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stoat-party · 14 days

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Evaluating Which Details Pose Continuity Issues (yeah, it’s long, sorry)

I’m being relentlessly annoyed by (some) people mad at the show and by (some) people mad at people mad at the show, so let’s clear up where the issues are and aren’t so we’re not just talking over each other here.

Destroying the Strip

Obviously not a retcon. Retcons refer to previously-established events. Some people might have their own problems with it (I definitely saw it cited as evidence of a coordinated attack on New Vegas), but it presents no continuity problems.

2. What exactly is a vial?

I don’t think this changed ghoul lore. They can still go 200+ years without turning, or they can start turning as soon as they get ghoulified. There’s just a new plot element where they can stave off the effects of going feral for awhile if they take this mysterious drug - without the drug, the rules are still the same. The story was NOT clear on this, and it confused me, but if ghouls need drugs to stay sane, Oswald, Dean, Billy, etc. could not exist even if there’s a massive industry in vials of goop that’s never been mentioned before.

3. It took Vault-Tec decades to build all the vaults.

This is something I worried about because there couldn’t have been much time between the boardroom scene and the bombs falling (Janey doesn't age). But I think it makes sense if you assume the vaults were already built and they filled them with experiments afterward. It does leave the problem that some vaults were unfinished but Vault-Tec also dropped the bombs - why would they do that before finishing their vaults? It’s possible that they planned to drop them but got beat to the punch, or any number of other explanations. Clear retcon but not a huge plot hole.

4. House is worse than Caesar all of a sudden?

This one’s a private gripe of mine because House and Sinclair were not originally written to be Actual Sadists Who Hate Humanity. There’s also House’s mastermind prepper attitude toward the apocalypse, which doesn’t indicate that he had a hand in orchestrating it. While the change doesn’t conflict with the text as far as I know, it really changes the flavor of the game, but not as much as:

5. The Fall of Shady Sands

Let’s say that this happened after the first battle of Hoover Dam, so no continuity issues with their ability to win that. (That’s probably why they set it in 2277, so the NCR would have almost four years to recover before NV. As if Caesar wouldn’t have taken half of their land by then, even with his armies crushed, but ok fine he’s going through a divorce, he’s busy right now.)

But are you telling me that a country can lose a massive city containing much of its infrastructure, most of its central government, and ~5% of its population and still be trying to manifest destiny four years later with no mention of it?

Losing the Divide as a travel route almost crippled the NCR in the Mojave for awhile. Now, not only have they lost the Divide and their capital city, but one of their other biggest cities, the Boneyard, is abandoned and inhabited by an apparently-unaffiliated town. (Yeah, Los Angeles is big, but we don’t see any NCR or Followers despite three main characters traveling through it.) Even if there were still people there during New Vegas, how is the NCR still conducting a campaign in the east?

Also, who is Muldover and what’s her position? Why does she have raiders at her disposal? Is that really supposed to be what remains of the government? I get that some of this will be resolved later, but short of complete societal collapse, there’s no explanation.

We don’t see any of this in New Vegas. The president (who was in office in 2277) is still alive. No one mentions losing family in the explosion. Caesar, Ulysses, and House, along with the many other characters who complain about the NCR’s weakness and instability, don’t bring it up. People even mention the politicians in Shady Sands specifically. PEOPLE ARE MAKING JOKES ABOUT WANTING A NUCLEAR WINTER-

Now there’s a saving interpretation going around that “the fall of Shady Sands - 2277” refers to a metaphorical fall, and the explosion was later. I’ll accept this if I have to, but don’t pretend it’s not a strained reading. Every entry on the board is dated. Why would you date an amorphous event and not date the city exploding?

The explosion was nineteen years ago, and it had to be that early because Lucy and Norm don’t remember living there. (Not clear how old they are but probably in their early-mid 20’s.) The earliest you could place the event without it making no sense is late 2282, because with the time skips in DLC, the events of New Vegas are about a year long. Maybe you could put a gap between Lucy returning to the vault and the actual destruction, but not a five-year one. And if it was in 2282, Max would still be a teenager.

There are legitimate concerns here. Between House and the NCR, the show changes a lot about the main conflict of New Vegas. It’s not just side details.

Not telling you how to feel! Just don’t pretend nothing poses any problems and people are crazy for being concerned. I think the vibe right now is to dismiss me as a hater, but I hope you can see I’ve tried to make it all work. Continuity is really important in a multi-decade story, especially to writers.

I will be appeased by a respectful and thought-out New Vegas remake that preserves as much of the original continuity as possible and is also really good and costs $4. Thanks in advance Bethesda.

Edit:

6. Tatoes in the vaults

TATOES IN THE VAULTSSSS? THIS IS MASSIVE DISRESPECT TO THE LORE. EVERYTHING WE KNOW IS DESTROYED. UNFORGIVABLE.

(but yeah there shouldn’t be tatoes in a vault that hasn’t opened)(maybe norm and lucy had seeds in their pockets when they came back, sure)

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eponymous-rose · 3 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E123 (Feb. 2, 2021)

After last week’s thoroughly relaxing and brief episode, tonight’s guests are Sam Riegel and Liam O’Brien!

Brian, to Sam: “You look like Tim Curry moved to Nantucket to become a sommelier.”

How did Caleb and Veth approach the ally-ship with the Tombtakers? Sam: “I mean, we got some information, and I think we got a little closer to Lucien and knowing whether he has any of Mollymauk inside of him, which is I think the most important knowledge that we’re seeking right now. Is there someone to be saved inside there? We got glimpses, and we got a little hint that Mollymauk is maybe still in there? Maybe? And we got a little more insight into their plans, so that was useful.” Liam: “We know why we were having that fucking dream.” Sam: “But other than that, it was just a road trip with assholes.” Liam: “All our plans have been ripped in a new direction, and it’s just been improvisation.” Sam notes that it feels like we’re always about to rip into Caleb’s backstory, but haven’t yet followed that thread all the way through. Liam: “It’s partially frustrating, to be sure, but also I like the idea that-- his whole shit has been selfish, it’s been dealing with the trauma that he’s been through and not the greater world, and that’s been shifting somewhat.”

Does Caleb think the book was worth it, and is he still interested in reading more? Sam: “How do you ask Caleb not to read a book?” Liam: “Caleb has spent enough time with the Nein to know you shouldn’t put a hand on a hot stove. After what happened with the book, he knows it’s a terrible idea. But maybe. But it’s a really bad idea. But reserve judgment, but it’s a really terrible idea. I think that Caleb is very aware that mages and people like him very easily fall prey to their curiosity and it can lead to bad places. But there is still that amount of scientific endeavor where you think there is value in knowing and learning, and maybe we can ride that line. He was True Neutral at the start of the campaign, and maybe he’s Chaotic Good now, but part of him is hubris, even if it’s a little bit, still.”

What about Otis has drawn Veth’s focus? Sam: “I mean, he’s a little shit. She was curious about Otis because he’s a small like she is, and in talking to him, he seemed to be real creepy, but he was just creepy and distant and didn’t value his past or family or anything like that. She sees someone who’s like her, but so not like her, and maybe that scares her a little bit more.”

How does Caleb feel about Beau being on this ride with him? Liam: “The dream is another example of how Caleb had very narrow vision of the things he wanted to do. It used to seem so massive to him, but now... To have Beauregard involved feels right. If anyone in the group is going to stop him from grabbing something he shouldn’t, it is probably Beauregard. She’ll punch him in the fucking face to stop him, which I think he needs, to a certain extent. They’re two different kinds of nerds, and I kind of like that, that this group of nine philosophers, they’ve reached out and somehow grabbed the two nerds in the party.”

How do Caleb and Veth see the Somnovum? Sam: “I mean, they seem real bad. Anything that’s a quorum of powerful entities heading towards your planet to unleash an energy of any kind, typically bad? I assume they’re bad, or at least the Tombtakers wish them to do ill.” Liam: “I think they want the kind of peace that comes from snapping your fingers and turning people to dust. Caleb sees them as a cautionary tale; they’re the worst-case scenario for arcane inquisitiveness.” He sees Allura Vysoren as the antidote to that.

Why the staunch refusal to use Halfling Luck? Sam: “I don’t like Luck! I just don’t like Luck. I think it’s cheap, I think it’s a cheat, I think it’s stupid. It just feels like a do-over.” Liam: “I am your antithesis! If I ever voice a halfling, I am going to hammer that feature!” Sam: “What I love about D&D is that you don’t know what’s going to happen. If you roll bad, okay, that’s it. If you roll well, it makes the success more enjoyable to know that it’s a pure success and don’t one where you’re like well actually... it’s so stupid. If someone was about to die, I would probably use the fuckin’ Luck feature. Well. It depends who. If it was Travis, yeah, no, he’s fucked, sorry.”

Liam drops that he’s picked Sam’s character class and race again for a hypothetical campaign three. Sam: “It’s not what I was thinking for future characters, but I’m excited to explore.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Mollymauk by KatofValkyrie!

What was it like to bring the Tombtakers into the tower? Liam: “It is complicated, because he does not like him. Lucien’s just a fucking dick. But Caleb also knows that Molly’s in there somewhere. That tower’s only for the M9, and Lucien’s not in the M9. Their situation with these people is shitty, it’s terrible. Caleb doesn’t feel like they have the upper hand. He doesn’t like that they’re even going on this journey per se, because life is bigger than his bullshit. He feels like they’ve been losing over and over again, so it was a gamble to try to get on equal footing.

What spurred Veth into making sure she and Yasha have some one-on-one time? Sam: “Yasha hasn’t been getting a lot of moments to shine. Now that she’s back, I just got the impression that Yasha feels out of place sometimes, or timid, or unsure of herself. When Veth was Nott, Nott certainly had her share of those moments. I think she sees a kindred spirit and wants to make sure that she’s been giving all the opportunity she can to flourish and thrive. Dani, you’re just laughing at my mustache, aren’t you?” Dani: “Yes, that’s the only thing I’m laughing at through this whole bullshit.” Sam denies all knowledge of trolling, but eventually admits, on the topic of Yasha and Beau getting together: “They’ve made me wait this long... I’m going to make them wait a little bit longer!”

What was it like to show his friends the upper floors? Liam: “I kinda expected somebody to sneak up there before that. That being part of the tower is not even a conscious choice of his, it just is. The reason Caduceus has creeped Caleb out for a long time is because he talks about how-- Caduceus is a really kind person and wants Caleb to let go of the past. And in a really simplistic way, turn that frown upside-down. And that’s just not who Caleb is, and it’s not who everybody is. There is something to be said for trying to stay open and positivity, but thinking you can shut out the past, especially a traumatic one, is just not true. When things happen to us, we carry them. But to candy-coat it and say, ah, I’m free, or everything is good, or I’ve turned the corner... life is way messier than that. It’s not flipping a switch, it’s not bad-to-good, it is such a work in progress. Even when you make strides and start to get to a better place, you can backslide a lot. So the tower is who he is, and the tower is 7/9ths love for his friends, and 1/9th hope, but there’s still a percentage of him that carries everything from the past, and knows that he should, and knows that he should not go back to where he was. And the way to do that is not to say everything is rainbows, but to remember it. The tower is just like an extension of who he is. He’s never going to forget the past, and he’s never going to be like, I’m good, or I’ve turned a corner. He should remember the past, and he should do better, always.”

Does Veth still believe it’s possible to get Molly back? Sam: “Well, she was a person trapped in another body for many years, so has some experience there, and definitely believes that the spirit and soul of Molly is in there and just needs to be unlocked somehow.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot by HarpySN!

How are Caleb and Veth dealing with their guilt and fear about being in the middle of this? Sam: “It definitely was a deep conversation that might have repercussions going forward. The problem with all of what we’re doing now is that we don’t have time to deal with our petty problems anymore. It’s all high tension all the time!” Liam: “It’s true; they’re not in control of their situation at all anymore.” Sam: “It’s good to have these check-ins, but it’s not like we can do anything about them. We’re reactive right now.” Liam: “He’s not happy with where they are, but they wouldn’t even be this far if the goblin hadn’t pulled him out of the mud. So part of it is, you saved me from where I was and got me on my feet again, and now it’s disconcerting to see it all just get knocked sideways by something he never could’ve predicted. I think Caleb felt nostalgic for when things were simpler, in a way, for them, when we’re both troubled drifters.”

What was it like to see Gelidon’s return? Liam: “I am the least superstitious person at the table. Ashley’s dice suck.” Sam: “It was fun fighting a dragon!” Liam: “Two massive battles in one episode, neither of which came away with a victory. I guess surviving is a victory.” Sam: “I’d forgotten about the dragon, honestly.” Liam: “I loved it. I was so upset at the idea that we were going to stealth and not get into it.”Sam: “Mercer doesn’t keep a live dragon around and not do something with it. That dragon’s coming back.”

How do Caleb and Veth feel about going to see Essek? Sam: “He can be very helpful, I believe, but as Sam Riegel, a player of D&D, I’m super suspicious. What the fuck is Essek doing up there, so close, now? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. And I can throw him pretty far because he floats.” Liam: “I 100% agree with you. I do not understand what Essek could bring to what we are going through. I know the audience loves him, I love him too. He’s a really cool character. But he’s fucking toxic. He out of curiosity caused a war between two nations. And Caleb has been changed for the good by the M9 from months of travel with them. Essek has had none of that. Caleb has changed for the good, but not because of people like Essek. Essek is where Caleb came from. We kept the lid on the pot during the whole treaty at sea and it almost all went fucking sideways, and only because we pressed him into a corner. I hope that guy finds some sort of balance and peace for himself, but I do not see how his input here would be helpful. There’s other heavy hitters that I would try to pull in.”

Liam notes that the Cloven Crystal is in the Bag of Holding. Sam: “Do I have Fluffernutter, or is Fluffernutter gone?” Liam: “Nope. 300 pounds of fireworks? Gone. A dead mage, a threshold crest, and fireworks.” Dani: “Your basic essentials.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

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Kisses Like Wine: Part 3

In honor of the new photo, I think I will post this now. :)

Warnings: Nothing, the reader remains a blank canvass. Might have cursing.

Summary: The reader is working undercover where she things the next heist will be, while trying to figure out the Thief's ways…

Note: There really are diamonds in all these colors! I spent way too much time looking it up.

“Joe F. Gambrel and Co., how may I direct your call?” I shifted in my seat a little. The chair was not that uncomfortable, but I felt like I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I listened to the person on the other side, put them on hold. Started an email to my boss. Took them off hold. “I am so sorry. Mr. Larsen is in a meeting, may I take a message?” I typed the message in the email, hung up, hit send.

This was the shape of my day. Take messages for my reprobate boss, who was never in the office, and try to look like someone else. Act like someone else.

And, most of all, case the joint. I wondered, briefly, if the Thief ever called his work that…casing the joint. Probably not. He did not look like someone who used twenties gangster slang.

As I wandered the office suite, I hoped I was not wasting my time. I was working for a high end antiquities firm. If you wanted something, they got it for you. They did not have a lot of staff, and the bosses seemed to be out of the office more than not. The floors directly below me were home to a large business dedicated to restoration.

I’d been studying, and I was ninety nine percent sure that this was the next place the Thief would break into. The crown was — just a crown. Pretty, historied. I suspect he took it because he could, not because he wanted it. After all, it had been right there.

No. He had come for the Star. Almost a half a year prior, someone had stolen The Golden Queen. And now, if I had guessed right, he would be coming for a incredibly rare, beautiful pink diamond called The Compass Rose.

I went and looked at it, not for the first time. At the top floor of the high rise, the company — and Keith Larsen — kept the Compass Rose on display in an act of hubris that was sure, if Greek Myth was any indication, to anger some God eventually. It was in a huge room, the ceiling was all glass that arched up to a sharp point that was illuminated at night. The floor was marble, the walls a warm sandstone. Four benches, one on each side of the pillar that held the diamond’s display case. One wall held a fountain and greenery, meant to look like a small, exotic waterfall. The water trickled softly as I went as close to the case as I dared. And there. The largest pink diamond that had ever been discovered in Australia, glittering deep rose. It was one of a kind.

My thief was collecting a full set. There were three diamonds, including this one, in Midas’s Rainbow that the thief had not stolen.

He could have gone after one of the other ones. I could be wrong.

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I had bribed my way in, under a new name with a perfectly wrought set of identification papers, even a credit card. I dyed my hair and carefully applied my make up so that I made my face a little different. So if I ran into him, he wouldn’t immediately know it was me. It was not, probably the best plan, but my training consisted of books and watching Leverage.

I was staring at it too long, the security guard peeked in.

“Miss?” The security guard peeked in. Older man, with warm, friendly eyes and a lovely voice that seemed not to match his age. We’d spoken a few times on my daily check of the diamond. No one was allowed to be in the room too long, and he was gently reminding me it was time to go.

I went out the door, leaned against the wall next to him, and asked the question that I’d been asking myself for weeks, since I started working here. “If you were going to steal the Compass Rose, how would you go about it?”

He stared at me for so long I thought he was going to go report me. “That’s not a smart question to be asking, around here.”

“There’s no harm, though.” I said. His voice bothered me. I wanted more, if I could listen to it a little longer…

He shook his head and didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry if I offended.”

He gave me a gentle smile, touched his ear and pointed to a corner of the room. Then he shooed me towards the door.

Back at my desk I snuck out my steno notebook from its hiding place in a stack of unused notebooks in my desk drawer. It was where I kept my plans. Layout of the building. Everything I learned. Since my purse could get searched at any time, I only had it at work. One steno pad looks like all the others, right? Locked in my drawer, under a box of tampons.

The fountain has to be the way in. There needs to be a way to service the pipes behind the wall.

If I could break something in the fountain without getting caught, someone would have to fix it. Someone would have to open the door or the hatch, and I’d know how to get in.

And the thief always liked distractions. But what kind of distraction would he manage to create?

My work day ended, I grabbed my purse, made sure my desk was locked, and started out.

“Honey?” The first front desk receptionist called after me.

I smiled and crossed over.

“I just wanted to remind you, tomorrow they are bussing in a bunch of high school students to tour the floors so they can see what it takes to restore old art.” She smiled at me. “You’ll want to make sure to get here early before they get here…it’s going to be a madhouse.”

Cue distraction.

The next day I went to see the madhouse for myself. I wanted to see the teachers. Most were women. I didn’t discount them completely, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t shave his mustache if he could avoid it. There. Curly, dark hair. Tweed jacket with elbow patches. What century did he think this was? I followed him as he ushered bored looking kids, careful not to let me see his face. Finally I went around a dented suit of armor and managed to get face to face with him. “Hey!” I said cheerfully.

It wasn’t him. Eyes too far apart, nose too small, just not him.

I apologized and walked off just as one of the teachers asked, brightly, “Can we see the Compass Rose?”

“Well. There’s no reason why not. The public are allowed to go in, but only one at a time, I think?” The woman who had gotten stuck showing the group around said. I hid as quickly as I could, not wanting to be pulled into the conversation.

I walked back to my office, hoping no one had noticed I’d slipped out, to be sadly disappointed. My boss was sitting on the corner of my desk.

“Where were you?” He asked me.

“Just wanted to see what all the noise was about.” Behind him, the lady security guard who switched on and off with the one I usually saw stood, looking that part angry, part unamused way only a security guard could.

“Open your desk.”

“What is this about?”

“The Compass Rose. It’s gone. I want to know if you have it. You spent enough time looking for it…made jokes about stealing it. So. Did you?”

I unlocked the desk and the guard pushed me aside, dumping the contents on my desk. I held my breath when she flipped through the notebooks, but they all were empty.

Empty. Oh, no.

I let her paw through everything I owned. Let her pat me down. “Unless she swallowed it, sir, I don’t think she has it.”

“I didn’t swallow it!” I let panic creep into my voice. It was not hard.

I let them x-ray me. I did. I admit it. The lab tech a few floors down gave me sympathetic looks as I stood there, shivering, in my gown.

And then I let them fire me. The frustrating thing was the lack of knowledge. They refused to let me know anything. What happened? How? Why? Was a playing card left behind? I wanted to know.

But most of all I wanted to know where my notebook was.

Two days later as I packed up my apartment, I received a package. My name…my alias, rather, in quotes. Quotes. I grabbed a letter opener and ripped it open with more force than I needed. I suspected, already, who would be cheeky enough to put quotation marks around my fake name.

My notebook.

The last page, there was a five of diamonds tucked in like a book mark. The back of the card the same as the one I carried with me wherever I went.

Across the last page he’d written, “A five star card for a five star effort. Not bad for your first try. I wish I’d thought of the fountain. That was clever, if a bit damp.” A couple of crabbed notes along side my own. Suggestions. Not actual plans. No, I’d need to catch him to find out how he did his theft, if he could be convinced to tell me even then.

I sat down, hard. He knew where I was. Where I lived. Knew I had a steno notebook, knew I’d hide it because I could have my belongings searched. How? How did he learn so much about me? I thought over the people I had met, since getting that job.

I imagined large hands carefully drawing things out of my purse, lining them up neatly on the marble of the entry way desk. “Sorry about this, miss.” The guard’s voice said, as he went through my things. Large, but graceful hands. A warm voice that bothered me because I’d heard it before. The security guard. He’d been guarding the damned diamond all along.

“Five star effort? Oh, I’ll show you. I’ll show you.”

I worried about telling my family of my failure, then I realized. He’d given me a clue. The cheeky bastard had given me a clue. Because one of the other diamonds was kept in a five star hotel overlooking the Rhine.

He was telling me that he was going to steal the Heart of the Rhine, a mossy green diamond worth millions. Now, if only I could believe him.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine commercial #the thief #pedro pascal

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cinebration · 4 years

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The Last Straw (August Walker x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: You work with August Walker in Special Activities. An assignment goes awry, forcing you to make a decision.

Tagged: @illbegoinhome, @labramusic01, @homewreckingwreck, @stella-swiftx, @iamelysian

Warnings: sexual themes, mild language

Gif Source: henry-cavlll

August’s voice tickled your eardrum through the earpiece. “Are you in position?”

“Roger,” you answered quietly, repositioning the stock of the rifle against your shoulder. “Are you?”

“Roger.”

Hidden in a dark room, the rifle propped on a table a few feet from the open, half-shuttered window, you peered down the high-powered scope into the window of the building opposite. Warm lighting from lamps gave the room a soft glow made all the more cozy by the dark wood and plush throw rug you could see.

The target sat behind the desk in the study, sipping from a whiskey glass and mulling over some paperwork on the desk blotter.

“I’ve a clear shot,” you stated. Your finger moved down to curl around the trigger.

“Hold.”

The night before, while you were both in bed—violating protocol in all kinds of filthy ways—you had found August descending into one of his familiar brooding silences. Brushing your thumb against his fledgling mustache, you tried to pry him out of the darkness.

“I would’ve thought our romp would clear this up,” you muttered.

“I should be taking point on this.”

Sighing, you flopped onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Always work. “You’re really going to complain that they’re letting you coordinate everything? You love planning.”

“Something isn’t right.”

“August, when we decided to do this”—you gestured at the tangled sheets—“we agreed we wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of the job.”

“That’s the last thing this is.”

It stung, but you pushed past the statement. “So then it’s hubris.”

He frowned, brow creasing deeply. “A shooting isn’t subtle, even if it’s in the target’s own home. So why have the subtle agent do that work?”

Although he had a point, your natural inclination to play devil’s advocate reared its ugly head combatively. “I may be subtle in my usual methods, Walker—”

He winced at the use of his last name.

“—but I work for Special Activities, which means I go where they send me.”

“The reason we’re working together is because you don’t follow orders.”

“From lesser men, sure,” you acquiesced. “But neither do you.”

“I have better plans.”

“And I have better instincts.”

August shook his head, not quite chuckling. Your methodology was a point of contention between you both. A sophisticated planner, August would cycle through all outcomes and contingencies, whereas you would make snap decisions based on gut feelings. Very few had led you astray, but that did little to allay August’s innate irritation and anxiety over such decision-making.

“Do I like this plan? No. But this motherfucker needs to be put down,” you growled.

August glanced at you, trying to read the tense expression on your face. Your conviction in who needed to be eliminated and who didn’t was both admirable and laughable. Some people, he knew, could be manipulated to create more advantageous outcomes, even if they shouldn’t merit any mercy.

“It’ll be okay,” you assured him, propping yourself up on one elbow. You leaned down and brushed your mouth against his, mustache tickling against your lips. He tried to follow you up, but you leaned back, pressing on his chest to keep him pinned. “Understood?”

August responded by flipping you over, pinning you under his large frame, powerful thighs parting yours to settle his pelvis between your hips. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he curled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. Teeth skating across your flesh, he lathed his tongue along your jugular and up to your jaw, pausing at your ear to growl, “Roger that.”

His mouth plundered yours, tongue fighting for dominance. Your hands dug into his broad back, pulling him closer.

God, did you love his physicality.

“Hold?” you asked, frowning.

“Hold.” A note of frustration colored August’s voice.

Lifting your finger from the trigger, you placed it above the trigger guard and waited impatiently, watching as the target behind the desk shifted, his attention wavering from the documents in front of him. The cellphone on the desk lit up beside his hand. Glancing at it, the target plucked it up and pressed it to his ear.

“Fuck,” August hissed.

Alarms sounded in your skull. “Talk to me, Walker.”

“Abort.”

It took all your self-control not to shout. “Repeat.”

“ABORT.”

The target stood from the desk and glanced suddenly at the window, scanning the building, alert.

Your mind raced. August wouldn’t abort the mission because you had been discovered. You had the advantage still. Even if exfil was compromised, you had other routes of escape.

“On whose orders?” you demanded.

“The Director’s.”

Of course. Anger thrummed through you. Goddamn politics and bureaucracy. That’s who was on the phone with the target, warning him. Some plea deal had been made, or the country wanted him alive for something. The evil you know better than the evil you don’t and all that bullshit.

You sighted the target through the scope. He stood at the window, lips peeling back from his teeth in a triumphant smile. Your finger dropped back down to the trigger.

“Abort, dammit!”

“Sorry, August,” you murmured. “Gut instinct.”

You pulled the trigger.

“We had no other choice,” Director Sloane said. “Your partner is disavowed. She can’t come home.”

August felt frozen, immobile. His heart thundering loud in his ears, he heard the director explain why, but he didn’t care.

You had made a call on one of your gut instincts, and you were paying for it. Acting unilaterally, you had eliminated the target against orders and had flown the coop, taking another route that August hadn’t signed off on. As though you had known the whole time that things would go sideways and you’d make the decision you did, leaving him behind.

No, not behind. It was the job, nothing personal. You had burned yourself to eliminate the target and prevent August from getting burned along with you.

“If she comes home,” Sloane continued, “she will be tried and convicted—”

“You sent us after scum to clean it up,” August growled, “and she did what you asked.”

“The mission was aborted.”

“So he could continue supplying arms to prevent a power vacuum? We could’ve exploited that vacuum for the better good!”

“It isn’t your job to understand the nuance and delicate balance of the situation. There is a reason you’re a hammer, Walker.”

August about-faced and stormed out of the office, fuming. Oh, he understood. He understood perfectly well the constant wheeling and dealing and betraying in the name of preserving peace and balance. Because of it, you were being punished for having done a service to the world.

It was the last straw.

August had had enough.

#August Walker x Reader #August Walker #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #mission: impossible - fallout #Mission Impossible Fallout #Fallout #August Walker imagine

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fanwright · 3 years

Text

Gladiator: 200th Chapter Celebration

Tagging: @kigozula @seyaryminamoto

---

Seyary, this is a great milestone for you. Just want to let you know that I’m happy for you and impressed by the work that you have done over the long years of writing this story. You’ve inspired others to get into Sokkla as well as to have fun with the ship. Its been a great pleasure!

When I first picked up this story, I was still in college and rediscovering ATLA. Gladiator, as well as your other stories (which I recommend that others read as well) really cemented my liking for this ship. Years later, I’m still here, though all the ups and downs.

Now, despite me liking Gladiator a whole lot, I’ve admittedly fallen behind on catching up with it, chapter by chapter. That said, I do want to read it at my own pace and as I read more I still find myself loving the story, as there is much to enjoy.

So, to that end, I’ll be commenting on the parts of the story I have been caught up with, Chapters 1 to 100. I hope that’s okay.

---

1.) Favorite Character: Sokka

Now, this doesn’t mean I don’t like Azula. Of course not. And choosing one over the other is such a hard call to make that I would rather have them both occupy the same spot. But I decided Sokka in this case for a number of reasons. Others have commented on Azula in their own posts, so I thought giving my reasons for Sokka seemed only fair.

We’ve seen Sokka change a lot over the course of the story and I seeing him morph into the character he is now is such a stark contrast to the one we saw at the very beginning. He hated the Fire Nation and was unwilling to cooperate with Azula. And yet, after trial and error and harsh circumstance, we have seen become a great warrior in his own right and the closest companion Azula has ever had, being her secret lover. It has been such a treat seeing him change and adapt and grow in this story. And as someone who really does like him as much as Azula, it was (and still is) a thill to see him get an all-star treatment in a story.

And yet there are lingering complexities within him in this story, as far as I have gotten in it. There is still that awareness within him of who he serves and what he is doing, along with a nagging feeling of inadequacy that has hounded him at every turn. Bit by bit, either by his own efforts or with a little help, he is clawing his way forward internally to find some reconciliation. And I find that very compelling.

And also its fun to see him thrash gladiators.

2.) Least Favorite Most Dreaded Character: Ozai

Well, that’s not true really. I don’t dislike any of the reoccurring characters actually.

The best way to describe this particular choice is “Most Dreaded Character”. I chose Ozai for this one because I dread the moment in when he finds out Azula and Sokka’s little affair. Now, again, I’m only on Chapter 100, so things could have changed by now. Yet, I believe still that if Ozai finds about about all this... a lot is going to change for Azula, Sokka, and even the Fire Nation. He will be a consequential character in the chapters to come and dread to see the his wrath and what that will mean for everyone else. It will not be pretty.

3.) Favorite “Antagonist”: Toph

When I first picked up this story and saw Toph introduced as an adversary, I was hyped. Like, you have no idea how hyped and pumped up I was for them to brawl. And I was not disappointed.

See, for me, Toph represented more than just a metaphorical torn in both Sokka’s and Azula’s side for a good chunk of this story. She is at times a very compelling mini-villain, as if she is straight out of a Disney movie. She loves what she does and enjoys it, and knows just how powerful she is. And flaunts it in spectacular display. She has such a simple yet understandable motivation and was a very real threat to Sokka’s own life in the very first fight they were in. And despite both Sokka and Toph eventually learning to respect and even befriend each other, there was always the nagging thought that they would eventually fight again, and each one knew they wanted to win that rematch. Toph provided Sokka and Azula a reoccurring adversary to strive toward beating. Even as other gladiators came and went, they always knew Toph would be their biggest obstacle. So much build up was focused on training for that eventuality. And all of it was compelling enough to paint Toph as this great rival to them. Her being a part-time ally in some cases and even being a friend didn’t really change that until after they had fought a second time.

Its because of this that I now believe firmly that Toph should be used as an antagonist more, if a story needs one. She is just so fun and so good as villain that hope others come to use her as one in AUs.

As I read more, I’m sure this might change in time. But, even with all the fights Sokka has had, I firmly maintain that Toph was his greatest adversary on many levels.

4.) Favorite OC: Rui Shi

Honestly, I think this guy is a sprit animal to someone out there. He’s just a guard trying to do his job right and the person he protects consistently makes that job harder for him in the most ridiculous ways. “Oh great, my princess is in an affair with her Gladiator and that won’t stop fucking like rabbits. Joy.”

Honestly, this man needs a vacation. A long one. And Seyary hasn’t given it to him, because she likes to make his life hard. Rude.

For the longest time, I actually thought Rui Shi was much older than he actually is in the story. So until a picture of him was finally made, I pictured him as a 40 year old veteran with a graying mustache and beard. Even with how he actually looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if his job made him grow gray hair from all the stress.

Good OC, one of a few I like.

5.) Favorite Suitor: Zhao

Should probably be no surprise. Where I am at right now, he’s essentially the suitor to beat as well as having the ultimate Gladiator for Sokka and Azula to defeat. Azula even admired him at some point. Though that has changed, I feel that Zhao has his eyes set on courting Azula further. Its a move that Ozai would likely not object to, provided Zhao pulls off something grand to earn that honor. And although every suitor has made Sokka angry, I feel Zhao would anger him on a deeper level as his interest in Azula grows.

I look forward to seeing him more.

6.) Favorite Gladiator(s): Jet and Suki (For Chapters 1-100)

Jet being a brainwashed Gladiator highlighted a dark aspect to the games. He was also a brutal berserker when in the ring and one of Sokka’s most bitter adversaries. Suki to me was an interesting contrast to Sokka his situation with Azula. She was to me a kind of noble gladiator, an Amazon in the ring put gentle when out of it. Putting the canon characters in as Gladiators was always a treat for me and actually lends itself to some world-building.

7.) Favorite Gladiator-Canon Pairing: Sokka/Azula

This should not be a surprise :P

I could go on and on about it, but for the sake of brevity, I’ll keep things short. This should not be surprise because the driving force and the very soul of this entire story is about a warrior-princess falling in love with a tribal gladiator. Their differences and how they reconcile them, their fears and pain, their passion and drive, all propel this story forward. Things have changed in this story because of them and they themselves have changed because fate brought them together.

If that isn’t enough to make them my favorite, then I’m sorry I don’t know what else to say to convince you XD

8.) Favorite Arc(s): Rough Rhinos Arcs

Two arcs hit me hard on an emotional level - The end of the introductory arc and the Rough Rhino’s arc. They literally crawl out of quagmire, find a dragon in the process, and have one of the most touching and sincere heart-to-hearts in the story thus far. It was one of my favorite arcs to read and the emotional stakes were high. As I read more and continue, this might change, but for now I maintain this is one of my favorite arcs.

9.) Favorite Places/Locations: To Be Determine

This is the down side of having to catch up. There are a lot of locations in the story and in the ATLA universe that I like, and its always a hard choice for me to decide. I am a big fan of settings for a story and when I find a setting I like I usually latch onto it in all its locations. So for now, I will not decide on a solid choice.

... however, in any AU it might show up in, Bs Sing Se is my first choice by biased default. I just love that city and I always appreciate when a story fleshes it out in little ways. Gladiator being set for a fraction of its time in the city was great for me as I got to read more about the city I like so much.

10.) I wish to see Sokkla in...: More tender, couple-like moments

Surprising, I know. But I what I mean is this - moments where they refrain from arguing, don’t bicker, and just enjoy being around each other, doing small things together. And its hard for them, they have to train they, have to keep their relationship a secret, they can only be a true couple for fleeting moments because of how dangerous and vulnerable it will leave them. And it claws at my heart every time. So I cherish the moments they have when they can be themselves around one another, fleeting as they sometimes are.

11.) I believe Sokka and Azula’s relationship will be revealed when/like/because of...:

... when they get careless. When they feel that they are safe in their secrecy, complacaent in their routines for keeping their relationship hidden, that’s when it will be revealed. Its a kind of Hubris of sorts.

And when its revealed, it will lead to something bad and irreversible for the both of them. You can only hide something like this for so long. Even historical royal affairs were never as secret as theirs. And they have taken painful precautions to keep it all under wraps.

So when it finally does, it will change everything. And that’s going to be quite the wild ride.

12.) I believe at the end of Part 3...:

... that a sacrifice will be made. A death or a relinquishment of something. Sokka and Azula will be together, but something will have to be given up, and it will test them for the final time.

I can’t say what it will be, but I’m going to enjoy finding out.

#Sokkla #Sokka #Azula #Gladiator Chapter Celebration

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Relearning to be Me

While sailing to Dunnhouse Cliff, Miekka starts to recover with the help of the Doc and meets a new friend.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, tell me if I missed anything :D

~~~~~~~~~~~

They watched the Doc as she puttered around her little hospital room. It had become ahabit to look her up and just talk even after daily check-ups were no longer necessary.

The Doc had just re-ordered her station again, when she glanced at Miekka, who had been deep in thought, pulling on their beard. She commented: “It’s getting a bit long.”

“Huh,” Miekka looked up, then they replied, “Oh, yeah, I tried to shave, but still have a slight unsteady hand,” they waggled their fingers with a crooked grin to demonstrate, “So, tragically my dashingly handsome face needs to suffer for my hubris.”

That made the Doc snort slightly as she rolled her eyes. She walked over and inspected their face, before nodding to herself and offering: “I could do it for you, thenwe’ll get to work with some rehabilitation sothat you can turn yourself back into your handsome self in no time.”

“Hey, I’m always handsome, m’lady,” Miekka protested teasingly, then softer they said: “But I would appreciate the hand, if you do not mind.”

“I don’t,” she assured them, “Now go, sit down.”

They sat down on the chair in the middle of the room while the Doc gathered some stuff.

She sat down opposite of them with some scissors and carefully started to trim it, while she did, she asked: “So, how do you want it?”

“I usually have a small beard that fades to the side and a mustache, but if you have big dreams then I shall not stop you,” they answered.

“If I weren’t currently doing this, I would push you,” the Doc said, however she did not falter her movements as she made sure the sides were even, before she got shaving cream and a big brush. Applying it gently, she got to work.

“Where did you learn this?” Miekka asked when she was not holding a blade near their neck.

“I- I can’t recall, if I’m honest,” the Doc replied.

And with that the conversation fell quiet. The only noise was the soft scrape of the razor and their breathing with the noises of the ship fading away in the background. The moment lasted both a century and a blink and before Miekka knew it, the Doc was wiping down their face.

She held up a mirror and Miekka inspected themself in it, tilting their head before smiling satisfied and saying: “I owe you my life, good doctor, thank you.”

“You’re a dramaqueen,” the Doc rolled her eyes.

“And you love me for it,” Miekka wiggled their brows.

The Doc didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead giving them a quill and a little notebook as she said: “Why don’t you write down you name, so that I can see where we are in terms of maneuverability.”

Miekka took the quill with their left hand and wrote their name down with a flourish, instantly smudging it when their hand slid over it.

The Doc sighed: “I meant with your right hand.”

“But I write with my left hand,” Miekka said confused.

“Why didn’t you say so?” the Doc asked.

“You did not ask. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Miekka told her, stubbornness setting in.

With a tensed calmness the Doc explained: “We’re training your new right hand again, it’s kind of useless if you write with your left. I was going to take it as a measuring point, but if you don’t write with right then that is irrelevant.”

“Aahhh,” Miekka started to get it and offered, “I can cut with my right hand?”

“That- that’s something,” the Doc said, “I’m going to get you a dried apple and you’re going to cut it into pieces for me, alright?”

“It’ll be my pleasure, m’lady,” Miekka saluted.

Slicing it without a plank proved harder than expected, even with the practice they’d had working with Nox. It didn’t help either that the Doc was watching their every move closely.

When they were done she nodded: “Alright, you’re doing pretty good already, just have to get used to moving it until in becomes second nature. I want you to do this every day a few times,” she demonstrated the exercise by bringing each finger to her thumb, tapping it then clenching her fist and unclenching it, before repeating it, “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I should be able to do that with no problem,” Miekka assured her.

“Alright, now onto strength,” the Doc said, “Have you done much heavy lifting recently? What’s the heaviest you carried with you new arm?”

“Not much if I must confess, mostly just pots and pans in the kitchen,” Miekka shrugged.

“A big pot with water is still pretty heavy,” the Doc pointed out, “How did that go? Feel the pull or was it okay?”

“I did not notice anything out of the ordinary,” Miekka told her.

The Doc lit up with that and smiled: “That’s good, that’s good. I gave you some healing salve that is said to be magic, if you believe such things and it seems you’re doing great.”

“Magic?” Miekka asked.

“It’s probably nonsense, just good herbs, but old ladies tend to keep their secrets and call it magic, though for some, I don’t doubt it,” the Doc explained, her voice too fake to be truly that airy, “But that’s the superstitious sailor part talking, more important is you healing up.”

Miekka blinked at the sudden topic switch as the Doc went on: “So, you are able to lift heavy things without it tearing at the connection, we want to keep it like that, of course. We’ll build up slowly again. Can you lit your sword?”

“Uhm,” Miekka got out their sword and moved it up and down between them, “I have confirmed, yes.”

“Good,” there was a slight chuckle there, “Now, I don’t want you to wild, take it easy, but try and train you arm by doing exercise, which is easier said than done aboard a ship, but do try. We want your shoulder to be able to hold your arm. And even though it’s so far so good, we want that to stay, alright?”

“A lot of we for something I’m doing,” Miekka grinned teasingly.

The Doc rolled her eyes and said: “I am sadly responsible for your recovery, so we it is, better get used to it, babe,” she grimaced and added, “It always sounds more natural when Sasha says things like that.”

Miekka laughed and the Doc joined in. When the laughter had died down, Miekka said: “I shall think about good exercises to keep me in good health and ensuring your good name won’t be tarnished, my good doctor.”

“I appreciate that, Miekka.” the Doc replied, smile still playing around her lips as they said their goodbyes and went on with their days.

A day later Miekka was sitting on the deck of the ship, thinking and watching their fingers as they closed them one by one, only to let them go free again. It still felt weird, how they would whir and spin and feel detached from them, while still being a part of them.

They clenched their fist again, but before they could open it to repeat the process they were snapped out of their thoughts by Voyin: “The view interesting?”

Xe was lightly swinging xyr sword back and forth as xe took stabs at the air. Miekka shrugged and xe said: “I have something more fun to do.”

“What, if I might ask?” Miekka replied.

In lieu of an answer xe held up xyr sword and answered: “According to the Doc, you can start building up strength, promise to go easy on you.”

“I assure that won’t be necessary, I am a great fighter,” Miekka told xem.

“We’ll see about that,” Voyin grinned.

Right at that moment Sasha walked by, she was carrying a few maps and on her way to the Captians room when she overheard the conversation. She called out to Miekka: “Wouldn’t be that confident, pumpkin. Voyin is the best fighter we have, xe will crush you.”

This was not the discouragement she thought it was, because Miekka now just wanted to prove themself even more. With a thrill in their heart and a bounce in their step, they drew their blade and got into position.

It was not their brightest moment.

They quickly realized that they were outmatched and their arm started to act up. They wanted to push on, but they remembered the Docs face and warnings and thought the better of it. Stepping back they held up their hand and breathed heavily: “Wait- wait- stop, lets take a break.”

Voyin grinned victoriously and asked: “Giving up already?”

Miekka shot them a glare and answered: “I would have already beaten you easily was it not for my healing arm and the promise to the Doc to go easy on it.”

“Is that so?” Voyin smirked, glad to have someone fierce in front of xem for a change, “Then I will gladly cross blades again when you’re in full health once more.”

They looked at xem for a moment with suspicion, then took the excuse to back out without loss of honor: “I look forward to the day of your demise by my hands.”

And that was that, they shook hands and both were send to work. Miekka noticed a few mates exchange money, but decided not to mention it as they sheathed their sword. They were starting to fit in.

Takes place on the journey to Dunnhouse Cliff

It’s my fantasy world, so everyone knows pronouns magically and Miekka can be androgynous as fuck just because

Also did y’all notice I know nothing about sword fighting lol

#The Doc #RR writing #RR Original #Miekka 'Siren Slayer' Walraven #Miekka Walraven #The Tales of Miekka 'Siren Slayer' Walraven #Adora Genlyd #Sasha Fieldstar #Voyin #Pirate OC #pirates #original work #original writing

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

DUMPLING ch 49

Special thanks to @thundering-susurrus lending their editorial prowess.

Haiyer was crying.

From the pulling weight of an unnatural-feeling sleep, Nenani tried to raise her head up, but found her strength was lacking. When she opened her eyes, the world was nothing but a blur cast in a faint blue haze. Blinking away the fog, everything slowly came back into to focus, and she turned towards the sound of her brother crying. They seemed to be inside a large canvas tent, the flap opened out onto a foggy field beyond. Inside, the floor was covered in a worn woven carpet that might have at one time been a lavish purple color, but had reduced through wear and time to a pale grayish lavender. Several very large and colorful pillows were placed onto the floor and, looking down, she spotted her brother laying on one, still bundled up in his blankets. He seemed to be waking up from his own strange sleep and was looking around in distress. Beside him was Jae, dressed in a long shirt and burnt orange leggings, curled up in a blanket and seemingly dead to the world.

Her vantage point confused her greatly, and she pushed her hand out only for it to meet something solid and unyielding. She was encased in a translucent blue orb and floating a dozen feet above the ground.

“…Hai… Haiyer?” she mumbled, but her lips felt uncoordinated and clumsy. A large shape sat before her and only when an arm reached out from behind it did she understand what she was seeing. Sitting with his back to her was a giant. He wore a patchwork leather vest and his salt and pepper hair lay across his back and shoulders in long bushy tendrils.

As Haiyer caught sight of the giant and the giant’s hand that loomed above him, his cries became frantic and he tried to scramble away. The giant easily caught the boy and grabbed him up, fingers curling lightly around the small body.

“So much noise for so early in the morning,” rumbled the giant. Her brother disappeared from her sight as the giant pulled his catch closer. She struggled with her own blanket and sheets still entangled around her. As she fought to free herself, she fell against the side of the bubble and the force made it teeter to the left several feet. Seeing an opportunity, she bashed her shoulder against it one more time, inching her floating cell around so she might better see her brother. And the giant.

Cradled in the giant’s hand, Haiyer had balled himself up and was whimpering.

“I don’t much care for all this hubbub,” the giant told him, poking Haiyer lightly with a finger. “So you would do well enough to stop.”

“I want my Mama!” Hiayer cried back as his answer.

The giant huffed through the thick puff of his mustache and beard. “In time, you shall be returned to her. But for now you are mine.”

Haiyer lifted his head and glared at the giant. “No I’m not!”

“It is not up for debate,” the giant grunted with a frown.

“If you don’t let us go,” Haiyer said, his eyes still wet with tears, “then Keral’s gonna beat you up!”

That seemed to give the giant pause as he stared at the little human in his hand with a bemused expression. “He can very well try. But I am quite hard to catch.”

“I’ll tell him where you are!” Haiyer replied without an ounce of hesitation and seemed to believe fully in the validity of his threats. “And you’ll be in trouble.”

The giant’s bemusement shifted into mild amusement and he raised Haiyer up close to his face. “And how shall you do that?”

“I’ll send a letter,” Haiyer replied, inching away from the very large face. “I saw the King do it. How to send letters with the birds and everything.”

“Ah. I see. Well, do you know how to write?”

Haiyer’s determined face fell. “Oh…”

The giant threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll save you the trouble,” he replied. “Once that which is mine has been returned, I shall release the three of you. But until my demands are met, you are here and here you shall stay.”

The giant shifted and returned Haiyer to the pillow.

“…what did they take?” Haiyer asked.

“A dear friend,” he replied bitterly, keeping his eyes on a collection of colorful stones scattered at his feet. “And I would very much like her back.”

“Why did they take her?”

“Ignorance and hubris.”

“...I don’t know what those words mean.”

The giant made a low noise of irritation and then turned his head towards the little boy. “The one who took my companion thinks himself a lordly scholar of magic, but understands so little of its true nature that he mistook a Fae being for the repulsive castoff essence of a would-be warlock. But he seems to be astoundingly proficient in the casting of barriers. Otherwise I would simply collect her myself. But as that was not an option, I thought a good old ransom would do best.”

Haiyer just blinked at the giant, uncomprehending. With an irritated grunt, the giant turned away from the boy and focused instead on the sharp edged rocks and smooth river stones scattered before him. He picked a few up and tossed them, watching as they bounced and knocked into others, sending them scattering. Nenani watched with equal measures of confusion and intrigue.

“Tell me, Princess. Has anyone ever told you,” said the giant, not even looking at her, “that is impolite to spy on people?”

“Yeah, well it’s not nice to kidnap people either!” she snapped back, kicking her foot against the bubble’s barrier. “Or put them in bubbles!”

The giant tilted his head just enough to smirk at her. “That little beauty is to make sure you keep your flames all to yourself. I’ve enough dealings with fire mages to know not to leave you to your own volition.”

“Haiyer’s right, y’know,” she said, glaring with all her might. “Keral is going to beat you up. And Farris too!”

“You underestimate my abilities while greatly overstating theirs,” he replied lightly. “So let them come. So long as they bring Ellis with them, I will gladly hand you all back. You all make too much racket.” He gestured to Jae. “Except that one.”

Nenani blinked, the name striking a familiar sounding bell within her mind. “Wha… Ellis?”

Haiyer jumped to his feet, eyes wide, and he cried out, “Ellis? Your friend is Ellis?”

The giant cast a sideways glance at the little boy. “She is indeed.”

“She’s my friend too, but I haven’t seen her for a long time.”

“That is because the King’s magician has her locked in a jar,” the giant snarled, leaning over the boy. Haiyer’s excited grin faltered and he shrank back from the looming man, real fear entering his eyes again. “I warned her years ago about making a pet of you, boy. But she sensed green in you and would not be dissuaded. And now look where it’s gotten her!”

Haiyer’s eyes teared up. “...I’m sorry.”

“Leave my brother alone!” Nenani demanded, throwing all her weight against the bubble. She kicked at it and punched it. Her hands burst into flames and she pressed her palms to the surface, trying to burn away whatever magic was keeping her inside.

Jae rolled over with a groan, waving a hand. “You’re all being too loud. I’m still sleeping...”

“Jae, wake up!” Nenani yelled. She pushed more magic into the mage fire, but the bubble held firm. It didn’t even seem to be weakening. “Wake up!”

“Too early,” he mumbled. “Get out of my room, Nenani...”

Nenani glared. “We aren’t in your room, bonehead! Now wake up! We’ve been nabbed!”

With extreme reluctance, Jae lifted his head and stared up with blinking and bleary eyes. Upon seeing the giant, he found himself very much awake. “Holy –! Who the hell are you?” He scrambled back, tying himself up into his blankets the more he tried to scuffle away. When he ran out of pillow, Jae disappeared from sight as he tumbled backward to the floor with a cry of alarm. “What the hell’s going on?”

“We’ve been abducted!” Nenani snapped.

The giant shook his head with a frustrated sigh and pinched his nose. “Should have just grabbed the little one...”

Jae’s head poked up from the behind the bulk of the large pillow and regarded the giant with deep distrust and suspicion. “Where are we?”

“You wouldn’t know it, even if I was going to tell you,” replied the giant, gathering up the stones and rocks and plopping them into a colorful bag. He pulled the string taught and sat the bag off to the side before pushing himself up to his feet. He was barefooted. “So much for a quiet morning of divination.”

“Nenani?” Jae asked, looking around. “Where are you?”

“Up here.”

Jae’s head shot up and his eyes widened. “Wha… what the hell is that?”

“It’s a bubble,” Nenani replied, irritated.

“Can’t you get out?”

“I tried.”

Jae turned to the giant. “Why is she in a bubble?”

“Because I put her there,” he grumbled.

“Well, get her out!” Jae demanded.

“Clearly none of you have any idea how this sort of thing is meant to go,” the giant said and turned to level a flat glare at the Jae. “And I liked you much better when you were asleep.”

“Oh, sorry we’re not cooperating with your abduction plans,” Jae quipped. “So what is it we’re being ransomed for, then? Gold?” Jae’s eyes trailed about his surroundings. “A new tent?”

“A fairy,” the giant rumbled as he walked towards the tent’s open flap and exited.

Jae starred off after him with a put-off expression. “A… fairy. Seven Hells! We’ve been abducted by a lunatic.”

“He said if they give Ellis back he’ll let us go,” Haiyer said, trying to walk across the pillow and keep his balance on the ever shifting surface. His foot slipped near the edge and he tumbled off and rolled. He landed onto the rug below with an “oof!”

Jae ran to the little boy’s side and helped him up. “Geez, Haiyer. You all right?”

“I’m okay!” said the boy with a lopsided smile.

“Be careful!” Nenani scolded, once more cursing the blasted bubble. She wondered if it was worth trying to burn the enchantment away. Once he was sure that Haiyer was in fact fine, Jae turned his gaze back to Nenani.

“How are we supposed to get you out of there?”

“Mage fire didn’t work,” she replied with a dejected sigh.

“Too bad you don’t have your dagger,” Jae said with a half hearted grin. “You could just pop the darn thing.”

Nenani blinked down at him. Her dagger. Her hand went to her belt and felt the hilt, still there and still securely fastened. Pulling it from its sheath, Nenani held it up for Jae to see. He stared at her.

“...you are so weird,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. “You know, normal girls sleep with dolls or toy animals and junk. You sleep with weapons.”

“Hey, at least I have it,” she replied.

“Still makes you weird.”

Nenani rolled her eyes. Gripping the hilt tightly, she aimed the tip of the blade at the bubble’s wall in front of her. “Yeah? Well, I’d like to see a doll do this.”

She thrust the blade forward and the moment the tip struck the bubble it sparked and slipped to the side. There was a light scratch but nothing close to penetration and, after a moment, the mark was gone. As though it had never been. She heard a sound and, looking down, she spotted Jae trying to suppress a grin while slapping his hands together with a deliberate and sarcastic slowness.

“Very impressive,” he said. “Very, very impressive. Maevis would be so proud.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nenani hissed, her face red with mortification. She fell back, her shoulders striking the other curved wall of her prison and she stared miserably down at the dagger in her hands. A thought struck her. She sat up with a start. “Wait… Maevis...”

“Hm?” Jae asked. “What was that?”

Shifting in her seat, she studied her blade with new purpose and inspiration. Maevis had used a dagger not too dissimilar to hers when Aidus’s serpent avatars attacked the kitchen camp. He had enchanted the dagger. And she recalled the little blue stone she had given Haiyer. The one she mistakenly enchanted.

...Maybe she could enchant her own dagger?

She adjusted herself so that she knelt within the nest of blankets and then held the dagger up and took a deep breath. Mimicking all that she could recall of Maevis’s actions that day, she pinched the bottom of the blade and slowly drew her hand up along its length. All the while, she pulled her magic from inside her and focused on the pads of her fingers resting against the cool metal. The glowing light from her fingertips left trails along the metal and slowly it began to spread out until the entirety of the blade glowed orange.

It was difficult to stop herself from grinning as her chest swelled with pride and excitement. “I… I did it.”

“What?” Jae asked from below.

She leaned forward and held her dagger out to him once more. “Ha! I did it!”

Jae shrugged. “All right… so, what do you do now?”

She cleared her throat and gave a haughty little wiggle as she held the dagger up one more time, aiming it at the bubble. “As I was saying, let’s see a doll do this!”

With as much force as she could muster, Nenani thrust the blade of her dagger forward, and it sank satisfyingly into the magical material of the bubble. The long tear that formed abruptly ripped wide open and, all at once, the bubble popped with a loud bang. She recalled far too late that without the bubble keeping her afloat there was nothing between her and the floor. With a shriek, she plummeted down as gravity had its vengeance at last. Jae started and, without a second thought, scrambled forward to catch her. The two met with a resounding crash of arms and legs and cries of pain and surprise. Thankfully, the dagger fell to the ground with a muffled clatter several feet away.

“...ugh, that… probably wasn’t the best way to do that,” she admitted aloud. Below her, Jae groaned and he pushed up, causing Nenani to roll off his back.

“No,” he said with a grunt of pain and rubbed his arm. “Not your finest moment.”

“Well… I didn’t ask you to catch me, y’know...” she muttered as she got to her feet. Wiping furiously at her nightdress as though brushing away her embarrassment, she bent down to collect her dagger and slipped it back into its sheath.

Jae slowly rose to his feet. “Alright, you’re free. Now what?”

Nenani looked back at him in confusion. “What do you mean what?” she asked and then dropped her voice into a rough whisper. “We’re escaping of course!”

Jae stared at her. “A few things wrong with that plan. First, we haven’t a clue where we are. Second, the guy who nabbed us is some sort of magic user. My guess is a mage. Which does not bode well for us. Thirdly, and probably most hindering of all,” he said as he made a deliberate show of looking her up and down and then gesturing to himself. “None of us are dressed for the elements. We’d freeze before we made it a mile. Or less. We don’t even have shoes.”

“I’ve walked barefoot before,” she replied. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, down south. You’re much further north now. Trust me. Thirty seconds walking through frozen grass and you’ll regret everything about your plan.”

She hated to admit it, but he was right. “Well,” she said with exasperation as she lifted her arms and let them flop back down. “What are we going to do then? Just… wait till the ransom is paid?”

“If we just wait here and they let Ellis go then you’ll get to meet her!” Haiyer said, frog hopping the few feet between him and Nenani. He grabbed her hand and wiggled excitedly. “I told you she was real!”

Nenani sighed. “More sitting and waiting. To do nothing. You sound like Keral.”

“You know, you might not believe me, and don’t tell him I said this either,” Jae said, “but Keral’s right a lot of the time. Maybe the best thing to do really is...”

“...please don’t say it,” she groaned.

“...to just sit here and wait.”

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the large form of the giant appeared in the doorway to the tent, something clutched in one hand. Ducking down, he slipped into the tent and, as he righted himself, he regarded the three humans with a critical eye.

“For future reference,” he said, spilling whatever he held in one hand into the other. “You may want to consider whispering your escape plans. Or at the very least discussing them out of earshot of your jailer.” His gaze narrowed to Nenani. “And as for you...” he held out his hand as it began to glow a bright yellow. Sound abruptly became muffled and her vision was cast once more in a faint blue haze. She was back in a bubble. It rose into the air, drawing closer to the giant before settling into his outstretched hand. His dark eyes glared at her. “I don’t recall granting you permission to leave your bubble.”

Her hands burst into flames as frustration and irritation surged inside her and she kicked and stomped at the bubble’s surface. “Let… me… out… now!”

“This is one of the kinder restraints at my disposal. Don’t mistake this small gesture of leniency as weakness,” he warned her. “You aren’t the first fire mage I’ve dealt with.”

“What other fire mage?” Jae asked with a scoff. “Besides her and her mother, there aren’t any other fire mages.”

“Yes, there is,” said the giant, eyeing Jae. “Though you can hardly call him that anymore. He’s recently added necromancy to his resume, I have learned.”

Nenani froze. “Wait… you don’t mean Aidus, do you?”

“I suppose that was his name,” the giant said as he pushed further into the tent and eased himself down onto the rug. He released Nenani’s bubble and it floated above his head. “Long ago.”

He lowered his hand and from his palm spilled out dozens of apples, striped with red and green. “Eat,” he commanded. From the pile, he plucked two apples up and turned to Nenani. He tossed them lazily towards her, but instead of crashing into the bubble and falling away, they passed through without stopping and plopped into her lap. She stared at the fruit in disbelief and then turned her incredulous eyes to the giant. “Eat,” he commanded again.

Haiyer was already greedily chomping through an apple, oblivious to any potential danger. It was only with great reluctance that Jae claimed one for himself.

“Just who the hell are you anyway?” Jae asked, passing the fruit idly back and forth between his hands.

“Vander Berthol Rhendleton,” said the giant. “But most know me as simply Bertol.”

BONUS ART:

Hey mister, you don’t have any shoes.

#Dumpling #g/t #Giant/tiny #G/t story #g/t writing #g/t fantasy story #Nenani #Haiyer #Jae #Bertol

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aesthetic-uni · 4 years

Text

Let’s interact with the spider gang!

Miguel: Okay raise of hands who actually has a brain cell here?

Peter B:

Ham:

Noir:

Poppy:

Miles:

Gwen: *starts to raise hand*

Miles: *Lowers hand*

Peni: Does it count if it’s in the possession of my spider, and not me

-🕷🕸-

Miles: Strange flex but cool beans

Gwen: Freaky flexing but whatever

Peni: Quirky characteristic but allowed

Poppy: Abnormal brag but continue

Noir: Strange flaunt, but alas

Ham: Unorthodox display of hubris but very well

Peter B: So this is what hell is like

-🕷🕸-

Poppy: You guys never heard of Batman? Or the Justice League?

Everyone, putting away their comics: No...

Alternatively

Miles: So Nick Fury of all people come up to me-

Poppy: Woah woah woah. Like the comic book hero?

Ham: ???

Miles: Comic book hero?

Poppy: Yeah, Nick Fury, played by Samuel L. Jackson, wears an eyepatch, ominous as fuck

Miles: Weird, that sound just like him. Here, look *shows picture*

Poppy:

Poppy, softly: Holy fuck

-🕷🕸-

Miguel: I just feel like I’m doing all the work and I’m not getting any credit-

Poppy: Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully

Miguel:

Poppy: Quickly

-🕷🕸-

Poppy and Gwen, to Peni: Aren’t you tired of going apeshit

P and G: DON’T YOU WANT TO BE NICE?!

Peni: No :3

-🕷🕸-

Noir: On one hand it’s very good to have someone you can talk to about your feelings

Noir: On another hand this whole group is ready to storm my dimension to commit several murders and I don’t know how long I can hold them back

-🕷🕸-

Mary Jane: Peter, if we are going to have a relationship again, I think it is best we talk about children before starting anything

Peter B: Okay, okay. I have four children

Mary Jane:

Mary Jane: Wha-

Peter B: They’re technically not mine, but the bond just happen y’know! We meet up every weekend in Miles dimension for burgers, I can introduce you to them then!

Mary Jane: I was gone for like a year what the fuck happened

-🕷🕸-

Poppy: Hey Peter can we visit your dimension next week!

Peter B: Ask your mother

Miles: ...Who’s the mother of the group?

Gwen: Hey Ham-

-🕷🕸-

Mary Jane: Hi I’m MJ and this is the Mary Janes

The Spider gang, all wearing handle bar mustaches: GO GWEN!!!!

-🕷🕸-

Peter B, who borrowed Poppy’s phone to look something up: You have a girl’s group chat?

Poppy: Obviously. It’s where we send memes to each other

Peter B: You guys already send memes to the group chat

Poppy: Oh nononono

Poppy: It’s where we send memes specifically about you guys

-🕷🕸-

Peter B, Ham, and Noir: I can’t believe we adopted four unruly teenagers

Aunt May: Join the club

-🕷🕸-

Peni: As the once great fire god said

Peni: “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid”

-🕷🕸-

Mission: Calls for a self sacrificing idiot

Every spider, immediately: I VOLUNTEER!!!

-🕷🕸-

Poppy and Gwen: We only had Peni for a day and a half

P and G: But if anything happened to her we will destroy everything in this dimension and then ourselves

The Spider dudes, nodding: Valid

-🕷🕸-

Peni: Leg

Gwen: Shoulders

Miles: Knees

Poppy: And toes

Peni: You idiots it’s ‘HEAD shoulders knees and toes!’

Poppy: You started it with legs?!?

Peni: THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS PLANNING

-🕷🕸-

Poppy: I miss Normie

Miles: Uh, anyone else?

Poppy: JJ? MJ? Betty? Of course I miss them!

Miles: Do you not have a whole ass sibling back home?!

Poppy:

Miles:

Poppy: p e t e r

Peter B, Ham, Noir: Suddenly, I don’t feel safe anymore

-🕷🕸-

Gwen: I don’t dance when I fight

Gwen: I perform

*whole badass dance-fight scene*

Doc Ock: 10/10!

-🕷🕸-

Ham: Become Spider-Ham they said

Ham: It would be fun they said

Ham, pointing to apartment where the Spidergang is: LOOK WHAT I WOKE UP TO THIS MORNING

-🕷🕸-

Peter B: So we’re going to be all sneaky to get the information

Peni: Or, hear me out

Peni: Explosions

-🕷🕸-

Peter B, upon meeting the spiderkids: You remind me of myself when I was younger

Peter B: This will end badly for everyone

-🕷🕸-

Miguel: Okay who here is actually straight

Peter B:

Noir:

Ham:

Miles:

Poppy:

Gwen:

Peni: *starts to raise hand but pauses*

Peni: *shakes head and lowers hand*

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

Text

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 7

So after wandering around the desert for a while, beating up random people to prove my mettle, I finally get back to the plot where I beat up random people to prove my mettle.

But I also. Finally. Get to the circle of the suns! And beat up some more people!

---

Desert Ambush

Windswept Waste

"The heroes are sent on a final task for the elders. They must complete it quickly. A storm brews on the horizon."

I like the final task part. Sounds like I'll get to meet SkekGra and urGoh soon.

Eesh thats a lot of darkened Nurloc.

This looks like a job for Alyadon, Rian, Brea, and Rek'yr. That works out pretty good in terms of people actually involved in this part of the show and also Alyadon is there.

Annnnnd. Died again. Maybe I do need to barfight level grind?

I think my downfall was when I let the baby nurloc summon help instead of immediately beating it to death...

Trying again but with Deet because Deet makes everything better.

And indeed Deet made everything better! By poisoning everything!

Huh.

Sweet! Alyadon and Rian levelled up. But I also got a Sand-Etched Tabar! A tabar is apparently a saddle axe. And is the axe of the Dousan clan!

I don't really like axes because they increase the time between turns for the character that equips them but its nice to have. I'm starting quite a collection between this and the Crystal Cutter, dagger of the Dousan clan.

---

And the game pulls me right into the Heretic and the Wanderer's puppet show. Doesn't explain the context of these two at all. Weird priority, game.

You really are expected to already know the story if you have this game. WHICH TO BE FAIR.

Ah, well. At least the Dual Glaive makes more sense in video game logic. Super cool endgame sword. I can dig it.

---

Did the non-random encounter by Chamberlain's coach.

Fought some spiders. Got some level ups.

Rek'yr learned Vault which taught him to do a sweet jump. Hup learned Discipline. Boggi learned Ankle Bite. Brea learned Thorns which turns her into a prickly customer. And Deet learned Blinding Light. Which lets her make a light, to blind.

And I scored some Aged Hides! Gonna slap Alyadon in these so she stops dying as much!

---

Shattered Reflections: Circle of the Suns

"The heroes' visit at the Circle of the Suns is interrupted by a familiar foe. Luckily, this time they have help."

Okay here I go! Gonna beat up the Hunter for the second time!

WHY DOES HE HAVE SPIDER- oh right the Arathim were working with the Skeksis at this point. Not sure how the Hunter found out and recruited a few but look, he'd look silly being alone.

Especially because I have urVa the Archer WHAAAAAT

I get an urRu!?

Good god, this guy

He's only got two abilities and both have infinite range. Because archer. He can mark targets. And he can shoot them really hard.

And I hope there's a mechanic where him shooting the Hunter hurts himself. You gotta have that. You just gotta.

Not that I WANT bad things for urVa. Its just that thats how things work and it'd be neat to see that in game.

Fittingly, even though he has infinite range, urVa can only move two spaces a turn and doesn't get as many turns as others. Because urRu are slow.

Although with how things are, I wouldn't be surprised if there was an urRu specifically called the Jogger. There's a Swimmer.

So of course I have to go with Rian, Deet, Brea, and Hup. They’re in an elite club I call “actually present for this in the show.” Since I get one more, Boggi. Good fizzgig, best friend.

SkekMal: "I've come for my trophy! There's no place in Thra you can hide from me!"

Rian: "The Hunter is too powerful! The Arathim... Target them first!"

Weirdly aware of game tactics, Rian.

Oh. And the victory condition is just the beat all the Arathim. I guess they didn't beat the Hunter in this part of the story. He just got shot a lot, by himself, while the Gelfling flailed about.

urVa: "Gelfling, my bow is at your command! Mark any target and I shall strike it with my arrows!"

Oh, so that's how this works.

Wait, did I bring anyone that has Mark in their abilities? ... Dernit.

Then urVa just goes ahead and marks the Hunter. So. I guess. He knows what he's doing.

Of course Hunter does his big jump on his first turn.

So I killed most of the Arathim pretty quickly and figured I'd save one and then just start beating on the Hunter to see if anything fun pops out.

He summons more spiders. Why are there so many spiders.

I've been hitting SkekMal for a while and it doesn't seem to affect the Archer. Ah well.

Poor Boggi, a victim of my own hubris. I've been dragging this on so long.

And Brea gets the last hit on the Hunter with firemoss. Try kidnapping her now!

Apparently beating up the Hunter sufficiently is a secret backup win condition because the level ends.

I sure did it.

Ooo and I got the Hunter's Cloak!

Another Skeksis who lost their clothes. Chamberlain is just glad it wasn't him a second time.

Hunter's Cloak. "SkekMal... He is violent. Savage! Handsome, once." - Aughra. I had forgotten about the comment she made in the show.

Simmer down, Aughra.

Rian learned Reckless Blow (decreased accuracy, increased damage), Brea learned Cascade (blows up everything on every diagonal from Brea, goodness gracious).

---

And we automatically go over to Stone-in-the-wood for a cutscene about the Stonewood being taken by spiders. Maudra Fara is not pleased.

The slightly uncanny art style for Gelflings really works for this. Spider!Tavra is creepy.

Wait, I have a sudden suspicion that this is going to be used to justify why I'm still beating up Gelfling in the latter half of the game.

TACTICS! -shakes fist-

Archer: "Search for the Dual Glaive... where the three brothers dare not shine"

Deet: "The Caves of Grot! Let's go! I can show you all my home!" -map pans over to big obvious cave-

Also, I now have to Unite the Clans

Brea: "We'll need a strong warrior to persuade the Drenchen"

Gurjin: "I know just the one"

Brea: "Exactly! So, Naia, what do you think we should do?"

Hahahah poor Gurjin

Hmm. It seems like sidequests. Uh. More proving my mettle? The available missions are Mistaken Identity where I have to investigate missing Drenchen or Bogged Down where I investigate rumors of a Skeksis Lord.

Iiiiits Chamberlain. Still wandering around after that drubbing I gave him. There's even a little cutscene, fresh material not from the show. Some Drenchen find the Chamberlain and not knowing about the age of resistance, offer to help them. While he's all moohaha mustache twirl, gonna drink these people after they help me back to the castle.

That's our Chamberlain.

There's also the Threaded, where we seek out the Dual Glaive.

There's a lot of choices right now. Like choosing who gets the cloak.

I'm going to give it to Rian. It won't make up for the dead dad thing but it might help.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #dark crystal age of resistance #dark crystal age of resistance tactics #THE GAME #liveblog #sometimes the grieving process involved sweet new clothes

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shochmonster · 6 years

Text

TEASER [for my next writing project]

Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve been a little quiet lately, but I assure you it is with good reason! While OLLIE is making its final edits before heading out on submission, and now that I’ve revamped PINTO anew, I started something totally original to follow after. Here’s a snippet of what I’ve written so far. You Downton heads will be happy to find we’re back in the 20′s again :)

When the lads at the pub asked why I did it, I told ‘em it were on account of those tarty London whores. Couldn’t stop thinking about them, I said – what, with their plunging necklines and thick tits and all – who had time for a proper wifey? It would have only been cruel to little Marlene if I’d gone through with it, sharing a bed with her while I dreamed up all the dirty things I’d like to do with a fat-arsed slut on hands and knees. Of course, the boys agreed: they said as much with the two rounds of ale they stood up for me while I made my confession. Besides, it weren’t really that much of a fib. Not really.

In actuality, the truth was dull, and affected me in a nuanced fashion that required the sort of context you don’t talk about – even at the pub. Most of me Liverpuddle mates were shipyard blokes – real salt of the earth, Cammell Laird types – and already liked to have a laugh over how soft a career in service had made me hands, of how nice me nails were. It was unlikely that they’d understand why a plain letter in the post would be reason enough to bin a pretty lass and all the carnal accoutrements that came with her.

“But I seen her, your Marlene,” said Fat Rupert, a riveter from Birkenhead. He was a hefty bloke with an even heftier moustache, which twitched whenever he spoke. “Such a pretty, coy thing. And that small mouth – like a tight, little bud.”

“Bet she were a tight, little virgin, too,” interjected Will, lifting his fourth pint glass high and punctuating his declaration with a hearty belch. “She certainly giggled like one.”

“That’s the trouble,” says I, trying me barmy best to burst over the irrelevant detail.

“How?” Fat Rupert guffawed, slurping at his ale. It were rather disgusting how the head of his beer caked his thick whiskers, like a walrus cutting through seafoam. “Ain’t noffin’ better’n the maiden voyage.”

“I think I prefer the experienced ones,” I offered vaguely, drowning the details in another hearty glug-glug-glug of ale.

“Ohh,” hummed Will; “Hence the whores.”

“Right, the whores,” I agreed distantly, my head otherwise stuffed fat with nostalgia for Quince Orchard Park and the life I used to lead there. Blame it on that infernal letter, anticipated and unexpected all at once. If I were half as clever as I liked to boast, I’d’ve never writ the card that prompted the reply, and I’d’ve married Marlene without ever thinking of old Holly again. The wedding was marked for summer’s end, but all I could think of was how Holly and I once ruled the servants’ hall of Quince Orchard. Smug, oily and bursting with havoc, those had been the days! How spoilt I’d been to take that for granted, and yet, here I was, drowning in hubris and beer. The card were only meant it as a courtesy – the sort of last ditch call that disguises a farewell to times you only just realized were happy ones. What I got mailed in return was the uncorking of the turmoil I thought I’d repressed ages ago, and an onset of verklempt mania.

“I don’t see why you’ve got to choose,” inserted Fat Rupert, moustache sweeping the rim of his pint glass. “Marry the virgin, fuck the whores – that’s what I’d do.”

“What it is, right, is complicated,” I snapped, clutching my own glass so tightly, I thought I might crush it in my fist.

Will snorted, somehow managing wry, idiotic amusement in the halo of my irritation. “All this comin’ from the corker who fucked His Lordship’s daughter. Ain’t you bein’ a bit, well, prude, like?”

“Ain’t prude to be prudent,” I retorted, slamming my glass onto the bar with enough force to startle Fat Rupert. “And if you’ll recall, all that mess got me the sack, and here I am, workin’ the docks with you lousy sods.”

“Sounds like a fat cat whining after his fat lifestyle,” Will simpered. He was a true product of Liverpool – a real Scoucer spawned in the mucky Mersey River and left to crumble in the shipyards like a dried-out barnacle. To Will, anything from the countryside constituted as posh, even if it was only a stiff job in service that had more to do with how pretty your face was than owt else. Lucky breeding made me tall enough, fit enough – and just German enough to pass as goyish. It were the only reason I managed to find work after I came home from France, so I wasn’t about to complain. That was Will’s bit.

Fat Rupert’s empathy was only slightly more reassuring. He clapped me on the back with enough force to bruise. “Sounds more like the cat’s just got cold paws.” he chortled, massaging the welt he’d smacked through my shirt. “Don’t worry, me laddo. Happens to the best of us. You got your whole life to try again!”

But Will wouldn’t let it go – most likely because he couldn’t catch a woman if his life depended on it. “So our Eddie’s man enough to face the Kaiser’s guns, but he can’t hook a gel?” he hiccupped, just short of spilling his ale onto Fat Rupert’s duffle coat, which was disgusting and sooty, but still marked with the chevrons he’d earned after Verdun. The near-accident got Will the full strength of Fat Rupert’s mishegas, which usually spiked after the third drink or so.

“Our Eddie drove a tank through Cambrai whilst you were in convalescence,” Fat Rupert snapped, a hammy finger right in Will’s chest. His mustache bristled, reddish whiskers clashing against his ruddy drunkard’s cheeks.

“Yeah, and me leg’s still dodgy, you jerk’n’bed,” sniffed Will, unperturbed. As if to prove his point, he rapped a creaky knee with the back of his hand, though it was hard to know how much of it was just mithering. Will and Fat Rupert had this particular argument on a weekly basis, as steady as clockwork and about as melodramatic as a radio play. I let them drag on, too lost in me own head to worry about which one of them were goin’ to get laid out first. Besides, it distracted them from their nosy questions about Marlene, and why the mere reminder of Holly warranted such an abrupt change in plan. Not that I’d even got that far in my explanation: the less they knew of Holly, the better. I only wished I could say the same.

I hadn’t heard from old Holly since I got sacked and drudged off to Liverpool – though in fairness, I hadn’t made it easy, either. Any prim intentions to try writin’ got buried in the six months I spent wallowing in me cups over how foolish I’d been. Guilt overwhelmed me whenever I got even half a mind to take a nib to paper, overpacked with all the petty things that had inspired my betrayal. How was I to start up any communication after all that? To write as if I hadn’t jammed the knife in – as if I hadn’t twisted it cruelly at the fore?

Marlene turned up somewhere in that grim season of self-pity, intruding upon my vulnerable existence right when it was particularly sore. Every working day, we both took the Mersey Railway into Lime Street – even got on at the same ingress and all. Our casual salutations, the gentlemanly tip of a flatcap, her polite dip of the chin, went on in silence for about a month. I only knew she were a nurse on account of the starch pinafore she wore over her dresses, her hair always neat and pinned beneath the same little bonnet. She wore the uniform proudly – a bleeding heart that had tended to shell-shocked veterans all through the war, and then onwards, after the hun stuff finally kicked her papa underground. That was the second detail she ever shared with me, the first being her blushing shock that I knew where she lived. I told her it was because I was desperate to meet her; in truth, I’d only discovered it by drunken happenstance, stumbling home with Will and Fat Rupert as she blazed through the night like an airy pixie, her hospital whites aflame with moonglow. If I had to surmise it, convenience mainly dictated my evolution with her: she wanted another man to dote on, and I needed the cooing.

I let it go on for nearly a year, which is roughly how long it takes to stitch up a cracked heart. The afternoon I put a ring on Marlene’s finger followed the morning I’d dropped that damning and wistful missive into the post, Quince Orchard Park emblazoned beneath Holly’s full and proper name. Procuring a positive response to one of those tasks was significantly simpler than the other. Interestingly, destroying that same progress is just as easy – and a method which I am excellently schooled in. Marlene will mend: she’s a fixer, after all.

“So did you tell her all that when you broke it off?” Fat Rupert interrupted my musing with a rude elbow to the ribs. “About the whores and such?” The pinkening of his cheeks had intensified with his desire to hear more saucy chat, his ginger moustache delineated only by the creamy foam dotting the whiskers. Oy, but Fat Rupert gossiped like a girl.

“I’m not a complete schmuck,” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest so that I could feel the thin shape of the letter that had triggered it all inside my coat pocket. “There’s just some stuff you can’t say that plainly. Especially to women,” I explained further, certain the paper envelope would burn through the lining in my jacket, tattooing its neatly typed communiqué into my flesh. Cold, regimented and not written by Holly at all, the note came from the new butler at the Orchard and very cordially informed that Holly had moved on. It might have been binned straightaway if the message ended there, but no.

Dear Mr. Finch:

Please be informed that Hollingsworth has accompanied His Lordship’s second daughter, the Lady Catherine, to London for the purposes of establishing her own household, and is now in her direct employ. Any further business or inquiries can be directed to the enclosed address. Congratulations on your nuptials.

When arranged in the formation of Lady Catherine’s new residence, the common alphabet read like hieroglyphs, strange and vaguely mystic. The idea of His Lordship’s mousey shrew of a daughter doing anything on her own was laughable, furthered only by how uncharacteristic it seemed for Holly to have followed her there. The big manor house at Quince Orchard had been as much Holly’s castle as His Lordship’s, and seemed a rather large sacrifice to make for the boring sister, who never went out and was about as interesting as a histrionic sigh. The address didn’t even mark a particularly fancy neighborhood, neither, so there was either something to hide, or the war had gouged the aristocracy more than the papers would let you believe. I chose to believe there was a little concoction of both.

TBC

#writing #thommy #new projects #not sure how else to tag this since it's not got a solid title yet

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

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WHY I'M SMARTER THAN ATHLETES

One reason we don't see the opportunities all around us is that we just blithely plowed forward writing code. You can see how powerful cities are from something I wrote about earlier: the case of the Milanese Leonardo. You can come along at any point and make something better, and I don't mean you should release something full of bugs, but they also don't know how much they'll need to be in twenty years, and then think about how to make money from it, and by American standards it's not bad. I don't care what he says, I'm going to number these points, and maybe with future startups I'll be able to understand something you're studying, then it isn't hard enough. Even in the US are auto workers, New York City schoolteachers, and civil servants happier than actors, professors, and professional athletes? That's nonsense.1 We estimated, based on some fairly informal math, that there were about 5000 stores on the Web. They probably mean well. You can of course build something for users other than yourself. Curiosity turns work into play.

Anti-immigration people don't understand is that there are good ideas that seem bad are bad.2 Look at restaurants. What topic do your thoughts keep returning to? It's not getting something done is learning how to write well, or how to program computers, or what life was really like in preindustrial societies, or how to draw the line is between what you expect of other people. You're done at 3 o'clock, and you can release it as soon as possible. Immigration policy is one area where a competitor could do better.3 You can start to treat parts as black boxes once you feel confident you've fully explored them. If you try something that blows up and leaves you broke at 26, big deal. To the extent there's a secret to success, it's not the professors who decide whether you get in, but admissions officers, and they all basically said Cambridge followed by a long pause while they tried to think of some change I wanted to work in the other direction. If you raised five million and ran out of funding, but that's not the way it's portrayed on TV.

Men's Wearhouse was at that moment running ads saying The Suit is Back. Police investigation apparently begins with a motive. In industrialized countries we walk down steps our whole lives and never think about this, because it implies something innate. Soon after we arrived at Yahoo, we got an email from a recruiter asking if I was interested in being a technologist in residence. If your product seems finished, there are few outside the US.4 When we started it, there wasn't any; the few sites you could order from were hand-made at great expense by web consultants. Julian said no one would care except a few real estate agents.5 We knew that if online shopping ever took off, these sites would have to be.6 At Y Combinator we sometimes mistakenly fund teams who have the attitude that they're going to build, no matter what, they'll be discouraged from investing in your competitors. So what do you wish there was?

He completely rewrites the program several times; that wouldn't be justifiable for an official project, but because that's the only one most visitors will see. People in Florence weren't genetically different, so you think you're supposed to have. Look at this, for example. Their lives are short too. But if the software were 100% finished and ready to launch at the push of a button, would they still be waiting? Patch. The thing I probably repeat most is this recipe for a startup, so don't compromise there.

Startups rarely die in mid keystroke. You don't need to know about business to run a startup are just unbelievably low. But don't wait till you've burned through your last round of investors would presumably have lost money. I think, because they don't make something people want, we worked to make the software easy to use. Writing novels is hard. White was amused to learn from a farmer friend that many electrified fences don't have any regrets over what might have been ok if he was content to limit himself to talking to the press, but what are investors going to think of some change I wanted to work in, apartments tend to be running out of money. You may not at first make more than you. Reading novels isn't. They were also a kind of thinking you do without trying to. Talk to as many VCs as you can.7 They would call support in a spirit more of triumph than anger, as if you were hired at some big company, for whom ideally you'd work your whole career.8 If you're a startup competing with a big company, and it's hard to switch from that to a product company.

The bad news is that the message is there, but that only makes the odds better for startups. And fortunately, subscriptions are the natural way to bill for Web-based software, all you need at first. At least, it seems likely enough that it would affect where you chose to live? It is by no means a lost cause to try to guess what's going on, as you can, and your competitors can, you tend to feel rich. When we thought of good ideas, we implemented them. And PR firms give them what they want. My own feeling is that object-oriented program, it can certainly help their competitors. Flexible employment laws?

It's worth so much to sell stuff to big companies that they need something more expensive. You seem to be on the board of someone who will buy you, because odds are they'll have to work on? So the way to the extreme of doing the computations on the server, with only a few percent of the world's infrastructure? They're like dealers; they sell the stuff, but they don't seem to realize the power of the forces at work here. It would hurt YC's brand at least among the innumerate if we invested in huge numbers of risky startups that flamed out. Maybe. In the so-called real world this need is a powerful force. At the other end. They know they'll have to deal with internationalization from the beginning.

There is something very American about Feynman breaking into safes during the Manhattan Project. Knowing that should help. At Viaweb our whole site was like a big arrow pointing users to the test drive rose immediately from 60% to 90%. The urge to look corporate—sleek, commanding, prudent, yet with just a touch of hubris on your well-cut sleeve—is an unexpected development in a time of business disgrace. What I find myself saying a lot is don't worry. When you raise a lot of customers fast is of course preferable. Professional athletes know they'll be pulled if they play badly for just a couple games. The point is simply that they understood search. In a remarkable coincidence, Ms. And that gave us flexibility. This may work in biotech, where a lot of work, instead of reading scripts to them. In the Q & A period after a recent talk, someone asked what made startups fail.

Notes

The facts about Apple's early history are from being this boulder we had to resort to in the sense of not starving then you should probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of productivity.

The CPU weighed 3150 pounds, and only one founder take fundraising meetings is that so few founders are willing to be significantly pickier. If anyone wanted to go all the combinations of Web plus a three hour meeting with a walrus mustache and a t-shirts, to drive the old one was drilling for oil, over fairly low heat, till onions are glassy. This is one of the big winners are all about hitting outliers, are not all of us in the room, and those where the recipe is to create wealth in a more powerful version written in Lisp.

Starting a company with rapid, genuine growth is valuable, and his son Robert were each in turn forces Digg to respond promptly. My feeling with the buyer's picture on the subject of language power in Succinctness is Power. A larger set of users comes from ads on other sites.

Information is too general.

When you fix one bug happens to compensate for another. The solution to that mystery is that a their applicants come from. Many hope he was a sort of work is not one of the funds we raised was difficult, and stonewall about the origins of the other: the attempt to discover the most common recipe but not in the sort of work is a way in which YC can help in that it makes people feel good.

Some would say that IBM makes decent hardware. Once again, I'd say the raison d'etre of prep schools improve kids' admissions prospects.

The founders who are all about to give up your anti-dilution protections. But the usual standards for truth. And journalists as part of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit. Unless you're very smooth founder who read this essay talks about programmers, but no doubt often are, but starting a startup: Watch people who said they wanted to start using whatever you make it to them till they also influence one another directly through the buzz that surrounds a hot startup.

If you really have a group to consider how low this number could be ignored. Publishers are more likely to be about web-based apps to share a virtual home directory spread across multiple servers.

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