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secretswansong · 3 years

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How much do humans know about the supernatural in Trese? And how do the supernatural creatures fit into the human society of Metro Manila?

The worldbuilding was the first thing I had in mind, going into the show. I had hoped the show would explore humans' interactions and relationships with supernatural creatures, and how that would make Alex's role easier or harder, but I must have expected too much.

Spoilers and overuse of the word "supernatural" ahead.

Content warnings: spoilers, gore, cannibalism, murder, human sacrifice, humans being terrible to each other, military and police brutality (they're their own warnings)

The show universe is functionally an AU in which supernatural creatures are well integrated into but still feared in human society. Basically, just take regular Metro Manila and replace some people in it with supernatural characters. I found it inconsistent and incomplete, although it is functional and works for the story; I was confused by some elements and enjoyed others. Also, "Manila" in the show refers to Metro Manila, or the National Capital Region, which includes the City of Manila, 15 more cities, and 1 municipality.

The supernatural creatures in Manila have differences in appearance/design and speech, as well as regional/cultural origins. In general, older and inhuman-looking characters tend to speak more formally and in a deeper Tagalog (in the Tagalog dub), and retain precolonial attire and appearances. Meanwhile, younger and human-looking characters tend to have more modern speech and fashion. These trends aren't uniform across all the tribes/clans, but can reflect how colonialism and Western culture have modified our modern versions of folklore and mythology, as well as our culture.

Creatures such as the kapre, higante, and tikbalang (in tikbalang form), and characters like Señor Armanaz and Datu Talagbusao have kept precolonial attire. Meanwhile creatures like the aswang and manananggal have more modern appearances.

Apart from being a war god from precolonial times, Datu Talagbusao exists removed from human society, so he retains his appearance and speech. I really liked his design.

In contrast, the Kambal wear modern suits and are very conyo in the Tagalog dub. I liked them even more than their father.

The same goes for Hannah and Ammie, whom I liked very much. Also, their names are a play on their respective tribes, Habagat and Amihan, or the southwest and northeast monsoons.

The head of the tikbalang clan is Señor Armanaz, a title and a surname of Spanish origin. Maliksi's name is a Tagalog word that means "agile," so maybe the tikbalang have retained their original first names. Historically, the Spanish have forced/required* Filipinos to pick surnames, thus the prevalence of Spanish surnames (and "Hispanized" Filipino surnames, e.g. "Macaraeg" from "Makaraig"). (Edit: See my notes at the end of the post)

By "regional/cultural origins" I mean where the supernatural creatures came from. For example, Datu Talagbusao is a Bukidnon war god and Ibu is the Manobo goddess of death, Bukidnon being a province and the Manobo a group of indigenous people in Mindanao. Meanwhile, aswang is a more general term for creatures that feed on humans, which can include the tiktik, manananggal, ibwa, and xa mul.

They also have various bases of operation throughout Metro Manila, and some are counterparts to real locations (and a lot more in the komiks). The hierarchy among them (mentioned by the Nuno Sa Manhole) has manifested in socioeconomic inequality differences. Different supernatural creatures occupy not only different geographical areas, but possibly human industries and institutions.

The Nuno lives in and moves through the sewers, which could be a nice reference to people and animals being displaced by pollution, urbanization, land-grabbing, etc. (In the komiks, the Nuno moves to the sewers because of littering and pollution.)

Meanwhile, Amang Paso and Boyet live in a plant box in Nova Aurora's dressing room. The nuno and lamang lupa seem to occupy and protect different territories.

Ibwa's clan operate in a wet market for aswang, selling human meat. Xa Mul's clan have an apartment building where they imprison and consume abducted people.

The Bagyon tribe's tower is the Meralco Tower in Ortigas, Pasig City. In the komiks, they own Maharlika Electric Corp., i.e. Meralco, so they might be a counterpart to the Lopezes.

The Armanaz clan reside in the Ayala Tower One in Makati City. In the komiks, they are the patrons of and are fronted by a wealthy human family, maybe a counterpart to the Zobel-Ayalas.

Ibu, the goddess of death, doesn't operate in the physical world, but she does "use" the MRT, i.e. form a magical train based on it, to more efficiently retrieve the souls of the dead. We all know that train would never break down.

The absence of human laws (and, likely, formal social institutions or structures) involving non-human or supernatural elements points to secrecy maintained by and benefiting the supernatural. This supports how they occupy different geographic and economic spaces. It's definitely the creators' intention, and part of why and how the Treseverse works, but this is the part of the worldbuilding that confuses me.

Santamaria couldn't be arrested for dealings with aswang, so arson and human trafficking will be enough. At least this kind of agreement, between humans and at least the aswang, is not *legal*. Are any agreements between humans and supernaturals (apart from the treaty by Anton) *illegal*? Or are they only bad as long as they involve humans getting harmed? This is probably the case, as I honestly don't remember what Alex said about this.

Meanwhile, Raul was arrested for being "drunk and disorderly," so he'd be detained for a few to several days; he was probably transferred to another facility while the cops had to clean out the precinct. From what we get with Santamaria's arrest, Raul probably couldn't be charged with using a buhay-na-bato to raise zombies. I really don't like the notion that they'd make up a different charge, given the Philippines's history of anti-poor laws, trumped-up charges, and police brutality against the poor, marginalized groups, activists, critics, etc.

Between Ibwa's wet market and Xa Mul's "apartment," only the latter got their humans via abducting them via their deal with Santamaria. Manila would not remain intact if the aswang just kidnapped humans, but I don't remember any character citing that as another reason why the "apartment" isn't *legal* (while the wet market is; Alex and Hank don't even blink at what they see during their visits with Ibwa).

We have human characters who are involved with supernatural creatures and/or have access to magic. This suggests that (some) humans know who else they've been with, on an individual or community level.

The cops, or at least Guerrero, have been working with the Treses on cases with inhuman elements. They've definitely seen and heard things. In Episode 4, Guerrero immediately realizes that the zombies are coming for revenge; it's either convenient for pacing and/or he's very self-aware. I've got issues with that episode's themes.

Through flashbacks, we learn that a military unit (the Skeleton Crew) did a ritual that forced their captives to kill each other. (Yup, the military committing HRVs and abuses against civilians, but with extra steps.) This summoned Datu Talagbusao, and he met Ramona, the only survivor. Years later, she and her group kill those soldiers and summon the war god.

The Livewell Village residents sacrifice outsiders to the Bagyon tribe in exchange for fortune and prosperity. I wish we got a scene of Alex talking with a family or some residents. More in the komiks.

Nova Aurora, a popular actress and Hank's idol, is the familiar or alaga of Amang Paso. The term "familiar" feels like it's from foreign/Western folklore, but we do have the underlying principle of creatures blessing humans with fortune.

Raul uses a buhay-na-bato to get revenge for his brother, whom the cops had killed. In the komiks, he's also a salamangkero (the equivalent of a magician or sorcerer; the term is of Spanish origin).

During the bombings in Episode 5, Amang Paso apparently died, likely while protecting Hank. This means that some human weapons can hurt and kill supernatural creatures.

In the flashbacks, we get some information about the Seven Seers, including Alex's mother Miranda, so there are probably groups of or individual humans outside Metro Manila who also study and/or encounter supernatural creatures.

The most prominent human-supernatural interaction in this show is the cops working with the Treses on supernatural cases. The Treses are functionally cops for the supernatural. At the same time, they are unrealistically more competent than forensic investigation in the Philippines irl. However, the human element is limited to characters immediately involved in the cases, which doesn't clarify how much the humans know about the supernatural.

In Episode 1, they identify the White Lady, a ghost, along with when and how she died. We get no interactions with or reactions from the bystanders, and towards the end, the narrators survivors give consistent testimonies: none of them doubted that their captors were aswang, thus no need for Alex to gain their confidence. This could have been replaced by a scene in which a few witnesses were interviewed together by Alex. Also, Guerrero's info-dump warning to Alex about Santamaria's power falls flat because he's jailed by the end of Episode 1, somehow unable to use his influence and resources to stay out of prison. His character doesn't effectively represent and comment on corrupt politicians.

In Episode 2, Maliksi chafing at his defeat while in tikbalang form escapes the spectators' attention (but this is fine, drag racing at midnight will probably alter one's senses). Also, who takes care of the car Bagyon Kulimlim wrecked? And who fixes the wreckage in Alex's house?

In Episode 3, Nova Aurora tells Amang Paso that only she, and no one else in the studio, can see/hear the tiyanak. In the end she is killed by several tiyanak. Is no one going to wonder what happened to her, or how she and the other people were killed?

In Episode 4, we get Guerrero's morning routine and commute, over which we hear a news report about missing corpses. This could have been replaced by ordinary people reacting to the news and making defenses against the supernatural. Bonus ligtas points if they are from Raul's neighborhood!

Instead, all we get are the people complaining about their dead relatives' missing remains, and that never gets followed up. In lieu of zombies, what do the cops explain to those people? (The komiks explanation being drug-related violence gave me psychic damage.)

A nitpick: The news report in Episode 5 just plays Santamaria's speech and feels like convenient exposition for Alex to know what he's up to. It's not the same as irl field journalists presenting statements from detainees. The show only had to add who took the footage (maybe BuCor/BJMP personnel) to be more realistic.

Apart from the people complaining in Episode 4, we just don't get scenes of ordinary people talking about the missing MRT passengers, the displaced residents of Brgy. Pedro Lungsod, Santamaria wreaking chaos in Bilibid, the multiple bombings in Episode 5, etc.

Wouldn't people react to the news? Wouldn't they gossip and/or theorize about their neighbors or public figures like Nova Aurora? Why is no one carrying protective objects? Why is no one fortifying their homes with supernatural defenses? Where are the social media posts and chain texts/emails warning each other to stay home at night? How in the world is the carinderia in Episode 5 (deliberately) empty at lunch time?

I wonder about the people with the unenviable job of cleaning up all the carnage, and it's not Team Trese. God bless the MRT service crew. There's no way humans would clean that up and find it normal and not speculate about it.

Team Trese and maybe the creators never worry about ordinary people witnessing and talking about supernatural activity. Moreover, they don't even have any friendships or regular interactions with ordinary humans outside their work.

The show universe is mostly Metro Manila, so we get very little about human-supernatural relations outside the region. This also breaks the immersion for me, because in my experience (at least), folklore about supernatural creatures (especially aswang and mangkukulam) are almost always from rural communities, where belief in the supernatural tends to be stronger; meanwhile, urban legends and ghost stories involving ghosts, spirits, demons, and less specific phenomena are more specific to cities and urban areas.

In general, due to the rushed pacing and insufficient runtime, there is little to no development of human perceptions and attitudes towards the supernatural, beyond the main plot. As a result, the show is less consistent on how much humans are aware of them.

More importantly, the exploration of human-supernatural relations, how these affect Alex's roles, and how these affect human society do not seem to be priorities of the show or its creators. So, I doubt these would be prioritized more even if the show got more runtime.

I still hope the show gets more seasons and episodes, and develop these human-supernatural relations. Even if these don't support or hinder how Alex does her job, such interactions would make the universe more immersive and reflect sociocultural ties and interactions among Filipinos.

EDIT (September 15, 2021):

I'd like to clarify about the history of Filipinos being required to use surnames: I've just learned it's a popular misconception or oversimplification that Filipinos were forced to adopt only Spanish surnames. Many Filipino surnames (e.g. Macaraeg, Sumabat, Galang) are still present today. Many Filipinos could retain their surnames (indigenous or not) if they already had one, prior to the decree (which was issued in 1849).

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cassandraclare · 4 years

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Cassandra Jean’s illustration for this month’s Chain of Gold flash fiction — this one’s about Will and Gideon, and features James, Thomas and Jesse as little kids. It’s a two-parter, so here’s part one!

LONDON, 1889

Will Herondale was full of Christmas spirit, and Gideon Lightwood found it very annoying.

It wasn’t just Will, actually; he and his wife Tessa had both been raised in mundane circumstances until they were nearly adults, and so their memories of Christmas were of fond family memories and childhood delights. They came alive with it when the city of London did, as it did every year.

Gideon’s memories of Christmas were mostly about overcrowded streets, overrich food, and over-inebriated mundane carolers who needed to be saved from London’s more dangerous elements as they caroused all night, believing all trouble and wickedness was gone from the world right up until they were eaten by Kapre demons disguised as Christmas trees. Just for example.

Born and raised a Shadowhunter, Gideon, of course, did not celebrate Christmas, and had always borne London’s obsession with the holiday with bemused indifference. He had resided in Idris for most of his adult life, where the winter had a kind of Alpine profundity, and there was nary a Christmas wreath or cracker to be found. Winter in Idris felt more solemn than Christmas, so much older than Christmas. It was a strange facet of Idris: where most Shadowhunters ended up celebrating the holidays of their local mundanes, at least the ones that spilled out into street decorations and public festivals, Idris had no holidays at all. Gideon never wondered about this; it seemed obvious to him that Shadowhunters didn’t take days off. It was the blessing and the curse of being one, after all. You were a Shadowhunter all the time.

No wonder some couldn’t bear it, and left for a mundane life. Like Will Herondale’s father Edmund, in fact.

Perhaps that was why Will’s Christmas spirit annoyed him so. He’d come to like Will Herondale, and consider him a good friend. He hoped that when their children were older they too would become friends, if Thomas was all right by then. And he knew Will deliberately presented himself as silly and rather daft, but that he was a sharp and observant Institute head, and a more-than-capable fighter of demons.

But when Will insisted on taking them all to see the window displays at Selfridge’s, he could not help but worry that perhaps Will had a fundamentally unserious mind after all.

“Oxford Street? Days before Christmas? Are you mad?”

“It will be a lark!” Will said, with the slight lilt into his Welsh accent that meant he was a little too excited for his own good. “I’ll take James, you take Thomas, we’ll have a stroll. Have a drink at the Devil on the way back, what?” He clapped Gideon on the back.

It had been a long time since Gideon was last in England. As one of the Consul’s most trusted advisors, Gideon not only lived in Idris but rarely found opportunity to leave. He also remained so that his son Thomas could breathe the healthy air of Brocelind Forest, and not the air of this filthy, foggy city.

This filthy, foggy city, his father’s voice echoed in his mind, and Gideon was too weary to silence his father’s voice as he usually did whenever Benedict crept in. More than ten years dead, yet he had not shut up.

His brother Gabriel lived in Idris, too, and for less obvious reasons. Perhaps it was not only the bad air; perhaps they both were happier with a good distance between them and Benedict Lightwood’s house. And the knowledge that its current resident would barely speak with either of them.

But now Gideon had come to London, with Thomas, just the two of them, leaving Sophie and the girls behind. He needed advice about Thomas, people with whom he could discuss the problem discreetly. He needed to talk to Will and Tessa Herondale, and he needed to talk to a very specific Silent Brother who was often found in their vicinity.

Just now he was wondering if that had been a good idea. “A good bracing walk” was exactly the kind of English nonsense he’d half-expected Will to suggest for Thomas, but “a good bracing walk down the most crowded shopping street in London three days before Christmas” was a level of nonsense he had not been prepared for. “I can’t take Thomas through that crowd,” he said to Will. “He’ll get knocked around.”

“He isn’t going to get knocked around,” said Will scornfully. “He’ll be fine.”

“Besides,” said Gideon, “we’ll get looks. Mundane fathers don’t usually walk their babies in prams, you know.”

“I shall carry my son upon my shoulders,” said Will, “and you carry yours on yours, and Angel protect anyone who complains about it. Fresh London air would do all of us some good. And the windows are meant to be a spectacle, this year.”

“Fresh London air,” said Gideon dryly, “is thick as molasses and the color of pea soup.” But he acquiesced.

He had left Thomas in the nursery, where Tessa kept a watch over him and James. A full year older than James, Thomas wasn’t always good at understanding what James could and couldn’t do or understand. Tessa had been concerned that James would end up hurt. Gideon, though, was more concerned about Thomas, who was still smaller than James, despite the difference in their ages. He was paler than James, too, and less sturdy. He had only recently recovered from the latest of his terrible fevers, which had brought a Silent Brother, unfamiliar to them, to their house in Alicante to examine him. After a time the Silent Brother declared that Thomas would recover, and left without any further conversation.

But Gideon wanted answers. As he picked up Thomas now, he couldn’t help but think about how the boy was hardly any weight at all. He was the smallest of all “the boys,” as Gideon thought of them – of James, and his brother’s son Christopher, and Charlotte’s son Matthew. He had been born early, and small. They had been terrified the first time he caught fever, convinced it was the end.

Thomas hadn’t died, but he hadn’t fully recovered either. He remained delicate, weak of constitution, quick to illness. Sophie had fought harder than anyone to drink from the Mortal Cup and become a Shadowhunter, but now she was forced to fight a far worse battle against death by their son’s bedside. Over and over again.

Sighing, he took his son to fetch their coats for their bracing Christmas walk.

As expected, Oxford Street was a madhouse of pedestrian shoppers, carriages, gawkers, and menacing groups of roaming carolers. Gideon would just as soon have glamoured them all invisible from mundane eyes (although one of the groups of carolers were obviously werewolves, who had exchanged Acknowledging Looks with Gideon), but Will of course wished to bask in the experience.

James also seemed mostly intrigued by the noise and lights, giggling and yelping at the merry scene around them. A London boy from birth, thought Gideon, and then thought, well, but I was a London boy from birth, and this is too much commotion for my liking. For his own part, Thomas was quiet, watching with wide eyes, clutching onto his father’s shoulders. Gideon wasn’t sure how weakened Thomas still was from the last fever and how much he was overwhelmed by the crowds. In some ways, when he wasn’t sick, Thomas could be guilt-inducingly easy to care of; he rarely made a fuss, just looked out into the world with those large hazel eyes, as if aware of his own helplessness and hoping not to be noticed.

Will waited until after they had already joined the crowds at the windows of Selfridge’s and Will had made a number of nonsensical exclamations of delight of the “By Jove!” variety. He had held James right up to the glass to examine the scenes in detail, which seemed to revolve around some blond children ice skating on a river. Gideon had pointed things out to Thomas, who had smiled.

Only once they had stopped to purchase some hot cider from a man hawking it down a side street did Will say, “I heard about Tatiana’s son Jesse. Dreadful business. Have you spoken to her?”

Gideon shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to Tatiana in nearly ten years, or been back to the house.”

Will made a sympathetic noise.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” said Gideon.

“What?” Will said.

“A coincidence,” said Gideon. “That both her and I have children who are—sickly.”

“Gideon,” said Will reasonably, “forgive me for saying so, but that is a load of codswallop.” Gideon blinked at him. “For one thing, you have your beautiful daughters, neither of whom were more than usually ill when they were babies. For another, all of what happened to your father was his own doing, and happened long after you were born, and neither you or Gabriel were sickly.”

Gideon shook his head. Will was so kind, so eager to spare him the consequences of his family’s sins. “You don’t know the extent of it,” he said. “The extent of Benedict’s experiments with dark magic. They were ongoing, from as long as I can remember. The demon pox just sticks in the memory, because it is rather lurid.”

“And also we were there,” said Will, “when he turned into a giant worm.”

“Also that,” said Gideon grimly. “But two sickly sons, small and frail—I cannot say with certainty that it is a coincidence, that it has nothing to do with the depredations of my father. I cannot risk the possibility.” He looked at Will imploringly. “It took Jesse years to become ill,” he said, “and Thomas has been ill so much already.”

There was a profound silence. Quietly, Will said, “You sound as if you mean to do something.”

“I do,” said Gideon with a sigh. “I must look at my father’s papers, his records of what he called his “work”. They are at Chiswick, and I must go and ask Tatiana for them.”

“Will she see you?” said Will.

Gideon shook his head again. “I don’t know. I hoped her anger would cool, over time, and her resentment. I hoped the fact that the Clave gifted her with all my father’s wealth and possessions would help her find peace.”

“Well,” said Will, “if you go, you absolutely must leave Thomas with us.”

“You wouldn’t want him to meet his aunt?” Gideon said innocently.

Will looked at him seriously. “I wouldn’t want him, or any of my children, on the grounds of that house!”

Gideon was taken aback. “Why? What’s she done to it?”

Will said darkly, “It’s what she hasn’t done.”

Gideon could see Will’s point. Tatiana hadn’t done anything to the house. Nothing to change, or clean, or preserve it in any way. Rather than restoring it or redecorating it to her own tastes, Tatiana had simply allowed it to rot, blackening and collapsing in on itself, a ghastly monument to Benedict Lightwood’s ruination. The windows were clouded, as though fog were seething indoors; the maze, a black and twisted wreckage. When he opened the front gate, the hinges screamed like a tortured soul.

It did not bode well for the emotional state of its resident.

When Benedict Lightwood died in disgrace from the late stages of demon pox, and the full history of his infamy was revealed to the Clave, Gideon laid low. He didn’t want to answer questions, or hear false sympathy for the damage done to his family name. He shouldn’t have cared. He’d known the truth of his father already. Yet it stung his pride, when he shouldn’t have had any pride left in his besmirched name.

The houses and the fortune were taken away from Benedict’s children by order of the Clave. Gideon could still remember when he had found out that Tatiana had brought a complaint against him and against Gabriel for the “murder” of their father. The Clave had first confiscated their possessions, and finally laid out the situation: Tatiana Blackthorn had petitioned the Clave for Benedict’s fortune to be given to her, as well as the Lightwood’s ancestral house in Chiswick. She was a Blackthorn now, not the bearer of a tainted name. She made many accusations against her brothers in the process. The Clave said they understood that Gideon and Gabriel had had no choice but to slay the monster their father had become, yet if they were to speak of technical truth only, Tatiana might be considered correct. The Clave was inclined to give Tatiana the full Lightwood inheritance, in hopes of settling the matter.

“I will fight this,” Charlotte had told Gideon, her small hands tight upon his sleeve and her mouth set.

“Charlotte, don’t,” Gideon begged. “You have so many other battles to fight. Gabriel and I don’t need any of that tainted money. This doesn’t matter.”

The money hadn’t mattered, then.

Gabriel and Gideon discussed the matter, and decided not to contest her claims. Their sister was a widow. She could live in the former Lightwood manor at Chiswick in England, and at Blackthorn Manor in Idris, and welcome. Gideon hoped she and her son would be happy. As it was, Gideon’s memories of the house were, at best, ambivalent.

Now he waited at the front door, its paint mostly peeled off, with deep gouges here and there, as though some wild animal had tried to get in. Maybe Tatiana locked herself out at some point. After a time it swung open, but waiting behind it was not his sister but a ten year old boy, looking somber. He had the midnight black hair of the father he’d never met, but he was tall for his age, willow-thin, with green eyes.

Gideon blinked. “You must be Jesse.”

The boy narrowed his eyes. “Yes,” said the boy. “Jesse Blackthorn. Who are you?”

Jesse, his nephew, after all this time. Gideon had asked so many times to see Jesse when he was a child. He and Gabriel had tried to go to Tatiana when she had the child, but she turned them both away.

Gideon took a deep breath. “Well,” he said. “I’m your Uncle Gideon, as it happens. I am very glad to make your acquaintance at last.” He smiled. “I was always hoping for it.”

Jesse’s expression did not improve. “Mama says you are a very wicked man.”

“Your mother and I,” Gideon said with a sigh, “have had a very…complicated history. But family should know one another, and fellow Shadowhunters, as well.”

The boy continued to stare at Gideon, but his face softened a bit. “I have never met any other Shadowhunters,” he said. “Other than Mama.”

Gideon had thought about this moment many times, but now found himself struggling for words. “You are…you see…I wanted to tell you. We have heard that your mother doesn’t want you to take Marks. You should know…we are family first, always. And if you don’t wish to take Marks, the rest of your family will support you in that decision. With the—the other Shadowhunters.” He wasn’t sure if Jesse even knew the word Clave.

Jesse looked alarmed. “No! I will. I want to! I’m a Shadowhunter.”

“So is your mother,” murmured Gideon. He felt a slight twinge of possibility there. Tatiana could have disappeared like Edmund Herondale, abandoned Downworld entirely, lived as a mundane. Shadowhunters did, sometimes; though Edmund had done it for love, Tatiana might do it out of hatred. That she had not gave Gideon hope, although, he was sure, foolish hope.

He knelt down, to be closer to the boy. He hesitated, then reached out for Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse stepped back, casually avoiding the touch, and Gideon let it go. “You are one of us,” he said quietly.

“Jesse!” Tatiana’s voice came from the top of the entrance stairs. “Get away from that man!”

As if prodded with a needle, Jesse leapt away from Gideon’s reach and retreated without a further word into the shadowed recesses of the house.

Gideon stared in horror as his sister Tatiana drifted down the stairs. She wore a pink gown more than ten years old. It was stained with blood he well knew was more than ten years old as well. Her face was drawn and pinched, as though her scowl had been etched there, unchanged for years.

Oh, Tatiana. Gideon was flooded with a strange amalgamation of sympathy and revulsion. This is long past grief. This is madness.

His little sister’s green eyes rested on him, cold as if he were a stranger. Her smile was a knife.

“As you can see, Gideon,” she said. “I dress for company. You never know who might drop by.”

Her voice, too, was changed: rough and creaking with disuse.

“Have you come to apologize?” Tatiana went on. “You will not find exoneration, for the things you have done. Their blood is on your hands. My father. My husband. Your hands, and your brother’s hands.”

And how was that? Gideon wanted to ask her. He had not killed her husband. Their father had done that, transformed by disease into a dreadful demonic creature.

But Gideon felt the shame and the guilt, as well as the grief, as he knew she intended him to. He had been the first to cut ties with his father, and with his father’s legacy. Benedict had taught them all to stick together, no matter what the cost, and Gideon had walked away. His brother had stayed, until he saw proof of their father’s corruption he couldn’t deny.

His sister remained even now.

“I am sorry you blame us,” said Gideon. “Gabriel and I have only ever wished for your good. Have you—have you read our letters?”

“I never was fond of reading,” murmured Tatiana.

She inclined her head, and after a moment Gideon realized this was the closest she would get to inviting him in. He stepped across the threshold nervously and, when Tatiana did not immediately shout at him, he continued inside.

Tatiana led him to what had once been their father’s office, a sculpture in dust and rot. He averted his eyes from the torn wallpaper, catching a glimpse of writing on the wall that read WITHOUT PITY.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Gideon said as he took a seat across the desk from her. “How is Jesse?”

“He is very delicate,” said Tatiana. “Nephilim like yourself wish to put Marks on him, because they are intent on killing my boy as they have killed everyone else I love. You sit on the Council, do you not? Then you are his enemy. You may not see him.”

“I would not force Marks on the boy,” protested Gideon. “He’s my nephew. Tatiana, if he is that ill, perhaps he should see the Silent Brothers? One of them is a close friend, and could come to Jesse at our house. And Jesse could know his cousins.”

“Mind your own house, Gideon,” Tatiana snapped. “Nobody expects your son to live to Jesse’s age, do they?”

Gideon fell silent.

“I expect you want Jesse to marry one of your penniless daughters,” Tatiana went on.

Now Gideon was more confused than offended. “His first cousins? Tatiana, they are all very young children—”

“Father planned alliances for us, when we were children.” Tatiana shrugged. “How ashamed he would be of you. How is your grubby servant?”

Gideon would have struck any man who spoke of Sophie so. He felt the rage and violence he’d known as a child storm within him, but he’d desperately taught himself control. He exercised every bit of that control now. This was for Thomas.

“My wife Sophia is very well.”

His sister nodded, almost pleasantly, but the smile quickly became a grimace. “Enough pleasantries, then. You came to Chiswick for a reason, did you not? Out with it. I know what it is already. Your son is like to die, and you want money for filthy Downworlder remedies. You’re here as a beggar, cap in hand. So beg me.”

It was strange: Tatiana’s obvious, undeniable insanity made her insults and imprecations undeniably easier to bear. What was she even saying? What Downworlder remedies? How could remedies be filthy?

Had Benedict destroyed Tatiana as well? Or would she always have been like this? Their mother had killed herself because their father passed on a demon’s disease to her. Their father had died of the same sickness, in disgrace and horror. Will Herondale could dismiss it all as nonsense, but could it be a coincidence that Tatiana’s son, and his son, were both sickly? Or was it some weakness in their very blood, some punishment from the Angel who had seen what the Lightwoods truly were and passed his judgment upon them?

“I need no money,” Gideon said. “As you well know, the Silent Brothers are the best of doctors, and their services are always freely available to me. As they are to you,” he added with emphasis.

“What, then?” Tatiana said. Her head cocked slightly.

“Father’s papers,” Gideon said in a rush of expelled breath. “His journals. I think that the cause of my son’s illness might be found there.” He found he didn’t want to say Thomas’s name in front of his sister, as though she might decide to conjure with it.

“A man you betrayed?” Tatiana spat. “You have no right to them.”

Gideon bowed his head to his sister. He had been prepared for this. “I know,” he lied. “I agree. But I need them, for the sake of my child. You have Jesse. Whatever our differences, you must understand that we could both love our children, at least. You must help me, Tatiana. I beg you.”

He’d thought Tatiana would smile, or laugh cruelly, but she only gazed at him with the impassive, mindless stare of a dangerous snake.

“And what will you do for me?” she said. “If I do help?”

Gideon could guess. Get the Clave to leave her alone, to let her do as she wished with Jesse, for one thing. But in Tatiana’s madness, who knew what she would come up with.

“Anything,” he said hoarsely.

He lifted his head and looked at her, at his mother’s green eyes in his sister’s pitiless face. Tatiana, who would always break her toys rather than share them. There was something missing in her, as there had been in their father.

Now she did smile. “I have just the task in mind,” she said.

Gideon braced himself.

“On the other side of the road from this estate,” Tatiana said, “is a mundane merchant. This man has a dog, of an unusual size and vicious temperament. Quite often he lets the dog run free in the neighborhood, and of course he comes straight here to make mischief.”

There was a long pause. Gideon blinked. “The dog?”

“He is always making trouble on my property,” Tatiana snarled. “Digging up my garden. Killing the songbirds.”

Gideon was utterly positively sure that Tatiana did not keep a garden. He had seen the state of the grounds on his way in, left to crumble as a monument to disaster no less than the house itself.

There were definitely no songbirds.

“He’s made a disaster of the greenhouse,” she went on. “He knocks over fruit trees, he throws rocks through windows.”

“The dog,” Gideon said again, to clarify.

Tatiana fixed her piercing gaze on him. “Kill the dog,” she said. “Bring me the proof you have done this, and you will have your papers.”

There was a very long silence.

Gideon said, “What?”

#gideon lightwood #will herondale #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold #cassandra jean #flash fiction #cog2 #november

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truthseekeryf · 3 years

Text

†RESE | ANIME REVIEW

[SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING]

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! (as if naman may magbabasa nito haha)

DISCLAIMER:

All that was written here are based on my opinion and personal preference only, so take it with a grain of salt :))

Arigthanks!

“May mga halimaw dito sa mundo at ilan sa mga ‘yon ay tao.”

- Alexandra Trese

As an avid fan of crime mystery series, Trese is worth watching. Really enjoyed the show, especially the fight scenes, and every time there are new cases involving mythical creatures.

Watched the whole series with Filipino audio. I tried switching to different languages from time to time to see the difference. Well, the JP dub is always top tier. The Eng dub was also great.

Medyo nakukulangan lang ako sa voice acting ni Liza, but it's okay, I know may room for improvement naman. Considering that she's new to voice acting and she's not used to speaking in Filipino. As for the other voice actors, they did an exceptional job!

I hope that next time if producers will have local animation projects, they will cast professional voice actors because that is their realm where they can shine. TV actors already have their teleseryes and films.

However, given the fact that the Philippine Animation Industry is just starting, animation studios have to cast celebrities to boost the popularity of a particular show. More support from the fans equals more money, hence, there would be enough funds for the production team. Animation projects are hard, takes a lot of time, and are expensive to make.

For me, it's okay to cast celebs for voice acting naman eh, as long as they fit the role. The quality of the performance goes hand in hand with directing rin naman.

I hope nga lang in the future, they would give chance to professional VA's. Ang daming magagaling na hindi nabigyan ng opurtunidad na maipakita ang kanilang talento.

On the other hand, the storyline, character design, ost's, animation, and visuals are really good considering that this is the first Netflix anime series from the Philippines.

Thanks to the creators of Trese, Kajo Baldisimo (artist) & Budjette Tan (writer), as well as to the production team behind the anime adaption who brought the story to life. I'm glad it is now released on the global streaming platform because the story can reach a wider audience.

I badly want to read the original comics because I'm so hooked sa story. I'm currently at the edge of my seat and wondering what would happen next to team Trese after episode 6. I've seen some tidbits from the comics. The art by Kajo is astounding! How I wish I could buy them all. As of now, Trese is still ongoing and has 7 volumes with 30+ cases.

We grew up hearing different stories about aswangs, tikbalang, tiyanak, kapre, duwendes/nuno sa punso, etc. from our parents and grandparents. It was great to know that we have such amazing and fascinating mythology that has been passed down from generation to generation by our ancestors that made our culture rich.

I'm also grateful that Filipino folklore has inspired brilliant writers and artists to create masterpieces. Hoping to see more animated series from local comics!

My favs from the series are, of course, the kambal —Crispin and Basilio! I love their character design and personality. They balanced the mood for the team and the whole series. A little humor amidst the dark, thrilling, and suspense that was going on around them. If Basilio will tie his hair into a man bun further in the series, then ohmygaadd that would be so freaking cool! (and many viewers will simp for him more lol)

The end credits scene seems like hyping for the next season. Hoping for Season 2!

The flaw in Liza's voice acting is not that big deal to me since she can improve pa naman. The storyline itself piqued my interest, so overall I would give it a 🌟: 10/10

PS. I wish they would make a giant ChocNut bar. It's my childhood fav! When you happen to pass by a manhole, just bribe Nuno with ChocNut then voila! you can ask him for life advice but first, don’t forget to say “Tabi tabi po” or else mamalasin ka sa lab layf mo lol

Sic Itur Ad Astra! ✨

#TreseOnNetflix #TabiTabiPo

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philicheesecake · 3 years

Text

An Unorthodox Lecture (UL)

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

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

---

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait-- really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuuup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warren grimaced. Olivia ignored him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay in there, Winston?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t move. I’m upside down.”

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

“WHAT-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warren glared. “Shutup!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia raised an unimpressed brow at him.

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

Her eyes narrowed in mute disapproval.

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

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

Or was he?

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

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

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

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tlhnetwork · 4 years

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NOVEMBER’s Chain of Gold Flash Fiction by Cassandra Clare

A Lightwood Christmas Carol, Part 1

LONDON, 1889

Will Herondale was full of Christmas spirit, and Gideon Lightwood found it very annoying.

No wonder some couldn’t bear it, and left for a mundane life. Like Will Herondale’s father Edmund, in fact.

But when Will insisted on taking them all to see the window displays at Selfridge’s, he could not help but worry that perhaps Will had a fundamentally unserious mind after all.

“Oxford Street? Days before Christmas? Are you mad?”

“He isn’t going to get knocked around,” said Will scornfully. “He’ll be fine.”

“Besides,” said Gideon, “we’ll get looks. Mundane fathers don’t usually walk their babies in prams, you know.”

“Fresh London air,” said Gideon dryly, “is thick as molasses and the color of pea soup.” But he acquiesced.

Sighing, he took his son to fetch their coats for their bracing Christmas walk.

Only once they had stopped to purchase some hot cider from a man hawking it down a side street did Will say, “I heard about Tatiana’s son Jesse. Dreadful business. Have you spoken to her?”

Gideon shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to Tatiana in nearly ten years, or been back to the house.”

Will made a sympathetic noise.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” said Gabriel.

“What?” Will said.

“A coincidence,” said Gabriel. “That both her and I have children who are—sickly.”