#not shown: me screeching with delight in the background

[mushroom-for-art]

Me @ Paradox au: you're as beautiful as the day I lost u

Person in charge of updating this fucking sucks ur schedules shit smh

King/Syn beloved belongs to @seasidemew

Sink or swim

"Our previous theories on the exact genders of the Genetic Terror has proved incorrect."

Leader is shown finding a quiet protected area the bushes shrubbery and tree branches making a perfect nest like area for her to squeeze and shuffle through past the leaves, she is shown leaving and returning with furs carefully crawling under the branches to not disturb or reveal her hidden area.

"In order to observe further we need more specialised equipment."

People talk inaudibly in the background as the cameraman shows off what looks like an ordinary leaf but is in fact a highly sophisticated type of camera powered by solar with little legs like a bug for movement. The view from the multiple leafcam is slightly green tinted, a little non invasive toy car like rover scoots revving softly near the nest and deposits the box with the leafbots in who disperse quickly subtly into place.

Leader is shown chasing the little toy car and knocking it over watching it spin in circles stuck on its side before it 'dies', she loses interest returning to her nest, inside viewed by multiple leafbot the leaves and foliage are spread and flattened intentionally as she builds up the other materials feathers from Great Tusk, Scream Tail fur, Slither wing fluff and wings any soft body part she wants and can fit into the nest.

The nest is completed during a time lapse of her nest building and half a day later she lays three small eggs, they are lumpy and slightly misshapen but she seems delighted her body resting protective over them like a brooding hen she incubates what is hers. During a time of her absence Dart enters the nest slowly looking around sniffing materials.

"We feared Dart would devour the eggs of the male he'd been trying to chase off," Dart lowers themselves and produces an egg of their own larger and more solid and smooth into the middle of the nest before leaving, "we were wrong."

Leader returns and pauses her head lowering as she nuzzles each egg faintly as though counting them pausing at the large healthy egg in the center of her misshapen ones she moves and returns to her brooding accepting the foreign egg as her own.

"If Leader knows this is Darts egg we aren't sure we can only assume she believes it her own egg or knows of its origins. The difference in egg shape size and overall visual health has led us to believe Leaders eggs may non be viable."

A timelapse shows Leader guarding her nest leaving occasionally to hunt but noticeably losing weight and leaving less and less frequently. There is also footage of Dart and Glider struggling to hunt as a duo without Leader to guide them and King searching around looking noticeably lost his snout to the ground sniffing deep inhales trying to get a scent before snorting in frustration and walking off heavily.

Finally, there is movement from one of the eggs, they wobble and flop to the side as Leader watches them intensely, the little leg that kicks out is dark red with dark grey striping, when they finally destroy their way out their egg it is clear they are not Leaders, a miniature adult genetic terror, proud horns and midhorn with a subtle bump implying a double point like King, their colors were deep and rich Darts red orange hues darkened further like dark jewels grey emphasising and contrasting.

Leader watches the little hatchling bounce around making infant screeches and chirps before scooping them close to her body nuzzling and grooming them.

"Her eggs haven't hatched," they've shrunken and even caved in on themselves, "Leader could carry a genetic defect, or it was an unlucky draw." She is witnessed removing the eggs one at a time from the nest throwing them to be scavenged elsewhere before bringing a small Roaring Moon limp in her jaw to give the hatchling their first meal.

She demonstrates biting the carcass and ripping away the flesh offering it to the chick dangling between her teeth, she feeds them tenderly and often but keeps them hidden in the nest.

"We don't know how long hatchling stay in the nest with their mothers, or if this is purely a behaviour displayed by Leader, and unfortunately this time we won't get answers."

Leader leaves the nest to go hunting, she's still underweight from everything as she goes to hunt, the hatchling is seen playing with and chasing a feather that's floating about the nest making little bark like noises vocalisations of play displaying what could be a play bow before diving after the feather.

Unfamiliar jaws lean into the nest, the hatchling pauses watching the unfamiliar mouth, cold and unfeeling they snap around the youngling. With a squeal the invader makes off with its prey from the unwatched nest. Leader is viewed botching her hunt before bolting back to her nest she vocalises squeaks and cries in her throat in sheer desperation sniffing around and whimpering at a trickle of blood. She looks lost without her hatchling.

"Leader hasn't left her nest since the incident, her pack members have been struggling and King seems unaware of the tragedy that has occurred."

The camera shows the start of a forest fire beginning to crackle and burn loudly.

"If Leader can't find the strength to flee the fire will surely kill her."

Multiple pokemon run and flee bellowing in natural fear of the fire ravaging their home, instincts drive them purely to survive, the leafbots are forced to flee with what battery they have left. It looks bleak, Dart and Glider stand at the forests edge crying and bellowing out throaty summoning calls echo into the darkening sky.

"But like a phoenix she is reborn from the ashes of despair!"

A camera catches glimpse of orange hues bolting through the forest, underweight and disorientated the Genetic Terror runs dodging and weaving around the flames and burning foliage around her course correcting as the flames race her dropping burning trees and setting shrubs alight. Her panic evident in her cries and roars. Leaping from the burning forest she crashes into the grassland outside quickly reached and greeted by her siblings, chirps and nuzzles reassure their bonds before they take one last glance at the flames disappearing into the thickening ash and smoke ridden land.

King bellows at the flames enraged by their insult as nature takes its course ravaging the land to regrow it, he storms off with heavy stomps to find a new area to sleep.

———

"It's been months since the fire, Leaders condition has not improved, while the fire forced her to move from her nest her appetite has not bounced back."

Dart and Glider gorge themselves on fat Slither Wing their wings ripped off to prevent mobility and escape as they excitedly chitter at the flesh they're enjoying. Leader lay nearby on her side, she's thin and looks exhausted breathing heavily for such an easy hunt the strain of hunger causing issue with her body and yet she won't eat feeling no hunger.

The other two have long since fallen asleep assuming their sibling will eat now they're asleep, she lay uninterested but awake head lifting slowly sensing the slowly approaching King. Her head lowers either in submission or being too exhausted. King stands and looks over her slowly he moves digging into the carcasses of the Slither Wing himself devouring large mouthfuls.

He pulls away flesh hanging in his teeth and comes to Leaders side leaning down and using his arms as support he holds the food out to her, he nudges his face to hers until she acknowledges him opening her mouth slowly to take the food he delicately hands it over. The process repeats, with King biting at her legs when she does not chew only holding the meat in her teeth, his own teeth never break flesh but encourages her enough to eat.

He continues until she seems genuinely unable to devour more slowly trudging off and returning with a wetter snout he opens his maw slowly to her and water he had collected falls onto her as he attempts to offer her water, she makes noises of discontent shaking her head at the water splashed on her with a warning hiss he doesn't respond to.

King holds his jaw more steady and after some working out carefully shares the water with her for her to drink, he seems content and licks the spare droplets from her muzzle and nuzzles her face in affection purring deeply to her before going to retrieve more water, though this time she stands to follow slowly. He stops every few paces waiting for her and rests besides her at the water as she tips her head low and drinks, his tail thumps the grass happily.

———

"King has been tailing the group for a few weeks now, he is recorded giving Leader special attention and even aiding in the hunts and refusing to let the others eat until himself and Leader have had their fill. Her health is improving, though it's clear she still thinks about the nest and lost hatchling, on some nights she is seen pacing around making calls for her baby as though she will get a response. King only seems to watch her when this happens, he does not seem aware of what she is calling for."

"She will recover and more behaviour can hopefully be recorded. The area which burned down has been regrowing at a rapid previously unseen rate and should be back to it's lush original state within a month or two. Area zero continues to fascinate us."

-Recording end-

#My writing #my oc #Friends oc #Leader the paradox mewtwo #King the paradox mewtwo #@seasidemew Syn #Tw Infant mortality #tw death #Tw animals eating animals #They're just animals being animals #King trying him best #mewtwo #pokemon

[elivanto]

i can’t get over how fucking funny the thrawn & formbi dynamic is. or rather formbi’s dynamic with thrawn. because i doubt thrawn’s losing any sleep over him.

i just. i need to—

here, have a couple cute passages about thrawn blatantly disregarding the cedf’s protocols on preemptive strikes

outbound flight (2006):

Car’das shook his head. “We were lucky.”      “We had a good leader,” Maris corrected. “The Vagaari are going to be very unhappy about this.”      “Good,” Thrawn said evenly. “Perhaps they’ll be angry enough to make an overt move against the Chiss Ascendancy.”      Car’das frowned. “Are you saying you were trying to goad them into an attack?”

chaos rising (2020):

But in that case, why hadn’t [Thrawn] come out of hyperspace much farther out and done at least a quick recon before committing himself and his ship to this vector? At least then he might have found a way or route that would have given his shuttle a better chance of getting somewhere before it was destroyed.      A cold chill ran up his back. No, Thrawn couldn’t be that short-sighted. Not the Thrawn whose battle tactics Qilori had had the misfortune to see firsthand.      Which left only one other option. Thrawn had arrived on this particular vector because he wanted the Nikardun to attack him.

again, chaos rising:

[Thrawn] shook his head slowly. “I can beat them, Ziara. I can take all four, right now, without any serious damage to the Parala.”      “Serious is a highly relative term,” Ziara pointed out. “Even if you can, we have no justification. Chiss territory hasn’t been invaded, and we haven’t been attacked.”      “If we move closer, we might be.”      “Deliberate provocation is also disallowed.”

AND NOW MAY I PRESENT ARISTOCRA CHAF’ORM’BINTRANO’S THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER

outbound flight (2006):

[Car’das] stole a look at the commander’s profile. “I take it you and Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano disagree on this point?”      “I and the entire Chiss species disagree on this point,” Thrawn said [...].      “Did you tell the Aristocra about the Vagaari ship?” Car’das asked. “There seemed to be plunder in there from a lot of different species.”      “I did, and he wasn’t particularly impressed,” Thrawn said. “For him, the defensive-only doctrine admits to no exceptions.”

and 50 years later—

survivor’s quest (2004):

“I see now why your people don’t need to bother with preemptive strikes,” he commented. “With a refuge like this, you can afford to let any enemy take the first shot.”      Formbi swiveled sharply to face him. “That has nothing to do with the Redoubt,” he said stiffly. “It is completely and purely a matter of honor and morality. The Chiss are never to be the aggressor people. We cannot and will not make war against any until and unless we have been attacked. That has been our law for a thousand years, Master Skywalker, and we will not bend from it.”      “I understand,” Luke said hastily, taken aback by the vehemence of Formbi’s response. No wonder Thrawn and his aggressive military philosophy had rubbed these people backward.

formbi: thrawn is terrible formbi: the worst officer in the cedf, really formbi: his disregard for the law, not to mention his love for aliens with the most incredibly dull fashion sense is SO unbecoming formbi: thank fuck he’s gone. no other chiss would EVER try to get away with deliberately provoking an attack on their own people smh

ALSO FORMBI:

survivor’s quest (2004):

“And even knowing who [the Vagaari] were, you let them aboard your ship?” Jinzler demanded, sounding more surprised than angry.      Formbi closed his eyes again. “The Vagaari are a violent people, Ambassador,” he said wearily. “They have killed many, enslaved many others, and driven all who know them to terror and despair. […]”      “So the Vagaari need to be slapped down hard,” Mara said, frowning. “So what’s the problem?”      Formbi smiled wanly. “The problem is Chiss military doctrine, Jedi Skywalker,” he said. “Specifically, the decree that no potential adversaries may be attacked until and unless they first act against Chiss interests within Chiss space.”      Mara stared at him. “You wanted them to make a move against you,” she said, not quite sure she believed it. “You invited them aboard one of your ships and into your most critical military base, hoping they’d pull this exact stunt.”

i just love that he’s pulling a “i’m going to provoke these people into attacking us so that we’ll be justified to destroy them” à la thrawn—despite literally having thrawn arrested for it during the outbound flight Incident—and having it completely backfire because he’s, of course, not thrawn. you tried, formbi. you tried.

#not shown: me screeching with delight in the background #this is probably not as entertaining as i feel it is?? #survivor’s quest really made me love formbi so much oh my god #if he shows up in lesser evil there’s a high chance i’ll implode on the spot #thrawn #formbi #sw lit #outbound flight #chaos rising #survivor’s quest #ascendancy tag #star wars #my sw meta

[3rdgymbros]

i (almost) had you

A/N: Hey guys! So I've recently gotten into Bungou Stray Dogs, and this is one of the many stories that I have planned. It's my first time writing for BSD, so I hope I've done a good job! As always, reviews and reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(Mentions of violence/torture up ahead, so I’ve put it under a read more!)

“You can’t do a double suicide alone ~”

Dazai’s voice, smooth like honeyed velvet, fills the cosy interior of the small car, a small cocoon of goodness and warmth against the outside world. In the driver’s seat, Kunikida gnashes his teeth together, but refrains from saying anything. Beside you, Atsushi presses his face against the window, looking young and bright-eyed with curiosity as he stares at the mountains, valleys and lush green trees passing by.

The four of you had played rock-paper-scissors to decide who’d get choose the music, and Dazai had won, much to Kunikida’s dismay and Dazai’s delight. You hadn’t minded much – Dazai’s voice was always pleasant to listen to, even if he altered the lyrics beyond belief.

The late nights and early mornings inevitably catch up with you when you sit still for too long. Your eyes drift shut. You jerk awake. Atsushi’s still staring out the window, and his heat against you relaxes your core. Loathe to disturb the little slice of peace by bringing up the subject of the mission, you’re content with simply relaxing and listening to Dazai sing. When you sit like this, your mind wanders to your early years, to a red headed man that you think of at the oddest moments. Your father. You can’t remember him clearly.

Everything was quiet. All you heard is your pulse, roaring in your ears, and your ragged breathing. You gazed around the blindingly white room, at the men talking into a camera just a few feet away from you, and for just for a moment you felt a sense of calm. So this was the knowledge that you were about to die, that no one could help you, that it would all be over in a few short seconds.

Survival instincts kicked in, and you screamed, thrashing uselessly against the rope that bound your wrists and ankles.

Laughter. Words that you couldn’t understand.

Something hits your face, hard, and warmth spread over your cheek and the bridge of your nose, though there wasn’t any pain. You’re hit again. You felt the skin at your temple split open, the wet warmth trickling down your cheek and mixing with the panic sweat. A weight landed on you, screeching, tearing at you, and bright strips of fire began to spread across your shoulders.

It did no good to scream, but that’s what you did anyway. Another face filled your vision, and all you can see is a grinning face and teeth and eyes that glittered with malice. There was a series of sharp, awful cracks, but your mind barely registered the pain as your fingers were broken, one by one.

All you could think about were the blades tearing through skin and sinew, ripping open your chest and stomach, but you had to keep it away from your throat.

And then more men closed in, screaming, ripping. And the last thing you remembered, before the bloody red haze finally melted into blackness, was a flash of something bright and the coppery tang of your blood and flesh as the knife carved its way into your body.

Then there was blissful nothingness.

When you woke up, you knew you were in hell. Your whole body was on fire, or at least it felt that way, though you couldn’t see the flames. You shouldn’t move; the pain flared up sickeningly whenever you so much as pulled in a ragged breath. The room was still blindingly bright, the floor was hard under your spine, and someone was furiously pressing down on your chest – up, down, up down, with barely a pause to breathe – which you found strange for hell.

You focused hard on the only face that you can see. It was contorted with anger. His eyes were a bright shade of red. There was a five o clock shadow on his jaw, the blinding red of his hair and eyes standing out against the stark paleness of his skin.

“Can you hear me?” He tried for a smile, but failed miserably. His voice was low and calm, a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves. You opened your mouth to reply, but only a loud, wet gasp escaped. What’s wrong with me? It felt as if your mouth and throat were clogged with warm mud.

“It’s okay, kid,” That soothing voice broke through your agony and confusion. “You’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

You could barely understand his words. Your head felt heavy, and everything seemed foggy and surreal. The pain was still there, but seemed far away now, as if you were disconnected from your body. You’re vaguely aware of your nakedness, of your ribs jutting out and the stark blue veins tracing a map through your body, but when you tried raising your hand to cover your chest, your body refused to cooperate.

“It’s okay,” He kept repeating the phrase over and over again, shrugging out of his coat and wrapping you up in it. Your body felt warm and sticky; the skin stung with the contact of the tan fabric, but the coat smelled of warm skin, something cool and spicy, and the smokiness of cigarettes, a surprising pocket of goodness in a room that reeked of raw flesh. His touch was gentle, so gentle as he carefully lifted you into his arms and you could cry at the first kindness that you’ve been shown in a long time.

“You’re going to be okay, kid,” The man said. The pressure of his arms on raw flesh forced the breath from your lungs but you couldn’t – you refused – to push him away. You licked your lips and tried to swallow around the metallic taste in your mouth. “You’re going to live. You’re going to grow up and study and you’re going to get a job once you graduate from school. You’ll be okay.”

You could almost believe him.

“(Y/n)?”

That’s not Papa.

Your name is accompanied with a hesitant poke to your forearm. Your eyes fly open, and you blink back to the present. It takes you a second to feel the seat belt constricting around your waist, the Corinthian leather pressing into your spine.

Tears you hadn’t realised had formed now trickle down your cheeks. Your head's turned to the side, pressed against the window, your breaths leaving puffs of mist against the glass. Your long lashes form dark crescents against the curve of your cheek, but the hot tears push through unrelentingly. You touch your face, now glistening wet and in your mind comes a refrain that sounds eerily like your father’s voice: You’re okay, kid. I’ve got you.

You meet Dazai and Atsushi’s eyes, their faces identical pictures of concern. Unbidden, your mind flashes back to your father. His red hair and eyes, the way the corners of his mouth turned down when he saw you, how warm and reassuring his presence had been, even if only for a few brief moments.

You look Dazai in the eyes and for a minute, have difficulty focusing. You have to blink your eyes until you can. “Yes?”

“(Y/n)-chaaaaaan ~” He sings in a high, lilting voice. He completely ignores your sopping wet face, a fact which you’re grateful for. “We’ll be there in half an hour!”

“Okay.”

“You fell asleep.” A hint of concern blooms in Atsushi’s voice; you can tell that he’s trying to give you space, and not pressure you. The tension in his thighs and jaw belies any laissez faire. His eyes slide from you to Dazai as he speaks. “You started making noises and then you started crying, so we woke you up.”

“Oh.” You weren’t aware that you talked in your sleep. “Okay.”

“What’s wrong, kid?” Unflappable as always, Kunikida doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“No . . .” You answer, even as you feel the hot drip of tears streaming down your cheeks. “Well, I think it was a good dream. It’s not very clear now, but . . .”

The car is completely enveloped by the silence now, except for one of Dazai’s CDs playing on the stereo, and the hum of the engine quietly in the background.

“ . . . But it was a wonderful dream,” Despite the messy wad of emotions coiling in your belly, your eyes are aglow with the happiness of the still-lingering memory, born of knowing that you were once loved and cared for, however briefly that might have been. “I saw my Papa.”

There’s a small, sharp intake of breath from Dazai; two dark pairs of eyes fix upon you in the front mirror, with something akin to shock in those dark irises, before the impeccable mask slides back into place.

Frown parentheses surround Atsushi’s mouth. “Didn’t you grow up in an orphanage?”

“Before the orphanage.” You shake your head, swiping at the tears still flowing freely down your cheeks with fumbling, harried hands. The pain forces its way to the surface, even as you try to clamp back on it and muffle the keen caught in your throat. “I saw my Papa. He had red hair, and the warmest eyes. His voice was so soft and kind. He wore a light brown coat, and he had the faint smell of cologne and cigarettes.”

Dazai’s still staring at you, his gaze unwavering. You’ve always found it hard to read him, but this time, you can see the pain in those dark brown eyes, all the pain and emptiness and loss that you know so well.

“He –” Your voice cracks mid-sentence, and refuses to put itself back together. “It could just be a dream, but that’s what I think he was like. And he held me so gently.”

#bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs scenarios #oda sakunosuke x reader #ＰＡＩＮＴ Ａ ＰＩＣＴＵＲＥ ＦＯＲ ＭＥ | my reader inserts

[chaoscorp]

[CC] Episode 3 (Pt. 2) - Floor Tour Lore

[Read from the beginning?]  (1157 words)

The Chaos Corporation was founded by Dr. Dante Aleistar Solomon Familiares on Nephrise Sundae 6th of Morns Moon E181, who began work on creating the company just three weeks prior, only spending Sundae of each working on it. Dr. Familiares decided to put his PHDs in Psychology, Biology, Physics, Business, and History to practical use in creating a company that works to protect the citizens of Eterna City and shepherd the next generation to a brighter future. - The History of Chaos Corp, Chaos Corp Pamphlet.

Zade glanced over the leaflet at Danae as the hum of the elevator took them down to the 115th floor. It had been a quiet morning leading into a quiet afternoon until Danae insisted Zade be taken on a tour of the building. She closed the leaflet and looked at the back. There was contact information as well as directions to the building, and at the bottom of the page was small red print only vaguely visible on the similar background.

For security and confidentiality purposes, as well as preventing any form of public panic, your memory will be wiped if you decide to leave Chaos Corp.

Was this blackmail?

Ding.

The office floors were more like a maze of bland corridors and empty rooms. Zade wondered how the company functioned with seemingly so little staff. The walls of each room were floor-to-ceiling windows, mostly with their blinds drawn.

Danae led Zade through the corridors. Straight from the elevator. First right, first left, second left, first left, second right, first left, first left, straight past the elevator, first right.

The eventual correct turn lead into an open area filled with a few cubicles, some tables, and a large couch with some various other pieces of ‘modern furniture’, as Danae put it.

There were also people.

Danae gestured for Zade to go on. The second she stepped forward there was a high-pitched screech. A child in a fancy checkered shirt, black pants, and rainbow suspenders bolted towards her and she almost drew her weapon on instinct.

“You must be Zade!” they almost screamed, circling her and stopping just behind her. “My name is Higgins!” He grabbed her hand and shook it before she could even turn to face him.

Danae chuckled.

“Now now Higs, remember what we agreed on,” said another voice, belonging to a tall and muscular man who wore an awful lot of makeup and way too tight psychedelic print pants. He also had a sparkling silver vest on, open to show off his abs.

Higgins darted back in front of Zade and stopped abruptly taking a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he laughed, his hands fidgeting by his sides. “I can get hyperactive about my job.”

“Good boy,” the man ruffled his hair. “Hello darling, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He grabbed her hand gently in both of his and shook it. His voice was smooth and falsetto.

“Geeeeents,” Higgins whined. “You know it’s my job to do touring and introductions.”

The man let out a soft chuckle. “Oh hush now, I’m just introducing myself. My name is Extrava-Gent, God of Candy, Sugar, and Fun. Welcome to the company.”

His smile radiated. Or maybe that was just the sheer amount of highlighter.

Zade collected herself, and then was thrown off again.

“Wait. You are doing the tour? I thought Danae…”

She turned and Danae was having a hushed conversation with another man. He had an almost sharp hourglass body, accentuated by his form-fitting red waistcoat and white shirt.

“-yes well, what was your point John?” Danae finished saying.

“”Miss Kirei the Asuun ambassador has arrived and awaits your audience, sir.” He dragged out the last word in an almost spiteful way. “And my name is Jaegan, sir.”

“Yes, yes whatever. Inform her I will be there momentarily.”

“Very well, sir.” Jaegan bowed and abruptly left.

A hand grabbed Zade’s and she flinched again.

Higgins was looking up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t want a tour from me?” he said sadly. “But, I’m Higgins, God of Tourism and Navigation. It’s my job.”

Zade glanced back but Danae had already left.

Extrava-Gent patted her shoulder. “It can’t hurt to know your way around darling,” he chuckled, and then pirouetted flowing the movement into a skip as he exited the room.

There were only three other people left in the room now. A tanned muscular woman with ginger hair, asleep on the couch. And two other people engaged in some sort of recreative activity involving interlocked fingers and trying to keep ones thumb on top of the others.

Higgins was still staring at her hopefully.

“Okay then,” she conceded with exaggerated happiness.

Higgins let out another screech of delight, grabbed her by both hands and pulled her out of the room.

The Chaos Corporation building has 365.25 floors, averaging around one kilometer in height alone. The floors are split into sections, quaintly shown on a glass plaque outside each elevator in the building.

When questioned about what the ‘.25′ meant, Higgins had only to say that the 366th floor only existed a couple times a year.

“Floors 110 to 115 are offices reserved for gods, the best at what they do,” Higgins explained, slightly muffled by the lollipop he had popped into his mouth.

“I’ve read the leaflet, but what exactly does this company do?”

Higgins looked surprised, as if she should have been told already. Or figured it out.

“We hire gods of course.”

“Hire gods?” She realised the redundancy of repeating his words after they came out her mouth.

“Everyone in the company knows everything about it, everyone, even the janitors. When they join, they sign a paper and move into the building with some family or friends who also have to sign. And if anyone wants to leave, they are made to forget everything. They also get a lot of money.”

A curious thing this money, Zade thought, she’d have to do more research.

The living quarters were like a small town in enough their own, each having shops, and a park, and various types of housing.

Each training floor was dedicated to a different type of training. Combat, fitness, swimming, reading, writing, management, and even self-care. They had a floor for anything an employee or resident could ever need.

The facade floor was above the reception. A fake work area used whenever someone who couldn’t have their memory wiped visited. They used moving walls, hologram windows, various employees, and an elevator trick that made it feel as though you were going higher, even if you weren’t. Seemed way too much effort to put into it really, they could just use illusion magic.

Finally, they made their way up to floor 364, a floor dedicated to the CEO and founders office. Narcissism by any other name, is probably Danae.

[Next: Episode 3 (Pt. 3)]

#chaos corp #ep 3 #writing #writers #writers of tumblr #fantasy #fiction #long read #long reads #author #prose #lit #yalit #ya literature

[its-just-like-the-movies]

In the Loop (09, B+)

One of the most interesting things about existing in this hellish landscape of American politics (I’m going to use the term interesting in a loose way, since the most interesting things are also the most terrifying) is the way that almost all cinematic experiences with Things To Say are refracted through the ghoulish, orange, ballsack-like texture of our current President. Beatriz at Dinner and Get Out have particularly earned notice for the way their films interact with our current political climate, to say nothing of looking back at older films and Realizing Things about them. In that context, it’s amazing that In the Loop still feels as hilarious as it does, even as the idea of fucking ourselves into a war through a combination of bureaucratic fuck-ups, bureaucratic fuckery, sheer ineptitude, lies, and genuine fake news feels like it could happen at any moment these days. Allegiances shift by the minute between the pro- and anti-war factions of the U.S. and U.K. governments, partially because some are forcibly dragged or accidentally duped across these lines (political parties are not specified or mentioned for any government officials), partially because we learn where loyalties actually lie, partially because some are trying to keep their careers alive at any possible cost. No one emerges from In The Loop’s maze of political backstabbing and vulgar insults heaved like so many bricks, but the landscape it creates in doing so is one of more interesting depictions of this kind of political background than the power-hungry monstrosities of House of Cards, or the kinds of straightforward depictions that political dramas present us.

The fact that it’s so merrily vulgar and nasty to all of its characters, giving everyone so much comedic material to dish and to take, is surely the recipe to its success, perhaps even more than how wonderfully it’s structured. Half of the encounters in the film feel like they’re simply humiliating dressing-downs of one person or another, very often perpetrated (and occasionally received) by Peter Capaldi’s vicious, pragmatic reprisal of Director of Communication Malcolm Tucker. In the Loop opens with one such event, as Tucker berates International Development Minister Simon Foster for flubbing during a radio interview, calling war “unforeseeable”. Still, this is enough to get him into a meeting with U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Diplomacy Karen Clark, albeit as a piece of meat. Yet the fact that he us unaware of his status as “tit meat” (as he calls it) leads him to nervously sputter gibberish when Clark acknowledges his presence in the room, and leaves no excuse for the absolute gobbledygook he bumbles at a gaggle of reporters, digging himself further and further into the shit pit. “Climb the mountain of conflict!” is appropriated as the slogan of the pro-war people, especially by U.S. Assistant Secretary of Space for Policy Linton Barwick, whose psychotic rewriting of facts for his own aims and eagerness to go to war is dulled by his own, astounding dullness. Presidents and Prime Ministers are invoked but not seen, and the fate of the world is decided by assistant department administrators and their underlings. The most significant document in the whole film, “Post-War Planning, Parameters, Implications, and Possibilities”, called PWPPIP, is written by a woman named Liza Weld, Karen’s assistant, who is completely mortified that her mostly anti-war paper may be tanking her future in Washington, even as she assists Karen in trying to discover Barwick’s secret anti-war committee. You know, the secret war committee his own aide alluded to in a public meeting. That one.

Yes, okay, so my description of the film’s characters and set-up is similarly tinged with In the Loop’s own colorful language, but can you blame me? How can anyone hear Peter Capaldi’s Scottish brogue complaining that he tripped on a baby-faced assistant’s umbilical cord and not feel similarly inspired in how you process information? It’s amazing to watch the creativity in how these people attack each other, even the ones who are ostensibly allies. Delicious lines, perfectly read, with each actor wearing a winning face to match their insane dialogue. Malcolm Tucker wouldn’t be so intimidating if we couldn’t the fire in his eyes or the vein’s threatening to pop out of his head, nor would Linton’s nastiness be so irritating if he also wasn’t so palpably smug about it.

What’s equally interesting as everything that’s said (though maybe not how they say it) is all the information that’s left pretty vague. The blatantness with which In the Loop is a satire of the invasion of Iraq doesn’t contradict the fact that we never even hear the name of the country everyone wants to invade. The degree to which every single character recognizes the validity of PWPPIP, whether they support the war or not, doesn’t change that we’re left to guess why any one character backs the side that they do - though we are seemingly told that wanting war is definitely going with public opinion. Weld’s anxiety is precisely rooted in that assumption, and is constantly hummed into her ear by a U.S. State Department junior staffer named Chad. Still, we’re left to look at these characters and wonder what each one of them sees if war is declared, or what they’ll do if it isn’t. We’re simply shown who thinks it is and isn’t right. In the Loop perpetrates the smartest case of leaving certain details off the screen, of letting the audience fill in the blanks about political agendas and alliences and parties that I’ve seen from an Anglo-American film, particularly one involving American politics. Perhaps this is simply me noticing something that’s existed in plenty of films I’ve already seen, but this feels like a smarter case of political vaguarity than, say, The Iron Lady’s handling of Margaret Thatcher’s politics. Even a film as glorious as Selma still has to have two characters give us a brief summary of the SNAP organization at the height of its clout. Yet, In the Loop is able to get away with not naming a single political party or any motivation to start a war by portraying the determination of its characters to pass their agenda. The moral compasses of Karen Clark, Simon Foster, Linton Barwick, and Malcolm Tucker become the subjects of the film, nevermind that multiple characters (to include the ones I’ve mentioned) are primarily concerned with staying afloat.

It helps a bunch that each character is so cleverly and clearly realized on the page and by their interpreters. Colorful language makes the whole thing more palatable, for sure, but image how easy it could be to turn any of these characters into cursing, screeching, self-absorbed loons. Everyone wears their characters like second skins, finding the right modulations and line readings to live up to the comic and political potential of the script. It’s one thing hand lines as delicious as “Difficult difficult lemon difficult”, a long monologue about not pissing yourself during a meeting, dismissing a former ally and a creepy subordinate as “General Shrek and his magical talking donkey”, undermining an accusation with “unofficially, this is a shoe”, but another entirely to find a whole cast of performers that can give every single line the punch it requires. All the plaudits to casting directors Sarah Crowe and Meredith Tucker for bringing such a perfect combination of British and American actors together, even with the caveat of bringing Capaldi and a handful of actors over from an existing property (as if that’s a recipe for guaranteed success). The casting of such a talented ensemble is a gorgeous achievement unto itself, and it’s instances like these that makes the casting directors having their own branch at the Academy Awards feel richly deserved, and their lack of Academy Award category feel noticeably empty.

And what a cast! In the Loop possesses a frankly majestic ensemble, with rich energy and endless potential for humor between any two characters. Reading through the massive ensemble listings brings back a flood of fantastic moments. Picking any one actor to even start with for doling out praise feels difficult, so let’s just begin with my favorite favorites and work my way through the rest of this inimitable cast. Peter Capaldi sharpens each line reading for maximum effect, letting each vein practically pop out of his skull as he attacks his subordinates, allies, and enemies with frank modulation while still knocking everyone down a peg. As Karen Clark, Mimi Kennedy furnishes a low-simmering but palpable anger at the ever-growing potential of war, dodging the very real potential for bitchy caricaturing baked into the role, and striking as many comedic notes as anyone else while keeping a fairly lowkey approach next to her colleagues and castmates. David Rasche’s blowhard take on Linton Barwick is as affecting and hilarious as Tom Hollander’s earnest but congenitally inarticulate performance of Simon Foster. James Gandolfini’s general and Gina McKee’s advisor may very well walk away with the best reaction shots of the whole film, with his befuddled or angry face-pulling and her absolute delight in seeing her superiors flail without her. Chris Addison’s newby, Anna Chlumsky and Zach Woods’ mutually antagonistic and differently desperate ladder climbers, and even smaller performances from Paul Haggis, Steve Coogan, Olivia Poulet, Enzo Cilenti, James Smith, and Alex MacQueen do their bit to make every second of the film an absolute delight. (Yes, I basically rounded out the film’s whole Wikipedia page, but since I remembered who each of these people were, and the bits of theirs I loved, I think it’s acceptable).

Yet, as much as everyone makes In the Loop funny, most especially Armando Iannucci, Jesse Armstrong, Simon Blackwell, and Tony Roche, but never is it funny without a clear recognition of the stakes at hand. This is about war, goddammit, and everyone knows it. Part of what’s so evocative in Mimi Kennedy’s performance is the selfless anger she produces at Barwick’s scuzzy tactics to push for war, her great sense of how goddamn wrong this all is, and that she is virtually the only character to hold these feelings with such passion. The script and Iannucci’s direction are attuned to everything upsetting and disappointing about the film’s trajectory while nonetheless enjoying how its characters poor and scheming decisions drive the story. We are given the room to laugh at the absurdity of Barwick while registering how threatening he is; to see the value in someone shutting down a panicked question of bravery in the face of political crisis with the answer they need to hear, and know the answer is the same when two sturdier character elects to take different paths on protest resignations. Everyone is an operator, no matter how good or bad they are at it, and every single one of their decisions have real impact on an ever-winding narrative. For a film all about communication and information, the way a scenario can change on a dime based on the revealing and expulsion of information and political statements, In the Loop emerges as one of the best titled films of 2009. The fallout of the film’s climax, as the U.N. decides whether or not, leaves plenty of heads spinning, and dominates the mood of the film’s remaining runtime as decisions are made. Then again, the fact that many paths are also thwarted and snatched away from certain characters only highlights the value of the ability to even make a decision on one’s own behalf.

As hilarious as In the Loop is to experience, there’s no way not to take it as a pretty forlorn manifesto about the status of Western politics, and the ways people can affect the future with the best, the worst, and completely unrelated or bumblingly misguided intentions. Pawns sometimes have more power than the people manipulating them, on both sides of the aisle, and no one is immune to the jarring shove of an unforeseen fuck-up. Laugh and be wary. That’s for sure the place I was in once the credits starting rolling, watching everyone reorganize themselves to fit the new situation they lived in. It feels odd to end a review of such a blisteringly funny film on such a somber note, even if the film does so too. Despair at the world stage, and have a great time doing it, especially when Iannucci and co. make it amazingly easy for you to do both, and with remarkable dexterity. In the Loop is able to serve you the black comedy and political despair with ease, and deliciously so.

#my posts #my reviews #in the loop #2009