly asked,

“What’s a Cultivator?”

“Cultivation is one of the Paths of Perivyta that one may walk when one’s time as an Initiate is over,” Lady Aster explained. “Cultivators lead the Order, and guide all its Priestesses, Priests, and Initiates.” She paused for a moment, and Cedar glanced up just enough to see her straighten her spine. “And I am your Cultivator. Now, repeat the first guideline again.”

For what Cedar could only assume was hours, Lady Aster drilled the “guidelines” into him. His head was swimming with flowery language and redundant points, but for better or worse, he could at least understand what was being asked of him with each part of the Code.

As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions.

Always follow a Cultivator’s orders. Simple enough to understand, at least.

To walk Perivyta’s Path and to study the Tenets of Growth is the truest purpose of my life, and I will not forsake these teachings.

Be a good student of all the spiritual lessons that said Cultivator kept rambling on about.

All work done in the Nurseries and in Perivyta’s name is sacred in nature, and I will perform this work with humility and gladness.

Apparently, he’d eventually be unchained and expected to perform manual labor, and he was to do so without any complaint.

Posture is a reflection of the spirit. All who look upon me will know the truth of my heart and the Path that I walk.

From what he could gather, this is why he was chained on his knees with his head bowed. The “Posture of a Seed,” as Lady Aster called it, was meant to both be a constant reminder to him of his place and to show others at a glance what that place was. Eventually, he’d be expected to hold the pose without restraints, but for now, the chains were to help him “learn the posture’s shape.”

As I heed the will of Perivyta and her Cultivators, I also heed those who have walked the Initiate’s Path before me and are rich in the Goddess’s fruit.

Cultivators were only one kind of Priestess, and Cedar was expected to obey any Priest or Priestess who gave him an order, so long as that order did not contradict the order of a Cultivator.

As I am not fully grown in my walk with Perivyta, I associate only with others who are on this walk with me and with those who guide me.

“What does that mean?” Cedar asked bluntly. He’d understood the other mandates well enough, only needing minor clarification, but this last one made no sense to him.

“You are freshly replanted, Initiate,” Lady Aster explained. “It is important that you are surrounded only by those who will help in your growth. You are not to have any contact with those who do not also walk the Goddess’s Path.”

“So don’t talk to anyone who’s outside the Nursery,” Cedar clarified.

“Or even those within the Nursery who do not walk the Path of Perivyta.”

Cedar frowned.

“Who in the Nursery isn’t on that Path?”

Lady Aster paused, and for a moment Cedar thought she wasn’t going to answer at all.

“Sometimes there are visitors, or those who have come seeking guidance,” she said eventually. “As a general practice, simply do not speak to anyone who does not wear the robes of the Priesthood. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my lady,” Cedar said aloud. But inside, his thoughts were racing.

There was something more to this rule, something that the girl was unsure how to speak about. Why was this so important that it got a special entry in the Initiate’s Code of Conduct? Don’t speak out of turn, don’t act out of turn, follow orders, memorize the rituals, all these rules he at least understood the purpose of. But this last one…

“Initiate!” Lady Aster snapped, and Cedar realized she had spoken without him hearing.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I said recite for me the entire Initiate’s Code.”

Cedar grimaced. He knew he wouldn’t remember every word perfectly, which meant more “meditation.” Taking a deep breath, he began to speak.

“As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators…”

— — —

Aster picked up her quill, and wrote a final line in her logbook.

I also am in need of guidance on the best way to introduce the subject of the Chaff.

— — —

Prev: Groundwork || Next: title

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #tenets of growth #aster #cedar #religious whump #conditioning #chained #forced to kneel #lady whumper #forced to whump #whumpee turned whumper #restrained

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ktficworld · 2 years ago

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Bruce and Neil, long lost brothers.

You are in love with Neil but arranged to marry Bruce

*just imagine*

#late night trash #I might just write it #are you interested #in my soap opera #battinson x female reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #battinson x y/n #bruce wayne x fem!reader #the batman #bruce wayne #neil tenet x reader #neil #neil tenet #fic ideas

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ladyantiheroine · 27 days ago

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Strangers Make The Best Lovers

Summary: Two spies meet in a bar in Cuba. One of them walks away in love.

Pairing: Neil (Tenet) x Paloma (No Time to Die)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+)

Word Count: 7,666 words

Author's Note: I posted this on AO3 a long time ago and now I'm posting it Tumblr just because I feel like it.

She saw him before he saw her, but she wouldn’t let him think that. After a year of working for the CIA, Paloma had learned that the best way to seduce men was to let them live in the happy delusion that they were in control. So, she sat at the bar and rolled her cocktail glass around the counter, feigning complete obliviousness to the handsome blonde across the room behind her.

La Casa de Oro was one of those hotels that was so decadent you felt sinful just walking into it. An ancient structure of gorgeous architecture, filled with expensive people in expensive clothes drinking expensive liquor. The place even smelled like money. Tonight was one of the slower nights, as there were only a handful of patrons and Paloma was the only one seated at the bar. Her eyes glazed over the rows of bottles backlit behind the counter. The bartender, a pretty young man in a blazer, approached her.

“Would you like anything else, miss?” he asked her in Spanish.

Paloma was about to order her usual, but then a memory from the year before came to her and she grinned.

“A martini,” she said. “Shaken, not stirred.”

The bartender left her alone to prepare the drink. Of all the memories she could have of James Bond, how curious it was that his drink order was what she remembered first.

The hotel was just down the road from El Nido Bar, the same establishment that hosted the Spectre party that Paloma had attended with the former 007 just a year before. She was even wearing the same deep blue gown and diamond jewelry from the night. She would have felt nostalgic if her mind hadn’t been occupied with other things.

Sorry, Mr. Bond, she thought playfully to herself. I have my mind on another man tonight.

Paloma didn’t need to look over her shoulder at the gentleman, because she could feel his eyes on her. When you were a beautiful woman working in espionage, you learned to feel men’s gazes like a sixth sense. He could only see the back of her head from where he sat. His eyes started at her short dark hair, then trailed down her bare back to her floor length skirt. Perhaps he was wondering if her face was as pretty as the rest of her (it was) or if she looked as good without the dress and diamonds (wouldn’t he like to know).

She didn’t know his name. According to her superiors at the CIA, all they had on him was a photograph and the name of his organization: TENET. A curious palindrome of a name for a group that had remained secret for years. But it wasn’t his name that mattered as much as what he had on him. Specifically, information about Tenet. Documents, an agent ID, items that could be traced back to a place of origin. If all went well, then the CIA would be closer to locking down Tenet in less than twenty-four hours.

But for now, the bartender brought her her martini and she took it in her hand by its long glassy stem. She lifted it to her lips and crossed one elegant leg over the other.

Don’t get any dangerous ideas, Neil’s brain whispered to him. But despite his otherwise rational, scientific mind, he was having all sorts of dangerous ideas. Such as, for example, walking up to the bar to talk to the gorgeous siren sitting there.

She had been sitting there when he first walked in, but he didn’t notice her until he sat down on one of the empty lounge seats across the room. When he did notice her, he nearly choked on his first sip of the drink the waitress had brought him.

Unlike others in his field, Neil didn’t indulge himself on work trips very often. Despite being told he had a charming demeanor and was flirtatious to a fault, he rarely gave into his baser instincts while on a mission. Not that his current assignment was particularly pressing. He and his boss were meeting a few fellow Tenet agents based in Cuba to discuss future plans. Nothing exciting like their usual agendas, just business.

But agents who weren’t firing bullets or chasing targets were still agents, therefore they had to remain vigilant about who they spoke to and when. Neil’s boss wasn’t due to arrive in Cuba until the following morning, leaving him bored in the hotel room they arranged for him. He decided to come down to the hotel bar for a drink and listen to the live pianist for some entertainment.

But now the piano melody was only background noise, as was the chattering of other patrons and the clinking of cocktail glasses. There was a gold and blue glow over the bar and everything became a shadowed silhouette except for her.

The life of an agent meant having no connections or ties. You needed to be willing to let go of anything that was no longer serving the mission. Things, people, your own life if things got desperate. Any second spent thinking of something that was irrelevant to the job at hand could be the difference between success and a bullet in your head.

Maybe he was growing soft, maybe it was the vodka tonic he was finishing off, but Neil kept forgetting why he was in Cuba in favor of staring at the girl at the bar. No, not girl. Woman. Girls came and went, but women stuck with you like a stain you couldn’t scrub out.

A tall, elegant figure in a blue evening gown with an open back to reveal smooth, tanned flesh. He watched the bartender bring her a drink, and she plucked it from the counter. A diamond bracelet, long crimson nails.

But the primary thing he noticed about her was that she was alone. A woman as beautiful as her couldn’t possibly be anywhere alone unless it was by choice. Perhaps she was waiting for a date to arrive. Perhaps she was mending a broken heart after some blind idiot mishandled her. Perhaps, Neil thought, she was looking for someone.

Whatever her reason, they were both alone and unoccupied. And it was such a shame that someone like her would be sitting alone, and so unchivalrous of him to notice and do nothing about it.

The young woman crossed one leg over the other, and that’s when he noticed the slit in her skirt that nearly ran up to her waist. A long, smooth leg with a black high-heeled shoe. He hadn’t even seen her face yet and already he was sweating under his collar.

Neil had grown up on the coast of England, and he remembered the stories they used to tell of sailors and sirens. Men would spot a beautiful woman out on the empty sea, and the sound of her song with the promise of a kiss would drown them in the waves. Beautiful women were dangerous, the myths warned, if men let themselves get swept up in their song.

But unlike the men who told such tales, Neil was not afraid of danger.

He tipped his head back and downed the rest of his vodka tonic. The half-melted ice clinked against the glass and the burn was sweet down his throat. He set the empty glass down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and then adjusted his tie.

Only seven minutes past the hour, and Paloma finally heard him move. A chair pushed backward across the floor, footsteps approached closer from behind her, and finally, a male voice made its introduction.

“Poor pianist,” he said. “Playing in a room where no one is listening.”

Paloma turned to the man leaning against the counter next to her. He seemed handsome from a distance, but up close Paloma was struck by how pretty he was. Deep blue eyes, neatly combed blonde hair, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. On top of that, he was impeccably dressed. A dark navy suit with a crisp, white button-down shirt and matching tie. An expensive watch winked at her from his wrist and his shiny leather shoes looked brand new.

This is going to be a challenge, Paloma thought to herself.

“What makes you think no one is listening?” she asked.

Neil’s eyes flicked over Paloma’s shoulder to the pianist. A neatly-dressed older gentleman seated at a shiny black piano, slowly tracing his fingers across the keys. He was deep in thought, unaware there was an audience at all.

“Well, everyone here is either talking or staring into their drinks,” he said. Paloma clocked from his accent that he was English. Tenet must have had plenty of international agents. “No one seems to be paying attention to him.”

“Well, of course,” Paloma said. “You don’t watch music anymore than you listen to a painting.” She grinned and shrugged. “I’ve been listening to him all evening. He’s very good.”

Paloma cocked her head to lift her ear. She paused for a moment, her eyes away from Neil’s.

“Tu, by Eduardo Sanchez de Fuentes,” she said. She looked at him again. “Do you know that one?”

The look on his handsome face said she stumped him.

“I can’t say I do,” he said.

“It’s a classic here,” Paloma said. “Maybe I can pay him a few pesos and see if he knows any Thomas Tallis or Benjamin Britton or…” She looked him up and down. “Freddy Mercury?”

Neil chuckled and glanced down at the floor. Paloma smirked at his flusteredness. Perhaps he wasn’t used to such elaborate responses to his lines.

“I’ll admit I’m not a music expert,” he says. “Are you?”

“I used to play myself for a time,” Paloma said. It wasn’t a lie. Her mother put her in piano lessons as soon as Paloma was old enough to read. “Fuentes is from Havana, just like me. I grew up with his music.”

She lifted her martini to her lips and took a long sip. Neil watched her, and the red stain her lipstick left on the glass. She swallowed audibly then set it down.

“And what about you?” she asked. “Are you an expert on anything?”

It took all of Neil’s willpower not to make some sly wouldn’t you like to know remark. She was charming, and he wanted to savor their chat as long as he could.

“I’ll admit I’m a musical amateur,” he said. “The arts are not my area of expertise. Science is more of my specialty.”

“Oh,” Paloma said. Her dark eyes widened and her mouth made an O-shape and Neil wondered if those bloody lips tasted like black cherry or pomegranate. “What kind of science?”

“Physics,” he said. He wouldn’t elaborate any further. He wasn’t about to give away his post to a stranger.

“A physicist?” she said. “Work for anyone interesting? Or do you teach?”

Neil shrugged and glanced towards the wall of bottles behind the bar.

“I guess you could call it educational,” he said. If instructing agents as a handler counted as education. “It’s all very boring, and I don’t want to put you to sleep.”

It was a vague answer. The kind of response that brushed questions away like flies. No matter. Paloma wasn’t here to make a friend. She was here to gather materials on Tenet, and maybe see what was under that lovely suit while she was at it.

“I don’t like talking about work off the clock either,” she said. She finished the last sip of her drink and looked at Neil over the rim of her glass. “Though I’m sure your work in physics is quite fascinating.”

She held his gaze as she set her glass down. Neil resisted the urge to tug at his collar.

I’d be happy to show you something physical, his mind whispered.

Too forward. Instead, he gestured to her freshly empty glass.

“You always get martinis?” he asked.

“Shaken, not stirred,” Paloma said. “An old colleague of mine liked it that way.”

“You must work with more fun people than me. My boss never drinks on the job. Always had a Diet Coke when he was thirsty.”

“Well.” Paloma snapped her fingers at the bartender. “Two Jack and Cokes, please.” She turned to Neil with a playful smile. “To honor your boss who never drinks.”

Neil smirked as the bartender bought them two fizzing drinks, each with a slice of lime. Paloma and Neil took their glasses from the tray and the waiter left them alone.

“To your friend’s sobriety,” Paloma said.

“To his sobriety,” Neil said.

They clinked glasses and each took a long sip. They both had vodka in their systems, and now with the added whiskey they were both starting to feel a little limp.

For the following hour, the two chatted through their glasses of whiskey. Paloma regaled about the best spots in Havana for everything a visitor could want, while Neil spun yarns about his time at Oxford. He dropped a few corny whiskey jokes (“I can walk on water but I just kind of stumble on whisky”) and Paloma responded with a few jabbing quips. The whole time, neither of them told the other their name.

“Is this your first time in Cuba?” she asked.

Neil sipped down the last droplets in his glass. His glass was down to a few clinking pieces of half-melted ice and his upper lip was shiny wet. Paloma resisted the temptation to grab her napkin and wipe his mouth dry.

“It is,” he said. “My…company is expanding to Havana. We’re meeting a lot of interesting new additions to the group.” He set his cup down. “And what about you?” Have you been to the UK?”

“Plenty of times,” Paloma said. “My old colleague, the one with the martinis, he was English.”

“Do you run into Englishmen often?”

“Only the handsome ones who can identify Fuentes.”

“Ouch.”

The whiskey was getting low in both their glasses. Paloma was still mostly upright. She prided herself on being a heavyweight. You needed to be in order to throw back shots one moment and shoot up targets the next. Neil, on the other hand, seemed on the lighter end. Still coherent, but a bit gigglier than when he first stepped up to the bar. This was good, if anything, because he had a nice laugh.

Things were going smoothly, and Paloma was enjoying herself. Most of the time, handling targets felt mechanical. A series of words and gestures and smiles that would lock and lay men like bullets in a bed chamber. But more than once, Paloma laughed at one of Neil’s jokes and briefly forgot what she was here for.

She needed to speed things up. If anything, because she was feeling hot under her skirt and her eyes kept looking at his hands on the glass.

“Don’t worry,” she said. She pressed a hand to his knee. “Everyone I know can play a little piano. I’ve yet to meet someone who can explain reverse entropy.”

Neil dropped his eyes to her hand then lifted them back up to hers. Maybe it was the alcohol or the dim light, but this nameless woman seemed to sparkle. Her eyes were piercing and her smile was knowing and it took resistance not to press his mouth to her crimson lipstick.

“And I’ve never met a woman who could drink me under the table,” he said. “Or remain so charming while she insulted me.”

Paloma’s hand slowly crawled up his thigh and Neil’s blood surged. He felt himself slipping from control, but for the first time, he welcomed it. She leaned close enough that he could smell her perfume, something dark that lingered like a pheromone. He hoped her hand would reach for his shirt and pull him closer.

They were interrupted when the bartender approached them.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I hate to bother you, but we’re closing in ten minutes.”

Paloma glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. It was past midnight, and when she glanced around the room, the few remaining patrons were gathering up to leave. Even the pianist stopped his playing and was packing away his repertoire. Time had slipped right past her without her even noticing.

“Of course,” she said, turning back to the bartender. “We’ll take the tab.”

The bartender brought it over and Neil swiped it up before Paloma could reach for her purse.

“You’ve paid with your company,” he said. “Let me have this one.”

He signed the check and sent the bartender off. Now was Paloma’s shot to secure this target. They could part to their separate rooms on friendly terms, or she could persuade him to take her upstairs with him. So, when she stood up from the bar stool, she toddled and grabbed Neil’s shoulder for balance.

“Maybe a whisky after a martini was a bad idea,” she giggled.

Not true, she was still mostly coherent. But if Neil could tell, he was keen to play along. He smiled and pressed a hand to Paloma’s back.

“Do you need help to the elevator?” he asked.

She gave him a smile.

“How gentlemanly,” she said.

Neil offered her his arm and she took it as they sauntered out of the bar. Most of the patrons had already left, so they were alone crossing the hallway to the elevator. Neil pressed the button and when the door split, they had the compartment to themselves.

The doors shut and Neil hit the floor button. There were eighteen floors, and Neil was on floor seventeen, giving them a long way up to the top.

“What’s your floor?” he asked.

“It’s…”

Paloma felt around the pockets of her dress, and sighed.

“Dammit,” she said. “I lost my key. It had my room number on it.”

Obvious lie, but it got the message across. A glint crossed Niel’s eyes.

“Well, I guess we can go back to the lobby and ask for an extra key,” he said.

He stood still and erect when Paloma leaned closer to him. The elevator suddenly felt small and sweltering and his skin buzzed when their bodies brushed.

“Sure,” Paloma said. She looked at the floor number glowing red above the door, watching it reach the double digits. “But…we’re already heading up, and I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

Paloma stood closer to him, far closer than even an elevator required. She could smell the Dior on his collar and see the pricks of stubble on his face. His fingers itched to caress his jawline. Instead, she trailed them along his tie.

Neil smirked. His fingertips grazed the curve of her waist.

“You’re too kind,” he said. They were so close he could feel her breath against his lips. “But where will you sleep tonight?”

Paloma’s fingers curled around his tie until it wrapped around her knuckles. She could practically feel the vibrations of his heartbeat. She was feeling hungry and the elevator couldn’t move fast enough.

“I think I know somewhere cozy I can slip in,” she said.

With a sharp tug, she pulled his lips down to hers. Neil relented immediately, sinking into her kiss with a moan. Her breath was hot in his mouth and he was so hard that his legs trembled a little. Her hands found his hair and his hands found her waist and he pressed her against the cool marble wall of the elevator. She was soft as silk in his arms and her sighs in his ear made the hair on his neck stand.

Paloma tried to retain her composure. One foot in pleasure, the other foot in the task at hand. Though at least one of those feet slipped balance when Neil started kissing along her neck and all the blood rushed down her body.

Neil found the long slit of her dress and bruised his hand up her thigh until he found the waistband of her underwear. Silk negligee underneath. Fuck, this woman wanted to kill him. He slid his fingers under the fabric and felt around until he found an opening. She was hot and wet and open as a rose. Thick kiss to her neck, he pressed his fingers inside.

“Mierda,” Paloma gasped.

She clasped her arms around his shoulders. Neil kept kissing and licking her neck while he pushed his fingers deeper inside, fingering against her sweet spot. Her fingers curled into his hair and he groaned when she pulled.

Neil must have been a bit of a paramour himself, because he knew a woman’s body like his own hand. He knew just where to curl his curls and just where to press down and just the tempo to have Paloma arching her back. She bit down hard into his shoulder but the pain only seemed to spur him on more.

“So beautiful,” he muttered into her neck. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Paloma’s nails dug into Neil’s hair and skin. She moved her hips in tantum with his hands, waves of heat rushing up her body and pushing moans from her throat. She wanted to wet his fingers right there, but her brain was just loud enough to remind her why she was here. She needed to get his room.

Besides, she wanted to fuck him properly.

The elevator rang when they reached the seventeenth floor. The door split and thankfully, no one was there. Paloma looked at Neil and pulled his hand out from under her dress. She gave him a leering smile.

“Don’t you know not to play with your food?” she said.

Neither of them remembered the walk down the hallway. One moment they were stepping out of the elevator, Neil’s hands fumbling for the keycard in his back pocket, and the next the door was slamming shut behind them and they were against the wall again. Paloma’s knuckles paled, and gripping his shirt, she pulled him towards the bed.

Neil’s back hit the mattress and Paloma was on top of him before he could do anything about it. The alcohol and the shock to the senses was electrifying. Paloma straddled Neil’s waist and he pulled off his blazer. He needed her skin against his.

Paloma curled her fingers into his hair. She smacked thick kisses along his mouth, his jaw, his neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of red behind. Neil's eyes fluttered shut and he sunk into the mattress.

Paloma smacked her lips from his and sat up straight. The room was dark save for the full moon dripping silver light inside. The light met her eyes, the wisps of her hair, and Neil felt helpless underneath her. He grinned while she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Didn’t think I’d be fucking from the bottom,” he said.

Paloma smirked and grabbed his face with one hand.

“How cute,” she said. “You think you’re the one doing the fucking.”

Those words sent a rush down Neil’s body and he was hard enough that she could feel him under her skirt. Paloma released his face and pulled the last button from his shirt. Her hands took their time smoothing down his chest. For a man who belonged in his physicist’s lab, his body wasn’t the kind that belonged under a lab coat or suit. It belonged stripped to the flesh and pressed against silk sheets.

Paloma felt a hot flush and she couldn’t help herself. She cupped his face and brought her lips back down to his, moaning into the kiss. Neil was a puddle beneath her, his hungry hands running up her thighs under her skirt and circling her waist. Paloma threaded her fingers in his pale hair. Fuck, he was a good kisser. She couldn’t get enough of him. She could eat him alive.

But then, her thoughts crawled back to her. The mission.

Despite the ravenous burn in her skin, fucking the Tenet agent would be pointless if she didn’t get anything from him. She needed to find something, before she disappeared into his body and forgot why she came.

Paloma pulled her mouth from Neil’s and sat up straight again. They were both sweating and panting already and he wasn’t even inside her yet. Neil's hands crawled up to her chest, searching for a zipper or button. She snatched his hand.

“I have an idea,” she said.

Paloma reached down to his belt buckle and tugged it from his pants. Then, she took Neil’s hands and looped the belt around his wrists, before pulling it tight. Neil’s breath hitched when the dark leather caught his flesh.

“I love it when a man comes prepared,” she said. “With the right tools.”

She pushed his hands above his head onto the mattress. Neil grunted at the sudden impact. She was stronger than she looked and it was making his head spin a little. Her face hovered above him, a devilish look in her eye.

He needed to get a hold of himself. He cleared his throat and gave her his best smirk.

“I guess I should’ve known better than to talk to strangers at a bar,” he said.

Paloma chuckled deep in her throat, a sound that made his blood surge. She grabbed the knot of his tie and yanked it from his throat.

“Maybe you’re not as smart as that Master’s makes you look,” Paloma said.

She tugged the tie in both hands, then pressed the navy silk to Neil’s eyes. She tied it into a knot behind his head, leaving him blinded in the dark. Oh, this was cruel. She was going to ravish him and not even grant him the privilege of looking at her while she did. She was evil and it made his heart surge.

Once his eyes were covered, Paloma slipped off his body. If she was going to do this now, she had to make it quick. She spotted his suitcase on the floor off the side and stepped quietly over to it.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

He was squirming on the mattress, erection tenting his boxers. Paloma slowly, silently, unzipped his suitcase.

“I just like watching you,” she said. “And I need to slip out of this dress.”

Both statements were true, but Paloma also needed time to search. Thankfully, Neil was either supremely arrogant or supremely stupid, because she found something in the inner pocket lining of his bag. Her fingers curled around a piece of plastic and she pulled out a hard drive. The name TENET gleamed up at her in silver font. It was too easy.

He was too easy.

Paloma slipped the hard drive into the pocket of her dress, before standing up and slipping the dress from her shoulders. It fell in a deep blue puddle on the floor and she stepped out of her heels onto the carpet.

“So handsome,” she said. She pressed a knee to the edge of the bed and crawled forward on top of him. “Would be a shame if someone were to…make a mess of you.”

She whispered right against his lips and pressed her body down against his. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her warm skin and the silk of her underwear. Neil tugged at his restraints but this woman could tie one hell of a knot.

Paloma finished stripping him down. By the time she was done, there was a mess of clothes on the carpet. Once Neil was down to his boxers, Paloma hooked a finger into the front seam and twisted it.

“Fuck…” Neil shuddered. He was already leaking pre-come in his boxers. This woman was torturing him and he could feel the bemused smirk on her face.

Paloma could watch him squirm for hours, but her underwear was wet and with the flash drive secured she could finally enjoy herself. For a moment, she wondered if she could torture him enough to get him to confess something, spill some information.

“By the way…” she said, slowly pulling down the front of his underwear. “I don’t think you ever told me your name, handsome…”

His cock was red, hard and ready for her. She slowly trailed the tips of her fingernail along his length and Neil arched his back with a shiver.

“God, fuck,” he hissed.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me?”

Neil’s brain was half-melted and he couldn’t quite understand why she was asking. It seemed a little late for names, and besides, she didn’t need his name to fuck him.

“Why don’t you tell me yours?” he quipped.

Paloma smirked and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Every nerve in Neil’s body was directed at her hand, his hips twitching into her touch.

“You first,” she said.

She leaned closer to his face, close enough he could feel her hot breath on his mouth, smell her perfume mingled with her sweat. Her hand worked his cock slowly. Agonizingly slow. Neil gasped and moaned as waves of pleasure stirred up his body.

“God, please,” he muttered.

“Don’t talk to God, guapo,” Paloma said, and took his chin with her free hand. “Talk to me.”

She moved her hand faster, faster until Neil’s moans grew louder and he started teetering closer to the edge. Then, just as his jaw was clenching, she stopped. Neil lifted his head, a droplet of sweat on his temple.

“Wha…” he breathed. “Why’d you…”

“I want to know your name,” Paloma said. “I feel like I should know your name before everyone in this hotel does.”

Neil was resistant. His cock was throbbing in her hand and he was slick with sweat.

“Please,” he begged. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“Just tell me your name, and I’ll let you go,” she said.

Neil bit hard down on his lower lip but it felt like his body was being incinerated. His thoughts were foggy and he didn’t know where he was and he just wanted to her to fuck him within an inch of his life already.

“Neil,” he breathed.

“Neil what?”

“That’s all you’re getting from me,” he hissed between his teeth.

He dropped his head back and groaned, in pain or pleasure Paloma couldn’t quite tell. Her hand or not, he was getting close, and she wasn’t going to let a nice cock go to waste.

“Tell me…” Neil panted. “Tell me yours…”

Yeah, not happening, Paloma thought.

She snatched up his length again to silence him. She reached down and peeled her underwear down, letting it fall to the floor. She took Neil’s cock in her hand, then slowly lowered her dripping pussy down on top of him. Neil gasped like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he groaned. If his hands hadn’t been bound above his head, he would have been gripping the bedsheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Oh, she’d forgotten how sweet profanity sounded on an English tongue. Paloma licked her lips as she took him inside her. The man felt as nice as he looked, the perfect fuck toy.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you,” she teased. She traced her thumb along his lips and Neil was tempted to open his mouth to let her inside. “Let's make you sing.”

She started swerving her hips, slow at first, savoring, then started speeding up. The mattress springs sung underneath them and Neil went limp as a rag doll. Fuck, she felt amazing. Hot and tight, gripping his cock like a clasp. His hands itched to grab her hips.

Paloma tipped her face up to the ceiling, dark hair falling down her back. Her nails dug into his flesh to maintain her balance while she rode his cock. It was a shame this was just a mission. In any other circumstances, she would have kept him under her for days.

His length slid deeper inside of her and Paloma bit her lip in a moan. Neil’s hips bucked up to meet her, savoring the hot flow of her juices consuming him. His moans deepened to grunt and growled while he was helpless to snap from his restraints.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck, I can’t…”

Paloma smirked and licked his bottom lip.

“Good boy,” she purred between labored breaths.

They both became louder as their pace quickened, loud enough that the walls of the hotel couldn’t contain them. Neil gave up any intention to stay low during his stay, and moaned at the top of his lungs, his tongue wishing he had her name to scream down the hall.

Meanwhile, Paloma was burning red and whispered his name like a spell.

“Neil.”

They came together, with the force of a glass bottle shattered against a wall. The mattress springs sung under their weight and the bed structure creaked like it could crack. Paloma pressed her hands to Neil’s chest, feeling his heart knock at his ribs.

Neil was spent and limp as a ragdoll. Sweat percolated his temple and stained the sides of the tie covering his eyes. He curved his neck back on the mattress, his chest rising and falling with his breath. Paloma leaned down and playfully bit his Adam’s apple, leaving a lipstick stain behind.

“Tell me your name,” he said. “I need to know who you are.”

Paloma smiled and curled into him.

“I’m your dream girl,” she purred. “I’m a sweet dream you can fall asleep to.”

The air in the room was warm and thick. For several minutes, neither Neil nor Paloma remembered where they were or why they were here. The only thing they could recall was their skin pressed together while they drifted off into a smooth, boozy sleep.

Neil couldn’t open his eyes when he woke up. For a moment, his heart lurched his chest and he wondered if he’d been captured. Something blindfolded his eyes and his arms were bound above his head. His whole body was naked and shivered in the exposed air.

Before he could panic, the memories of the night before trickled into his ear. He’d gone downstairs to the bar, had a vodka tonic followed by a Jack and Coke, and he spoke to a woman—

His whole body flared red hot in the memory of her. Dark hair, dark eyes, hellish lips and perfect hips that fucked him dry. She strung him up and had her way with him before disappearing back into whatever paradise she came from.

Neil tugged at his restraints until they finally broke loose. His leather belt snapped and the sound made him jolt. He pulled off the tie that covered his eyes and looked around. White morning light streamed from the hotel curtains. Everything was nearly exactly as it had been the night before. Except, a certain blue gown was gone.

Neil swung his legs over the side of the bed and plucked his boxers off the floor. Just as he was stepping into them, he heard his phone ring. After searching around, he found it in the pocket of his pants on the floor.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Neil.” It was his boss, Tenet’s founder. “I’ve just landed and I’m about to head over to the hotel. I’m just checking in. Everything alright?”

Neil stumbled towards the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. From his lips to his jaw, down his neck and to his chest, he was speckled with red lipstick stains. He pressed a hand to one on his collarbone, and a hot surge ran through his body.

“Uh, yes, everything is good,” Neil said. Fuck, he was not about to get an erection with his boss on the phone. “I’m just…having breakfast.”

“Well, good. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes then we can head to the base, yeah?”

Neil grabbed a towel and wet it in the sink.

“Yes, excellent,” he said. “I’ll be ready when you arrive.”

He slathered some soap on his face and neck and started scrubbing away.

“You okay?” his boss asked. “You sound a little…out of breath.”

Whatever lipstick that woman used, it was damn near impossible to wash out. Neil rubbed at his neck until his flesh was raw red.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I…went for a jog this morning, still catching my breath.”

“I had no idea you jogged.”

“Yes, I also enjoy long walks on the beach. I’ll meet you by the front.”

Neil quickly hung up and finished soaping himself clean. Then he threw on one of the suits he had packed and readied himself in the mirror. He downed a coffee and a bagel from the downstairs cafe and made it to the front of the building just in time for his boss to pull up in a taxi.

“Neil,” he said, stepping out of the car. “Looking sharp.”

“Bienvenido a Cuba,” Neil said, shaking his boss’s hand. “The others are coming around to pick us up. They should be here soon.”

His boss nodded. At some point as the two waited outside the hotel, he glanced over at Neil.

“Did you get hurt?” he asked.

Neil looked at him.

“What do you mean?” he asked

His boss tugged at his shirt collar and pointed to his neck.

“You’ve got something red right there,” he said. “Is that a bruise or something?”

Neil pulled his phone out of his pocket and examined his neck in the camera. Dammit. In the right side of his neck was a spot he missed. From a distance, you can say it was a scrap. But when his boss leaned closer, he could see it was clearly mouth-shaped.”

His boss gave him a sly smirk.

“Neil,” he said. “You didn’t go jogging this morning, did you?”

Neil couldn’t think of another lie, so he just sighed and smirked back.

“I may have treated myself to the bar downstairs last night,” he said. “And I may have run into a lovely senorita while I did.”

Lovely. He may as well have described the ocean as “wet.”

His boss snickered.

“No need to lie about stuff like that, Neil,” he said. Then, his face cooled. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

To be honest, everything that happened before they made it to the elevator was a bit blurry to Neil. Blame it on the alcohol. But he wasn’t going to tell his boss that.

“Truthfully, I don’t think we did all that much talking,” Neil said with a grin.

The car arrived and Neil slid into the backseat with his boss. While the three other agents chanted, Neil glanced out the window and watched the city pass by them. Just under his suit, his skin still burned with memories of the night before.

Paloma. Her name rolled around his mouth like a hard sour candy. All he had had on her was her face and her name, no other proof that she wasn’t some drunken figment of his imagination.

He pulled his attention from his thoughts long enough to open his briefcase. He rifled around inside for the flash drive with the new database he hoped to show the Cuban associates. But all he found inside were papers and folders, nothing resembling a hard drive.

Then, his hands found something hard and solid, but it wasn’t the flash drive. He pulled out a ring-shaped diamond necklace.

It hit him slowly, like an ice cube melting in his palm. His briefcase was closed tight shut in his zipped-up suitcase. No one could have opened it unless they went looking. The cleaning service hadn’t come by since he arrived. Paloma had been wearing diamonds last night.

Why on earth does a woman go snooping through the things of a man she just met?

Because she knew he would be there.

He should have been panicked. Furious. Not just at her but at himself for being so careless. This was why he didn’t get drunk or hook up on missions. Anyone you met could be suspect. Anyone. He should have been livid.

Instead, he stared at the earring in his palm and a slow, creeping grin stretched across his face.

Smart woman, he thought. You got me.

He glanced over at his boss, who was still engrossed in conversation with the associates in the front seats. He was going to have to tell his boss about this at some point. Whoever Paloma was, she had to be dangerous to steal Tenet material. But for now, at that moment, all Neil could do was turn the earring over in his hand.

As they drove, Neil recalled the siren stories he’d been told in his boyhood. He wondered, for a moment, if the effect of the siren song stuck with the sailors even as they were drowning. Perhaps they relished the saltwater filling their mouths and lungs, the icy chill engulfing their bodies, the claws and teeth of beautiful monstresses ravishing their bodies. Why did those myths assume that to be ruined by a beautiful woman was such a bad thing?

Neil slid a hand into his pocket and pressed the earring between his two fingers. He should hand the earring over to his Tenet superiors, see if they can find traces of the woman’s DNA so they can find her. They could hunt her down, bring her back to their headquarters, figure out her name. But he wasn’t ready to hand over the diamond just yet.

He felt like he’d been invited into a game. He’d lost this round, but he wasn’t done playing yet.

Paloma rolled the flash drive delicately around in her hand. To think, the fate of an entire secret organization could be compact to such a small, breakable device. And how unfortunate that said device could land in the hands of an agent who couldn’t keep them to himself.

She stood on the bow of the boat that had hours before begun its journey from Havana back to Port Everglades where she’d meet her handler. A salty breeze caressed its fingers through her hair and she sighed into the scent of the foamy sea. A single seagull sung as it flew over her head.

Neil was probably awake by now. He probably noticed that the flash drive was gone. He would seethe that some pretty dress stole his things. The thought made her giggle. Men always liked to think they knew exactly what they were seeing.

She wondered what would come of him once the truth about the drive was revealed. Maybe he’d be fired from the organization. Maybe he’d be heavily penalized, demoted, never trusted with delicate information or materials again,

And then she had the thought: Maybe he’ll come find me.

On any other day, the thought would have distressed her. A creeping sense of anxiety and paranoia would settle into her bones. But instead, the thought sent a thrill of excitement in her. Maybe Neil would find her another hotel. They could recreate their first meeting again, this time with clear eyes. There could be a scuffle. One that could land them alone in a room together again.

Paloma seduced and used plenty of men. It was a part of her job description. For the longest time, she was good at letting them go once they served no purpose to her anymore. But most of them were only appealing only as means to an end. Stuffy older men with more power and money than anyone knew what to do with. Only Bond had managed to really charm her, and even then, she merely saw him as a colleague and mentor at most.

None of them were as handsome, as charming, as disarming as Tenet’s dashing blonde physicist.

Which is why, Paloma left him a little memento before she left. One of her diamond earrings, gifted to her by a friend at the CIA, she left in his briefcase. She wouldn’t miss it, and there wasn't enough DNA on it for them to get too far, but it was still risky. Definitely not the kind of thing the CIA would want her to do. The goal was to leave no trace behind, act like a ghost who moved from room to room, acquiring what you needed and leaving swiftly. Dropping a piece of yourself behind was risky.

But despite the risk, Paloma couldn’t help herself. Neil didn’t know who she was when they spoke, so she liked to think the man she meant was genuine. Even she dropped truths of herself at the bar. Her childhood in Havana listening to Fuentes. Her old associate with shaken martinis. Her name.

Now that was a big one. She hoped to get out without telling him, but in the moment she couldn’t help herself. He had a name, a face, and a diamond earring. She couldn’t tell if it would be quite enough to trace her identity, but enough for him to remember her.

Because she would remember him.

Another crisp, salty breeze brushed past Paloma. Her body sprinkled with goosebumps and she felt the wind in her hair. She slipped the flash drive into her pocket and wrapped her arms around herself. As her eyes fluttered shut, she imagined for a moment if Neil had found his way onto the boat. He would walk up to the hardwood front to the bow. He’d stand right behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, his pretty, strong hands smoothing down to her hips. She’d feel his breath on her neck. He’d press a kiss to his cheek, then her neck, then down her back…

The boat turned, and Paloma was snapped from her reverie as she grabbed the iron railing. The blue sky was graying with clouds and it was going to start drizzling soon. She had to get inside the cabin unless she wanted to arrive with messy hair and makeup. She tightened a fist around the drive in her pocket and glanced back to the Cuban shore in the distance.

“Hasta luego, guapo,” she whispered with a smirk.

#fanfic #rare pair #crossover ship #tenet #no time to die #neil tenet #paloma #james bond #robert pattinson #ana de armas #fanfiction #fic

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landoscalrisian-blog · 5 months ago

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See You Again

(2,094 words)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Tenet (2020)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard “Bones” McCoy, James T. Kirk/Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Spock, Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Spock

Characters: Leonard “Bones” McCoy, James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe – Tenet, Angst, Time Travel, Sad Ending, Hurt No Comfort, Bit of Comfort, but like the littlest comfort, Polyamorous Negotiations

Summary: Leonard wished he could stay here with them under the warm sun for a bit longer, he knew resenting the way things were supposed to play out wouldn’t do any good. He had to ensure the past stayed the same and not leave anything to chance. Something Jim had taught him when they first met.

wanted to share a very close fic of mine that unites two of my most insane special interests mcspirk and tenet <33

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek aos #fanfiction #mcspirk #mcspirk fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #james t kirk #leonard mccoy #spock #mckirk #spones #tenet #au fic #tqm mcspirk

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weclassygirl · 23 days ago

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*Every fic is written with fem!reader*

you’ll be fine {neil x reader} - Reader gets shot by andrei and neil tries to go in reverse to keep you alive.

midnight conversations {neil x reader}

feel it 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 {neil x reader, miniseries, FINISHED} - Reader gets recruted by Neil

Moodboards: The Protagonist / Neil / Ives / Red and Blue

#fics #tenet #neil tenet #the protagonist tenet #christopher nolan

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renecdote · 1 year ago

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“You’re not dead, Neil,” he says, firm like he can make the words true by willpower alone. Neil smiles. He wonders if it looks as fuzzy around the edges as he feels. “You saved me,” he says, and he’s not quite sure if it’s meant to be a statement or a question. Maybe it’s a paradox. “Of course,” The Protagonist answers. “That’s what we do, remember? We save each other.” Neil wonders whether this is a life where that’s enough. In which there's a parallel life out there (or two or ten or a hundred) where they live happily ever after.

#Tenet #fic #hi I watched this movie and had too many feelings #so enjoy whatever tf this is I guess

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teecupangel · 11 months ago

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Abstergo made very edited games of the assassin ancestors. What if the assassin's made the true version of what happened available to the public?

That was always an option so I did think of why they wouldn’t want to do it.

The biggest one I could think of is that it would go against the third Tenet “Do not compromise the Brotherhood”.

Secrecy is paramount to the Brotherhood and even the Templars keep the Isu stuff a secret.

The Brotherhood is probably worried of what would happen if those in power learn about the POE considering what those in power have done according to history.

The narrative is putting them into an antagonistic light with the Templars being crowned as heroes but, as they say, they ‘work in the dark to serve the light’.

They’re used to being seen as ‘evil’ or murderers.

This is just the 21st century equivalent to it.

Also, they cannot be certain that showing the true version would be better.

Not only does it include information about the POEs and the Assassin Brotherhood as a whole but…

Well…

Abstergo is a large company with far-reaching influences.

What’s to say their version wouldn’t just be ridiculed and treated as ‘fanwork’ or the insane edits of disgruntled employees/Assassin stans.

The Assassins work in secrecy and it’s because of that secrecy that they can still protect the world, both from the Templars and the POEs.

The only way a true version would be ‘leaked’ is either through a ‘fuck it, let’s see what happens’ Assassin who did it without the approval of the mentor or an incident in the database (a bad update that uploads it to the public or a hacker who got lucky and got a copy of it).

Let’s be honest though…

In the AC world, there’s gonna be fans who stan the bad guys. They’ll probably think that Assassins are so cool and the Templars are kinda boring (Abstergo risks making the Templars ‘bland’ by removing the bad parts of their lives that will incriminate them and the Templars in general).

Like, remember how Berg sent the Assassins a heavily edited copy of Shay’s memories in the end of Rogue and how it was a footnote later on that the Assassins were like “cool story bro, obviously edited, go fuck yourself” and nothing really happened with it?

If that’s how the Templars edit the stories as Templar propaganda then it’s not… Abstergo has a history of making good premises but mediocre to bad execution XD

The Assassins have a better chance of having someone write for them a fanfic of the games in a kinda ‘novel adaptation’ format and put the real version in that one. It won’t get them as much exposure as trying to pass it as real history BUT it will make it easier to stay under Abstergo’s radar and, even if Abstergo sees it, the fanfic is protected by “this is fanfic, why are you bullying someone writing what they want for free in their own free time, Abstergo???”

#if you notice #whenever i have an idea of something going viral #it's always either in accident #or someone fucked up #or desmond didn't realize just how bad for the third tenet he just did #assassin's creed #ask and answer #this is more of...#teecup analyze more than necessary #than an actual fic idea

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theroseandthebeast · 11 months ago

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Yuletide Recs, Batch Five

16 recs for The Queen's Gambit, Red Eye, Sable, Severance, Sherlock Holmes, Silo, Singin' in the Rain, Some Like It Hot, SurrealEstate, Tenet, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Watchmen, and Worlds Beyond Number

something beautiful, Beth Harmon/Jolene

Jolene remembers the first time she looked at Beth and thought her best friend was pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful.

Sunk Cost Fallacy, Lisa Reisert/Jackson Rippner

The Keefe job gets cancelled. What's a guy to do?

No Straight Roads, Gen, Sable + Original Characters

Five paths taken, six masks cast. Or: On a particularly windswept morning, a young girl comes a-knocking on Sable's door.

O, Lazarus!, Helena Eagan + Helly R.

Losing oxygen slowly as she hangs in the elevator up from the severed floor, Helly’s fractured mind confronts itself.

Double Tongued, Irving Bailiff/Burt Goodman + Burt Goodman/Burt Goodman's Husband + Irving Bailiff & Irving B.

Irving's falling asleep – he almost misses Burt leaving forever. Can his outie make it up to him by reuniting them, one last time? Or, MDR decide to test the Overtime Contigency Protocol on Irving before the Waffle Party, and the code detectors are only equipped to handle certain types of ink.

Indispensable, Gen, Sherlock Holmes + John Watson + Mrs. Hudson

Holmes' gift attempts have fallen through, so he offers a letter instead

her dust was very pretty, Gen, Original Female Character(s)Juliette Nichols

Dore was six when she told Missus Park that she wanted to be her shadow. “You want to work in recycling?” “I don’t want to shadow garbage,” Dore said, nose wrinkling at the thought. “Your art. Art that stays.” Missus Park repeated the words silently, then her mouth dropped open in understanding. “You mean tattoos.”

Working Honeymoon, Cosmo Brown/Don Lockwood/Kathy Selden

If you weren’t getting married, you didn’t get to go on the honeymoon. Wasn't that how it was supposed to go?

That Wondrous Thing, Cosmo Brown/Don Lockwood/Kathy Selden

2 + 2 + 2 = 3. This math works. Really it does.

Girl Talk, Gen, Jerry "Daphne" & Sugar Kane Kowalczyk + Jerry "Daphne" & Joe "Josephine" + Jerry "Daphne"/Osgood Fielding III + Joe "Josephine"/Sugar Kane Kowalczyk

Sugar wants to know if she should be saying "Jerry" or "Daphne" and, since Joe and Osgood don't seem to agree and can't be relied on to tell her which is right, she goes to get it right from the horse's mouth. The horse needs to think about this for a bit.

did we get there yet (somehow), Luke Roman/Susan Ireland

It shouldn’t be a surprise, is the thing. Luke’s always been attracted to smart, competent women. It just hadn’t occurred to him to look at Susan that way until now.

Coffee Meeting: 11 o'clock, Gen, Susan Ireland & Zooey L'Enfant

Susan has a mysterious coffee meeting on her schedule.

pull up if i pull up, Neil/The Protagonist

A safe house in the sea of time. (You’re trying to remember if Neil was smiling the last time your eyes met.)

and in the daylight, you're crossing all your wires, John Connor/Cameron Phillips + John Connor & Derek Reese & Kyle Reese + John Connor & Sarah Connor + John Connor & the Specter of His Future Self

No one’s ever died for him, here.

Across Vistas, Dan Dreiberg/Laurie Juspeczyk/Rorschach

Laurie and the boys take a roadtrip across the country to see her mom.

Charted, Gen, Ame & Suvirin "Suvi" Kedberiket & Eursulon Toma + Grandma Wren

All stories started somewhere, even if that somewhere is far from here.

#yuletide #yuletide 2023 #the queen's gambit #red eye #sable #severance #sherlock holmes #silo #singin' in the rain #some like it hot #surrealestate #tenet #terminator #the sarah connor chronicles #watchmen #worlds beyond number #fic recs #fic rec

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ithappensoffstage · 1 year ago

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if you ever want to write something for Protagoneil again I would love to request something where it's the Protagonist who takes care of Neil for the first time. Neil was always the one to save his ass and now it's time for John to do the same. Perhaps Neil got drugged on a mission and he's really out of it so John takes care of him while drugged Neil looks at him all lovingly.

I'm so sorry that this got buried in my ask box for 3 years, but thank you for your prompt and here's the finished fic! You can read it here or on AO3.

To Think That We Could Stay the Same

Earlier—later—in Neil’s other life, he was a little bit dramatic. A little bit cocky, a little bit of a risk-taker. But he was also careful and rational.

This later—earlier—Neil is reckless. Bold, bordering on stupid.

John blames it on Neil’s youth. Of course a fresher-faced Tenet has something to prove. He wants to be valuable, worthy of John’s praise, and first in line for promotions. John wishes he could tell him he’s already proved himself—will prove himself. That John already trusts him with everything he has.

He can’t, though. And it’s like Neil knows there’s some secret between them. Neil, before, he was so good at lying. Pretending at ignorance, feigning that he didn’t feel … whatever it was—hopefully is—that he felt, feels, for John.

Lying is standard operating procedure, and the policy is to suppress. Fine. John’s good at restraining his feelings, but not at burying or concealing them completely. It causes Neil to be desperate to be deserving of those secrets.

He recalls Neil in Mumbai. That’s not possible, he had said. But to this Neil, everything is possible. It scares the hell out of John.

They’re in Tokyo. John’s there to supervise the retrieval of a large inverted munitions shipment. Ives is there to run security. Dark suit, concealed weapons, beard shorter than it’s ever been, and hair longer than it’s ever been. John wonders when he’s going to shave it off.

Neil, of course, is bouncing between Ives’ and John’s teams. Ives has been teaching him the militaristic ropes. John has been preparing him for his inevitable leadership role. Between Ives and John, they should be able to keep track of one overly ambitious rookie.

As it turns out, they’re wrong.

“What the hell happened, huh? You were supposed to be watching him!” John shouts.

He bursts into the med room of their Tokyo base like a man possessed. It’s clean and white, bright and sterile. John hates it. He wants it to be as ugly as his mind right now. Uglier, actually—as awful as what he wants to do to the men who hurt Neil.

“He said he was on his way to you,” Ives replies calmly.

“And you believed him?”

Ives raises an eyebrow, and John knows he’s being unfair. He’s angrier than he ever has been with Ives. Even counting the time Ives let Neil invert himself and die for them.

John closes his eyes. Exhales. What’s happened, happened. Neil was going to, will always, die for him. And Neil was always going to wander off and get himself drugged by an idealistic bunch of thieves.

They’re Yakuza. And after the guns, nothing more, nothing less. Still, Ives has them all rounded up and is on his way to question them. He’s lost patience with John already, but he’s waiting, stiff and at attention, anyway.

Then there’s Neil, opposite at every angle.

The medical team told John that Neil’s been injected with a benzodiazepine cocktail, but John thinks Neil looks half-okay, considering the circumstances. He’s sitting in the corner of the room, wearing a light blue button-down, open a bit at the chest with the sleeves rolled up, and light gray pants. No shoes. One gray sock. His bare skin shines with sweat. There’s red high on his cheekbones and an uncharacteristic glassiness to his eyes. His head lolls as he tries to listen to John and Ives’ argument.

“I found them, y’know,” Neil interrupts. “Before I… Iv…” He gestures to his commanding officer. “He did. I wanna… wanted you to… know…” He trails over, looking confused. “Who put me on the floor?”

“Tell ya what, we’ll flip a coin,” Ives says. “For him or the Yakuza.”

John sighs. “That’s not really your call. I’ll take care of him. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then, John and Neil are alone together. John feels it in his blood, like a cord tied around his veins. It tugs at his heart until he can’t breathe. He thinks of the freeport, and inhales sharply.

“There you go, hiding things again,” Neil says. With his inhibitions gone, his accent is a little less refined. Posh but kind of sloppy, like how he dresses.

“I’m not hiding anything. Don’t get up.”

Although he’s tried several times by now, Neil never made it off the floor. Instead he’s now fully on his back, hair askew, shirt completely open. The fabric hangs by his sides and his hands slide from his ribs to that soft linen.

John envies those hands. He tells Neil, “You compromised the mission.”

“I saw something suspicious,” Neil protests, sputtering through the last difficult word. “I, I saved the mission.”

“You made a move on your own because you were trying to be a hero,” John hisses. “Look at yourself, Neil.”

John walks forward. He crouches, trying to meet Neil’s eyes. It’s difficult when they’re fluttering closed every second or so, but eventually John manages.

“How did a trained agent get jumped by a bunch of gangsters? Hm?” He doesn’t want to be cruel. He can’t favor Neil, though. Telling himself any other soldier would get the same treatment, John continues, “What if Wheeler didn’t find you?” Or.” John clears his throat, bombarded with memories of Stalsk-12.

Neil is beaming. His smile is beautiful, and it blindsides John like it always has.

“You were worried about me!” Neil yells. His joy ricochets around the room in cascades of laughter. “You care!”

John looks away. “You’re not sober enough to have this conversation.”

He attempts to stand, but suddenly there’s a palm pressing down on his knee. Reckless.

“Neil.”

“Wait.”

Against his better judgment, John does. He pushes Neil’s hand away, but he also sits on the floor next to Neil’s prone body. More than anything, he wants to draw Neil’s head into his lap. To brush that damp blond hair out of his face, check for a fever. To kiss it better.

John clasps his hands tightly in his lap. “Of course I care. Everyone on this team is vital to this operation.”

Neil shakes his head. After some flailing about, he manages to right himself, sitting with his legs crossed to match John. “No,” he says.

“No I don’t care? You just said I did, so make up your mind.”

“You… about me… differently,” Neil explains. “More…ly.”

“Wow.”

“S’not a word, is it?”

“No it is not. I’m not sure you’re capable of coherent sentences at the moment, actually.”

Despite the curt comment, Neil is looking at John with such adoration. Puppy love, that’s the term John’s heard. Utter devotion. As if John is Neil’s entire world. But when John insists that he’s leaving, Neil’s eyes brim with tears.

He lunges forward, wrapping his arms around John. Now he’s really putting some weight into it, holding John here. It’s John’s turn to be amused. Chuckling, he extracts himself—easily, with Neil’s drug-addled, pliable limbs and lean frame—enough to speak face-to-face.

“Let me go.”

“Okay,” Neil replies. Yet his grip doesn’t loosen.

“That’s an order, Neil.”

“Right.”

When John returns a few minutes later with food and water, Neil is slumped over on his side, asleep on the floor, an unhappy expression on his handsome face. John sets the plate and cup down on the nearest surface before walking gently over. He slides his hands underneath Neil’s knees and back, picks him up.

After putting Neil in the med room’s small bed—still on his side, facing the door like he’s always preferred to sleep—John pulls up a chair. He washes Neil’s face with a cool, damp cloth. He tends to the few cuts and scrapes Neil got fighting off his assailants. He brushes Neil’s hair, and buttons his shirt. Finally, John tucks a blanket around Neil’s shoulders.

“‘More-ly’ still isn’t a word,” John murmurs, thumb brushing Neil’s jaw, “but you’re right. I do.”

And then he leaves again, exactly the way he arrived: with a guilty conscience, carrying a love confession in his hands.

#tenet #protagoneil #instinct series #the protagonist x neil #my fic #movies #ask #anon

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