#Retrieve Raw Properties of Images

[daenysthedreamersblog]

STRANGERS II - HIS DARLING BLUEBELL

I tried to be good. Am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good?

If I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick

part one here

summary: your victory tour has ended, and snow throws a party for you to let the bidding war over you begin. but as the time for the final deal draws closer, can president snow truly part with his favorite little victor?

pairings: president!snow x district6! reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, heavy drinking, non/dub-con touching / kissing, choking, dub-con, fingering, oral sex, power imbalance, slapping, spitting, me trying to describe hair styles, let me know if i forgot anything!

notes: hope you enjoy part two! tysm for reading 🤍

You couldn't sleep without two bottles of wine at least while also baring the train car door with a chair to keep him out. He never came or else you would have heard the banging. He would have tried and most likely succeeded breaking down the door and once again violating your space. You knew it would only enrage him more, locking him out, but it gave you some sense of peace. Allowed you to find sleep underneath piles of blankets surrounded by empty cups.

You also knew if he asked you nicely you would open the door in an instant, and you hated that part of yourself the most.

The train had stopped a long while ago and you waited for someone to retrieve you. You had removed the chair and sat there peacefully until the Avox came within the room beckoning to follow. You did, you followed them off the train and onto the concrete platform. Taking a deep breath, the smoke from the train blowing off into the winds; you found strength in the scent, found yourself wishing that puff of smoke was blowing you away with it.

President Snow was gone leaving you in worried silence wondering what corner he would be lurking around.

The tribute center hadn't changed in the months you had been gone and the ride up the elevator was actually nostalgic. How different life had been back then, how afraid you were for different things. It dinged on the sixth floor allowing you off and your feet gravitated to your old room. You peered to the right, to the door that would never open again revealing the freckle faced boy you had come here with. He had died in the first five minutes of the games and you never knew his name too caught up in your own woes about dying.

"Good afternoon miss." A bright smile greeted you. "President Snow sent me." She was flanked by two others opening kits of instruments and fabric and colored makeup. She had her hand around your back ushering you to the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up for him hmm?”

The chill went through you; for him. It might be a figure of speech since he was the President and everything was always inherently his. You lived in his districts, you won his games, you would always be his property, and maybe that’s why he felt a right to your body too. You let them strip you, let them wax and pluck and shave down every part of you until your skin was raw.

They sat you down and styled your hair into elegant waves down your back slicking your bangs against your head and behind your ears to let your hair hang permanently over your shoulders and down your back. They airbrushed makeup onto your face covering your lids in gentle colors, putting a soft pink gloss on your lips. And finally when that was done, when they had rubbed your body down with sweet smelling lotions and perfumes, did they slip on the dress.

It was white, a slight sparkle to it when the light hit it, off the shoulder sleeves hanging against your biceps a slight cowl neckline and bodice that hugged your waist, cinching it in tight. The skirt stopped at your feet the two stylist sliding you into white heels.

"You look absolutely ethereal." The stylist mused running fingers along your hair to get it perfect, smoothing down any stray pieces. "An image of innocence." Your eyes flashed to her, pride gleaming in her face, but the others. They seemed sad, almost ashamed as they turned away from you. "Final touches." She slipped the red rose corsage along your wrist the disgusting smell wafting up to your face. "Perfect. Now wait here until he comes to fetch you."

They left like they came, quickly and without many words leaving you in a heart drumming silence. The room felt like it was caving in and suddenly your breaths were hard to find as panic choked you, the bodice of the dress squeezing your lungs. You spun, gripping the back of the chair to walk, soon grappling for the armchair wanting to rip this dress off so you could breath. You forced an exhale out wrapping your arms around the back trying to rip it off. You couldn't do this, couldn't go out there and let him sell you, let him sell your body. You could hear your heart beat throbbing in your throat as you stumbled over to the small cart holding liquor white knuckles holding onto it to stay standing. You snatched the cap off, throwing it across the room and chugged the burning white liquid down until your insides felt on fire, until most of it was gone.

You threw it at the window, watching it shatter to pieces, but the window never broke trapping you in with light reflected shards of glass. You grabbed a bottle of wine off the cart, fell to the floor with a sob, dizzy and heavy with grief. Maybe you deserved all of this after everything, after killing that boy, after surviving, after some elder family member had rebelled. You ripped the top off the wine and drank deep wallowing in self-pity until your doom came for you.

The door open and closed without protest, no chair would keep him out anyways. You listened to the short clips of his shoes as he came around and stood behind you like a shadow, like a guardian angel. He tsked, squatting down, turning your face towards him. He looked immaculate in a white suit, a single red rose pinned to his chest; a perfect opposite to your ensemble.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you stared up at him with scared eyes, "Please." You whimpered. “Don’t make me go out there.”

He raised his eyebrow, an amused look on his face, "Oh my darling bluebell." His hold on your face tightened as he yanked you forward forcing you to throw your hands out to brace the floor, "My good little bluebell." His eyes flickered around your face, a cold rage settling in and then his hand was around your neck stealing the breath out of you. You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing trying to force the words out, trying to claw up his arm to pull him off, but he only yanked you closer, bodies flush as your vision split and blurred. "As it is given...it can be taken away." He hissed pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, his hand loosing, the gasp opening up your mouth for him to slip inside.

His tongue was dominating, shoving down your throat as he attempted to devour you whole. It was a mesh of teeth and tongue; his kiss starving, hungry, like the Capitol never gave him enough food and he was planning to eat you. Fingers were digging in, carving out a place for him to control, breath by breath he took out of your chest until finally he pulled back, a string of spit trailing between the two of you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him why he was doing all of this, but the words failed as your wide eyes flickered around his face.

He stood up and went to the door leaving you waiting in a pile of tears and broken glass. He opened the door, "Call Tigris." He instructed to someone outside of the door. Then it closed again, and he took a deep breath, your eyes flashed up to him as he readjusted his pants, the hard bulge in them prominent. He clicked his tongue hands resting on his hips as he stared at the ground, and then down at you still shaking on the floor.

Then he threw off his suit jacket. "Fuck it."

He came striding forward once more with purpose, lust blowing his pupils wide. "No!" You cried out falling back on your butt, crawling backwards until your leg snagged on the dress and you went tumbling to the ground. You rolled trying to scramble to your feet, but his hand had wrapped around your calf where the old scar still sometimes hurt. You clawed and kicked at him, "Please!" The sob broke out, feeling him pushing the pretty white dress up, the unbuckling sound ringing in your ears too loudly. "I've been good! I've been so good." You shook your head as he pinned your legs down with his hips. "Please Mr. President sir," Tears rolls down your cheeks. "Haven't I been good? Your good girl, please don't do this." You tried to fake tenderness by running your fingers down his arm, but nothing stopped him. It all fell on deaf ears as his hands found the hem of your underwear and he began to pull down. You thrashed more, cried and clawed at him, but he seemed content to ravage you.

"Coriolanus." A woman's voice shot through the room and he stilled atop of you hands slowly leaving from under the dress.

He sighed, his forehead pressing into yours as if it had been such a ruined intimate moment. He began to climb off, straightening himself up again. "Tigris." He said smoothing down his hair. "Get her cleaned up I'll be back in a half-hour."

You laid there in silence listening to him leave, listening to the door close with his exit the sound throbbing in your head. She finally came around staring at you disheveled on the floor. "Come on." She grabbed your hand helping you up, and back into the chair in front of the vanity. It wasn't horrible considering all that had happened. Your lipstick was smudged with small marks of mascara tracks down your face, which she solved in a matter of minutes. Your hair had only needed a quick brush and more spray to fix. Then you were perfect again; like he had never touched you. The feeling remained; his hungry lips on yours, his devouring hands. Your lip began to wobble as water welled, "Don't cry." You blinked up at her, "Please." She whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of your eye to prevent the liquid from spilling over. "Are you alright?"

You only stared at her with furrowed brows at the dumbest question she could have asked. You pushed her away gathering shaking breaths as you turned from her.

"He..." She sighed still looking at you. "He is...he just..." You glared at her over your shoulder and she dropped her voice, "I'm sorry he is doing this you."

"If you were sorry," You seethed letting your anger show. It was rare. "You wouldn't fix me up so he can sell me like a prized mare!"

Tigris frowned truly saddened by the words taking a step back like you had slapped her. "I'm sorry." She said again grabbing her things and beginning to retreat. "I'm sorry." She went to the door opening it, "Coriolanus." She said staring up at him. "Can I speak w-!"

"Go." He gritted out as she stumbled out of the door and into the hall. He slammed the door behind her. He stared at the closed door for a second, took a deep breath, then turned to take you in once again, "Perfection." He smiled as you slowly turned to fully look at him. He came forward and your foot slid back, "Oh my little bluebell." He mused continually moving for you. "I didn't mean to mess up your makeup." He took your hands in his not really offering anymore of an explanation. "Can you forgive me?" He kissed your knuckles staring at you expectingly from under his lashes.

What were you to say to the president of Panem? No?

"I forgive you, Mr. President, sir."

He beamed, hands coming around your face, "That's my good girl." His thumb caressed your cheek, "Now give me a kiss." You sucked in a breath and let him guide you to his mouth pressing your lips to his own. He hummed gently against you, tongue sweeping along your bottom lip, but he pulled back your gloss shining on his plush mouth. "Don't want to make us late." He pushed stray pieces of hair off your neck and tucked your arm in his elbow to lead you out of the room. "I have a few people I want you to meet..." He kept talking but you drowned him out as he walked you down the hallway his grip borderline painful.

He ushered you out into the hall with ohs-awes echoing around everyone straining to get a look at the Capitol's pet until the next games rolled around. Snow was speaking motioning to you and once everyone had toasted to him, the Capitol, the games did he begin to pull you around the room; a pretty accessory on his arm.

"Isn't she lovely." He said introducing you to a herd of men staring greedily. You stared ahead, far away as you heard him whisper about you, something about being well behaved, a few chuckles followed and pocket books opened, "Come," He opened his arm wide for you to walk forward. "Introduce yourself."

Your name sounded foreign, like it didn’t belong to you anymore as you shook their hands. "Nice to meet you sir," With each pleasantry and curtsy. It went around and around until you felt dizzy with each turn you made to meet someone new, someone who wanted to buy a body because 23 others had died. For some reason it made you curl against your fearsome President more as if he would stop these vultures from descending upon you; how ironic. You tugged on his hand to make him look. How dark his blue eyes seemed to get seeing you clinging to him like a savior.

"What is it?" He dropped his voice his hand patting yours.

You gazed up with pleading eyes, "I need a drink."

"Yes, of course." He leaned lower stroking your chin, "Not too much remember?" You nodded as he straightened up and smiled.

"Will you excuse me gentlemen?" You peered at the circle of buyers.

One had his arm wrapped around your bicep and your eyes flared up as he yanked you, "I can walk you over there."

No, no, no. You wildly searched for Snow behind his tall frame, and didn't have to look for long as a hand appeared on the man's chest, "Get your hands off her before I have them removed from your body." His voice was low. The man scoffed. This is what they were there for; me, and their president was stopping their grubby, money stained hands. Snow stepped closer, "Did I not make myself clear."

The hand fell off you and you rubbed the redness, "You promised that we-!"

"I didn't promise anything." Snow stood tall staring down his nose at the man. "Especially not to you." He waved a hand and you heard peacekeepers moving in, his eyes met yours, "Go."

"Mr. President, sir." You hid the shake in your voice as you slipped away hearing the whispers of praise about the view walking away was giving them. You didn't look back as you charged to the refreshments table grabbing the expecting flute from the servant's hand. You chugged it swiftly before anyone could notice and then forced them to refill. This time you drank it slower, body still lagging from the liquor you had drowned in earlier. If you kept in a constant daze everything felt a little more distant, like your drunk mind had made it up, fabricated the story.

"He sure does seem to like playing with you." Your head snapped to the young woman, the victor from District 4. "Mags," She smiled. She slid up besides you, nursing her own flute of champagne, "It gets easier."

"When?"

She chuckled, "When they get bored, when other victors emerge. You got bad luck, you're the first female victor since my games." Which was four games ago, "They're salivating simply to smell you." She took a sip from her flute, "You should have never told him you were a virgin."

Your eyes were wild. "H-How?" Don't stutter darling, your mother's voice, It isn't proper.

"You think he wouldn't 'leak' that to the posse he sells us all to?" Mags shook her head, "It's made mutts of them all."

"It was an accident." You took a shaky breath remembering that day on the train. "I thought something was going to happen and I wanted him to st-!"

Her hand grabbed your arm, "He's touching you?" Her grip grew firm, "Isn't he?"

You drained the flute to avoid her seeing your horridly confused face, "Did he not..."

"No, never." Her face held genuine concern. "Some minor comments, but no he never. Didn't parade me around on his arm, didn't coordinate outfits," Mags scoffed, "He made me wear this ugly teal thing as homage to my district." You couldn't speak, couldn't seem to settle yourself. "Maybe because of the whole new victory tour he felt he could get away with more. He does like his power-trips, and you're such a obedient little thing. His cock probably is straining in his pants just looking at you all pouty." You set the flute down holding your hand to your head to stop the thoughts from pouring out, dizzy with her words. They felt so brutal like the blows were hitting you in the heart. "Oh dear. I'm sorry I really never know when to shut-up." She turned you to face her, "It's alright. Here." She grabbed a fresh flute of champagne and forced it into your hands, "The first time is the hardest, after that it gets easier and once they get bored it will stop. You need to be strong okay?" Her hands ran down the skin of your arms as if trying to warm your soul. "It will be over soon. I'm here. I understand, all the victors do."

You drained your flute like it was the air you needed. "Why is he doing this to me?"

Mags only frowned sadly, "I don't know. I used to hear stories about him, before he was President. Rumors says during the 10th Hunger Games he was a mentor, but theres no proof, everything got wiped. Afterwards, he got shipped to District 12 for some rules he broke during school. When he came back he was different; he came back that man." Your eyes landed on him across the room, and he was watching you over the rim of his glass. "Something changed in him out there, and ever since he's been working his way to the top, keeping the Games, making them more brutal and publicized each year."

"What do I do?" You pleaded with her.

She tried to smile taking your hand, but it never reached her eyes, "Be careful. He's dangerous, and let's just say, I'm surprised anyone is going to bid for you seeing the way he keeps you so close." She had this look indicating she wasn't sure what was worse; the leeching men or Snow's protection. It wasn't sound advice, but you tucked it close because what else were you supposed to do; burn the Capitol down.

No one person couldn't do that.

You glanced back at him, anger laced in his stare as men talked at him.

You knew which was worse.

It was midnight by the time you stumbled into your room kicking your shoes off towards the far end of the wall and grabbing the brown liquor you had left from earlier. Your stomach garbled with hunger, but you just tossed the glass decanter cap away hearing it shatter behind you and pushed the bathroom door open. You turned the faucet on setting the glass container down to attempt to undo the bodice of the dress. You got half way down before you gave up unable to reach, too tired, too drunk, too ogled at to care. You climbed into the tub, decanter in hand, the water soaking into the fabric weighing you down as you slid into it. How pathetic. How was this the epitome of desire, a drunken, wet, sad little girl.

Maybe that was how they liked them.

You turned the water off with your foot as it sat just under your chin, wet hair floating around you. You took another long drink eyes heavy, brain swirling with everything Mags had told you tonight. You couldn't make sense of it all, not now, a part of you didn’t ever want to figure it out, it was simply too much to dissect and what good would it do. He was still going to sell you off to whoever he wanted until your name was a joke they spoke over whiskey.

Ugly red rose petals floated around you from the ruined corsage around your wrist. Your ears were underwater, the idea of drowning yourself more appealing the more sleep pulled you under. The water dulled the sound of the bathroom door closing, but there he was staring down at you in the bath. He was dressed down, his suit jacket gone, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his perfect hair slightly curled in some parts. He almost looked normal, handsome even if you allowed yourself to admire it. You picked your head up as he knelt beside the tub, "You could have called for help to take the dress off."

"I was impatient." You took a swig from the bottle a glare in your eyes.

"I can tell." He chuckled, his fingers dancing on the edge of the water, playing with soaked rose petals, urging you to disagree with the movement. "I saw you speaking to Ms. Flanagan.”

You glanced over at him. He was expecting an answer and you couldn't tell him the true meaning of the conversation or else Mags could get in trouble. "That it must be nice to be President Snow's favorite victor." You took another drink, "I told her that isn't true, it would be wrong of you to pick favorites."

He smiled to himself, "It isn't wrong; I do have a favorite."

“Did he not…"

“No, never.”

You knew he wasn't lying, knew in the way his eyes drank you in he wasn't lying. He took a deep breath, folding up his sleeves, coming around the back of the tub, "I did a lot of thinking." His hand came up to your neck, running down the wet flesh, fanning your hair out of the way. "And you were right." His lips were pressing against your jugular kissing down and across your shoulders his hands following the same trail.

"About what?" Your chest was rising and falling too fast vision blurring, brain clouded.

His mouth was against your ear, "You have been so good to me." He bit down on your ear. His hand was dipping further into the water until it was fighting your heavy skirt to get underneath, "And I've been so selfish."

You froze as you watched in horror as his hand disappeared underneath the skirts of the dress. He shifted his other hand coming around to float down your chest. He was under the hem of your underwear as your lips parted in a gasp feeling the slide of his fingers against your folds. Your hands were coming up to stop him, "Mr. President plea-!"

Two fingers sunk into you. You cried out, hips bucking at the contact, but his other arm slammed you back into the tub, "Shh, shh, it's okay." He whispered into your ear. "It will feel good." He kissed your neck, his other hands slipping under the neckline to grip your breast. You had your claws in his arm as he slowly moved his fingers inside of you.

Conflicting feelings began to arise within you, you felt fear at the intrusion, but your face burned as pleasure shot through your body. It shouldn't feel good, but he said it would, and so it did. Him touching you this way shouldn't bring a blush to your cheeks, an aching throb to your core. He was curling his fingers inside of you stroking a deep sweet spot you could never reach on the nights you had tried to explore your own body. At the same time his thumb brushed over your nipple kneading your breast into his hand.

You felt your hands slipping off of him.

"Let me make you feel good. I know you want to, can feel your pussy sucking me in." You chewed on your lip turning your face from him as your knees involuntarily curled up, spreading you open more for him, "There you go," his husky voice said in your ear as he once again shifted to push his hand inside further, the other squeezing your breast. You bit back the noise gurgling in your throat; no your body had betrayed you enough, you would not let him hear it too. "I saw you," He panted nearly engulfing you with his chest. "I saw you looking at me, clinging to me, begging me to save you from those men who want to take you from me." His thumb swirled around the sensitive bud between your legs and your hand shot up twisting into his shirt, toes curling, "I wanted to fuck you in front of them all, watch them drool as I take what is mine and not theirs." His thrust were vicious, his thumb pressing down, the other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. "Mine." He hissed against your hot skin.

You threw your head back against his chest the moan breaking from the confines of your throat. His eyes were there to greet you, his hand pulling off your breast to wrap into your hair forcing you to stay put, to keep staring at him. Because he wanted to see your face as he made you come undone, as he burned through you like wildfire. Yours eyes screwed up, fast pants leaving your agape mouth, and all you could do was keep his gaze as he brought you to the peak of ecstasy.

"Cum for me," He growled, "Be my good girl and cum right now." Maybe it was the trained etiquette built in, maybe it was him, but your body clamped down on his hand stars spilling into your vision as you came. It felt like betrayal; it felt wrong to let the pleasure leak out of your body as his hand stayed rooted within you. His mouth was on yours stealing breath from your lungs as he shoved his tongue between your teeth. It was possession and ownership and it was all his to command. His bit down on your bottom lip tugging until his teeth broke skin, and then he was kissing you again the taste of rust filling your mouth, brain unsure what to feel but the pain oozing from the open wound and the delicious pulsing between your legs.

You couldn't kiss him back. Couldn't do anything but lay limp in the water for him. You came down from the high he had given you confused as the bliss danced down your spine. Until finally his hand slipped out of you, the emptiness tugging in a weird place and you stared at him blankly. He kissed your lips again, gently like it would break you. Your bottom lip was trembling as he pushed you forwards undoing the rest of the dress. It felt so wrong, everything, he had violated you in a such a way and you had let him because your body couldn't avoid the pleasure he had made you feel

He pulled you out of the soaking dress, and picked you up from the bath, head lolling against his chest. You were naked and dripping when he placed you on the bed not caring enough to even dry you off as stray red petals clung to your skin. He was still pawing at you as you stared up at the ceiling, hands on your naked flesh, nails digging in where he wanted to grab. "So soft," You heard him mutter his mouth tasting along your body, drinking in your moisture.

Your head was somewhere else, the alcohol, the orgasm, the exhaustion was dragging you under. You couldn't quite see him anymore, "Please," You mumbled his tongue circling your nipple, fingers inside your sopping cunt once more. "I'm so tired." Tears were rolling down your cheeks, or was that simply water from the bath? Why were you crying if it felt good? He hadn't forced himself inside your mouth, inside you, he was rewarding you for your good behavior.

"Shh." He only hushed you. "Close your eyes." You did close your eyes unable to keep them open, a soft whine leaving your throat as he pushed your legs apart, "Look at you," His voice sounded underwater he was still speaking, but you couldn't hear him anymore his hand viciously thrusting inside of you. "Do you like that?"

You were whispering something, but couldn't feel the words your head being pulled into the pillow fingers clawing at him, for him.

"You do." You felt warmth between your legs and soon his head was there, his tongue licking up the center of you a smile beneath it all.

You orgasmed one more time before blackness pulled you under.

You awoke to an empty bed. You groaned barely able to open your eyes the air hitting your bare chest. He had left you here, alone and drenched in your own arousal. Your thighs were soaked and sticky his own pleasure splattered across your breast. You wanted to sob, each shaky breath hurt your ribs, but the tears never came. Because as you stroked your fingers through everything he had pulled out of you, you knew you had let this happen, you had let him do this to you. Your body had given itself over willingly to him as you rubbed the proof between your fingers. You wanted to feel shame; you wanted to feel broken, but all you felt was left over euphoria from what he had given you.

He had never fucked you; you would have known. You would feel the pain of something like that, see the blood as he broke through your maidenhead. No, he had just feasted on your flesh, drained every drop he could and abandoned you here. You rolled over, body sore from what he had done and slowly rose from the bed.

Then you padded to the bathroom, reran the bath, and soaked his touch off.

The stylist team came again, Tigris came again. Curling your hair, pinning it half up-half down, smearing on more makeup, and sliding you into a chiffon lavender dress. Another image of innocence; a sweet girl pliant for men.

"How are you?" She asked placing more foundation in a mark he had pressed into the flesh on your neck. He had tried to be careful, biting and bruising what no one could see loosing control most of the time, but you saw it. Saw the outline of every half moon cut he had made, the teeth indents of his mouth, the deep blues and purples littering your skin. He fashioned himself an artist; your naked body was his masterpiece signing his name is white pleasure.

You blinked up at her, "Why me?" You didn't think you could trust her with the knowledge Mags had told you; that he had never touched her, and instead singled you out.

Her brush slowed, "I don't know."

"I'm no one, just a girl from District 6." You glanced down as she pulled her hand back. "I'm nobody."

"You're not." She whispered. "You're a-you won." Her back was to you as she set down her things, "He..."

You waited until she turned back around to look into her eyes, "He's a monster." She saw some goodness in him that wasn't there and you had no idea why.

Tigris was abhorred. "I don't know why he's doing this. He's possessive and his obsession drives him mad sometimes. I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She packed her things quickly leaving the room in a panicked rush as you sat in silence.

An Avox came by an hour later leading you down the elevator and out where a sleek black car waited on the curb. Your heart stuttered as the door was held open for you a hand outstretched to help you inside. He was sitting within, red leather seats sinking you in. "How did you sleep?" He brushed a knuckle over his lips to hide the smirk as the door closed behind you.

"Good." You lied. It was deep, but waking up was jarring. You still felt the ache of his touch inside of you, the feel of his mouth wrapped around your clit. "Thank you Mr. President, sir."

His hand fell on your thigh. "I'm having you moved to the mansion." He told you, "I don't like you being so far away where I can't protect you." You swallowed the look in your eyes asking him, from what? "These men are desperate for you," He stroked your leg an attempt at a reassuring look in his eyes. "I'm afraid at what they might do before a deal is set. I want you close, where I know where you are all the time."

He wanted you in his cage, but he did have a point. "Thank you Mr. President, sir." Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You didn't want a deal set, you didn't want other men hunting you down and taking more pieces of you. "Are we..." You gazed out the window. Are we going to one of them now, you wanted to ask.

"Yes and no; he'll come by the house later. I think you'll like him." He turned towards the window. "I want to show you something first." The drive was quiet. You were too afraid to ask anymore question in fear it would break your resolve further. He kept his hand on your leg and when the car stopped he held onto you tightly leading you away from the road towards his home. "You showed me yours; I think it only fitting I show you mine." He whispered close to your ear gripping around your waist as he led you down a side path towards what seemed to be a large greenhouse.

"Oh." You said staring up at it. It was a formidable beast defiantly more kept than your lousy garden at home. Was it even home anymore? You weren't quite sure of anything anymore. He had given you no inclination on when he would let you return. Perhaps when the 'deal' was set you would be allowed to leave until a new victor emerged. He opened the door for you leading you inside letting it click close. The room was covered in roses, just roses. "It's beautiful," You lied taking it all in. He had every color, but white roses took up most of the space, like they were beginning to dominate every root in the soil. It was too pristine, too clean to be anything but frighteningly horrid.

The greenhouse door locked into place, and your breath halted with it. You focused on a blooming white rose running your fingers along the soft petals. You don't know why the idea of being alone with him still scared you when he had seen you at your most vulnerable. "Did you enjoy last night?"

"The party was wonderful." You absentmindedly said; it wasn't what he was inquiring about.

He chuckled his footsteps slow coming closer, "Yes it was a nice party for you," He was standing behind you now. "Everyone was enchanted by you," He trailed his fingers down your skin. "They wouldn't stop talking about all the different ways they wanted to fuck you," His chest was pressing into your back as his hand slithered around your body coming up to your neck to grip your jaw, "But I got to taste your pleasure first, got to feel the softness of your tongue around my cock, got to hear all the pretty noises you make." Your throat bobbed feeling the hardness press into your backside as his thumb pressed into your bruised lip. "I know you enjoyed last night, my darling bluebell, by how drenched my face was buried in your sweet cunt for hours."

Hours. He had been there for hours between your legs, touching you, stealing from you, feasting on you while you were blacked out. You couldn't speak, couldn't move as the vision choked the air from you, his mouth dragging along the tense muscle in your neck.

"Do you still feel me down there?" He was bunching up the skirts of your dress. And maybe deep inside your brain it remembered him drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you because your body heated, your core grew slick. Treachery coursed through you at your body, at the fact it was less weary of him than you were. "You're fucking wet." He laughed as if he too was astounded by the moistness gathering in your panties as he rubbed his hands along the front of them. He became ravenous after then shoving his hand inside of you with such a force you fell forward. Potted plants clattered to the ground in a pile of dirt and glass, but he didn't care. He only shoved his hand deeper his body curling around you, enveloping you, "You're so fucking soft; like fucking rose petals." He pressed a third finger inside of you and you bit down on the scream, a small whine floating through the quiet air as he stretched you open. "You want my cock inside of you don't you?" He bit down on your neck, "You want me to fill you so badly, you want me to be the one to do it."

"No!" You cried out as he slammed your chest to the table the plants once sat on. The room was filled with the squelching sounds his hand made every brutal thrust into you, your arousal dripping down your legs. You gripped the table feeling him pulling your skirts up around your back, ripping off your underwear leaving you bare for him. You knew deep down your body would take him, suck him in greedily, allowing him to live there while you writhed in agony and embarrassment. Maybe it had something to do with the small power you felt that he was unable to control his desire for you, or maybe it was simple need. Wicked, cruel thing human nature seemed to be, she laughed at you while allowing him to take more, more, more.

You kicked your leg out trying to buck him off, but he slammed your head back down slapping your backside harshly, "Behave." He growled. You yelped as he slapped you once more his hand pulling out of you. He held you down by a large hand on your head as you squirmed, listening to him unsheathe himself.

"Please," You whimpered. "Please you don't want to do this. You-you said...you'll ruin me for your deal and-and-!”

He spit in your face the warmth of it landing along the corner of your lips and cheek. It trickled into your mouth and your tongue darted out for more. "Don't stutter." He yanked your hips back, "And be my good girl and fucking take it." You were crying now, crying as more wetness slipped out of you, crying as he ran his cock along your folds, crying as the tip of him lined up with your entrance, crying as you wanted him inside you so badly it burned.

A knock on the glass door stilled him before he could push inside of you and you nearly passed out from relief. "Sir?" Someone called inside, "Your guest has arrived."

You were taking large gulps of air every shake of your body rocking against the tip of him. "I'll be right there." He shouted back angrily. He was motionless behind you a deep frustrated sigh the only reminder he was there, a few moments from taking what he so desperately wanted it seemed. "Get on your knees." He pulled your body up and forced you to the ground, bare knees scraping in the broken glass. "Open your mouth." Your body relaxed as you took him; you knew this, you had been through this, you could take it, mouth moist from his spit. He wasn't as kind as before, if you could even call that kind. Forcing his cock to the back of your mouth, snapping his hips against your face as he yanked your hair around to move your head, "So good. So," Snap. "Fucking," Snap. "Good." He had your face buried within his skin as your tongue involuntarily swiped around him feeling his movements stutter at the unwarranted sensation. "You fucking like my cock inside your mouth." You weren't sure, but it was becoming familiar and the safer option, and you didn’t mind the taste of him. He reached down grabbing your hand pulling it to the shaft swirling around it with your palm, "Do it yourself sweet girl, do what I tell you."

So you did. You did what he wanted you to do, swirling your hand around the shaft, took his cock deeper until you gagged letting the spit spill out of the corners of your mouth. Your tongue ran along the head until his movements grew erratic and his thigh became taut hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

"Swallow it." He commanded snapping your jaw shut after he pulled out. "All of it." His breaths were heavy. You gazed up at him feeling the remnants trickle down your throat. His eyes were dark, demanding, obsessive. "I want you to kiss his cheek with my cum still on your breath." He left you on the ground as he went to the door. "Clean her up, get her ready for lunch." He called to some servant.

You glanced down at the dirt staining your chest from where he slammed you, the blood blooming on the dress from your scraped knees, your smeared makeup no doubt. You let them help you up and cart you back to the house.

An hour later, and now a pink dress covering your skin, you sat down at the table. It was a small thing, set to fit only six people in a small room cascaded in sunlight. The windows were open letting in warm air and a breeze that ruffled the curtains. He sat to the chair next to you cutting into his food while he spoke to you...buyer. The highest bidder.

The man was handsome, maybe a tad older than the darling President, but not by much. He had dark hair and darker eyes a slight shadow of a beard gracing his features. He wore a light blue suit that was almost tacky compared to Snow's deep green. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of comparing the two, comparing the buyer to the seller.

And yet, President Snow's presence comforted you, which in turn disgusted you. It gave you a headache and you drank dainty sips from your cup of sparkling wine hoping to avoid the feelings this afternoon was invoking from you. A mere hour ago he was shoving his cock down your throat, and you had savored the flavor of him. Now he was wanting money for your virtue. You glanced across the table once more.

You had won the games, and this was your peace they had promised.

There was no winning. Only surviving.

He left after an hour long lunch barely speaking to you at all, but when he left he grabbed you. He pulled you in close hand blatantly spread across your back side as he forced you to kiss his cheek. Could he smell it? Could he smell his President's cum stuck between your teeth?

When he left Snow had an anger to him which surprised you given the fact he was the one pawning you off, he should be happy.

Your eyes met, sunlight heating your back from the window as you watch his teeth grind together never looking away from you. Then your face began to fall, knees wobbling, at the realization of the reason behind his anger.

He forced you away without another word.

PART THREE HERE!

( its disgustingly smutty so bring holy water )

notes: this had WAY too much plot sorry lmao

tags: @astarborntowrite , @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear

[blog-imtsupdates]

week 4

start concepting creature designs with previous critique in mind.

Rember i am going to use (sucessful) properties as inspiration to create a new and orignal design thats intersting.

with the use of refrences found on google (NON AI) i practiced more anatomy and this time some flat rendering to practice texturing like meat, mucles, feathers and fur

a Utah raptor, a not Golden retriever (horse + lemur and skinned animal insp), a not Border collie (pterosaur + fetus/raw chicken insp)

wanted to still give the Utah raptor a shot because they are incredible animals and i would love to make one with feathery coat and all but i suppose I'll do that in my free time.

for the not a bordercollie(black and white "dog") I took inspiration from creepy pastas like suggested, i looked to classics like "The Rake" and smiledog.jpg (the husky version) which scared me to death as a kid. Though those were more in the background, main influences came from "The Thing"(1982). i wante dit to be off but not so much to emidiatly tell its wrong, just a slight feeling of unease. i dislocated the neck and set it far too high up, extended the corners of its mouth too far back, gave it hand like paws and made it skinny. though i kept the body pretty dog like i felt like it was too clearly off especially the sharp eyes though collies often have very piercing light eyes.

after that i expanded on the idea with the golden retriever as i wanted a more family friendly looking dog, one you wouldnt expect to be a danger but again something being clearly off while still inviting. same inspirations of The Thing and smile dog.jpg (red version this time) and also "Annihilation"(2018) this time. The people yearn for body horror(recent spike in attention on franchises like "The thing" and "Fear and Hunger" body horror : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRIkWHo1SJY a recent 50 minute video with 3.5 million views on fear and hunger)

i also thought about doing a nod to annalog horror but felt that that specific type of eyes would defeat my original intent of creating a whole new intersting creature not seen before. the eyes are over done as they are found in many analog projects such as "local 68", "The Walten files", "The Mandela Catalog" and "Smile tapes", its a cute nod but not fit in this context.

i chose a horse/canid mix skull to poke out from under the dogs skin as i felt it would be spooky. it looks cool but after finsing the concept i realized that horse, ungulate and dog/predatory mamal skulls are also a common trope in horror, think of Annihalation again and "The Ritual" as well as others that i cant recall at the moment. as well as the welsh tradition of Mari Lwyd

images of all of the mentioned properies abov e in that order: (these are still inspirations and refrences)

these are far from the only refrences used

putting that aside, i had given a second stage to the retriever instead of just having the dog stand up. though i still liked that idea, i decided to also make a second stage for the collie with the new information i had gathered from making the retriever. i wanted the new form to be stranger more thing like and less mamalian, just giving a bird tounge to a horse head didnt do the job. i took inspiration from pterasaurs as my friend had said that they thought they were so unsetteling and weird while watching "Prehistoric Planet". thier skulls are weird and almost alien and thier arms have odd proportions. i also took inspiration from the beasts from The Quiet Place again as they also have these odd body plans. i gave it the look of raw chicken or a fetus and eyes like those of a dead cow just to bump up the weird factor.

when show casing these the client suggested trying some other deisgns.

i was planning on refining the creature, he didnt really state what kind of "different stuff" he was looking for but kalina wanted to give designing a creature a shot so i would have time to refine these designs into one next week. Kalina is currently working on a design that is like the video that diego showed and also a design based on dutch mythology? We are already four weeks in, other groups had started development and we would need a lot more time to make a detailed sculpt and animate.

aditional cartoony dragon like creatures just to practice creature design, based on the descriptions of a snellygaster, an american cryptid (I made in the second week to fit the magic show theme from Kalina but it fits best here)

[laresearchette]

Thursday, September 21, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: LOVE & MURDER: ATLANTA PLAYBOY PART 1 (BET +) INTERROGATION RAW (A&E Canada) 9:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT: ALL STAR SHORE (TBD - MTV Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA AMAZON MUSIC LIVE

NETFLIX CANADA AMERICAN PIE AMERICAN PIE 2 AMERICAN WEDDING JAANE JAAN KENGAN ASHURA: Season 2 (JP) SCISSOR SEVEN (Season 4) (CN) SEX EDUCATION (Season 4) (UK) SNOWPIERCER

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 1:00pm: Angels vs. Rays (SN) 7:00pm: Jays vs. Yankees (SN1) 7:00pm: Orioles vs. Guardians (SN Now) 7:00pm: Mets vs. Phillies (SN1/SN Now) 10:00pm: Giants vs. Dodgers

MEN’S RUGBY WORLD CUP (TSN5) 3:00pm: France vs. Namibia

DRAGONS' DEN (CBC) 8:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Two Vancouver entrepreneurs hope to roll away with an investment; a duo from Montreal aims to take their imaging technology to new heights; a former hockey player hopes to score a deal in the Den.

CRIME SCENE KITCHEN (CBC) 9:00pm: The bakers head back into the kitchen to take on a new, delicious challenge; the best dessert detectives continue on in the competition and the duo that falls short heads home.

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN4/TSN5) 8:15pm: Giants vs. 49ers

FIVE BEDROOMS (W Network) 9:00pm: Heather's newfound serenity is skewered when her graduation day devolves into chaos.

AUSSIE GOLD HUNTERS (Discovery Canada) 9:00pm: New team, Alan and Salty, take the plunge in search of underwater nuggets; the Ferals hit a rich patch but are forced to chase away thieves; the Gold Retrievers call in family to save their season.

ELI ROTH PRESENTS: THE LEGION OF EXORCISTS (DTour) 9:00pm: A breach between the land of the living and the dead can release thousands of the devil's minions into the world; a seemingly normal family hides a dark secret; a distraught widow seeks help to cleanse her home of a demonic infestation.

BUILDING ROOTS (HGTV Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): A couple's unique, circular home boasts 360-degree windows with wraparound mountain views, but the property lacks function and style; Ben and Cristi take on a challenge they've never faced before: transforming a dome into a home.

OUTBACK OPAL HUNTERS (Discovery Canada) 10:00pm: Machinery woes cause the Cheals to end their opal dreams and consider splitting ways; the Blacklighters move to a new site while Jaymin and JC work alone in claustrophobic tunnels.

CANADIAN REFLECTIONS (CBC) 11:30pm: He Murdered Sleep; Plush

[toneophealthandfitness]

Understanding Colour Image Processing In Computer Science Engineering

Colour has a significant impact on how we see the world. Based on the colours we see, we can find our way around, understand our feelings, and form opinions. The relevance of colour is also enormous in the world of technology. 

Digital image analysis, manipulation, and enhancement in colour space are the main goals of the field of colour image processing. 

Describe An Image

Images are visual depictions or likenesses of things, situations, or ideas. They are either digitally generated or produced using a variety of tools, including cameras and scanners. We may express our creativity, communicate visually, and capture moments through images. However, what occurs once a picture is taken or made? Image processing becomes important in this situation.

Image Processing: What Is It?

Image alteration and analysis using computer techniques are collectively referred to as image processing. In order to improve quality, retrieve relevant information, or carry out particular tasks, raw picture data must be transformed. Techniques for processing images might include simple tasks like cropping and resizing as well as more difficult ones like object detection and image restoration.

Image Processing Techniques

1. Enhancing Images

It is a technique used to improve the appearance of a picture by altering factors like the lighting or the amount of noise. To enhance picture quality and aesthetics, these techniques are frequently used in photography, medical imaging, and surveillance.

2. Restoring Images

Images that have been damaged by noise, blurring, or other problems can be recovered or restored with this technique. These methods can boost the clarity of images taken in challenging lighting settings, eliminate undesired artefacts from digital images, and improve the quality of vintage photographs.

3.Image Compression

It is used to compress image files while maintaining a high level of quality. This is crucial when it comes to effectively storing or transmitting big amounts of image data. JPEG (Joint Photographic Experts Group) and PNG (Portable Network Graphics) are two well-known image compression methods.

4. The Division Of Images

According to visual criteria, an image is divided into various areas or segments using this technique. This method is frequently employed in computer vision applications such as autonomous driving, object recognition, and medical image analysis. Images can be segmented to make it simpler to retrieve valuable information from dense visual data.

The goal of colour segmentation in image processing is to divide a picture into meaningful parts using colour information. By putting pixels with similar colour properties in one group, it recognises and extracts objects or areas of interest. 

Image Processing Elements

1. Acquisition Of Images

Using cameras, scanners, or sensors to obtain or capture images is referred to as this. The remaining steps in the processing process might be greatly influenced by the quality of the obtained image.

2. Image Retouching

It entails a series of operations done to the obtained image to get it ready for more analysis or improvement. This can involve colour correction, image alignment, and noise reduction.

3. Image Transformation 

This method alters the frequency or spatial properties of an image. Fourier transforms, rotation, and scaling are examples of typical transformations.

4. Image Analysis

It focuses on identifying important details or elements in an image. It may be necessary to do activities like object detection, pattern recognition, or picture property measurement in this situation.

5. Image Interpretation

Based on the data that was retrieved, it attempts to comprehend the meaning or substance of an image. This may require more complex cognitive functions, such as the ability to recognise objects or decipher the emotions expressed through facial expressions.

Enhancing Visual Understanding Through Image Processing Applications

1. Medical Imaging: Groundbreaking Developments In Healthcare

Through image reconstruction, segmentation, and feature extraction, medical personnel can gain important insights from diagnostic pictures including X-rays, CT scans, and MRIs. 

These methods allow for the early detection of diseases, the identification of tumours, and the assessment of the effectiveness of treatment. Additionally, image processing makes surgical planning easier by providing precise navigation and real-time imagery for surgeons during challenging surgeries. 

2. Security And Surveillance: Protecting The World

To identify, monitor, and analyse people or objects, video surveillance systems frequently use image processing techniques.

 Through the study of behaviour, object recognition, and anomaly detection, image processing spots possible dangers and suspicious activity. This supports law enforcement organisations in ensuring public security and averting criminal activity. 

3. Immersive Visual Experiences In Entertainment And Gaming

The foundation of contemporary entertainment is image processing algorithms, which are used for anything from special effects in films to lifelike visuals in video games. 

Image processing allows for the virtual and physical worlds to come to life through the use of methods like texture mapping, image rendering, and virtual reality. 

4. Robotics And Automation: Making Smart Machines

Robot navigation, object manipulation, and decision-making are all made possible by image processing through methods including object detection, recognition, and tracking. 

Applications for this can be found in a variety of sectors, including manufacturing, logistics, agriculture, and healthcare.

The Final Say 

Images are potent visual metaphors that permeate every aspect of our daily existence. We can edit, improve, and extract useful information from photographs thanks to image processing tools. Image processing is still evolving and influencing many different industries, with uses in anything from robotics to security to health. 

We may appreciate the complex yet intriguing world that lies behind the images we see on a daily basis by comprehending the types, components, and basic procedures of image processing. 

About BGI

The Bansal Group of Institutes offers a wide range of engineering, management, and nursing courses. It has the best and top-placement colleges in its various campuses across Bhopal, Indore, and Mandideep. With credible faculty and well-equipped laboratories, BGI ensures a top-notch learning experience. 

Visit Our Websites

Bhopal- https://bgibhopal.com/

Indore- https://sdbc.ac.in/

Mandideep- https://bce.ac.in/ Click on the link to get yourself registered- https://bgibhopal.com/registration-form/

[sapphim]

Eye tint reference for some major characters in DAI. This has been posted before (I gave @dalishious​​​ permission to include it in a post several years ago) but it’s been requested that I explain how these color values were derived.

Note: These colors represent the raw values found in the game files. A variety of factors (such as eye textures and lighting) have a massive impact on what color their eyes actually appear in the game.

All of the above characters have unique head meshes, rather than generic head morphs, which can be found in DA3/Actors/BaseHeads. You’re looking for the SkinnedMeshAsset. I’ll use mt_cbt_morr_mesh (Morrigan) for the example.

In the properties panel for the head mesh, expand the Materials node and locate the mesh material that uses the char_eyes shader. The relevant vector parameters are TintInner (inner eye color) and TintMid (outer eye color).

Multiplying the XYZ(1,0.2542,0) values above by 255 gives RGB(255,65,0). However you’ll find that when entering color values taken from Inquisition into a color picker that the result is pretty far off what would be expected (typically much darker).

Okay, pretty sure Morrigan’s eyes aren’t a saturated red orange! So, here’s the method I’ve found that lets me more accurately convert colors back and forth between my image editor (Photoshop) and the game without having to do a lot of guesswork.

A few years back when I figured this out I tried to look up more details about 32-bit colorspaces to figure out exactly how this worked, but I came up empty. Maybe there’s more information out there now, idk.

This can probably be adapted to image editing programs other than Photoshop, but I can’t provide instruction on how to do so.

Usually you’ll be working in 8-bit RGB for the web. You want to convert the color mode to 32-bit instead.

You’ll see the color picker has now changed and has fields for a 32-bit value at the top. When you enter the values in these fields, although the HSB/RGB values are the same as in the 8-bit color picker, the color shown is now much closer to what’s expected.

Swatch this color (or however many colors you want to convert) in your document and then convert the mode from 32-bit back to 8-bit.

When you do so, you will be given options on how to process the conversion. Use the exposure and gamma method with exposure 0.00 and gamma 1.00. You shouldn’t see any difference in the color displayed on screen when you do so.

Now the color values are represented in a more familiar color space. You can eyedropper them to get a more accurate-appearing RGB or hexadecimal value. If you want to convert colors you’ve chosen to the 32-bit color mode used in the game then just invert the process. Make your swatch in 8-bit mode, convert it to 32-bit mode (this process won’t prompt you with conversion options) and then use the eyedropper to retrieve the accurate 32-bit color values.

The same process works on color values taken from DA2 tint files, and the conversion is accurate given the skin tints I’ve tested that were ported directly from Origins to DA2.

[manticorefruit]

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams.  I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

EVAN ROSIER is TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD and a SOLIDER AND ADVISOR in THE DARK LORD’S ARMY at THE DEATH EATER HEADQUATERS. He looks remarkably like AVAN JOGIA and considers himself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. He is currently TAKEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: blood, death, murder

Pessimistic and vengeful, Evan Rosier is someone that many hold with respect and at a great distance. Easily angered, he holds bitterness towards the world, years of heart ache and bubbling inner turmoil only leaving him downcast and resentful. Though, the broken male has not always been filled with sarcasm, hatred and regret. While now his name strikes fear and panic into those that dare say it, once he had a caring heart though very few around him remember it. Born to AXEL and ADELE ROSIER, Evan was cherished from a young age. Loved by his parents, he was overly spoiled with the vast riches their family possessed. Dressed in fine clothes, he was adorned in velvet blacks, crisp shirts and held an air of entitlement that came with being a member of one of The Sacred Twenty Eight. Never left needing or wanting, everything he desired was easily at his fingertips. His youth was spent with his parents and sister ALEXANDRA, inhabiting their home in Kensington London while their father held high office as a high standing judge in Wizengamot. The family was highly respected, both within England and in France where they split their time. With family roots in Paris, the Rosier’s preferred to escape the often heaviness of London to their preferred city. Rooming along the side of the Seine, reveling in the sites and the atmosphere of a place that had always felt more like home. Only apparating to their second home in Lyon after visiting their family tomes. Joint in arm as they recited their family mantra to their ancestors: Si vous ne trouvez pas de chemin, faites-en un. If you can’t find a path make one.  

As the sole male air, Evan was expected to carry on the Rosier line. Compared to many of the sacred twenty eight, the Rosier siblings had a relatively ‘normal’ childhood. Unlike his other counterparts, the regulations he had to meet were reasonable. Stay out of trouble, marry well and produce a male air carry on the family name. Associate with other Pure-Blood’s and hold them in high regard. Above all else, respect the legacy in which you’re a part of; meaning no diluting the bloodline with dirty blood. His parents were traditionalists, while they didn’t hate Half-Bloods or Muggle-Borns as passionately as other purist families, they knew the legacy that they had to uphold and made sure to instill the same ideologies within both of their children. The Rosier family were known as being insular, it was rare to see them at functions and associating with many of the other twenty eight. It wasn’t because they didn’t value their company, rather they were simply more selective with their time. His father digressing his free time was of great value to him and he’d rather spent it with family. Instilling in both Evan and Alexandra that above all, family was the most important thing. Though they parted ways for the majority of the year when it came to school, the siblings remained close. Sending owls to one another from their respected schools and marveling at their differing experiences after their mother insisted on sending Alexandra to Beauxbatons. Their father agreed, only seeing it as a chance for them to interact with their future societal peers and establish strong connections for the family in both England and France. 

Sorted into Slytherin with his cousins BELLATRIX, ANDROMEDA and NARCISSA BLACK, Evan didn’t waste time in befriending like minded Pure-Bloods whom he knew his father would be content with. Namely, he found friends in a group of Slytherin’s orchestrated by his cousin Bella including: RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE, CASTOR WILKES, ASTAROTH SNYDE and EDRICK SELWYN. The group were notoriously feared thanks to his cousin. It wasn’t uncommon to see the Slytherin’s openly mocking Hufflepuffs and throwing a jinx at an unsuspecting Mudblood. His time had been running smoothly, his parents instilling hard work as an desirable trait; the eldest Rosier excelled in his classes. Only fitting for a boy who was fluent in English, French and Latin by the time he was merely eleven. Though as charming as his life had been, the summer between his sixth and seventh year changed Evan forever. Long gone was the once charming and witty male, left in its place a ghost of a boy. Summering in their home in Lyon as they waited for Alexandra to finish her term, Evan had been tending to the white rose bushes that adorned the property with his father. Leaving the scene only for a moment to retrieve a glass of lemonade for the pair, what waited for him upon his return was horrifying. To this day, Evan can only remember the series of events in fragments. The piercing screech of a gunshot, roses stained red, shattered glass and his father’s limp corpse sprawled on the grass. 

A part of Evan was stolen that day, he became bitter, grief consumed him leaving him tormented and riddled with nightmares. His mother was inconsolable and much as Alexandra tried, there was nothing that could ease their mother’s wails of agony at loosing her husband. Evan became absent, reclusive and full of rage. Betrayed by the very justice system Axel Rosier had served in, the Ministry deemed the murder as an accident. Instead ‘compensating’ the family for their loss and silence. Insisting the public knowledge that one of the highest ranking wizards in their society was murdered in his prime by a gang of muggles no less, would cause anarchy. In turn, they did nothing. Amid the heartache, there was one person that became a saving grace to Evan; Bellatrix. Though some who knew the situation - particularly Alexandra - would have deemed her as a heathen or more accurately one of the Erinyes praying on the vulnerable. Bella acted as a catalyst. Igniting an anger within him that only burned brighter with every passing day. From an outside perspective, some would say Bella ruined Evan. Prayed on his grief and used his anguish to boil it into something sinister. But in Evan’s mind, she saved him. Showed him what the world really was and how it could be. How it should be. Bellatrix spoke of a new world, a concept imagined by THE DARK LORD, where muggles knew their place and would be unable to hurt any other wizard again. It was that that captured Evan’s attention. Left betrayed by the Ministry who deemed muggles seemingly more important than one of their own, Evan longed for something more.

Days past and Evan’s mind only grew darker. Troubled by images of hooded figures, sleep was a luxury he never had. Horrors were painted on the back of his eye lids that he dared not close from fear of never escaping. He’d spend hours scrubbing his hands raw as if that would somehow erase the memories of blood from his mind. He grew bitter and sadistic. Love was not something he knew how to possess anymore and he didn’t want it, not if it only led to more pain. Instead he found distractions. Smoking cigarettes, drinking fire whiskey until his throat burned and sleeping with others equally as troubled and damaged as him; both parties only wanted to escape one thing, their heads at night. Granted it wasn’t healthy, but he was far past caring. One particular person that quickly became a part of his distractions was ANTONIN DOLOHOV. Both equally troubled, they came to a mutual agreement to use the other as they saw fit. A distraction without the repercussions of getting attached and over sharing. Though regrettably because of their evenings, Antonin has seen more of his broken heart and his insomnia than anyone else. Evan despises the vulnerability that comes with showing his weakness and torments, but still he can’t help but feel grateful for someone to hold onto at night when everything feels like it is cascading around him.

Though his sister has tired to talk sense into him and ease his grief, nothing seems to comfort his darkened heart. Family is the only thing he holds trust in now, while keeping everyone else at a safe distance in a meek attempt to somehow save guard the remaining pieces of his black heart from being ripped from his chest. Joining The Dark Lord’s army after the introduction from Bellatrix, it gave him a purpose that he so desperately craved and a way to channel the rage that had been boiling in his chest for years. Fighting and screaming as if that could bring upon his own form of justice for his father. Holding onto a raged dream that they could build a world where no wizard would be taken too soon by a mere filthy Muggle, they’d finally know their place. Wilkes became his right hand when it came to fulfilling the Dark Lord’s work. Tormenting Muggles, Mudbloods and Half-Bloods, bringing upon the change his cousin had instilled in him. Though while Evan held his suspicions of members namely SEVERUS SNAPE, the opportunity to finally bring change was upon them and he wasn’t letting the opportunity slip through his fingers. Evan planned on making his own justice as if that could be penance for his father. One day under the new rain of the Dark Lord, he’d finally get what he longed for. Fire would rain and he’d gladly bask in the embers.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male 

Sexuality  → Homosexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Family → Axel Rosier (deceased father), Adele Rosier (mother), Alexandra Rosier (sister), Cygnus Black (uncle), Druella Black (aunt), Bellatrix Black (cousin/close friend), Andromeda Black (cousin), Narcissa Black (cousin)

Connections  → Castor Wilkes (best friend), Rodolphus Lestrange (close friend), Astaroth Snyde (close friend), Edrick Selwyn (close friend), Antonin Dolohov (friend/romantic liaison/potential love interest), Lucius Malfoy (friend), Severus Snape (adversary)

Future Information → N/A

EVAN ROSIER IS A LEVEL 8 WIZARD.

[dweemeister]

Best Live Action Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health officials.

This blog, since 2013, has been the site of my write-ups to the Oscar-nominated short film packages. No pandemic was going to stop me this year, as I was able to view the short film packages virtually thanks to a local repertory, the Frida Cinema of Santa Ana, California. Without further ado, here are the nominees for the Best Live Action Short Film at this year’s Oscars. Films predominantly not in the English language are listed with their nation of origin.

The Present (2020, Palestine)

Since the 1990s, the Israeli military has set up hundreds of checkpoints within Palestine’s West Bank. These checkpoints have impeded Palestinian movement within the Israeli-occupied West Bank, supposedly to better protect the extraterritorial Israeli settlements there. Directed by Farah Nabulsi, The Present could have easily fell into an agitprop trap – leaning on political outrage rather than the individual emotions that power this film – but it deftly avoids doing so. On the day of his wedding anniversary with his wife, Yusef (Saleh Bakri) decides to go shopping with daughter Yasmine (Maryam Kanj). Yusef and Yasmine travel to and from Bethlehem (which is in Palestine, but is not easily accessible by Palestinians) to purchase a new refrigerator, groceries, and a few goodies for Yasmine. The process of traveling just a few miles from home proves onerous and humiliating.

Nabulsi’s film never feels like a lecture, instead preferring to juxtapose the cruel ironies that these Israeli checkpoints embody. The viewer intuits how militarized and confusing these checkpoints must be to the Palestinians. Israel’s apartheid mindset extends to the West Bank – the checkpoints have a single lane for Israeli drivers and a gated, narrow entryway specifically for the Palestinians. Past the checkpoint during their time shopping, life seems briefly normal. That Nabulsi can navigate the contrasting emotions between these scenes reflects the tautness of this film and its hints of Italian Neorealism. Bakri, as Yusef, is excellent during his tense conversations with the Israeli soldiers, even if some of these moments feel more stilted due to the actors playing the soldiers and the guerrilla filmmaking this piece employs. For Kanj, as Yasmine, one can see her anguish in seeing her father discriminated against on what should have been a special day. For Palestinian children, injustice is a rite of passage.

My rating: 8/10

Feeling Through (2019)

It is a chilly night in New York City at an hour where few are outside by choice. Teenager Tareek (Steven Prescod) is homeless. After saying good night to his friends, he happens upon Artie, a deafblind man (Robert Tarango, who is deafblind himself) holding up a sign requesting anyone to assist him. Curious and half-willing to help, Tareek taps Artie on the arm. Artie pulls out a tattered notepad and marker, asking for help to get to a bus stop. What follows is an uplifting connection between two cast-off souls, sharing each other’s good company and good humor if only for a brief time. Director Doug Roland based Feeling Through on an encounter he had with a deafblind man named Artemio. Roland’s film was accomplished in collaboration with the Hellen Keller Center.

Cynical viewers might view Feeling Through as syrupy, its swirling score too manipulative, the screenplay predictable, the filmmaking pedestrian. To different extents, each of those criticisms are true, but that does not undermine the raw inspiration responsible for this film’s pulse. It boasts solid performances from Prescod and Tarango – the latter a kitchen worker from Long Island and possibly the first deafblind actor in a lead role in film history. Roland’s screenplay beautifully strips away stereotypes of deafblind people. Tarango, as Artie, is neither overly dependent nor secluded from society. He knows that being deafblind sets him apart from those who can see and hear, and embraces the difference – lending a refreshing directness to how he communicates. Despite its lack of filmmaking or acting pedigree compared to its other nominees in this category, Feeling Through enters this Academy Awards season without a single loss in any of the film festivals that it screened in. No wonder: it is a crowd-pleaser in the best sense, without ever glossing over how difficult it is to be deafblind.

My rating: 9/10

Two Distant Strangers (2020)

Production on Travon Free and Martin Desmond Roe’s Two Distant Strangers began in the shadow of George Floyd’s murder at the hands of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. Its emotions are raw and there is no doubt behind the importance of the film’s messaging. Carter (rapper Joey Bada$$) has had some first date with Perri (Zaria Simone), and leaves in the morning to get home to his pet dog. Just outside the apartment building door, a police officer named Merk (Andrew Howard) stops Carter, profiles him, and ultimately kills Carter in cold blood. Once Carter dies, the film cuts to Carter and Perri in bed once again. Immediately, the viewer knows this film is a time loop a la Groundhog Day (1993), and, no matter what precautions he takes, Carter just cannot avoid execution from Merk’s hands. Through the film’s structure, Free and Roe capture the sinking, repetitive feeling that black Americans go through when hearing the news of yet another incident of police brutality.

Good intentions and urgency, however, do not necessarily make a worthy film. Some of the editing in Two Distant Strangers’ middle third shows too many images of Carter’s bullet-riddled body. After the first few instances of the time loop, the viewer does not need another glimpse of a lead-shredded corpse, blood splattering across pavement. The filmmaker’s fury towards Carter’s situation – that nothing will change – is already evident in the idea of such killings. Combined with the questionable dialogue in the final time loop and the mediocre acting, this all feels exploitative, an unwitting product of Hollywood’s history of fetishizing black trauma. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), historically, likes to reward films they perceive as demonstratively staged and thematically urgent. Two Distant Strangers meets both these criteria, but this material could have retained its rage without as much sensationalism.

My rating: 6/10

White Eye (2019, Israel)

Like Feeling Through, Tomer Shushan’s White Eye – the winner of the Narrative Short Film award at South by Southwest (SXSW) – was based on an actual encounter in its director’s life. Late at night in the streets of Tel Aviv, Omer (Daniel Gad) has spotted his stolen bicycle locked onto a rack. Omer lost his bike more than a month ago, has not filed a police report, and seeks to reclaim it as soon as possible. The police are of no help, and the people proximate to the intersection where these events take place are unwilling or hesitant to help. The now-owner of the bike is an Eritrean refugee named Yunes (Dawit Tekelaeb), and he insists to his manager (Reut Akkerman) and to Omer that he did not know that the bike was stolen property when he purchased it. And yet Omer’s tenacity and fit of passion spirals the situation beyond his or Yunes’ control.

White Eye is impressively staged, filmed in a single take – no cuts, no edits, all in real-time. To compare this film one last time to Feeling Through, White Eye accomplishes all it needs to say at a short film’s length. Some might claim Saar Mizrahi’s cinematography and 360º smooth-rotating is just another modern filmmaking gimmick; instead, it submerges the viewer into Omer’s mentality as he fights to retrieve his bike. The purposefully subjective framing questions the viewer on what our reactions might be in this situation, how deeply would we allow out outrage – and perhaps our ethnic/racial biases – to guide our actions. Shushan challenges the audience not to adopt Omer’s conclusions and emotions so readily, and he does a masterful job in appealing to and challenging one’s empathy as it becomes clear there will be no storybook ending.

My rating: 8/10

The Letter Room (2020)

By virtue of its central actor, The Letter Room is the most high-profile of this year’s nominees. Elvira Lind’s film is a dark comedy and its approach and tone are difficult to categorize. Richard (a mustached Oscar Isaac, who is Lind’s spouse) is a corrections officer who has requested a departmental transfer. With the transfer, he trades a more hands-on role for an office job. As the prison’s communications director, his responsibilities now entail filing through all of the prisoners’ incoming and outgoing mail – reading through all of the letters, reporting to his superiors for prison rules violations, censoring materials if necessary. At first, this role is as tedious as his previous position. But when Richard begins to read the histories of the prisoners and their loved ones, he becomes emotionally invested in a particular exchange between one death row inmate and his loved one (Alia Shawkat).

The Letter Room, despite a serviceable performance by Isaac as the unusual and stiff lead, has a milquetoast commentary about how the American criminal justice system imprisons more than just the inmates. These themes shambolically merge with Richard’s inherent loneliness, his inability to separate his own feelings from the voyeuristic work that his new position entails. This is a fellow looking for meaningful human connection, finding none, and attempting to understand something he has never found. The Letter Room curiously never questions the tricky ethics of Richard’s decision to intervene with the decisions made by Alia Shawkat’s character, and how the power disparities of his interactions color his life. The film’s conclusion is unearned, placing too neat a bow on a film that cannot balance its incongruous themes.

My rating: 6/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019), and 92nd (2020).

[the-original-b]

Archangel: For the Good of the Public, Part 1

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 1 of 3

Word Count: 3,400

Premise: She’s an assassin--one of the finest in the world--which gives her the right to ask for vast sums of money to do what she does so well. But every so often there comes a job she’s happy to do for free.

Warning(s): brief violence

[A/N: this was supposed to go up a L O T sooner, but life events made it difficult to actually get the story onto digital paper. I think I’ve adjusted though, so I should get these out fairly quickly, Lord willing. Hope you enjoy!]

Seza slid the key into the lock of her safehouse door, then twisted it open to let herself in. She crossed the threshold and nudged the door shut behind her with her heel before pausing at the framed photo hung by the door—in her lover’s embrace, sharing a kiss before the setting sun by the water, dated 2009.

She didn’t cry over him anymore but his absence in her life was still palpable, most notably when she was on assignment. She’d consider what he would do if he were in her position, and what guidance he would offer her. She still missed him; daily she would wonder what obscure corner of the world he was in, and on occasion she would wish she could go back two or three years to take back what she said to him the last time they spoke.

She turned away from the photo hanging on the wall and headed deeper in to the apartment to undress and prepare for bed.

Seza began the following morning with a dozen pull-ups, fifty push-ups, one hundred crunches, and a two-minute wall sit. She took five minutes to stretch before heading to her shower and preparing her breakfast.

On her way out of her building, her attention was taken by a flyer posted on the glass pane of the front door. She made her way outside to inspect the sheet of paper and immediately found it called for the return of a missing person.

She removed the flyer from the door to scrutinize it further—the missing person was a girl named Samantha Calloway, age 15, missing since last Friday. Brown hair, green eyes, five-foot-three, 110 pounds, last seen at the Walt Whitman Shopping Center in South Huntington. Seza studied the image on the poster, found the youth and innocence in the girl’s smile and eyes, and retrieved her cell phone from her coat pocket.

“Horace,” Seza said as soon the other person answered. She mimicked the accent of a native New Yorker. “It’s Shelli. I won’t be able to make it tonight, a family emergency just came up… I’ll let you know about the rest of the week. Thanks.” Seza ended the call and took the poster back inside the building to her apartment.

~~~~ 

Seza arrived at a luxurious home in Westchester later that afternoon. She parked her sedan at the foot of the driveway and made her way up to the house. She heard the German shepherd long before she rang the doorbell, and waited patiently for somebody to answer.

The woman that did cracked the door open and peeked through at her, her other hand on the dog’s collar. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

“Mrs. Calloway?” Seza put forth. She spoke in her native accent.

“You have the wrong address,” the woman said.

“I don’t think I do,” Seza noted. “It may not be close to where Samantha was taken last Friday, but this is the residence of the people who own the Melville property to which the phone number on this flyer belongs,” she explained, holding up the sheet of paper she plucked from her apartment building door this morning. “And while I don’t yet understand how or why she was so far away from home when she was taken, that doesn’t make a difference at the end of the day.”

There was a moment of quiet before a third person joined them at the door. “Who are you?” he said. Like his wife, his exhaustion was visible.

“My name is Seza,” she replied. “As I was about to explain to your wife, I’m a tracker and private investigator. I’m here to help you find your daughter.”

Mr. Calloway shot his wife a look, then faced Seza again. “Come inside,” he said, motioning her in with a nod and opening the door wider for her.

Seza nodded respectfully and crossed the doorway, offering her hand to the dog to investigate. When he was satisfied, he pushed his snout between her thumb and fingers, and Seza responded by rubbing the back of his head, behind his ears.

“Ace doesn’t usually warm up to people that fast,” Mr. Calloway said. “And most visitors are intimidated by him.”

“I grew up with dogs,” Seza said, a smile tugging at her lip as Ace greeted her.

“Well, he seems to trust you. You’re alright, then. Can I offer you something? Tea, maybe?”

“I’d love that,” Seza said, smiling warmly at him. “Thank you.”

 ~~~~

“My sister is staying at the house in Melville,” Mrs. Calloway explained as her husband brought the tea to the table. He laid a saucer and demitasse in front of Seza before placing a setting in front of his wife and then himself. Seza thanked him with a nod and filled her cup three quarters of the way, then stirred in half a teaspoon of raw sugar. “We thought it best to let her finish high school with her friends from childhood.”

Seza took from her cup, savored it, and swallowed. “When did you last see her?”

“The weekend before last. She comes home Friday nights and leaves Sunday Afternoon.”

“That’s when we knew something was wrong,” Mr. Calloway added. “She didn’t come home last weekend.”

Seza nodded, the tea cup resting in both her hands. “Has she mentioned anything about your sister, Mrs. Calloway?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Relatives are most often the perpetrators of abductions. I have to know what the situation was like where she stayed.”

“No, no, she loves my sister!” Mrs. Calloway stammered. “There was nothing wrong between them..!”

“Are you saying our daughter was kidnapped?” Mr. Calloway said, fear and disbelief building in his voice.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Calloway,” Seza confirmed.

“By who?” He shot a look over to his wife. “Who else knows we’re here?” he added, barely audibly. Who we are?”

Seza arched her brow. “Something I should know?”

Mrs. Calloway sighed. “Calloway isn’t our name,” she admitted. “We thought we’d be safe if we hid the family name and sent our daughter to school far from home.” She shrugged. “For all the good that did.”

“Have you shared this information with anybody else since moving here?”

“No,” she said. “Nobody but my sister knows who we are.”

“Our real name,” Mr. Calloway began, “is—”

“Not important to me,” Seza interposed. She thought to herself for a while, and took from her tea some more as she considered the new information. Whoever it was that took Samantha did so assuming she was just some average teenage girl, which further reinforced the idea that Mrs. Calloway’s sister wasn’t the one who did.

Then she recalled a conversation she overheard working behind the bar in Downtown Jersey City, about how a girl was just delivered from somewhere in central Long Island. It was about the time Samantha went missing, the day before the warehouse fire.

Seza had an idea who was responsible for Samantha’s disappearance. “The good news,” she began, “is that whoever has your daughter hasn’t figured out who she is. If they had, they would have made some kind of ultimatum by now. However,” she took a breath before continuing, wondering how to tell what she thinking to a distraught mother and father. “If the parties I suspect are in fact the ones responsible for your daughter’s abduction, then the bad news…” she paused. “The bad news is we may not have much time before traffickers try to make her disappear.”

Mrs. Calloway stifled a sob as she looked away from Seza, cupping her hands over her mouth as her eyes reddened and began to tear.

Mr. Calloway’s fists tightened as he let his head hang and shut his eyes tight. He opened them to see Ace looking up at him from his spot between his feet and Seza’s. “How much?”

“Days,” Seza suggested. “A week if we’re lucky.”

“How much do you want?” he clarified, looking back at her. “What will it cost for you to get her home before that happens?”

Seza blinked. “First I find your daughter,” she said. “It doesn’t matter to me who you are, I won’t accept a dime from you before I deliver her to you. We can have that discussion when we know she’s safe.” Seza stood up and reclaimed her coat from behind her chair. “Thank you for the tea.” Then she turned on her heel and headed for the exit.

 ~~~~

Seza parked her sedan on the shoulder of Pehle Avenue a quarter mile from the building when she arrived in Saddle Brook that evening. She stepped out of the car and scanned the road around her, then locked her car and rested her hands in her coat pockets as she proceeded toward the office.

She stepped right through the front doors when she arrived and scanned the ceilings for surveillance equipment. When she found none she stepped up to a directory a few yards from the entrance and, finding the name she was looking for, confirmed she was in the right place. She approached the front desk and got the attendant’s attention.

“Excuse me,” she said in her American accent. “I’d like to see Mr. Teller.”

The attendant looked up at her from behind his glasses.

“I don’t have an appointment,” she continued.

He took his glasses off. “What is this concerning?”

“I’d like a job.”

“Mr. Teller has another appointment in five,” the attendant said referring to his monitor. “Although…” he examined her face, her features, the form she took under her coat, and the way she filled her jeans. He was certain there would be a place for her someplace in the organization. “I’m sure he can take a moment to interview you.” He stood up from his desk and gestured toward the elevator. “But I can’t promise anything—he’s been in a, mood, these past few days.”

“I’ll make note of that,” Seza said. “Thank you.”

Seza let the attendant escort her to the elevator. He stepped in with her and hit the top floor button. They rode it together in silence.

The attendant held the door for her to step off the elevator first then followed her out when they arrived at the top floor. He led Seza to the conference room door, behind which she could already hear enraged shouting.

“Sorry in advance,” the attendant said. He turned the knob on the door downward and pushed it open to allow Seza to step through. He stepped inside after her and quietly closed the door behind him.

She took a few slow steps deeper into the room and took it in. In the room with them were five other men, against the far wall was a butler bar with a few half-finished bottles and dry glasses, and directly across from her was a desk and coat rack. The sixth man standing on the other side of the desk held a phone to his ear; she identified him immediately. Christopher Teller—local crime syndicate boss—was a large broad-shouldered fair-skinned man well over six feet tall who took the form of a power lifter under his well-tailored suit. His brown hair was buzzed a few millimeters from bald.

“It’s been a fucking week, you pillock!” He spoke with a Cockney accent to the person on the other end of the line. “Call me with something useful, or start writing your own epitaph..!” He slammed the receiver onto the cradle before the other person could respond. Then after muttering profanities he looked up at Seza. “The fuck do you want?”

Seza, briefly taken aback, reclaimed her posture and answered, “I’m here to apply for a job.” She maintained her false accent.

“Morrow Building on Park Avenue in Hoboken,” Teller shot back, finding his seat. “Ask for Geoff, he’ll evaluate you.” Even now his voice retained its rasp—an almost rage-filled growl. “Now sod off.”

Seza was aware of what was at the Morrow Building. Politely, she raised her hand to about shoulder-level. “You mistake me—I’m not looking to work at a club, I’d like to offer my services as security for you.”

“And I’d like to take piss off of the Empire one day.” He gestured one of the men in the room with them. “Get her out of here.”

Respectfully, audibly, the man approached Seza from her right side. “You heard the boss,” he said, resting his hand on her wrist to escort her out of the room.

In an instant Seza seized his wrist with her free to break his grip, then smashed the inside of his forearm with the outer edge of hers. Then she shot her left fist into his ribs and fired her right palm into his mouth and nose, breaking both jaws and throwing his head backward to land him on the floor unconscious.

Peripherally, she noted the desk attendant toward the back of the room start to reach for the holster on his waist; before he could even draw the gun she was on him. Seza fired an elbow into his ribs to stun him, then extended her reach around his chest as she straightened her posture so the inside of her right wrist was against his neck while her left hand took hold of his elbow. She placed the back of her knee against his and shot her leg backward as she threw her arm forward, simultaneously tripping and clotheslining him to throw him to the ground.

The moment his back hit the floor Seza was on top of him, her right knee sinking into his shoulder and her left foot on his wrist; she reached between her legs to un-holster his handgun, then raised it and pointed it at the other men in the room with them, as the attendant struggled beneath her. There they remained for seven seconds.

The tension was broken by a gravelly, masculine baritone through the intercom on Teller’s desk. “So should I let myself up?” it proposed, “or…?”

Teller looked down away from Seza at the intercom, then back to her while he depressed the talk button to answer the man on the other end. “I’ll send somebody down,” he said. He released the button and gestured one of the other men left standing in the room to head downstairs and collect their new visitor. “Well, Jane Wick, I had you figured all wrong,” he admitted. “And since one of my guys’ll have his jaw wired shut for the next two months I’ll need to replace him. You’re in,” he said as she lowered the gun. “At least until he can eat solid food again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Teller,” Seza said. She stood up to release the attendant beneath her, ejected the magazine from the handgun, cleared the chamber, turned it around and handed it back to him.

The attendant reluctantly took the gun back and returned it to its holster.

Their new guest arrived a few short moments after the transaction—a dark-haired fair skinned fellow with hazel eyes and a ten-day salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a pale gray overcoat and black quarter-zip sweater over dark slacks and Chelsea boots. He spread his arms and flashed a wry smile. “Christopher!” he cajoled, taking a few exaggerated steps toward the desk as he placed his hands back into his pockets. “It’s not like you to be late to your own meeting.”

“Personnel issues,” Teller commented, taking a seat behind the desk again.

“Is that right..?” The newcomer raised his brow and scanned the room for a quick head count. He spotted the man on the floor, the other man braced against the wall nursing his wrist, and Seza standing between them.

“Well, hello there,” he charmed. He took a few slow steps toward her as his lips cracked another mischievous grin. “I don’t recall seeing you here before.” They were barely a foot apart now.

“I just started,” Seza deadpanned. She didn’t take her eyes from his, despite his proximity.

“Did you..?” He briefly scanned her up and down. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new hire, Chris?” he said loud enough for the other man to hear.

Teller quietly sighed and rolled his eyes. “Called her Jane Wick... she didn’t say anything.”

“Jane Wick,” the newcomer echoed. He noted the man on the floor leaking blood from his mouth and nostrils next to her and surmised that was her handiwork. He chuckled to himself at the origin of the nickname as he took a step back and offered her his hand. “Peter Cross,” he introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you. Remind me never to do to you whatever he did to deserve that.”

Seza shook his hand after a brief pause. “Shouldn’t be a problem, Peter Cross,” she said.

Cross kept her gaze a few more seconds before turning away back toward Teller. “How’ve you been, Chris?” he asked. He made his way to the butler bar on his way to the desk to pour a finger’s depth of scotch from the decanter into one of the glasses. “How’s business?”

Teller decided to ignore the fact that Cross made himself at home without permission and answered the question. “We’ve had some setbacks over the last few days.”

“So I’ve heard,” Cross noted as he made his way toward him. “A state senator raised some concerns about incriminating documents that may or may not have leaked.” He took a seat as he continued. “Not long after, he says it’s a false alarm and one of your warehouses catches fire.” He took from his glass and paused, savoring it. “I’d ask if you have any leads, but we’re both smart enough to put the picture together.”

“Yeah,” Teller said, the faintest snarl at the back of this throat. “We are.”

“Do you know why I had my friend trash the evidence on the good senator and torch your warehouse? Because I need you to understand the why, so we don’t have to have this conversation again in a week.”

There was only silence in the room for a while.

“Speak when you’re spoken to, Chris.”

Seza watched the two men interact—Cross lounging in the chair opposite Teller, Teller’s fingers steadily digging deeper into the backs of his hands. He wanted to reach across the table and strangle the man, it was obvious to her.

“Yeah,” Teller croaked with a slow nod.

“What we have only works if you play by the rules,” Cross continued. “And you have a nasty habit of shitting all over those rules. I can’t have that, so I had to take something from you as punishment... nothing important, not like that fancy club of yours in Hoboken. It could have been, but I know how you feel about the place…” He finished his scotch and placed the empty glass on the desk top. "So the next time you feel like going off the reservation, I want you to think about what could've happened the day your warehouse burned down. I want you to think about what happened... and I want you to think about what can still happen… are we clear?”

 “Crystal.”

  “Good..!” Cross flashed a smile and stood back up. “Now that that’s out of the way,” he extolled, “it’s time to go to work. Get your best coat on, shine your shoes, and try to look respectable. These Sen Guren boys are old school.” He strode back toward the exit.

“So I’ve heard,” Teller said. He stood to retrieve his coat from the rack in the corner of the room, then motioned Seza and three other men in the room to follow him.

She allowed herself to be escorted from the conference room into a garage and toward a late-model Escalade. One of Teller’s men entered through the driver-side door, and Teller himself sat up front next to him. Seza entered through the rear door and found herself between two of Teller’s men as the vehicle engine started.

Of course they wouldn’t trust her alone with any of them, she thought, not after what she did to the other two upstairs. Seza knew she would have to keep playing along if she was going to come any closer to finding Samantha Calloway, so she sat still and did her best to look relaxed among the others as they headed toward their destination.

(Masterlist | Part 2)

[yahoodevelopers]

Yahoo Knowledge Graph Announces COVID-19 Dataset, API, and Dashboard with Source Attribution

Amit Nagpal, Sr. Director, Software Development Engineering, Verizon Media

Among many interesting teams at Verizon Media is the Yahoo Knowledge (YK) team. We build the Yahoo Knowledge Graph; one of the few web scale knowledge graphs in the world. Our graph contains billions of facts and entities that enrich user experiences and power AI across Verizon Media properties. At the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic we felt the need and responsibility to put our web scale extraction technologies to work, to see how we can help. We have started to extract COVID-19 statistics from hundreds of sources around the globe into what we call the YK-COVID-19 dataset. The YK-COVID-19 dataset provides data and knowledge that help inform our readers on Yahoo News, Yahoo Finance, Yahoo Weather, and Yahoo Search. We created this dataset by carefully combining and normalizing raw data provided entirely by government and public health authorities. We provide website level provenance for every single statistic in our dataset, so our community has the confidence it needs to use it scientifically and report with transparency. After weeks of hard work, we are ready to make this data public in an easily consumable format at the YK-COVID-19-Data GitHub repo.

A dataset alone does not always tell the full story. We reached out to teams across Verizon Media to get their help in building a set of tools that can help us, and you, build dashboards and analyze the data. Engineers from the Verizon Media Data team in Champaign, Illinois volunteered to build an API and dashboard. The API was constructed using a previously published Verizon Media open source platform called Elide. The dashboard was constructed using Ember.js, Leaflet and the Denali design system. We still needed a map tile server and were able to use the Verizon Location Technology team’s map tile service powered by HERE. We leveraged Screwdriver.cd, our open source CI/CD platform to build our code assets, and our open source Athenz.io platform to secure our applications running in our Kubernetes environment. We did this using our open source K8s-athenz-identity control plane project. You can see the result of this incredible team effort today at https://yahoo.github.io/covid-19-dashboard.

Build With Us

You can build applications that take advantage of the YK-COVID-19 dataset and API yourself. The YK-COVID-19 dataset is made available under a Creative Commons CC-BY-NC 4.0 license. Anyone seeking to use the YK-COVID-19 dataset for other purposes is encouraged to submit a request.

Feature Roadmap

Updated multiple times a day, the YK-COVID-19 dataset provides reports of country, state, and county-level data based on the availability of data from our many sources. We plan to offer more coverage, granularity, and metadata in the coming weeks.

Why a Knowledge Graph?

A knowledge graph is information about real world entities, such as people, places, organizations, and events, along with their relations, organized as a graph. We at Yahoo Knowledge have the capability to crawl, extract, combine, and organize information from thousands of sources. We create refined information used by our brands and our readers on Yahoo Finance, Yahoo News, Yahoo Search and others sites too. 

We built our web scale knowledge graph by extracting information from web pages around the globe. We apply information retrieval techniques, natural language processing, and computer vision to extract facts from a variety of formats such as html, tables, pdf, images and videos. These facts are then reconciled and integrated into our core knowledge graph that gets richer every day. We applied some of these techniques and processes relevant in the COVID-19 context to help gather information from hundreds of public and government authoritative websites. We then blend and normalize this information into a single combined COVID-19 specific dataset with some human oversight for stability and accuracy. In the process, we preserve provenance information, so our users know where each statistic comes from and have the confidence to use it for scientific and reporting purposes with attribution. We then pull basic metadata such as latitude, longitude, and population for each location from our core knowledge graph. We also include a Wikipedia id for each location, so it is easy for our community to attach additional metadata, as needed, from public knowledge bases such as Wikimedia or Wikipedia.

We’re in this together. So we are publishing our data along with a set of tools that we’re contributing to the open source community. We offer these tools, data, and an invitation to work together on getting past the raw numbers.

Yahoo, Verizon Media, and Verizon Location Technology are all part of the family at Verizon.

[globalmediacampaign]

How to set up command-line access to Amazon Keyspaces (for Apache Cassandra) by using the new developer toolkit Docker image

Amazon Keyspaces (for Apache Cassandra) is a scalable, highly available, and fully managed Cassandra-compatible database service. Amazon Keyspaces helps you run your Cassandra workloads more easily by using a serverless database that can scale up and down automatically in response to your actual application traffic. Because Amazon Keyspaces is serverless, there are no clusters or nodes to provision and manage. You can get started with Amazon Keyspaces with a few clicks in the console or a few changes to your existing Cassandra driver configuration. In this post, I show you how to set up command-line access to Amazon Keyspaces by using the keyspaces-toolkit Docker image. The keyspaces-toolkit Docker image contains commonly used Cassandra developer tooling. The toolkit comes with the Cassandra Query Language Shell (cqlsh) and is configured with best practices for Amazon Keyspaces. The container image is open source and also compatible with Apache Cassandra 3.x clusters. A command line interface (CLI) such as cqlsh can be useful when automating database activities. You can use cqlsh to run one-time queries and perform administrative tasks, such as modifying schemas or bulk-loading flat files. You also can use cqlsh to enable Amazon Keyspaces features, such as point-in-time recovery (PITR) backups and assign resource tags to keyspaces and tables. The following screenshot shows a cqlsh session connected to Amazon Keyspaces and the code to run a CQL create table statement. Build a Docker image To get started, download and build the Docker image so that you can run the keyspaces-toolkit in a container. A Docker image is the template for the complete and executable version of an application. It’s a way to package applications and preconfigured tools with all their dependencies. To build and run the image for this post, install the latest Docker engine and Git on the host or local environment. The following command builds the image from the source. docker build --tag amazon/keyspaces-toolkit --build-arg CLI_VERSION=latest https://github.com/aws-samples/amazon-keyspaces-toolkit.git The preceding command includes the following parameters: –tag – The name of the image in the name:tag Leaving out the tag results in latest. –build-arg CLI_VERSION – This allows you to specify the version of the base container. Docker images are composed of layers. If you’re using the AWS CLI Docker image, aligning versions significantly reduces the size and build times of the keyspaces-toolkit image. Connect to Amazon Keyspaces Now that you have a container image built and available in your local repository, you can use it to connect to Amazon Keyspaces. To use cqlsh with Amazon Keyspaces, create service-specific credentials for an existing AWS Identity and Access Management (IAM) user. The service-specific credentials enable IAM users to access Amazon Keyspaces, but not access other AWS services. The following command starts a new container running the cqlsh process. docker run --rm -ti amazon/keyspaces-toolkit cassandra.us-east-1.amazonaws.com 9142 --ssl -u "SERVICEUSERNAME" -p "SERVICEPASSWORD" The preceding command includes the following parameters: run – The Docker command to start the container from an image. It’s the equivalent to running create and start. –rm –Automatically removes the container when it exits and creates a container per session or run. -ti – Allocates a pseudo TTY (t) and keeps STDIN open (i) even if not attached (remove i when user input is not required). amazon/keyspaces-toolkit – The image name of the keyspaces-toolkit. us-east-1.amazonaws.com – The Amazon Keyspaces endpoint. 9142 – The default SSL port for Amazon Keyspaces. After connecting to Amazon Keyspaces, exit the cqlsh session and terminate the process by using the QUIT or EXIT command. Drop-in replacement Now, simplify the setup by assigning an alias (or DOSKEY for Windows) to the Docker command. The alias acts as a shortcut, enabling you to use the alias keyword instead of typing the entire command. You will use cqlsh as the alias keyword so that you can use the alias as a drop-in replacement for your existing Cassandra scripts. The alias contains the parameter –v "$(pwd)":/source, which mounts the current directory of the host. This is useful for importing and exporting data with COPY or using the cqlsh --file command to load external cqlsh scripts. alias cqlsh='docker run --rm -ti -v "$(pwd)":/source amazon/keyspaces-toolkit cassandra.us-east-1.amazonaws.com 9142 --ssl' For security reasons, don’t store the user name and password in the alias. After setting up the alias, you can create a new cqlsh session with Amazon Keyspaces by calling the alias and passing in the service-specific credentials. cqlsh -u "SERVICEUSERNAME" -p "SERVICEPASSWORD" Later in this post, I show how to use AWS Secrets Manager to avoid using plaintext credentials with cqlsh. You can use Secrets Manager to store, manage, and retrieve secrets. Create a keyspace Now that you have the container and alias set up, you can use the keyspaces-toolkit to create a keyspace by using cqlsh to run CQL statements. In Cassandra, a keyspace is the highest-order structure in the CQL schema, which represents a grouping of tables. A keyspace is commonly used to define the domain of a microservice or isolate clients in a multi-tenant strategy. Amazon Keyspaces is serverless, so you don’t have to configure clusters, hosts, or Java virtual machines to create a keyspace or table. When you create a new keyspace or table, it is associated with an AWS Account and Region. Though a traditional Cassandra cluster is limited to 200 to 500 tables, with Amazon Keyspaces the number of keyspaces and tables for an account and Region is virtually unlimited. The following command creates a new keyspace by using SingleRegionStrategy, which replicates data three times across multiple Availability Zones in a single AWS Region. Storage is billed by the raw size of a single replica, and there is no network transfer cost when replicating data across Availability Zones. Using keyspaces-toolkit, connect to Amazon Keyspaces and run the following command from within the cqlsh session. CREATE KEYSPACE amazon WITH REPLICATION = {'class': 'SingleRegionStrategy'} AND TAGS = {'domain' : 'shoppingcart' , 'app' : 'acme-commerce'}; The preceding command includes the following parameters: REPLICATION – SingleRegionStrategy replicates data three times across multiple Availability Zones. TAGS – A label that you assign to an AWS resource. For more information about using tags for access control, microservices, cost allocation, and risk management, see Tagging Best Practices. Create a table Previously, you created a keyspace without needing to define clusters or infrastructure. Now, you will add a table to your keyspace in a similar way. A Cassandra table definition looks like a traditional SQL create table statement with an additional requirement for a partition key and clustering keys. These keys determine how data in CQL rows are distributed, sorted, and uniquely accessed. Tables in Amazon Keyspaces have the following unique characteristics: Virtually no limit to table size or throughput – In Amazon Keyspaces, a table’s capacity scales up and down automatically in response to traffic. You don’t have to manage nodes or consider node density. Performance stays consistent as your tables scale up or down. Support for “wide” partitions – CQL partitions can contain a virtually unbounded number of rows without the need for additional bucketing and sharding partition keys for size. This allows you to scale partitions “wider” than the traditional Cassandra best practice of 100 MB. No compaction strategies to consider – Amazon Keyspaces doesn’t require defined compaction strategies. Because you don’t have to manage compaction strategies, you can build powerful data models without having to consider the internals of the compaction process. Performance stays consistent even as write, read, update, and delete requirements change. No repair process to manage – Amazon Keyspaces doesn’t require you to manage a background repair process for data consistency and quality. No tombstones to manage – With Amazon Keyspaces, you can delete data without the challenge of managing tombstone removal, table-level grace periods, or zombie data problems. 1 MB row quota – Amazon Keyspaces supports the Cassandra blob type, but storing large blob data greater than 1 MB results in an exception. It’s a best practice to store larger blobs across multiple rows or in Amazon Simple Storage Service (Amazon S3) object storage. Fully managed backups – PITR helps protect your Amazon Keyspaces tables from accidental write or delete operations by providing continuous backups of your table data. The following command creates a table in Amazon Keyspaces by using a cqlsh statement with customer properties specifying on-demand capacity mode, PITR enabled, and AWS resource tags. Using keyspaces-toolkit to connect to Amazon Keyspaces, run this command from within the cqlsh session. CREATE TABLE amazon.eventstore( id text, time timeuuid, event text, PRIMARY KEY(id, time)) WITH CUSTOM_PROPERTIES = { 'capacity_mode':{'throughput_mode':'PAY_PER_REQUEST'}, 'point_in_time_recovery':{'status':'enabled'} } AND TAGS = {'domain' : 'shoppingcart' , 'app' : 'acme-commerce' , 'pii': 'true'}; The preceding command includes the following parameters: capacity_mode – Amazon Keyspaces has two read/write capacity modes for processing reads and writes on your tables. The default for new tables is on-demand capacity mode (the PAY_PER_REQUEST flag). point_in_time_recovery – When you enable this parameter, you can restore an Amazon Keyspaces table to a point in time within the preceding 35 days. There is no overhead or performance impact by enabling PITR. TAGS – Allows you to organize resources, define domains, specify environments, allocate cost centers, and label security requirements. Insert rows Before inserting data, check if your table was created successfully. Amazon Keyspaces performs data definition language (DDL) operations asynchronously, such as creating and deleting tables. You also can monitor the creation status of a new resource programmatically by querying the system schema table. Also, you can use a toolkit helper for exponential backoff. Check for table creation status Cassandra provides information about the running cluster in its system tables. With Amazon Keyspaces, there are no clusters to manage, but it still provides system tables for the Amazon Keyspaces resources in an account and Region. You can use the system tables to understand the creation status of a table. The system_schema_mcs keyspace is a new system keyspace with additional content related to serverless functionality. Using keyspaces-toolkit, run the following SELECT statement from within the cqlsh session to retrieve the status of the newly created table. SELECT keyspace_name, table_name, status FROM system_schema_mcs.tables WHERE keyspace_name = 'amazon' AND table_name = 'eventstore'; The following screenshot shows an example of output for the preceding CQL SELECT statement. Insert sample data Now that you have created your table, you can use CQL statements to insert and read sample data. Amazon Keyspaces requires all write operations (insert, update, and delete) to use the LOCAL_QUORUM consistency level for durability. With reads, an application can choose between eventual consistency and strong consistency by using LOCAL_ONE or LOCAL_QUORUM consistency levels. The benefits of eventual consistency in Amazon Keyspaces are higher availability and reduced cost. See the following code. CONSISTENCY LOCAL_QUORUM; INSERT INTO amazon.eventstore(id, time, event) VALUES ('1', now(), '{eventtype:"click-cart"}'); INSERT INTO amazon.eventstore(id, time, event) VALUES ('2', now(), '{eventtype:"showcart"}'); INSERT INTO amazon.eventstore(id, time, event) VALUES ('3', now(), '{eventtype:"clickitem"}') IF NOT EXISTS; SELECT * FROM amazon.eventstore; The preceding code uses IF NOT EXISTS or lightweight transactions to perform a conditional write. With Amazon Keyspaces, there is no heavy performance penalty for using lightweight transactions. You get similar performance characteristics of standard insert, update, and delete operations. The following screenshot shows the output from running the preceding statements in a cqlsh session. The three INSERT statements added three unique rows to the table, and the SELECT statement returned all the data within the table.   Export table data to your local host You now can export the data you just inserted by using the cqlsh COPY TO command. This command exports the data to the source directory, which you mounted earlier to the working directory of the Docker run when creating the alias. The following cqlsh statement exports your table data to the export.csv file located on the host machine. CONSISTENCY LOCAL_ONE; COPY amazon.eventstore(id, time, event) TO '/source/export.csv' WITH HEADER=false; The following screenshot shows the output of the preceding command from the cqlsh session. After the COPY TO command finishes, you should be able to view the export.csv from the current working directory of the host machine. For more information about tuning export and import processes when using cqlsh COPY TO, see Loading data into Amazon Keyspaces with cqlsh. Use credentials stored in Secrets Manager Previously, you used service-specific credentials to connect to Amazon Keyspaces. In the following example, I show how to use the keyspaces-toolkit helpers to store and access service-specific credentials in Secrets Manager. The helpers are a collection of scripts bundled with keyspaces-toolkit to assist with common tasks. By overriding the default entry point cqlsh, you can call the aws-sm-cqlsh.sh script, a wrapper around the cqlsh process that retrieves the Amazon Keyspaces service-specific credentials from Secrets Manager and passes them to the cqlsh process. This script allows you to avoid hard-coding the credentials in your scripts. The following diagram illustrates this architecture. Configure the container to use the host’s AWS CLI credentials The keyspaces-toolkit extends the AWS CLI Docker image, making keyspaces-toolkit extremely lightweight. Because you may already have the AWS CLI Docker image in your local repository, keyspaces-toolkit adds only an additional 10 MB layer extension to the AWS CLI. This is approximately 15 times smaller than using cqlsh from the full Apache Cassandra 3.11 distribution. The AWS CLI runs in a container and doesn’t have access to the AWS credentials stored on the container’s host. You can share credentials with the container by mounting the ~/.aws directory. Mount the host directory to the container by using the -v parameter. To validate a proper setup, the following command lists current AWS CLI named profiles. docker run --rm -ti -v ~/.aws:/root/.aws --entrypoint aws amazon/keyspaces-toolkit configure list-profiles The ~/.aws directory is a common location for the AWS CLI credentials file. If you configured the container correctly, you should see a list of profiles from the host credentials. For instructions about setting up the AWS CLI, see Step 2: Set Up the AWS CLI and AWS SDKs. Store credentials in Secrets Manager Now that you have configured the container to access the host’s AWS CLI credentials, you can use the Secrets Manager API to store the Amazon Keyspaces service-specific credentials in Secrets Manager. The secret name keyspaces-credentials in the following command is also used in subsequent steps. docker run --rm -ti -v ~/.aws:/root/.aws --entrypoint aws amazon/keyspaces-toolkit secretsmanager create-secret --name keyspaces-credentials --description "Store Amazon Keyspaces Generated Service Credentials" --secret-string "{"username":"SERVICEUSERNAME","password":"SERVICEPASSWORD","engine":"cassandra","host":"SERVICEENDPOINT","port":"9142"}" The preceding command includes the following parameters: –entrypoint – The default entry point is cqlsh, but this command uses this flag to access the AWS CLI. –name – The name used to identify the key to retrieve the secret in the future. –secret-string – Stores the service-specific credentials. Replace SERVICEUSERNAME and SERVICEPASSWORD with your credentials. Replace SERVICEENDPOINT with the service endpoint for the AWS Region. Creating and storing secrets requires CreateSecret and GetSecretValue permissions in your IAM policy. As a best practice, rotate secrets periodically when storing database credentials. Use the Secrets Manager helper script Use the Secrets Manager helper script to sign in to Amazon Keyspaces by replacing the user and password fields with the secret key from the preceding keyspaces-credentials command. docker run --rm -ti -v ~/.aws:/root/.aws --entrypoint aws-sm-cqlsh.sh amazon/keyspaces-toolkit keyspaces-credentials --ssl --execute "DESCRIBE Keyspaces" The preceding command includes the following parameters: -v – Used to mount the directory containing the host’s AWS CLI credentials file. –entrypoint – Use the helper by overriding the default entry point of cqlsh to access the Secrets Manager helper script, aws-sm-cqlsh.sh. keyspaces-credentials – The key to access the credentials stored in Secrets Manager. –execute – Runs a CQL statement. Update the alias You now can update the alias so that your scripts don’t contain plaintext passwords. You also can manage users and roles through Secrets Manager. The following code sets up a new alias by using the keyspaces-toolkit Secrets Manager helper for passing the service-specific credentials to Secrets Manager. alias cqlsh='docker run --rm -ti -v ~/.aws:/root/.aws -v "$(pwd)":/source --entrypoint aws-sm-cqlsh.sh amazon/keyspaces-toolkit keyspaces-credentials --ssl' To have the alias available in every new terminal session, add the alias definition to your .bashrc file, which is executed on every new terminal window. You can usually find this file in $HOME/.bashrc or $HOME/bash_aliases (loaded by $HOME/.bashrc). Validate the alias Now that you have updated the alias with the Secrets Manager helper, you can use cqlsh without the Docker details or credentials, as shown in the following code. cqlsh --execute "DESCRIBE TABLE amazon.eventstore;" The following screenshot shows the running of the cqlsh DESCRIBE TABLE statement by using the alias created in the previous section. In the output, you should see the table definition of the amazon.eventstore table you created in the previous step. Conclusion In this post, I showed how to get started with Amazon Keyspaces and the keyspaces-toolkit Docker image. I used Docker to build an image and run a container for a consistent and reproducible experience. I also used an alias to create a drop-in replacement for existing scripts, and used built-in helpers to integrate cqlsh with Secrets Manager to store service-specific credentials. Now you can use the keyspaces-toolkit with your Cassandra workloads. As a next step, you can store the image in Amazon Elastic Container Registry, which allows you to access the keyspaces-toolkit from CI/CD pipelines and other AWS services such as AWS Batch. Additionally, you can control the image lifecycle of the container across your organization. You can even attach policies to expiring images based on age or download count. For more information, see Pushing an image. Cheat sheet of useful commands I did not cover the following commands in this blog post, but they will be helpful when you work with cqlsh, AWS CLI, and Docker. --- Docker --- #To view the logs from the container. Helpful when debugging docker logs CONTAINERID #Exit code of the container. Helpful when debugging docker inspect createtablec --format='{{.State.ExitCode}}' --- CQL --- #Describe keyspace to view keyspace definition DESCRIBE KEYSPACE keyspace_name; #Describe table to view table definition DESCRIBE TABLE keyspace_name.table_name; #Select samples with limit to minimize output SELECT * FROM keyspace_name.table_name LIMIT 10; --- Amazon Keyspaces CQL --- #Change provisioned capacity for tables ALTER TABLE keyspace_name.table_name WITH custom_properties={'capacity_mode':{'throughput_mode': 'PROVISIONED', 'read_capacity_units': 4000, 'write_capacity_units': 3000}} ; #Describe current capacity mode for tables SELECT keyspace_name, table_name, custom_properties FROM system_schema_mcs.tables where keyspace_name = 'amazon' and table_name='eventstore'; --- Linux --- #Line count of multiple/all files in the current directory find . -type f | wc -l #Remove header from csv sed -i '1d' myData.csv About the Author Michael Raney is a Solutions Architect with Amazon Web Services. https://aws.amazon.com/blogs/database/how-to-set-up-command-line-access-to-amazon-keyspaces-for-apache-cassandra-by-using-the-new-developer-toolkit-docker-image/

[theholyway]

The Power of Ginger

Image sourced from: here The season is changing, the weather is getting colder, layers of clothing start to increase, this can mean one of many things! During the colder days of the year, a common cold can easily be caught and spread amongst people within the same vicinity. As a substitute for cold medication, ginger can be brewed to make the perfect cup of antidote. It is important to realize that medication isn’t always easily accessible to everybody, especially for individuals who don’t have the support of the healthcare system. Luckily, ginger can be purchased from any local market and prepared to make the perfect remedy. Not only is ginger common and easily attainable, it is the perfect remedy for individuals seeking a more holistic approach rather than the usual prescribed pill or liquid medication from a healthcare provider.      Ginger belongs to the Zingiberaceae family which is a family of flowering plants that is said to have originated from China. Ginger contains gingerol, a compound with antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties responsible for its medicinal properties. Scientific research has revealed that ginger possesses numerous therapeutic properties including “antioxidant effects, an ability to inhibit the formation of inflammatory compounds, and direct anti-inflammatory effects” (WHFoods, 2019).  Ginger can be used to help with any discomfort and sickness. Besides treating a cold, ginger also helps with gastrointestinal distress like digestion, reduces pain and soreness, and relieves nausea. In one study, ginger was shown to have a greater affect in reducing and relieving motion sickness symptoms. Such symptoms include dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and cold sweating (WHFoods, 2019). The study compared ginger and dimenhydrinate (dramamine) in the treatment of nausea and vomiting in pregnancy, ginger presented similar if not greater effects as dimenhydrinate (dramamine) but with fewer side effects. Dimenhydrinate (dramamine) is an over-the-counter drug that can be purchased and used to treat motion sickness or nausea. For individuals looking for a more holistic approach in nausea relief, ginger is a perfect alternative as it can be less expensive and more effective without having to suffer any side effects.            There are many different ways ginger can be consumed, from dicing it up and eating it raw to slicing and brewing it to drink as if it were tea or soup. The rhizome or the underground part of the stem is called the ginger root and is commonly used as a spice that can be added into food when cooking. Rather than a dried form of ginger spice, fresh ginger is best for consumption due to it having higher levels of gingerol. One way to consume ginger is eating it raw. It is optional to wash ginger but one should peel the tough skin off first before dicing it up or grating the ginger into tiny pieces. Depending on an individual’s preference, one can swallow mouthfuls of ginger or chew on it to break it down. Another way for ginger consumption is to cut up ginger and boil it with water to make ginger tea. Preparation for ginger consumption is extremely easy and can also be an alternative remedy for anyone who may seek it.          Leech, J. (2017, June 4). 11 Proven Health Benefits of Ginger. Retrieved from https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/11-proven-benefits-of-ginger Megan Ware, R. D. N. (2017, September 11). Ginger: Health benefits and dietary tips. Retrieved from https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/265990.php Whfoods.com. (2019). Ginger. Retrieved from: http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=72 

[file-formats-programming]

Retrieve Raw Properties of Images & Enhanced Adding Images inside PDF using Java

What's New in this Release?

Aspose team is pleased to announce the release of Aspose.PDF for Java 18.8.  New features and enhancements have been added in latest release of the API. This release supports Retrieve Raw Properties of Images. In order to extract raw properties of image from PDF document, a new subclass for com.aspose.pdf.XImage.RawParameters has been added which exposes the properties of an image like Type, Name, BitsPerComponent, DecodeParms and etc. Whenever an unrecognized locale is encountered, the standard behavior is to fallback to the parts of the locale that are recognized. This behavior is generally present in Java Applications. In order to deal with such scenarios where it is necessary to specify/set locale, a new method i.e. com.aspose.pdf.LocaleOptions.setLocale() has been added in latest release of the API which can be used to set locale. Please note that The Aspose.PDF for Java library cannot support locales with specific combination language-country (such as “en-KR”) but, new feature for setting classical locale for Aspose.PDF has been implemented. Along with the features and enhancements mentioned above, there are some useful improvements and bug fixes included in latest release of API, such as PDF to PDF/A conversion engine has been improved, Feature to add images inside PDF has further been improved and improve font handling feature. Some important improved features included in this release are given below

Support for Setting locale

Extending API for the image support.

PDF to PDF/A - Resultant file is not compliant

JPEG to PDF: Inserted image is invisible

Text overlaps after replace operation

Can't configure using of another default font until application will not be rerun

FontRepository findFont throws "String index out of range" exception

After conversion PDF-to-PDFA the output contains corrupted diagram

JPEG to PDF: Error after openning PDF and inserted image is invisible

Newly added documentation pages and articles

Some new tips and articles have now been added into Aspose.Pdf for Java documentation that may guide users briefly how to use Aspose.Pdf for performing different tasks like the followings.

Extract Raw Properties of Image from PDF Document

How to Set Locale for Aspose.PDF

Overview: Aspose.Pdf for Java

Aspose.Pdf is a Java PDF component to create PDF documents without using Adobe Acrobat. It supports Floating box, PDF form field, PDF attachments, security, Foot note & end note, Multiple columns document, Table of Contents, List of Tables, Nested tables, Rich text format, images, hyperlinks, JavaScript, annotation, bookmarks, headers, footers and many more. Now you can create PDF by API, XML and XSL-FO files. It also enables you to converting HTML, XSL-FO and Excel files into PDF.

More about Aspose.Pdf for Java

Homepage of Aspose.Pdf for Java

Download Aspose.Pdf for Java

Read online documentation of Aspose.Pdf for Java

[allthelittlethingsihavetosa-blog]

Aww Shit...{w/@V_Bloodletter}

Vishous

I was in hideout motion and it was all going rather well. Wrath knew of my location, I had imparted that info to him before I left. But the rest of the Brotherhood was clueless to my whereabouts. And for now I planned on keeping it that way for a while. I needed the seclusion, the down time away from people, all people, even the Doggen. Although I did bring a male Doggen with me to my new residence. As of yet I hadn’t decided if this was going to be a full time thing or just until I finally finish pulling my head out of my ass. But for the time being I didn’t need to make that decision. I made sure that I could be reached when needed and that I was on the streets when it was my time to work patrol. It was imperative that I stay low-key right now. No one else needed to understand that but myself. I had managed to stay away from the Manse as well as my Penthouse. Although I had it all wired to feed into my system here in the middle of BFE. And that was why I was able to have a front row seat to all the wondrous things that Doc was up to at the Commodore. The night she decided to break into my place, an alarm went off and at first I was up and ready to demat to the high-rise but then I saw who it was. So I grabbed a bottle of Goose along with some beef jerky then sat back and watched the show. That was up until the end and I knew that Doc wasn’t really hurt or did any extreme damage to my property. Although that didn’t diminish the fact that she intruded where she had no business intruding. And that shit would be fucking dealt with. I wasted a few minutes in gearing up and locking my place down before I vanished into thin air. When I came to form on my balcony it was like the place knew I was there. The glass doors slid open gracefully, black pillar candles lit up to full flames and as I stepped inside the doors closed and locked down.

Piper

::Every inch of my body ached in so many ways I couldn’t figure out what sound to make first, so in a exhale of breath they all came out at once. I chuckled darkly catching my breath again before I finally let my eyes open to take in my surroundings now that the sedative had released me from it’s grip, I hadn’t forgotten where I was by any stretch of the imagination. It was more to check that no one was waiting with a weapon close enough to do damage. Scribe knows Vishous could be the one doing so for all I knew, rightfully so given what I’d just done to his penthouse and his trust by my intrusion. I shifted my position a simple inch which caused nothing but sheer pain to radiate outwards but I needed to get out of this fucking tub then figure a way out of this place before the man himself showed up to exact revenge only to find the neighborhood doc half dressed and covered in blood waving at him like some retarded seal. The image alone had me laughing to myself as I found my feet and stepped out of the tub to tuck my gun back into its holster. Before I gazed into the mirror and gave myself the once over. My wounds weren’t healing as fast as I liked which meant the daggers were laced with more than just a heavy sedative, he was a sneaky bastard I’d give him that. He liked to torture more than I gave him credit for. Just when you thought you were safe and far away you’d realize he still had you. I took another minute to gather myself before I’d start working on an desperately needed exit plan. It was then  I noticed the candles scattered throughout  light up almost on cue with the sound of the locks I’d known to the the remaining windows slam into place. There was only one person who could make such a thing happen without setting off the alarms I had earlier:: 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

::There was no way I could run and hide anywhere in this penthouse that he couldn’t find me, I wasn’t going to turn this into a cat and mouse game for many reasons. The biggest one being, he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore than I wanted it to happen.. I swallowed the contents of my stomach that had suddenly decided that now was the best time to crawl their way up my throat. Cautiously I half wondered  if I should at least pretend to be surprised? Or act like I would have in the past and played the foolish stupid doc but I couldn’t.  I did this of my own free will. I knew what I was doing every single step of the way and I wasn’t, for once, going to let that scare me.:: 

You watched me the entire time didn’t you?

Vishous

I leaned my shoulder against the bathroom door frame and watched as Doc tried to collect herself, at least somewhat. With a tatted brow cocked, I shook my head and still I didn’t speak. I pretty much knew if I spoke right now, none of it would be without cursing or growling and who knew what the fuck else. I would never bodily hurt Doc. She was family. But she also betrayed me and my trust. Even though I had no desire to step foot in my Penthouse, that didn’t mean that it was open to any fucking person that wanted to trespass on my property. Actually it pissed me off more with the fact that I even had to come here when I didn’t want to. I glanced around before letting my eyes finally settle on the female. “What do you think?” Again I just shook my head and pushed away from the wall, to stand fully up. “I will go with sixty seconds of whatever excuse you have for doing what you did and then…” My shoulders came up in a nonchalant shrug. “And then you stay a safe distance from me until we get you back to the Manse, to Wrath and Rhage. They can deal with this fucking shit.” I didn’t even attempt to hide the frustration and anger from my tone. What would be the point to? Not even my Brothers had ever tried or thought to not only come to the Commodore but to destroy my property and break into it. 

Piper

::My first immediate thought was at least he gave me sixty seconds, it was shortly followed with an inner cringe by just the thought of Wrath and Rhage knowing what I had just done. I felt a bone deep shudder follow before I even opened my mouth to speak my peace::

I’m not going to make excuses, Vishous. I have two valid reasons for coming here. 

::I was trying not to get frustrated at the looks I was getting or the anger that was flowing off the brother in waves thick enough to push me over, he had every right to be giving them. For now my only choice was to speak what I had to say and hope that he saw that it wasn’t in some malicious intent that I came busting in. I didn’t move from where I stood just pushed my shoulders back a little and stood to face him a little more, hoping he’d at least appreciate the gesture::

You just left, Vishous, without a single word to anyone. That in itself is none of my business but it was something completely out of character in all the years I’ve known you. I run, you don’t. You stand and fight till you’re bloody and raw then you fight harder. So when I went to find you, to ask you for help and no one had seen you in weeks, yeah I came looking for you. Besides Rhage, you’re the one person I’d sacrifice everything for. The guards you left in place weren’t exactly going to let me in, you weren’t answering your cell and panic had set in. If you were up here in trouble what would you have me do? Leave you? 

::I stopped talking at that point, there was nothing else I could say I was exhausted and I ached in places that I didn’t even know I had. Punishment was coming no matter how hard I prayed otherwise. I wasn’t going to beg for for it to be any different.::

If or when I get a change I’ll ask Fritz to make arrangements to have everything fixed at my expense however you wish it to be done. I wouldn’t change what I did, Vishous and I’d do it again without fail. 

Vishous

I made my way into the living room, obviously watching Doc as she stumbled her way from the bathroom. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why she was here or what the hell happened to her. I shook my head and shot a text message to #Fritz . ‘At the Commodore, send a car to pick up the Doc ASAP and she will need medical treatment.’ I slipped my phone back in my pocket and headed to the bathroom again. It took a few moments to retrieve the first aid kit and to retrieve a bottle of Goose from the kitchen. Once I had everything that I needed for the situation at hand, I went back to where Piper was and started barking out orders. “Sit down…” I shot a glance around the spacious room and shrugged. “It would appear that my table is the only suitable place to have a seat.” I had emptied my Penthouse out almost completely over a year ago and to date, I still didn’t want to be here. But unfortunately I had no fucking choice in the matter. I placed the kit on the flat surface and started unpacking the few items that I would need. “I contacted #Fritz and he will be sending a car to pick you up soon.” I didn’t want to delve too deep into the things I was being asked. Answering questions was not high at the top of my list right now or any time for that matter. But this was Doc and she deserved some info. I blew out a breath and gave a dead look. “I needed to go MIA. I had given Wrath a head’s up on what I was doing. But yeah, no I didn’t post it on the Brotherhood bulletin…” I shook my head, glanced at you for a moment. “Next time maybe I will shoot you a text to let ya know that I am on the lamb. As for your question, my eyes are everywhere. Never doubt that.” 

Piper

::I moved somewhat slowly towards the table nearly jumping out of my skin when I heard the order barked at me, it wasn’t so much the order it shook me from the haze I momentarily found myself in again. Then once again I found myself staring at Vishous as I sat on the table before him, hating myself for the millionth time since I started this adventure. Once I heard his confession I knew exactly how he felt, it was why I ran, why I left.. All he wanted was space, plain and simple yet I forced him out of that in some foolish attempt to find him on my own. I glanced down at the kit, cautiously pushing it away before placing my hand on his and finding his gaze again.:: 

I deserve every ounce of this pain I’m feeling right now, Vishous and you can cancel Fritz. I have a ride downstairs that if I leave here Rhage will fucking kill me for. I mean, even more than he will for the rest of this shit. Which he will and Wrath? Fuck me, those two are going to ...I don’t even want to think about it. So, no, Vishous, you don’t owe me any explanations as to why you left, Guess just remember I’m a little more emotional than the rest of them? 

::I chuckled hoping to ease the tension in the room but failed horribly, the pain it caused nearly knocked the air right out of me. I took a chance and punched his shoulder, before I even  another cautious joke. He was taking things a little too lightly for my liking. It was all too weird.:: 

As for your security, I’d like to know what the fuck you had those daggers laced with. Also, I’m pretty impressed. I expected explosions and fireworks but you came with nothing but stealth.

::I glanced at Vishous  again, arching a brow::

You’re being far too quiet. Too reserved, Vishous. If this was anyone else you’d have torn them a new one by now. I destroyed your penthouse, your trust. Yet you’re sitting here trying to tend to my wounds?  

Vishous 

I snorted out a grunt and shook my head. “I assume that your ride downstairs is Rhage? Because yeah, I’m not letting you bail out with anyone else tonight. No fucking matter how irritated I am with you right now.” I flinched at first when I felt you rest your hand on mine and I had to remind myself in the next breath that it was okay...For the moment. “No, I don’t owe you any explanations but for now, I will tell you that I am good with where I’m at. The Manse and all that goes with it, you make sure that they are all good. And if you need me, I will work...a little better on replying to messages.” The corner of my lips turned up in a half grin. That was doing pretty good for me, considering that I had no desire to be within the city. “As for the rest, no.” I looked at you sitting there and narrowed my eyes a little. “Come now, do you really think that I will let you or anyone make repairs to this place? No, I will take care of it myself and obviously beef up my system that you completely destroyed.” I gave you a pointed look. “Right now, I need to be quiet but no fucking matter how pissed I am at you for destroying whatever property I have or even betraying me, you are my friend and we will deal with it. I might not want to speak with you or see you for a while but that doesn’t mean I’m cutting you out of my life.” I nodded at the barrage of marks covering the areas that I could see. “Show me where to start.” 

Piper

I can handle however you want to deal with me, V. Quiet or loud or hell even throwing things at me, I just couldn’t handle you cutting me out completely. That would probably kill me. Just like it would if any of the others did and I shouldn’t have done it you when I left without a word if I would ever return and for than I truly am sorry. As for my ride downstairs being Rhage..

::I paused for a moment closing my eyes as I sat up a little straighter despite the burning pain it caused, he’d have to look at the gashes no matter how much I protested otherwise. I’d also have to confess that I did this without letting anyone else know and I already knew Fritz was probably letting my male know of my whereabouts and condition as we spoke. That was going to be a conversation I knew I would have to sit and simply take without saying a single word.::

Rhage has no idea I’ve left, I mean I did leave a note that told him but whether he's actually found it yet is unknown. I can tell you one thing, he’s going to be a whole lot more agitated than you are, also a fuckton more vocal about it, he was actually the reason I was looking for you. Or at least the scalier part of him was. You should probably take a look at the wounds where those damn small daggers that lined the railing got me, they didn’t go too deep but whatever they were laced with are making it really hard to stay awake and don't even get me started on the pain right now. The rest I can handle later or have someone at the manse look at.

Vishous

I just shook my head and gave a chuckle. I glanced at you a moment before I went to work on cleaning each bloody wound. “I see some things never change. You running out and doing things that you shouldn’t be and of course doing them on your note while leaving a note behind.” My grin widened a little when you mentioned about parts of my security system that did cause you some issues. “At least I know that it all wasn’t a fucking a waste. And yes, you are more than likely right, you will hear much more from Rhage than you will from me.” I snorted out a grunt once i cleaned most of the blood away and started in with bandaging the areas. “That is not a yes or a no as to who is picking you up…”One black brow rose almost to my hairline and I locked my diamond eyes on your face. “What exactly do you mean that you came looking for me because of Rhage? I know I have been MIA and no, I am not living within the Manse but I do still keep nightly contact with Wrath. And nothing has been said or relaid to me that there is an issue with any of the Brothers. So yes, you will need to explain what the hell is going on.”

Piper

I am fully capable of taking care of myself, if this doesn’t prove that face than I don’t know how the hell else to prove it to any of you. I mean I could have gone out hunting Lesser or something but I chose to do this. 

::I hissed out a breath, glaring at you when the disinfectant hit some of the larger wounds. Sometimes I wanted nothing more than to be looked at as more than just the Doc but I guess that day wasn’t going to be today, besides I wasn’t about to argue with the man whose house I just broke into or who was currently helping me out. Besides, Vishous so far hadn’t torn my ass apart when he rightfully could have. Sighing I bit down into my lip to suppress the slight twinge of shoulder pain as I sat up straight again:: 

There is nothing wrong with him, I just have a few questions or maybe I’m more curious? The beast seems to be acting a little weird around me, not like I want to eat you weird but the complete opposite. Infact…

. 

::I nearly jumped clean out of my skin glancing over my shoulder at the doors when I heard the pound coming from the opposite side, groaning loudly:

You weren’t by chance expecting company were you? 

#TBC

#AwwShit

[blazehedgehog]

Ghostbusters 3?

I was thinking about the new Ghostbusters movie today, and how they’re constantly pitching it as “righting the wrongs” of the Paul Feig movie. This started out as me wanting to post a couple of generic plot predictions but ended up being a cliffnotes version of a full movie.

I spent long enough writing this weird thing that I figure I should dump it somewhere, so enjoy this extremely truntcated fanfiction for what I’d do for a modern day Ghostbusters 3 set in 2019.

Things to note: I have not yet seen the 2016 Paul Feig movie, so if i I end up retreading some ground with this, it was purely by accident (I don’t know, honestly).

Also, this might not seem terribly funny, but it’s a summary. Jokes come from the details.

Anyway, here we go:

An early 20 something encounters a big, mean, extra-scary ghost out in the boonies after a power outage.

Somebody recommends the Ghostbusters

“Who?”

Can't find any record of them.

Finds an old, busted, poorly designed website from the 90s with broken images.

Lists a phone number, but its disconnected.

Lists a FAX number, so the kid tries it, and somebody picks up. We don’t hear who it is.

They arrange a meeting.

It's an aged Ray Stanz, who identifies himself as the last Ghostbuster

Lives alone in a tiny cluttered apartment in the bad part of town.

He’s a little jaded.

“Some of us aren't even alive anymore, and they didn't turn in to ghosts...”

He doesn't believe the kid about his encounter, the ghosts they busted of old were a psychokinetic reaction to excess paranormal energy radiating from big bads.

They busted Gozer and Viggo, so that means no more ghosts, no more work, and no more money.

He afforded his apartment by selling the firehouse.

Kid gets upset, throws the “we're ready to believe you” line in Ray's face

Ray begrudgingly agrees to check it out.

They drive Ecto-1 over, it barely runs.

Kid discovers all four proton packs still loaded in the back, Ray explains what they are on the trip there. Explains they are very dangerous, but won’t say why.

Ray's assumptions are right, and he sees nothing at the kid's place.

Suddenly the PK-E meter spikes in a weird way.

Ray brushes it off as the old tech malfunctioning.

He even gives it to the kid as a souvenir.

He thanks the kid in a bittersweet way, as if he hoped there were ghosts, and leaves.

It's revealed the kid stole a proton pack.

The big mean ghost returns.

Kid tries to bust it himself with the stolen pack, starts a fire.

Ray comes back for the proton pack, sees the ghost, helps the kid trap it

Meanwhile the house burns down.

Ray: “Sorry about that. You handle the pack well though!”

Kid stays with Ray until he can get back on his feet.

Kid sees all of Ray's GB stuff around the apartment. Tobin's Spirit Guide, etc.

Ray gets cagey when kid finds open book on a spirit world.

Ray believes the ghost they encountered was a one off event.

Until the phone rings. (It’s an old land line telephone, maybe even rotary)

More ghosts are showing up.

Ray has to teach the kid how to bust ghosts

Suddenly they're swamped with calls

Training Montage

Have to hire a secretary, get a bigger space, hire more GBs (chubby guy, super nerd obsessed with the GBs, and a girl. Expect a low hanging fruit joke about the girl.)

The GBs have to modernize: they get a new website, mobile app

Get the containment unit out of storage

Ray gives them proton pack lessons, tells them to NEVER cross the streams, because it creates a dangerous feedback loop.

Ray: “It would make Hiroshima look like a wet fart.”

The GBs are back in business

But where are the ghosts coming from?

Kid remembers what Ray told him about Gozer and Viggo fueling the increase in activity.

Ray is happy to see Ghostbusters thriving again, tells the kid to worry about the big bad later.

New Recruit GBs are exhausted and ghosts are getting more aggressive

Kid tells the other new recruits to take the night off, even GBs have to take self-care days

Kid finds Ray in the basement of the new GBHQ trying to summon ghosts using some kind of a ghost beacon device

Kid asks WTF

Ray explains he was always wondering what happens to us when we become ghosts

He always figured that if any of the GBs died, their ghosts would contact him from the other side, but that never happened.

He figures maybe they got lost, somehow, but he doesn’t really know.

His research says that when people become ghosts, they change somehow. Some ghosts become pure representations of emotions, or they repeat events from before their death, or any number of things.

So he was hoping to use the ghost beacon as a way to guide his fallen GB friends to him.

He built the device by reading up on occult books and Spengler’s notes.

He turned it on for the first time on the same night the Kid encountered his ghost.

Unfortunately, it’s been bringing the wrong ghosts in from the spirit world in.

Kid explains THIS is where all the ghosts are coming from

Ray knows, but they were making so much money that stopping it or shutting down the device was a secondary priority.

The beacon doesn’t look very safe. It’s clearly getting out of control, as bigger and meaner ghosts are coming through.

Ray says everything is fine, he knows what he's doing, as long as the new recruits keep catching the escaped ghosts, nothing will go wrong.

This entire time, Ray hasn’t been paying attention to a build up of energy generated by the beacon.

It short circuits, blowing a hole open between our world and the spirit world.

Ghosts begin pouring out of the portal as it widens, and widens, and widens.

It swallows the entire building

Kid just barely gets out, but Ray is lost to the vortex.

Kid has to get the new recruits together and venture in to the spirit world to get Ray back and close the vortex

The spirit world is a lot like our world, mirrored, but skewed somewhat and with spooky lighting.

In the spirit world they encounter all kinds of weird ghosts

Some look like see through people, others are more animated and esoteric creatures

A few ghosts recognize the GBs as human and beg them for their bodies

The GBs have to escape

Run in to Slimer in an alley, who gives one a big sloppy hug before realizing they're just kids in the jumpsuits

Slimer directs them to Ray

Ray is now a slimer-esque ghost

“That's Ray?” The ghost gets super excited seeing the proton packs. “Yeah, it's him.”

How can they close the portal now? Ray's dead and his ghost is of no help

They find the beacon, and the book Ray used to build it

Nerdy recruit understands how to reverse the process

He begins tinkering with the device, but Ghost Ray sees this and steals it, flying off

Ghosts are representation of our pure I'd, Ray doesn't know what he's doing, just that the beacon is his

They corner Ray's ghost, to which his response is to switch the beacon on

The modifications aren't done, so it goes haywire

Ray absorbs hundreds of ghosts and turns into a giant monster ghost

“That's not Ray anymore.”

New GBs have to retrieve the device before the monster absorbs so many ghosts it reaches critical mass and explodes, destroying both dimensions

They retrieve the beacon, but it doesn't have enough power to reverse the process, and the monster is getting so big it's pulling ghosts in on its own

They have to cross the streams.

They set up the beacon under the portal, aim all the proton packs at it, and cross two streams

Waves of beacon energy ripple through the spirit world

The ghost monster feels it and turns around, reaching a hand out to stop it

The hand melts in to raw ectoplasm (slime)

It splashes at the Ghostbusters feet, but they keep crossing more streams. The beacon grows brighter, the waves more intense

Slime splashes into the portal, and the PK energy causes it to fluctuate and grow

Soon the whole ghost world begins to melt in to slime from the beacon’s waves.

The proton packs start to run out of juice

The portal is huge now, it's sucking in the remnants of the monster

Suddenly the portal is big enough that it picks up the beacon, which circles it like it's caught in a swirling drain

The portal, beacon and crossed streams combine in to a massive explosion of light and slime

The GBs are suddenly standing in the human world again, everything across the block is covered in ectoplasm.

Where their building was is just a smoking crater.

The police come and arrest the GBs, confiscate all their gear, they spend the night in jail

What happened to the spirit world? What happened to all the ghosts? What happened to Ray?

Bailiff comes in, somebody posted bail, they're free to go.

It's Venkman. After it was clear the GBs weren't coming back, he became a politician.

He's a very successful senator now.

He knows all of this wasn’t really their fault. He’d been keeping tabs on Ray for years, knew something like this was inevitable.

He offers the new GBs a job cleaning up all the ghosts that spilled out of the portal before it collapsed.

Government work. Steady pay. A dedicated tech budget. All property damage debts paid in full.

They agree.

Post credits: The new recruits are setting up their new office. The kid brings in and sets down Ray’s old rotary phone, which the other recruits give him funny looks for. He says it’s not hooked up or anything, it’s just a memento.

They all admire the new GB offices, having proven themselves as the next generation.

They turn the lights out, and head home for the first night as the new Ghostbusters.

Pull in close on the Ray’s old rotary phone…

...as it rings.

[spacebrick3]

The Malformation AU: Part 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Tensions are high, and the stakes are higher. Talya’s here, she’s managed to catch up to Eris and the Malformation ( @writerofwriting‘s great evil sentient magic character), but will it be enough?

Chapter 6 (Talya):

She presses herself against the back of the train, breathing heavily. The City Warning System has been her enemy for years, on multiple occasions alerting the whole of Sapphire to her illicit activities, but right now she couldn’t be happier that it existed. Just when she’d though her gone forever, that piercing wail had split the air, and she could dare to hope again.

But only dare. For those shaky, blurry images transmitted over the CWS still hang in her head, scenes of horror and that poor, reckless guard who tried to stop her. That can’t be Anechoi. That can’t be, she tells herself. She wouldn’t- she - Talya can’t even bring herself to finish the sentence, because she knows it’s not true. She’s on this train because it is her, made the mad dash through the smoke-filled station precisely because it was her face in those images.

Clutching her two weapons, she ducks into the end coach of the train. It is a standard passenger liner, likely heading to one of the Six Cities before she rerouted it. Talya can’t fathom why either Eris or Anechoi would want to go to Aquamarine, but whatever their purpose is it cannot be good. She makes her way through the rows of seats, running a hand over the velvet fabric that covers each chair. What the hell are you doing, Anechoi?

A red light blinks on above her. Oh, shit. Of course this train would have security cameras. She reaches up and rips it from its covering, tearing the wires from their sockets, but not quickly enough. In fact, she realizes, she’s probably just made it worse by confirming Eris/Anechoi’s suspicions. 

The entire train shudders, the sound of metal grinding on metal coming from beneath her. It takes only seconds to realize what is going on, but those are seconds she cannot afford to lose. Muttering a string of curses under her breath, she starts to sprint, bolting towards the front of the train.

Even in hyper-fast trains like this one, certain elements are preserved. Most notably the concept of train cars, such as this one which has just been uncoupled from the rest of the train. She dashes through the corridors, slamming through doors and wincing at the bruises which accumulate as she fails to avoid luggage racks and handles. Because even though the concept of separate cars has been preserved, the advancement of technology means that Martian trains are divided into very few compartments - each incredibly long.

She pushes through the final door, then yelps and skids to a stop just inches from the rushing track beneath. Even here, shielded on three sides from the buffeting wind, sand stings her eyes and face, and she pulls the goggles of her environmental suit down. After she’d lost Anechoi, she’d gone back to retrieve it, reasoning that there was no reason for her to stay in Sapphire. And she’d been right, though ‘stealing a train’ had been low on the list of probabilities.

Now, a gap of perhaps four meters separates the two cars, drifting further apart every instant. With run-up, she could likely make it, but even taking that time would drag the two far enough apart that she doesn’t like her chances. And if she falls - even uncoupled, this car is moving at three hundred kilometers per hour, and she would be crushed beneath the wheels. Ouch doesn’t begin to cover it.

She needs some way to keep them from moving further apart. Dammit. With a silent hope that she’s right about the range, and a not-so-silent tirade against both Eris and the train for the situation, she unclips the edges of the baton, spreading the two blocks of metal and the lines of Designer magic between them. Then she hurls one side over the gap.

It bounces down onto the edge of the car, disappearing behind the slight raised metal that marks the connector. But even then, the intangible blue lines reach between the two sides, connecting the one in her hand to the one on the other side. She places the other block down, wedging it into place, and at the limit of its range - about five meters - the blue lines begin to hiss and spark, locking the two sides into place. The cars grind and shift, the screech of metal complaining filling her ears, but they remain the same distance apart.

It is the one fundamental difference of Designer magic versus electricity. Carving the lines into space itself give them a unique quality that cannot be replicated, the spatial connection formed when the glimmering Designs are engraved. Instead of simply ceasing to exist like arcs of electricity, the connections lock into place at the limit of their range, physically refusing to let the lines be broken. It is not invulnerable, she notes as the connections begin to flare and burn away, but it will do.

Ducking back into the carriage, she eyes the gap between the two cars and runs for it, launching herself into the thin air that separates the two. She lands hard, one leg dangling precariously over the edge, but she pulls herself up onto the ledge at the back of the car. That…that might just be the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, she thinks as she wrenches the baton from where it’s stuck, letting the two ends snap back together.

This time, she takes care to avoid the gaze of the cameras, ducking under the baleful red eyes that line the walls and roof of the car. But as she enters a small compartment, wires and monitor screens carpeting the walls, she begins to hear a sound that fills her with equal parts hope and terror (well, more like 20% hope and 80% terror, she admits): The sound of footsteps, approaching.

She looks around frantically, searching for somewhere to hide. She dares not run, for fear that her pounding steps will give her away, but there is nothing in here. Pulling out the Designer gun - the LIMES, for Laser-Induced Magical Energy Stream - as her only weapon while the baton recharges, she presses herself into the dark corner near the door. Her breath is loud in her ears, but she can’t seem to quiet it.

The door slides open with a jet of air, and she looks into the face of Eris.

This is not Anechoi - she knows that immediately. A network of cracks and lines split her face and arms, the shifting glow of energy emanating from each. Her expression is cold and hard, the soft lines of her face twisted by the magic into something cruel and unnatural. Even though it is still her body, still her jacket and weapons, there is no trace of her - just Eris.

Her gaze meets Talya’s, and with a snarl of anger she flings a bolt of twisted magic at her, jagged edges burning into the wall behind her as she screams and ducks out of the way, sprinting back the way she came. At the door, she turns and fires off a burst from the LIMES, the vibrant blue lines of energy wrapping around the millisecond flash of the laser.

One connects, searing into her shoulder with an angry burst of light. Talya gasps, seeing the raw wound in her friend’s shoulder. Oh no. Oh no I’m so sorry, Anechoi, I’m so- Another crackle of malevolent energy slams into the wall next to her, aim thrown off only by Eris’ sheer fury at being wounded. Shit!

She pushes through the door, not pausing to see if Eris is following. Something rocks the entire train, sending her stumbling and falling into the nearest wall just as the heat of another bolt sears the sole from her shoe. The acrid smell of burning rubber and metal fills the air, and she keeps running. 

She manages to get off a few shots from the LIMES, but the same property of magic that saved her before is now her enemy. The lines of magic reach just barely over two meters before fading away, making them useless at such a distance. Eris has no such limitations, and she winces at every sound that could be another burning flash of shattered magic.

Gasping for air, she slowly comes to a stop, at last looking back. She doesn’t see Eris, nor any deadly bolts winging their way towards her, and she frowns. There’s nowhere for her to have gone - this is a train, after all - unless she’s stopped pursuing her, but that doesn’t make any sense either. She takes a cautious step forwards, holding the weapon up in shaking hands.

A line of magic carves through the air from above her, searing down her arm and side. She lets out a strangled cry, pressing her hand to the blistering wound and the stabbing, burning pain there. Ow - fuck - why- It’s a stark contrast to the ghostly presence of Designer magic, where she can wave her hand through it and feel nothing. 

Another beam slices in front of her, sending her reeling backwards. She can’t stay here. Eris is on the roof, somehow, impossibly, and she has to run. Waving away the smoke of holes burned in the train, she half-limps, half-sprints to where she can just make out the sound of rushing air. One of the emergency exits has been wrenched open, the howling gale of a Martian sandstorm whipping by overhead. 

She can see no other way. Eris has her at a permanent disadvantage while she remains in the train, and so she has to equalize that. If that means climbing on top of a train in the middle of a sandstorm…so be it. She pulls down the goggles of the suit and struggles through the hole, gasping in pain as her side scrapes the edge of the hole. 

Eris is there, stalking down the sleek body of the train with glittering, malevolent eyes. She isn’t wearing an environmental suit, and blood drips from a hundred tiny cuts already scored across her face. Tendrils of magic, shifting and fracturing as Eris works her influence on them, wrap around her arms, but they are weaker than before. She feels a glimmer of hope, because if Eris can be weakened then she can be killed.

When she is sure she is in range, she fires the LIMES just as Eris rips it from her hand, a flare of energy breaking it into two pieces as it tumbles from the train. Fuck. So much for that plan. She unclips the baton now, extending it to a manageable length even as the Design holding it together shakes and hisses in protest. It’s not even fully charged yet.

Eris stops just before the open hatch, looking her up and down with contempt. “You’re more inventive than I imagined,” she signs, movements jerky and sharp.

Talya doesn’t respond. How is she supposed to? Oh, yeah, thanks for the compliment, tangled snarl of corrupted and broken magic that’s taken over my friend? 

“Of course, it won’t matter in the end.” Eris drops the charade, bands of magic slicing once again up her arms. But she is truly weakened now, and doesn’t - can’t - launch her magic at Talya now. She lunges instead, arm slicing through the air just inches from her face.

She moves to block the next strike with the baton, blue lines searing into Eris’ arm. The two magics twist together, sparks flying, but even an Eris sapped by the dust storm is more than a match for her hastily-constructed sigils. With a howl of pain as they continue to burn, she snaps the thin strands in two. Talya curses, discarding the now-useless ends of the baton and scrambling away from her, back towards the front of the train.

But Eris is faster; even without the influence of magic, Anechoi was always more athletic than Talya. The consequences of sitting around in a workshop rather than running through buildings full of people that want to kill you. She advances on Talya, despite her best efforts, and grabs her by the collar, lifting her off her feet. She tries to tear free, but the bands of jagged magic slide from her arms to wrap around Talya’s, serrated edges pinning them to her sides.

The rusty red ground whips past beneath, seeming much closer than before, and she regrets looking down. Eris grins, dragging her towards the front of the train. Oh no, no no no no no. She tries to dig in her heels, but the burned and charred soles do nothing but flake off against the metal of the train. No no no no no NO-

She dangles over the front of the train, the tracks rushing by below. If she falls now, if Eris chooses to drop her, then she is dead. Dead a thousand times over, beneath the rails of the train, and suddenly her collar feels very thin. “Anechoi, please,” she pleads, knowing she can’t hear her but unable to sign with her arms at her sides. “Anechoi, Eris, whoever - please, don’t-“

Eris hesitates. It’s small, something Talya can barely notice in her incoherent fear as she hangs just over the churning engine. “Please, please, please don’t - I can’t - you can’t- “ But Eris barely notices, consumed by her own internal chaos. For the first time, the light glistening from the cracks in her skin blinks, a hint of brown bleeding back into her irises for a fraction of a second.

That fraction of a second is enough, for Eris throws her off to the side of the train instead just as it slows in preparation for a curve. She snaps back, but Talya is already gone, slamming into a dune. There is enough presence of mind left to tuck and roll, sliding and skidding  to a halt as the train rushes by. 

She stands shakily, watching the last blink of silver disappear over the horizon. Her environmental suit is torn and bloody, shredded on contact with the sand. She is alive, yes, but she’s done nothing to stop Eris. Everything she brought, all that she could make in those few short hours, was nothing. 

There could be a chance, though, and that’s what hurts. She saw Anechoi, there, before Eris took control again. She knows that she could reach her, if only she had the resources. If only she had the time and the means to face her - but she is stranded out here, shivering in the cold, hundreds of kilometers from anywhere. 

Except. She needs a way to get through to Anechoi, truly, not just another fleeting glimpse. And she needs capital, some way to build something that will be able to stop Eris for long enough. 

She might know someone who can provide both.

Ending on a hopeful note, perhaps, even though things themselves appear to be rather…less than hopeful.

Tag list (if you want to be added or removed, just let me know!):

@lady-redshield-writes, @no-url-ideas-tho, @ratracechronicler, @ken-kenwrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @cirianne, @lonelylibrary @maxbeewriting, @endlesshourglass, @thebloodstainedquill,  @anip-ocs, @dreamwishing, @incandescent-creativity, @fatal-blow, @danafaithwriting, @wri-tten,