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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Three Strikes Job

leverage 2.14

tara finishing nate’s drink so she wouldn’t have to deal with his bullshit and get him upstairs asap? iconic

- - - - -

Parker: So, is he gonna be okay?

Nate: Uh, they don't know.

Tara: Okay, this guy's a cop. You're thieves.

Nate: I'm not a thief! Bonnano is the cop that we tip off when we need to put the cuffs on a mark

we about to see nate turn a 180 in the next episode

- - - - -

Hardison: That's public corruption. There's practically no files on that thing.

Nate: That's it.

Hardison: No, no, these other two files -- they -- they involve violent criminals. This one -- this - it's government corruption.

Nate: No, no, no, no, no. No, no, no. That's it. That's it. Just...Check the shooting. Put up the scene. Okay, so, Bonnano - he goes to a remote location, alone, no backup. That means he knows his attackers and he's not expecting any trouble. Now, what did you just say? You said no files on it? So, Bonnano was keeping this investigation off the books.

Tara: Explains a secret meeting. Off hours, away from any witnesses.

Eliot: Cops are looking in the wrong place

- - - - -

Tara: So, what's our angle here? I haven't been with you guys very long, but taking someone down for attempted murder isn't something you normally do.

Nate: Listen, we come at him like any other mark. We flip over a rock in this guy's backyard, see what jumps out

- - - - -

[Bonnano’s House]

Eliot: Yeah, we're heading in now. You spend your weekends making these things, don't you?

Hardison: Yes, I do, and does anybody appreciate that?

[City Hall]

Parker: I do. I like the costumes. I wish I was there.

[Reelection Campain Event]

Parker, we need someone to sweep the mayor's office while he's here at the fundraiser.

[City Hall]

Parker: Fine. But I never get to do anything fun. (jumps off building)

- - - - -

Hardison: Hey. We are gonna search every inch of this carpet.

Cop: What am I looking for?

Hardison: Fibers, damn it. Fibers. And you -- you go search the bedroom and the bathroom for DNA. Get me a toothbrush, a hairbrush. I don't care if it's a nose trimmer. You bag it, tag it, and send it to the lab.

Cop: Um, th-- this carpet's made of fibers.

Hardison: Well, we're looking for other fibers -- suspicious fibers, fibers of crime. Damn! What'd they teach you at the academy, boy?! On my nerves.

eliot has to hide his smile when attention was turned to him ,,, he was lowkey very amused by hardison’s “fibers” shtick

- - - - -

Tara (walking away): You can handle this. Just feed them a story.

Parker: No, I can't do that. I mean, I can, but Sophie usually walks me through this.

Tara: Okay, take a deep breath. If you're uncomfortable, use it. Make them feel uncomfortable. Here's what you tell them.

Secretary: Who are you?

Parker: Peggy Marwood. Friend of Brad's.

Secretary: You can't just barge in here. Do you have an appointment?

Parker: Yeah, actually, I do. That's what this is all about. I sort of missed my appointment, if you know what I mean. (patting her stomach) Yeah. I, uh, sort of, uh, met Brad at the, uh...

Tara: National Mayors conference.

Parker: ...National Mayors conference...

Tara: In Vegas....

Parker: In Vegas... about six to eight weeks ago. Is that his family? (picks up picture from desk) Oh, they don't have any weird genetic...Things, do they?

Secretary: I'm sorry. The mayor didn't mention anything to me about this.

Tara: All right, now make her think you're gonna leave.

Parker: No problem. I'm just gonna go sit out there with everybody, and I might need a wastebasket, though, 'cause I'm feeling a little (gags) you know what I mean?

Secretary: No! You should wait in here... Okay....In that chair right there, away from everyone who might... see you.

Parker: Thanks. (to Tara) I owe you one.

Tara: Now, see? Trusting me is not so bad (parker smiles and gets up)

that’s very smart ??? iconic

- - - - -

Tara: I don't know. Culpepper doesn't strike me as the type to order a hit, especially on something like a graft case. What's the big deal, you know? You get caught, you go on TV with your wife, you cry, you get re-elected.

Parker: Yeah, it's the American way.

Tara: Exactly.

Hardison: Nah, this guy’s been caught in the middle of a dozen corruption cases. Each time, he's walked away, and somebody else took the fall. This guy does not get caught.

call! america! OUT!!!

- - - - -

Nate: Classic con -- hook, pinch, and flip.

Tara: Hook the mayor with the idea we're gonna build a ballpark here on all this land that he owns.

Nate: That's right, and then pinch him for a bribe to guarantee he gets the action. Hardison tells me he runs a lot of gray money through his re-election campaign, so he'll take the bribe out of his re-election funds.

Tara: Which is a federal offense. All right, so once we nail the mayor for the bribe...

Nate: The flip, right? Yeah, when the heat comes down, whoever shot Bonnano cuts a deal, the mayor goes down

so now we know the hook, pinch, flip

- - - - -

Hardison: You got drafted in the sixth round right out of high school. Had a cup of coffee in the royals organization. Then you bounced around the minors, you bounced around the world, and, as we can see here, you made a very popular commercial for an energy drink in Japan.

Eliot (on screen): Super happy power go!

Hardison: It took me 13 hours.

Eliot: There's only one problem. I don't like baseball.

Hardison: What? E-everybody likes baseball.

Eliot: I don't like baseball, man. All right? I don't like any sport you can't score on defense. Football, hockey, even basketball, but baseball?

Hardison: I'm not even talking to you. (walks away)

Eliot: It's boring. Hey, wait. Can you play the commercial?

Eliot (on screen): Super happy power go

chaotic boyfriends

also this is literally my favorite thing ever ,,, eliot enjoys the video so much

- - - - -

Eliot: Yeah, that's right, run away. Faster you start panicking, the faster I can get out of here. (swings at ball, nearly hits the pitcher)

Pitcher: Whoa!

Eliot: This time with a little more heat.

his bashful lil smile when he realizes he might actually like baseball? he’s baby, your honor

- - - - -

Parker (into phone): Los Beavers me han entristecido con su traicion, Esteban.

Hardison: You speak Spanish?

Parker: Si.

Hardison: Seriously?

another one of parker’s MANY hidden talents

- - - - -

Culpepper: Oh. Oh, be still my heart -- If my heart were somewhere in my pants. This is a thing of beauty.

Aid: He's building a ballpark?

Culpepper: A riverfront ballpark.

two words: y’all NASTY

- - - - -

eliot’s hair in this one is MAJESTIC

- - - - -

[Crowd chanting “Roy” in the background]

Nate: All right, good news, bad news.

Tara: Good news?

Nate: The mayor's hooked. We're in the pinch.

Tara: Bad news?

Nate: I think we lost Eliot until the playoffs.

+ y’all best believe I hc that parker and hardison managed to go to one of their practices/games before the con was over

- - - - -

Eliot: You left early, man. Huh? Bottom of the ninth.

Hardison: Excuse your rudeness. I'm explaining the con. It's very complicated.

Eliot: Really? The mayor gives us a check, and we deposit it in some company you connected back to him. Looks like he's embezzling from his campaign funds. Bottom of the ninth, man. I hit a walk-off single, man. Crowd goes nuts.

Hardison: But that's -- that's not all there is, okay? We got -- there's - there's the Bonnano thing.

Eliot: What? We give Bonnano’s notes to the newspaper, man? They named a sandwich after me at T.J. Philbin's.

Parker: Ohh. Ooh.

Eliot: Huh?

Hardison: I'll give it to you, man. The sandwich thing is pretty cool. Is this a hoagie?

Eliot: No, man, it's a Reuben.

THEY DID THEIR HANDSHAKE!!! we love to see the ot3 in action

+ parker’s wearing a flannel again

- - - - -

Guard: Hey, aren't you Roy Chappell? Yeah, you hit the game-winner yesterday for the beavers. I was there with my kid.

Eliot: I did.

Guard: What are you doing here?

Eliot: It's Triple-A ball, so I got to have a day job, you know? Excuse me. Sorry. (closes door)

Guard (through window): Oh, hey, Roy? You mind? (hands him paper and pen) It's for my kid.

Culpepper: No, I don't mind, man.

Guard: All right. Thanks, Roy.

Hardison: Who are you right now?

Eliot: Hey, man, what do you want me to do?

Hardison: Huh? Seriously?

Eliot: Like a role model.

Hardison: Seriously?

Eliot: What? It's not my fault

HES SO HAPPY

also hardison nobody missed your little smile and thumbs up in the background when the guy approached eliot,,, we see your secret pride for him

this was a great happy eliot + hardison interaction

- - - - -

(nearby agent’s phone rings, Nevin’s answers)

Nevins: Who is it? Who's this?

Hardison: You come in, and we'll kill all the hostages.

Nevins: What hostages?

Hardison: Oh, you thought the mayor was the only one? No, look, we got a whole Sunday school of people up in here. We got old folks, we got nuns, and we got explosives. You come in, you make headlines. (hangs up)

Nevins: We got any eyes in there?

Agent: No.

Nevins: Any cameras?

Agent: Nothing.

Nevins (into radio): All right, we hold! We hold! They're not going anywhere. Call for backup. I want bomb squads, full assault team, snipers. They want to play rough... We play rough

- - - - -

Eliot: Look, he needs a distraction.

Parker: We did just find a box of ammo and explosives. Boom. I'm just saying.

Eliot: The problem is in the delivery.

Hardison: And a detonator.

(Parker and Eliot turn to look at truck)

Hardison: No. Mnh-mnh. No. Mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh. Mnh-mnh. Mnh-mnh. Look, mnh-mnh. Not Lucille. Not Lucille! She all I got left. (Points to Parker, then Eliot) Don't you do it to me. Get that look out your eye.

(Parker and Eliot begin unloading the truck)

Hardison: You ain't got to be so happy about it, Eliot. You always had it in for my van. You always had it in for Lucille. You said she smells. She don't stink. It's just...An odor

parker and eliot were SO in sync when they both turned around at the same time

and also we love to see the ot3 being chaotic and framed together

- - - - -

parker kissed lucielle’s back door before they blew it up she has A HEART YOUR HONOR AND ITS RIGHT THERE FOR US TO SEE

- - - - -

(Hardison directs the van toward the warehouse with remote control)

Hardison: I've always been and forever shall be your friend.

awww baby

also apparently this was a star trek reference

- - - - -

Sterling: Oh, I wouldn't say that. (holds up badge) James Sterling... Interpol. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

what a DOUCHEBAG

#leverage 2.14 #leverage 2x14 #the three strikes job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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grantyort · 4 years

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Prelude III: Visions

JAN 7th 2018: Initial Examination

Doctor: Good morning, Mr. Diaz. I’m Dr. Millstone, we spoke over the phone.

Sean: Hey Doc, I’m Sean, good to finally meet you in person.

Millstone: Likewise. I hope your trip was pleasant?

Sean: Can’t complain. It’s not every day a guy like me gets to fly first class. Did get some funny looks though, but I’m used to that.

Millstone: If all goes well, you won’t have to worry about that much longer.

Sean: Fingers crossed.

Millstone: I took a look at your chart before you arrived. Must’ve been one freak accident you were in.

Sean: Yeah… an accident.

Millstone: The glass shard lacerated your cornea, and caused extensive damage to the vitreous body which in turn caused your retina to detach. But what we’re really concerned about is the damage to the optic nerve. It’s the reason for the blindness in your left eye, the rest of the damage is largely superficial. All things considered; you were lucky. If that shard had gone any deeper and we’d have had to remove that eye entirely.

Sean: (dryly) Lucky me.

Millstone: Do you mind if I take a look?

Sean: (taking off eye-patch) Go ahead. Gotta warn you though, it’s pretty gruesome.

Millstone: Don’t worry. After fifteen years of practice, I’ve seen it all.

JAN 10th 2018: DAY OF THE SURGERY

Millstone: (dictating) “Preliminary examination shows that despite the initial trauma and subsequent blindness, the patient’s left eye has maintained most of its structural integrity. Our goal today is to remove the scar tissue which has grown over the eye and reconnect the optic nerve.”

Sean: (sarcastically) Sounds simple enough.

Millstone: Sorry didn’t see you come in. Hope all this medical jargon didn’t freak you out.

Sean: No worries, Doc. Most of it went over my head.

Millstone: Now I have to warn you; this is bleeding edge stuff. This procedure is highly experimental and there’s no guarantee you’ll regain all if any of your vision.

Sean: I know, I know. We went over all this when I signed the waivers.

Millstone: I just don’t want to get your hopes up. That being said, we have a good shot here. Some of the best ophthalmologists in the country will be involved. You’re in good hands, Mr.Diaz.

Sean: Thanks, Doc. I think I’m ready. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Millstone: That’s the spirit. Now we’re gonna put you under for the duration of the surgery. If all goes well, we’ll be done in 6-8 hours.

Sean: I better wake up with both my kidneys.

Doctor: …

Sean: It’s a joke… N-never mind.

Doctor: I have to go. A nurse will be around in a bit to escort you to the OR.

Sean: See you on the other side doc. Hopefully with both eyes.

[Inside the Operating Theater]

Anesthesiologist: I want you to count backwards from ten. Can you do that for me?

Sean: Mind if I do it in Spanish?

Anesthesiologist: Whatever you’re comfortable with.

Sean: Diez, neuve, ocho, siete… seis…

US-MEXICO BORDER JULY 4TH, 2017

Daniel: Sean look! We made it! Sean?

[Sean looks down to see the blood on his shirt, he claws desperately at this throat and tries to speak but no words come out.]

Daniel: Please don’t. Sean! SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAN!

PUERTO LOBOS, MEXICO - AUGUST 2023

Daniel: I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.

Sean: You don’t mean that.

Daniel: I do. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty shitty people Sean!

Sean: We did what we had to do to survive!

Daniel: Yeah, tell that to all the people we hurt!

Sean: Oh, so now you decide to grow a fucking conscience? It never mattered before!

Daniel: Of course it matters! I only did those things because… because I thought it was what you wanted.

Sean: Again with the excuses! There’s always someone pulling your strings. First Finn, then Lisbeth, now me?! When are you going to grow up and take some goddamn responsibility?

Daniel: Fuck you! I’m outta here!

Sean: Don’t you dare turn your back on me. Get back here, enano! DANIEL!

PUERTO LOBOS, MEXICO - APRIL 2023

Cassidy: You got that look again.

Sean: What look?

Cassidy: The one you get when you’re thinkin’ ‘bout your brother.

Sean: He’s going to college next year. Can you believe it?

Cassidy: I really can’t.

Sean: All those birthdays and graduations and I couldn’t be there for any of it!

Cassidy: I’m sure Daniel understands.

Sean: Does he? He’s been writing less and less lately.

Cassidy: He’s a teenager. He’s probably got a million other things on his mind. It ain’t personal.

Sean: (dryly) You’re a perpetual source comfort, Cass.

Cassidy: That’s why you keep me around.

Sean: (cheekily) Well that and-

Cassidy: Whoa there cowboy! We gotta eat first. Come back inside, I made your favorite.

Sean: (chuckles) Made?

Cassidy: Oh okay. Mrs. Ramírez brought over some leftovers from her granddaughter’s Quinceañera this morning. But I heated them up with love.

Sean: (laughs) What would I do without you?

Mount Rainier National Park, WA – SEPTEMBER 2032

Daniel: … so then, Chris turns to me and says… “it was inside the elephant the whole time!” Isn’t that hilarious?

Sean: (absentmindedly) That’s great, enano.

Daniel: What’s wrong?

Sean: (sigh) Nothing, I’m just tired that’s all. It’s been a long day.

Daniel: Wanna talk about it?

Sean: No.

Daniel: Come on Sean. Sometimes, it’s good to let it out.

Sean: I said no.

Daniel: But whenever I have a bad day, it always helps to-

Sean: I’m not talking about a bad day here! It was fifteen years! The things I saw in there, the things… that they did to me. Things... you can’t even imagine. So no, Daniel. I can’t just “let it out.” It’s a part of me now! All the funny stories and family field trips isn’t gonna change that!

Daniel: I didn’t mean-

Sean: (sigh) I know you didn’t. Let’s just drop it, okay? We can still enjoy the rest of this trip.

Daniel: Okay Sean.

Esteban: “All roads are connected. Every choice we make, every path we choose, it all leads back to The Origin. Remember that.”

#life is strange #life is strange 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #chris eriksen #lis2 cassidy #lis2 #captain spirit #captain spirit ww #prelude

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lestappener · 4 years

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Esteban and valtteri!

valtteri bottas: most underrated driver on the grid?

(I want to say George but I feel like most people understand he's really good just stuck on a terrible car)

Alex Albon. Being Max Verstappen's teammate is starting to feel like not a very good gig. Alex is really good but you can tell the car doesn't fit him, and even Max has had problems. He got sh*t last week when it wasn't his fault. I also feel like because of the 2 Hamilton accidents he gets critised for taking riskier chances when other drivers get praised for it. If you don't take the 51/49 chances you're not hungry enough for the win I think.

esteban ocon: who’s the funniest driver?

Lando for sure, in a relatable meme humour digital. He doesn't even have to be speaking to be funny, just him nodding to Carlos' spanish is hilarious.

#f1 #answers #thank you so much!

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the-necessary-unnecessary · 4 years

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Speaking of accommodating non-Spanish speaking internationals, why do you think it's easier for Barça to do so? All the players seem to spend time together outside of football while at Atleti, it comes off as very cliquey. Like I remember a story that Mapi posted awhile back of Stef at her apartment. I doubt Mapi can speak any Dutch and probably speaks enough English while Stef doesn't appear to really speak Spanish.

It's an interesting question this, and I think a lot of it has to do with the people at the club and the past players that have been there. In general there's more international players so they're able to stick together more. This really helps to be able to integrate into the larger squad as you're not a lone wolf but rather part of a group from the get go. The spanish players themselves are also quite important in deciding how much the international ones fit in. Sometimes it's based on personality of being more open and unreserved (ie. Some people love talking in english despite them not being very good because they want to learn/are unbothered with messing up whilst others find it a lot harder to speak english so dont interact as much not bcs they're bad people but because it just doesn't come as naturally to them) and also having players that have played abroad like Vicky helps with empathy with the situation as well as the language.

That being said, I think its inevitable that all teams including Barca get divided into groups. And I do think that although this is amplified at Atleti they dont compltely ostracise their international players either. Again it depends on both the personality of the spanish and international player so whilst Toni does seem to have a bigger personality Sari is a bit more reserved so she wouldnt have been as present as much. Maybe she was more involved but just not in front of the camera, but the combination of her not being around her family or other dutch players and not getting much playing time would not have helped her situation. Also, I think Virginia does a fantastic job at including other players. With her time abroad she's been able to fully include Aissa and it's her who posts the post with Toni calling her the English Belen Esteban which I find absolutely priceless.

Anyways, I gave a lot more depth than was probably necessary there but bottom line is that the players themselves influence the inclusion a lot but it would be wrong to say that Atleti doesnt accommodate non-Spanish speaking internationals at all

#the asks #language barriers #atletico madrid femenino #fc barcelona femeni

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navalcriminalimagines · 5 years

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Comfort zone - 6

Tag list (if you want to be tag, just let me know!): @madpanda75 @zombz78 @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32 @hannahlouise98 @imaginecrushes @cold-blooded-girls @sweetsummertime99 @solleblu @somewhatcarisi

Rafael never expected this many people to be at his abuela’s funeral. They all knew her but most of them were not very close to Catalina during her last years. “Hypocrites,” he muttered to himself. However, he certainly expected his ex-fiancée and former best friend to be there, not that he liked that idea. Walking to the Church, Lucia holding her son’s arm while you simply stood on his other side. When he stopped walking, you and his mother did too, “Mijo?” she wondered. He gave her a quick look before turning his attention on you, “Do you mind pretending you’re my fiancée?” he asked. This doesn’t look like the Rafael you first met, even Lucia was confused. “I don’t feel like answering too many questions, explain my life and my choices. Not today, and I know all these people are here to know the latest news,” he sighed, “I wish I could throw all them out, they didn’t care about abuelita when she was still there,” Nervous and sad Rafael is a very talkative Rafael.

“Where’s my diamond, then?” you simply smiled to calm him. He returned your soft smile and was about to give you a good reason to tell if someone asked, but Lucia was faster. She got closer to you and Rafael, making sure no one could see her taking off her ring and putting it on your finger. You let her do but searched for Rafael’s expression.

“Mamí, that’s-” he went to say.

“That was my mother’s, there’s no better engagement ring, right?” she gently smiled at her son.

“Lucia, I don’t-” her look was enough to make you shut up. Still holding your hand, she brought it to Rafael’s. His long and thin fingers intertwined with yours, with his grandmother’s ring in the middle. “Thank you,” he mouthed at you.

Pretending to be Rafael’s fiancée wasn’t that hard but he made it even easier. The few times you were not looking for a physical contact with him, he was with you. And it seemed natural. The least expecting contact was when his lips fell on yours. And the weirdest part was that it wasn’t to prove a point to someone. Well, actually, “What kind of couple about to get married, doesn’t kiss?” he said. That’s the only thing you pretended that day; buy his explanation.

It’s only on the ride back to Manhattan that you checked your phone. You had a few missed calls from work and texts from Sonny.

[From Sonny] : Thinking of you for today. Give Barba my sympathy. Love!

[From Sonny] : I hope everything is okay. When are you coming back to Manhattan?

[From Sonny] : Should I worry to not hear from you? Text me when you read this, pls

[From Sonny] : Thanks to barba for texting Lieu so I know you’re okay. I’m cooking for Amanda and Jesse tonight. See ya at work

“Did you text Liv?” You asked Rafael after taking off and reading Sonny’s texts.

“Yes, SVU can’t do anything without me,”

“I heard Cabot and Novak were very great ADA before you,” you teased to let go all of the troubles of the day. It felt good to hear him chuckle.

“Yeah-yeah” he gestured his hand, “But I have something they don’t,”

“Oh? What?” You asked. But Rafael didn’t think it through before speaking so he searched for a reasonable thing to say but he couldn’t find one.

“A— penis?”

That was the least expecting thing you thought he would say. But he did and you laughed.

“Damn, you do have a penis? I honestly couldn’t tell,”

Rafael wanted to keep going on that game but a part of what he wanted to answer was true. You couldn’t find what about it. He didn’t want a joke and his sass to betray him. Which is a big part of why he acts differently with you, especially those past weeks. He thought being natural and casual with you couldn’t let you realize he was in love with you.

“No answer?” you added after a silence, “I’m very disappointed in you, Rafael Esteban.” The look of his face was too priceless, you regretted not to record it so you could look at it over and over. Your laugh field the car, while Rafael’s mouth was still forming a perfect “o”. Esteban is a nice middle name but Rafael hates it and he worked hard to hide it, in his professional life so nobody would find out. And his own mother betrayed him.

“Yup, tu mamí,” you spoke again. “She told me you hate it but come on Rafi, it’s a nice name. Very Cuban,”

Coming out of your perfect lips, he actually loved hearing his middle name. Just like he loves when you say Spanish word and calls him Rafi. His mind went on thinking about what it would sound like to hear you say Papí. To him. In bed. While he fucks your senseless.

“Did you swallow your tongue?” You asked.

He turned his face to you and smiled. You exchanged looks between him and the road, trying to figure out what he was thinking about. “What?! Come on, talk! That’s creepy,” you exclaimed.

“Do you realize how amazing you are, Y/N?” The surprise of his words made you lose control of the car for a second, you freaked out briefly but Rafael didn’t react, still staring at your profile.

“How many scotches did you drink, Rafi?”

“Not so many to be drunk or even dizzy but enough to tell you this. There are so many things I wished I would have said to abuelita. And before that, to my father. And I don’t want to do the same thing with my mum or- you,”

“Why me?”

“Because I care about you. More than you think, Y/N,” he paused, “but hey, I get it, you’re in love with Carisi and I don’t want to be a problem for you. I want you to be happy even if it’s with him- or Jeff or someone else. I just want you to know that you make my life better and you make me better,”

You definitely lost control of your car this time. You stared at Rafael for too long, and before you knew it, you hit the car in front of yours. Thankfully, you were not going too fast and the shock wasn’t too hard. You felt dizzy but it’s either because of the accident or Rafael’s declaration. Nobody was hurt, but the other driver was very angry. He yelled at you for breaking his car and then he yelled at Rafael for letting you drive. “A woman shouldn’t drive,” apparently. This made Rafael sarcastically laughing but not you, he saw your jaw clenching and your fists turning white. “My bad, she’s so beautiful I can’t get my hands off her. You know what it is— or maybe you don’t. I mean, I don’t see how a woman could be interested in you,”

The man was about to punch Rafael but you stood in the way and locked his arms before he was able to touch a hair of Rafa. You pressed him against his car, holding his arm in his back to hurt him. “Wanna have a stop in jail for assault on an Assistant District Attorney?”

“What?” the man realized he could be in trouble, “O-okay, let’s forget about the accident, huh? Nothing happened,” he said, scared.

You heard Rafael laughing and you let the idiot go, “Have a nice evening,” your friend said. You checked your car quickly, there are some repairs to do but you could still make it to Manhattan.

“When I said I didn’t want to be a problem for you, I wasn’t asking for you to kill me,” he joked but like you already told him before, love isn’t a game to you.

“Sorry- but I wasn’t expecting to hear you say something like this,”

He thought before talking, “You can pretend I didn’t say a thing. I don’t mind, hermosa,”

“How could I?”

Rafael offered you to stay over for the night but you gently refused. You needed to be alone right now, to think about everything that is going on and for the past two months. Breaking up with Jeff and not hearing for him at all, Sonny and now Rafael. And between all of this, your mother reappeared and you learnt you had a sister. How could your life become this?

In front of your door apartment, your mother was waiting for you. You didn’t bother to greet her, you didn’t smile. “Not happy to see me,” she said.

“Why would I be?” You stopped next to her and didn’t open your door. You didn’t want to invite her in.

“I guess apologies won’t be enough?”

“No chance in hell,”

“Listen, I know you hate me and I understand but you have to help your sister. She is depressed, broken and I don’t know what to do,”

“Sorry to hear that but I’m a cop, not a therapist. All I can do is to find who did this to her,”

“And do you plan on doing that by taking a day off?”

“Excuse me?” you interjected.

“Your coworkers came to see us! I asked about you and they told me you were not working today,”

You wanted to answer, gave her a lot of explanations, to tell her everything you had on your chest but you were too tired to do it. You didn’t have the courage to go there.

“Listen, my coworkers will do everything they can to help Lacey, I can assure that. Now, I’m pretty tired and I would like to be alone,” you confessed, hoping she would leave.

“So, nobody is waiting for you in there? Not even Jeff?”

“Goodbye mother,”

You got into your apartment and left your mother behind. With a bottle of wine, Friends on tv, some ice cream, you curled under your blanket and tried to forget about everything. What is happening with Rafael? Why are you uncontrollably attracted to him? You can’t help, when he is around, you feel something you can’t explain. But Sonny? What is it with him? Are you really in love with him? What is love actually? You loved Jeff, obviously, but it was casual. You’ve always known him, he always been there, especially when your father got sick and then died. What would you have done without him? What is love or just fear to be alone again? Maybe you just stayed with him to be with someone, cause no one else was there?

A terrible headache forced you to lay down in the dark and you fell asleep eventually. When the alarm rang, you shut it off, telling yourself just five more minutes. But it turned into a few hours, until someone knocked at your door. Liv was standing there and let herself in when you opened. “Liv, What- what time is it?” you asked, confused.

“11. Everyone worried about you, are you okay?” She wondered, concerned about your mental health. .

“Yeah, it’s just- I was too tired I’m sorry. I’m gonna take a shower and come to work,”

“Y/N, are you sure you don’t need a few days off? I can see you’re going through a lot, maybe you need to leave the city?”

You sat on a chair and invited your boss to join you. You sighed before answering, “To go where? With who? My work is the only sure thing I have right now, I don’t-“

“This job is already hard enough, and I can’t let my detectives come to work depressed and anxious,”

“I’m not-“ you started to interjected but Liv raised her hand.

“I read your file, Y/N. I know your struggles in the past, are you taking medication again?”

“No, absolutely not! And I don’t want to!”

“I want you to have medical exam,”

“What? Don’t you trust me when I say I’m not taking anything?” You stood up, angry at your boss, your hands started to shake.

“It’s not about the pills but your mental health. If the shrink clear you, then you come back. If not- well, we’ll see.” You were out of words. Just tears came out. “You’re a good detective, Y/N. But you should ask yourself if you’re mentally strong enough for it.”

And she just left.

#law and order svu #svu fanfiction #svu fic #svu imagine #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #sonny carisi #rafael barba imagine #sonny carisi fic #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fic #amanda rollins #olivia benson #law and order special victims unit #l&o: svu

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displacedprincess · 4 years

Text

Prepare For Trouble || Eleteo

Summary: Elena is #shook after her first doctor appointment after finding out she’s pregnant

Date: February 6th, 2020

@wizardroyale

ELENA

Elena had barely said a word since the tech at the checkup told Elena that not only was her pregnancy going well, but there were in fact two humans growing in there.

Actually, let her rephrase that.

Elena had said many words quantitatively but if one was to count the number of unique words, they would only come up with a handful of individual words. It was like she was Spotify stuck on repeat but only repeating a certain part of a song and not even a song proper.

The words ‘both heartbeats are really strong’ didn’t hit Elena at first. She thought she meant hers and the singular baby’s.

(Yeah, Elena could think of it as a baby now instead of a terrible inconvenience. She wasn’t yet able to think ‘my baby’ or ‘our baby’ or other phrases that came with implicit affection, but she didn’t treat her pregnancy with cold indifference anymore either. It had gone from being ‘this problem’ to ‘a baby’, to ‘the’ baby if not yet ‘my’ or ‘our.’ While anger hadn’t quite given way to love yet, it had left her and acceptance and anxiety filled its place. She was getting there.)

Both, however, clearly didn’t include Elena’s heartbeat, because the second after the tech said that, she pointed to the screen and said “Baby A...and Baby B hiding a bit behind Baby A.”

Elena’s shock hadn’t worn off but it has instead settled into her skin, down to her bones, and filled every cell of her body. She should probably panic. Or something? But all she could do was every now and then turn to Mateo and say something like ‘A and B. A and B.’

They’d gone to Chippamunka’s for a post-doctor snack, and Elena couldn’t even order, just muttered, “Get something you think I like.” to Mateo before immediately repeating ‘A and B, Mateo. And!’

Vanilla milkshake in front of her, and french fry - excuse her, chip - in hand, Elena was trying desperately to eat, but every time she opened her mouth she said something like “Mateo! Two babies. Two.”

She managed to pop a chip in her mouth, but soon enough

“Two. Entire. Babies. Mateo, two. God, you’re fertile. You can never cheat on me because the evidence would be all over town.” Those were the most individual words she’d said in a while. “Two. Dos. Deux.”

MATEO

Mateo was shocked. Two heartbeats? Two babies? He was going to be a father to not one, but two babies? With Elena? A whirlwind of emotion overwhelmed him at the news—a mixture of fear and excitement and joy.

Fear because, well? He didn’t know how to be a dad and his own dad had turned out to be a jerk who abandoned his family hadn’t he? What if Mateo turned out the same way?

Excitement and joy because these babies were already precious to him because they were part of Elena and himself.

Elena, however, had gone into shock, muttering the same words over and over again for the last hour. He’d simply held her hand and patted her on the back, trying not to look too entirely amused at her reaction to the news. At first he’d been concerned that she would be angry again, but now he could see she was simply processing.

He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, unable to stop the chuckle that escaped his throat at her declaration. “Well, I suppose its a good thing I only have eyes for you then, isn’t it? This town definitely doesn’t need a bunch of mini-me’s running around it.”

ELENA

Elena exhaled a laugh through her nose and popped the lid off her milkshake.

“I am literally never having sex with you again. It’s too dangerous.” Elena said, dipping a chip in her milkshake and munching with an inordinate amount of furor.

She stuffed a couple more in her mouth before holding up two fingers, and vigorously moving her wrist from side to side with raised eyebrows. No, Elena would be in a state of shock for a while, thank you. At least she was expanding her vocabulary now.

“I wish I had my mom right now,” she sighed, fiddling idly with her food. “But. Ten years ago this April, Mateo.”

And then Elena frowned but not because she mentioned the assassinations, oh no. “I don’t think I was craving something sweet or salty after all.”

MATEO

Mateo snorted. He couldn’t help it! Because he didn’t believe for a second that her threat was sincere. Of course, he wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to have sex again, but—this was Elena and he knew her well enough to know that this sentiment wouldn’t last more than a day or two tops.

And just as quickly as the amusement came, it vanished. Elena was talking about her mother and the assassination. He watched her a moment with wide, sad eyes as he covered her hand with his other, brushing the skin with his thumb in comforting circles.

She didn’t deserve the tragedy and sorrow. Death and destruction were such a common thread between the assassinations, the coup and all of the attempts on her life that he was starting to realize that he was secretly happy that they had a precious new life to celebrate. Wait. No. Two precious new lives to celebrate. Which was so weird to think about, by the way.

“I know,” he finally said softly. “Everything about it is so unfair. She should be here with you for this.” He sighed, blinking back the slight stinging in his eyes. “I know I’m not a great mom substitute, but you’re definitely not alone in this.” He smiled tentatively, raising her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m with you, Elena. All the way.”

ELENA

Oh, why did Mateo have to be so sincere right now? Elena blamed the hormones for the embarrassing tears that welled up in her eyes. She missed her mother, her grandmother, and all of her tías who had had children. The comfort of a woman veteran to childbirth would do Elena wonders.

Even Mateo’s mother would suffice.

“I- I’m so angry Mateo, that I don’t have her. I need her. Actually no. I’m also angry because we’re not in Avalor, because your mom is there, and she would also talk me through all of this.” Elena wiped her eyes with her free hand and dried it on her sweater.

“Having you is comforting, even if you’re not a person who’s been pregnant before.” She teased.

Mateo was Elena’s anchor and the thought of doing this with anyone else was absurd to her.

MATEO

Mateo’s heart squeezed at the first sign of tears and his own eyes stung as his empath magic sensed Elena’s mood and filled him to the brim with the hurt anger. That combined with his own sadness on her behalf was almost too much.

Wordlessly, he got up and moved around the table, sliding into the diner booth beside her, pulling her into a hug, almost as much for his benefit as for hers.

He huffed out a laugh at her teasing. “Sorry I can’t help on the pregnancy front—I’ve never even known anyone while they were pregnant.” He was quiet a moment, idly toying with a strand of her hair as he thought. “You know,” he started slowly. “What if—I wrote to my mom? Maybe she could come here somehow? She wouldn’t want to miss the chance to fuss over you and her grandchildren, plus—” his tone shifted as he deadpanned, “You and I both know she will want to kick my ass personally for getting the crown princess pregnant.”

ELENA

That...was a difficult question. Part of Elena wanted to say yes. Part of her selfishly didn’t want to share Mateo with his mother. And part of her just didn’t want to get her hopes up. It wouldn’t be easy, getting Rafa here.

“I just don’t want to cause her trouble - like, I don’t want her getting hurt trying to leave Avalor on account of me. You know there are eyes on her, considering her known allegiance to the previous government. My family’s government.” Travel to and from Avalor had been all but prohibited, and anybody fleeing the dictatorship had to rely on crossing the border into the surrounding countries and seeking asylum there or being resettled to a third country from there.

If Rafa made it out of Avalor and made contact, they could get here to Swynlake no problem. But the problem was getting out while surely being under surveillance. Ir was possible! Elena just didn’t feel right asking her to try.

“I miss her too, and I know you miss her more, but. I don’t want to ask her to put herself in more danger, so I’ll leave that decision up to you.” She was Mateo’s mother, after all. It was his call.

Elena snorted. “Please, you just better hope Esteban never hangs up his spy hat and shows up. He’d skip the ass-kicking and go straight to murder.”

MATEO

Mateo did miss his mom. And he'd really love for her to be here when the babies arrived. But of course he wanted her to be safe.

“Well? I'll just get the news to her and we'll see what she does with it.” He grinned. “Because we both know she's going to do exactly what she wants, no matter the cost to her personal safety.”

He gave Elena a little squeeze, resting his head on hers. “In the meantime we'll just do our best. Babette knows all about babies, so at least she can help there. And then there's my friend, Imelda. She has the cutest little girl! She's been through all of this before and I bet she'd be happy to help however she can.”

He paused, thoughtful a moment. “We should have them over for dinner actually. I think you'd like her. She reminds me a bit of your mom.”

ELENA

“You got side bitches is all I’m hearing.” Elena deadpanned, if only to see Mateo’s reaction. Ha! Even if Elena was one to get jealous she knew he only had eyes for her. For his entire life he’s only loved her and she can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him.

If Imelda was truly anything like her mother, Elena probably would love her. And her name…she must speak Spanish.

“Dinner would be great. When I can keep food down I’ll cook a big Avaloran dinner and we’ll invite them.”

MATEO

Side...bitches?

Mateo’s eyes went wide at the comment and he pulled back from her, shaking his head in vehement protest. How could she think—after everything they’d been through together?!

“Oh my god, Elena! No! Definitely—no! It’s not like that—she—” He stopped, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you laughing at me?” He shot her a mock glare before huffing and swiping up his milkshake, taking a long drink.

“You are hilarious, you know that?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. “A true comedic genius.”

ELENA

Elena’s eyebrows quirked up in amusement at Mateo’s expected freak out. My goodness he was too easy. This was going to be fun the closer she got to her due date.

“At least your offspring will be funny. You’re welcome.” Elena pointed out, before sticking her tongue out at him.

MATEO

Mateo snorted, unable to stay pretend mad for very long. And like the mature adult he was, he stuck his tongue out right back at her.

“True,” he mused. “I can only imagine the hilarious things they’ll get up to if they are anything like we were as kids.”

Slurping up the last of his milkshake, he glanced at Elena, brows furrowing in concern. “You look a bit pale and kind of green. If you’re feeling poorly, maybe you should rest. I can take us home if you’re ready.”

ELENA

Elena wasn’t quite at the point where she could start imaging the twins as proper people, as beings outside of being hosted by her, but she was glad Mateo could. It would be Mateo’s optimism that ultimately would make her start being happy about this change.

Not quite yet, but even now, her anger gave way to anxiety, which had then given way to acceptance that didn’t come with a bitter aftertaste.

“I look pale because the doctor just said-! Two! Two, Mateo. I’m shook.” And then she frowned. “And I also can barely even keep water and crackers down. Yeah, we should go home, you’re right. I need to lay down.”

#eleteo #mateo

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yuraimi-lee-bunny · 4 years

Note

Oh gosh now I'm interested in Peter x Sean now. Got any headcanons for them?

OH! Really !? That’s great! 8′D *crying*

Look, I have two versions of headcanon: “in-game” “and out-of-game”.I will give you my headcanons out of the game. If you want to know the story “American Vandal meet Life is Strange 2” then you can send me another ask asking and I will gladly tell you!

So, here are my headcanons of Peter and Sean are boyfriends where the Diaz family is happy, calm and nothing bad happens to them!

Sean didn’t know how to tell his dad that he’s bisexual and his first relationship is with a boy named Peter Maldonado. Peter asked him to let be with him and both talk to Esteban. Esteban took it well, he was surprised, but he was happy. First he hugged Peter to make him feel welcome to the family, and then Sean to reassure him and congratulate him. Sean cried a little in relief in that hug.

Sean began to like Peter because he admires all his work in “American Vandal” thought something like “He’s 18 years old and has already made a documentary that is on Netflix. DAMN This’s so fucking cool man.” But he also loves Peter because he’s determined, loyal, ethical, modest and wise as a person and professional. Sean wants to be very dedicated to his work as his boyfriend does. Sean also loves his innocent side and that when he can, know how to defend himself and be badass.

Peter has always been surprised that he liked a boy. But Sean won his heart by noticing that he’s a relaxed, loyal, funny, cute, shy, artistic and honest boy. Who isn’t afraid to be him and confront people. Peter wants to be much braver and less innocent. But he knows that in the end, the personality of both complement each other perfectly.

They use beanies, they exchange them as a way to “remember you” Peter sometimes smells Sean’s beanie because according to him, it smells like Sean and he smells really good.

Esteban lets Peter sleep at his home. His confidence in Peter is so big that he lets both of them sleep in Sean’s room. They like to sleep together embraced. But just that. The sex issue is something that makes them uncomfortable to talk and they prefer to go step by step. Hugs and kisses are enough.

Peter likes to make breakfast for Sean when they sleep together. Sean loves Peter’s food, says he has his touch. Which Peter doesn’t believe and only think that he’s joking. But it isn’t, according to Sean. Even so, Peter is happy to know that Sean enjoys his food.

Sean tries to return the favor and tries to cook for Peter. It’s a total failure, Sean doesn’t know how to cook. He asks his dad cook for Peter while he learns to really cook.

Esteban teaches both of them to cook. Daniel sometimes also helps (and licks the spoon or eats secretly) Sean loves these family moments with his boyfriend.

The two speak Spanish fluently. They speak Spanish when they don’t want someone to understand them, as if it were their own form of secure communication.

Peter calls Sean “Eduardo” or “Lalo” affectionately to Sean (Lalo is Eduardo’s diminutive in Spanish ”)

Sean calls “Pete” or “Pedro” affectionately to Peter (Pedro is the Spanish name for “Peter”)

Both love to hug too much. It’s weird not to see them hugging or holding hands when they can.

Peter has asthma (canon). Sean always charges with an inhaler in case Pete runs out of his.

Upon learning of Peter’s asthma, Sean began investigating everything about asthma. In order to know how to deal with this condition. Peter is grateful for such attention.

Sean started wanting to quit smoking so he wouldn’t affect to Pete’s asthma. But Peter tells Sean that he doesn’t want him to stop doing something he likes because of him. Sean thanks him, which ends up deciding that he won’t smoke in front of him.

Even so, Sean tries not to smoke as much as he can. Since he said “I want to be his inhaler”

Their dates aren’t the big deal: Walks in the park hand in hand. Go to the movies, to the library. At home watching TV, talking, drawing and recording, videogames. Or rides in the car just circling. Watching a sunset. Simple dates, but it’s enough since they only care about being together.

They like to listen to music. Sharing a headset, sometimes they fall asleep together.

Peter tends to fall asleep on Sean’s shoulder. Before waking him up, Sean looks at him for a moment, thinks he looks cute when he sleeps.

They can’t kiss in public. Not even in front of Esteban, Daniel, Lyla, Sam, whoever. They can’t it. They are so shy. As I said: they go step by step. But when they’re alone, they like to kiss, be it short or long kisses. (kisses with tongue are a topic that gives them a lot shy but they like to practice a lot)

Both like art. Sean teaches Pete about urban art, comics, illustration, tattoos. Peter teaches him about cinema, documentaries, social issues treated in an audiovisual way. Both share their pations and try to combine them.

Peter tends to record Sean when he draws, thinks he looks cute when he’s focused. He also records when Sean competes in athletics and when he skates. Peter records excellently making Sean look great. He edits it and gives it to Sean. He’s very grateful to him, he loves to see boyfriend’s work, but he is ashamed when his father and brother watch it, watch it over and over and another and they don’t stop praising Sean and Peter.

Sean has drawing to Peter several times. Flattered for taking time to draw him, he loves boyfriend’s talent. Peter frames the drawings and hangs them in his room.

From there, Peter takes some of Sean’s work and frames them, so that Sean values his work more. Sean is amazed by such an act and is very grateful. Esteban loving the idea starts hanging them in Sean’s room and living room.

Daniel asks in an enthusiastic (and tantrum) way to also frame his drawings. Peter does it, although Sean tells him not to do it, but for Peter it’s no problem.

Daniel likes Peter so much. He looks him as an older brother much more responsible than Sean. But he also plays jokes, abusing his disbelief. That bothers Sean and sometimes scolds Daniel, but Peter always calms him down, he likes Daniel very much.He understands that he’s a child.

Lyla Park and Sam Ecklund: Sean and Peter’s best friends respectively. Loyal to their friends but they both get together to annoy Peter and Sean with couple jokes. They both get mad at them sometimes. Complaints and laughs are many.

Lyla loves Peter very much. He considers him perfect for Sean and also protects him a lot because she knows how incredulous and innocent he becomes.

Sam really likes Sean. Both are relaxed, share memes, jokes, conversation topics. Sean teaches Sam to skate.

Sometimes Sam joins Daniel. Both enjoy making jokes, talk about topics that are necessary. Both also play jokes to Sean and Peter. Sean scolds both, Peter only to Sam.

Although it looks that Peter “spoiled” to Daniel. He really talks to him when he can, he notes that Daniel is an intelligent child and Daniel notes that Peter is a boy in which he can trust and ask for advice on how to be more close to Sean.

Daniel sometimes wants hang out with Sean and Peter. Sean complains, Peter talks to Sean and convinces him. The 3 walks together become the park or the cinema. Daniel always wins an ice cream.

And that’s it! They are many! 8’D SO SORRY!!! Sorry because it’s a lot! I hope you liked it! And if you want more headcanons, or any special topic, tell me! Thank you for your ask! Greetings!

#life is strange 2 #lis2 #sean diaz #american vandal #peter maldonado #daniel diaz #lyla park #sam ecklund #esteban diaz #crossover #crossover ships #headcanons #lis 2 #You don't know how happy made me be asked this!#It's a fact that this week I will draw something about them! I've been wanting to do it for months and now I already have the inspiration!#dianado

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svguavajelly · 5 years

Text

“You don’t get to decide!”

By the time the meeting adjourned with Juan Arco, the director of the Macas Airport, his niece, my friend Adam Gebb and Marcelo who is our Shuar guide, the weather had drastically changed since our arrival after a beautiful 4+ hour drive from Cuenca. Transiting Parque Nacional Sangay on a windy mountain road the park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (like Cuenca Centro) and is home to Volcan Sangay, a 17,400ft active volcano with a snow capped perfect cone. The weather had been mostly clear with typical mountain clouds and it was the same on arrival in Macas.

Valley to Macas. There’s a road in there somewhere.

Our plan was to depart after the meeting but unfortunately the tiny Cessna, 4 seat plane doesn’t fly well in sideways rain. When flying into the Amazon over the Cutucu and Shaimi ranges and landing on a primitive grass runway cleared by machetes on the edge of the Mangozita River you need the weather to cooperate. Juan Arco explained that during this time of year the weather could remain foul for days and suggested we backtrack and travel many more hours by bus to our planned final destination and do the trip in reverse. Clearly our plan to fly in and land up river and find a canoe to take us downriver is logically the best. We were anxious to start our journey and had suggested we fly the next morning when it is typically clearer before the afternoon storms roll in.

"That sounds nice but you don’t get to decide!” Juan Arco rebutted with a snicker. We all agreed we could look at the weather in the morning and decide and set out to find lodging for the evening. I needed to buy rubber boots for the journey into the deep Amazon anyway and we enjoyed our last night with a comfortable bed and good meal.

Fortunately the mist in the morning lifted and we lugged our gear to the airstrip, got weighed, paid the fare, tax and wandered around the hanger until we were called to board. Aside from the desk attendant, pilot and baggage handler, we were the only other people around. This is my kind of airport.

The cockpit of the tiny plane was smaller than most taxis we use around Ecuador. They had the plane loaded specifically to balance the weight. Adam offered me the front seat as I had the better camera but the pilot said we were specifically seated for weight distribution. That explained Adams giant backpack leaning against me in the seat between Marcelo and I in the back. After ambling down the runway we managed enough speed to get off the tarmac and immediately banked east towards the Amazon.

Within minutes of the bustling Macas (pop. 30,000) we were skimming the dense canopy of virgin rainforest. Looking down I was imagining what secrets lie below the treetops. There are few places with undisturbed forest like this and especially so close to developed areas. The next half hour we saw a couple of clearings with primitive dwellings but no roads. All travel was by foot and possibly pack animal. Many parts of the dense forest, growing on the steep mountainous land, looked impassable.

Finally the river appeared and we got a glimpse of our airstrip in the distance before circling around the surrounding bluffs. As we descended the plane slowed we were soon looking into the trees as the canopy whooshed by beyond the wingtips. The bumpy landing was exciting though never particularly scary. It’s just another day for the pilot.

We quickly unloaded the plane while surrounded by a dozen uniformed schoolchildren. The heat and humidity was clearly a noticeable change from Cuenca and even Macas…about what you would expect for the Amazon jungle. We shuttled the gear to the river and took a quick dip while asking about canoe transport to Miazal, our first village.

youtube

Our longboat canoe measured 25 feet plus an outboard outfitted with a 6 ft long shaft and a tiny prop for skimming the surface of the river. It wasn’t too stable and fortunately I am accustomed to tippy boats. We asked how far down river was Miazal and the teenage driver flatly responded “3 curves” like that would give us the info we needed. He was keen at navigating the features, currents and obstacles of an ever changing Mangozita River. The rapids were small but still made us grip he gunwale a little tighter as we approached any whitewater.

When traveling in the areas of the Shuar territory, which we were transiting, there are no public lands, per se. It is a community of scattered families and their connecting parcels. It is fairly remote and I doubt many of the locals make trips outside the area. There is no cell service (though some locals did have phones) and no internet nor electricity. Yes…off the grid. So the locals don’t really have any outside information or news.

We hired Marcelo to be our guide, mostly a liaison to vouch for our presence on their land. More than once when we desired to pull up to a village, while landing the canoe somewhere below a bluff, we heard shouts and warnings from above…voices from the trees saying we were not welcome…don’t stop…move on. It was hard to hear if they were speaking Shuar or spanish but it was clearly not welcoming. Having the local boat operator and Marcelo with us didn’t matter…they didn’t want Adam and I there.

In Miazal and subsequently everyone we talked to were aware of a new rumor that some gringo men had come to a village upriver and cut off the heads of 3 Shuar girls. Obviously not true and when we heard this the first time we laughed and thought it was a joke and soon realized they were serious. The two different places we camped for a couple of days each didn’t really believe this (so they say) but they did inform us that this rumor was strong and well traveled among the territory. Regardless of what locals really knew or thought about this, it made our trip a little tense and put restrictions on our ability to explore or go anywhere without a local family member in tow.

From Miazal we hiked to the next village to get permission to visit the Aguas Termales. Not your regular natural springs this sacred location has a 50ft waterfall with a temp of about 104F cascading into a mountain jungle river with other towering, cool falls. The 2 hour hike was on a very primitive trail and without our local guide, Luis, and his machete we would have never found it. We crossed the river half a dozen times and finally I gave up trying to keep the inside of my rubber boots dry and copied Luis and Marcelo who would just let them fill. We scrambled up steep banks that are frequently flooded and washed out and avoided all the pokey, stinging plants and animals of the jungle. These mountains are home to the 3 big cats that reside in Ecuador, the Puma, Panther and Jaguar. Though we didn’t see any, nor did we expect to, we did see some big paw prints down by the river.

Cold Cascada

After some time soaking, swimming and admiring this special place we sensed some nervousness from Luis as he kept looking at the sky. The weather seemed pleasant but he knew that it could be raining miles away and the flood could hit us before the rain even appeared. It would be impossible to get back with any level of inundation. So we gathered our snacks and clothes and returned a different way along the river.

Back at the village I was passed a giant bowl fashioned from a natural gourd containing chicha, the tradicional drink made from the yucca root. Harvested, cleaned, boiled and mashed. While mashing the women chew handfuls of the mixture and spit it with their saliva back into the mixture. Ferment for a day or so and serve it up! The weak alcoholic flavor is mild with a light, fizzy tingle on the tongue. The bowl is passed around and around or more commonly passed to a woman outside the circle who wipes the rim and offers it to the next man. It is an ancient tradition and I sheepishly accepted the patriarchal ways of this ritual. I felt it was important to participate and later found out they don’t really trust visitors that don’t drink chicha. This was done everywhere we went for our week in the territory.

Chicha-tender

A couple of hours down river was our second stop at the community of Los Angeles. Esteban and his family have a big parcel with a variety of fruit trees and a soccer field surrounded by various casitas. In our exploration Esteban pointed out a plant from which they make Ayahuasca. I got an immediate tingle up my spine as I caressed the trippy, twisty vine of the soul…a regular reaction whenever referencing Ayahuasca from my experiences with the medicine in the past decade. He informed me they had a ceremony the previous night and I was both bummed I missed another opportunity as well as somewhat relieved.

Esteban showing me the Ayahuasca Vine

Daughters Cabañas

None of this had any effect on the regular Sunday gathering at this property. Many families arrived with food while music blared from a giant single speaker and various official soccer matches were played, all the while the skies poured down on the party. At dusk, Esteban took us on a canoe ride and long walk exploring his property. The trail was flooded and knee deep for a long section as we approached his daughters' compound, a tidy area with a couple of cabanas and easy access to the river.

Right behind this goal the riverbank steeply descends. If they are lucky the ball will get hung up in the brush, otherwise it rolls or flies into the swift river below.

Goooooooooaaaaaaallllllll!!!

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Our last night was spent cooking for the entire village as they lined the walls of the casita watching as if we were a 1 act play in the round. Using a camp stove we cooked up a vegetable stir-fry with jalapeño tuna topping with fruit and salami appetizers, finishing with Ritz and Oreos and they could not have been happier. Later we spoke with Esteban about the weather and departing mañana and after some discussion he matter of fact stated the familiar saying “I know you need to catch a ride but you don’t get to decide”. Duly noted.

Waiting for Dinner

Palm Larva. Yep, I ate it, crunchy black head and all.

Fortunately in the morning the rains had subsided while I made strong coffee for Esteban and his wife and chatted with the kids as they took turns drawing pictures in my journal. Before long we were packed and ready for the couple of hour trip downriver to meet our ride from Cuenca. Though the rain had stopped the river was still cresting and it took all hands on deck to keep an eye for floating trees, snags and changing currents. Half way down river we spotted the lost canoe from the night before, hung up in some overhanging branches which were normally 12 ft above the surface but now provided the perfect “arms” to stop the runaway canoe and cradle her until we arrived.

Our mission to recover the boat was dangerous and charged with the type of excitement I remember from a decade of sailing on Guava Jelly when these types of situations arose. We can do this but be aware, move deliberately, don’t do anything stupid and make matters worse. Crossing the strong current we made a wobbly approach and as Marcelo grabbed the line of the stranded canoe from the bow of our boat the current swung us around and pushed the 2 hulls parallel. While attempting to hold the position and not trying to pinch fingers the 6ft long prop shaft (still running) was stuck between the hulls, craned 180 degrees forward and spinning between Adam and my head. We remained calm and managed to get everything sorted and towed the canoe across the river, tying her up safely for Estebans’ son to gather later.

Riverfront Property

We arrived at what we thought was Puerto Morona to a flooded and confusing ‘dock’. Squeezing in and climbing over other boats we managed to exit without falling in the drink. This town, though small, had the regular port feel. Interesting and grimy with all the action at the intersection of the dock and the only road passing through town. We clearly were outsiders but people were generally curious and friendly while we ordered our almuerzo (lunch) and a beer.

Flooded Dock.

Ready to return to my crazy family in Cuenca, our ride was nowhere to be found and pondering another night in the Amazon..where would we stay, we decided to get a mixto (pick-up truck taxi) and hope we see him on the way. A few minutes down the road when we reach Puerto Morona…wha?!?…he was there. We had been waiting in Puerto Morona(ish). Do you know there are a half a dozen San Rafaels within 30 minutes of the capital of Costa Rica? Also quite a few San Antonios, San Isidros, San Franciscos, San Others in the same area? In my confusion I remembered this and shrugged it off…we had a ride home!

Climbing into a 2016 extended cab, 4 wheel drive Toyota, I felt almost at home with the familiar comforts the Amazon failed to provide. 5 minutes later our driver explained the only reason he arrived at Puerto Morona on time (the correct Puerto, not the one where we were waiting) was his truck. He approached the washed out road…no road remained, just a little sliver of flat ground over the curb of the shoulder, beyond the avalanche mud. The locals said you can’t pass (aka “you don’t get to decide) and our driver reminded them he just came thru an hour before. We were waved passed and we repeated this process a couple of more times. Hours later I was embraced with the hugs from the wee ones I so missed.

One of many landslides covering the road home.

Aside from the Amazon exploration and adventure, this trip had another more noble purpose. Adam Gebb has been putting together plans to save the rain-forest, albeit only the corridor we visited that is the Shuar Territory.

Looking over 2000+ miles of Amazon jungle basin before it reaches the Atlantic Ocean.

Like so many other unspoiled lands and last frontiers of the world, this area has no protection from the exploiting petroleum, mineral and other industries that threaten to destroy it. From those industries there is currently an influx of money and deals negotiated to steal these lands from the indigenous locals and they have little representation to prevent this from moving down that irreversible path.

The black oval is roughly the Shuar Territory. You can see the value of a bio-corridor between the 2 National Parks. Cuenca is to the west in the Andes.

Adam’s multi-level plan is relatively simple though it faces many hurdles and even if things move forward the progress will be at a glacial pace. Change is difficult when dealing with the many facets…the landholders, government departments, conservation organizations and the research, reports and knowledge necessary to achieve protected status.

Traveling to the territory to meet with the locals and persuade them to even listen to ideas about conservation is a daunting task. That was the purpose of this trip and as you may have read, it was difficult to obtain trust.

Briefly the plan, with the approval and support of the Shuar community, would be to establish eco-friendly tourism to the area by means of a simple hut to hut hiking corridor. This would get the locals involved, bring them some income and hopefully with the reports of like minded travelers and tourists who visit the area, alert the larger conservation organizations (where the future money would come from) to the importance of ultimately establishing a protected bio-corrodor connecting the Parque Nacional Cordilla del Condor on the Ecuador/Peru border to the Parque Nacional Sangay in the Andes of Ecuador.

Though it sounds straight-forward and obviously necessary, there are many steps in between and every turn requires much planning and revisions, meeting, studies, funds, travel, etc. All the while maintaining focus and awareness to the delicate needs and desires of the Shuar community. I hope the unforeseen hurdles are few and the project is successful.

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missizzy · 6 years

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Fic: The Far-Flung Agent, Part 3

(Read entire work on AO3)

It took about a day and half to lay the devices about the back half of the island, and then return the ship to an easy point from where Stephen and Bonden could make landfall for a second time. During it Stephen listened as best he could to the words of the hands. The excitement over the affair of the lantern seemed to have died down a little, but despite his best efforts, the false story of the plague managed to get out, and, naturally, be believed as true, and not everyone was so confident that no one on board had it. Although the anxiety over this distracted the sailors enough that if anyone managed to hear of Jack’s dispute with the French captain over his possibly being paroled and put ashore, they did not see it worth talking about.

That he remained, of course, could not help but be noticed, especially when Jack made the decision to parole everyone else. “There are several neutral countries that have plenty of merchantmen in the area,” he told Stephen. “We shall approach one of those and let them take the men into the island’s harbour. It is not how I would like to do these things normally, of course, but the truth is I am uneasy about this whole matter, and about having both this captain and his crew on board.”

"I agree,” said Stephen. “Best to have him separated from them. Though I do tell you, brother, I have thought about it further, and whatever his reasons for wanting to be kept here, I am glad we are keeping him here, and under our eyes, for I still cannot guess as what secret plans he may have, or what it is he is not telling us.”

On the other hand, le Feulipe was there to watch the devices be dropped, with many exclamations and much marveling, and more than a few questions, which made Stephen glad there was literally no one on board who was even capable of answering them. Whether the captain was driven by more than mere enthusiastic curiousity he was uncertain; he genuinely did seem to be a very inquisitive man.

At least the excitement of the whole matter seemed to exhaust him, and like many of the Europeans who had lived for an extended amount of time in the hotter places of the world, he was prone to following the local custom of staying below cover and resting himself at midday when possible, and Stephen was quite certain he was asleep when Jack gave the order to put out the boat. Though he feared either this stay on the island, or a likely subsequent one, would be too long to keep much of its nature concealed from him.

It was hot indeed at midday, enough so that Stephen even felt a little concern for Bonden, whose breathing was far too heavy when at last he had the boat rowed ashore. “You ought to keep yourself covered again,” he said to him before leaving, “if only for concealment, and if you do not snore, which I do not believe you do, to spend the rest of this day asleep would not be a bad plan. If I am not back by nightfall, however, I would advise you to return to the Surprise. I will not come back here, except at midday.”

He thought it likely Bonden would have liked to protest this first part. Possibly the second part, as well. But as the only man on board ship besides Jack who was aware of the nature of Stephen’s usual activities ashore, although he very rarely came to know exactly what they entailed, he had, it seemed, resigned himself to the surgeon’s foolish behavior with relative cheer, and he agreed with only the admonishment, “If you disappear on us for more than a few days, I cannot answer for what the captain will do.”

Stephen wished such a warning was not necessary; in spite of his gratitude the one time Jack had come to rescue him, when the French had captured and tortured him in Port Mahon, he would never be happy at the notion of his risking his own life that way. “If I do not come back before then,” he therefore said to him, “I promise I will come back in five days.”

The heat was perhaps starting to fade when he reached the main town, and the inhabitants were starting to come back out to resume the day’s business. Nonetheless, Stephen reached the adobe of Mrs. Rothschild undisturbed, even if he noticed more than one curious native looking at him as he knocked on the door.

“Hey, about time you got here,” said Mr. Stiles as he answered the door. “We’re about to head off to endure the governor. Unexpected invite. She’ll probably want you to go with us now-maybe you should’ve dawdled a bit.”

“Is the governor really so unpleasant a man? I believe the office has recently changed hands.”

“Yeah, and not for the better, let me tell you. Especially since the guy who held it before we knew how to deal with. Jeremie Traque is a crazy man who likes to chase very young native women and harass us at every turn.”

“Jack!” Mrs. Rothschild had emerged; Stephen was impressed by how well she was dressed. “Why are you talking like that with Dr. Maturin with the door not even fully closed?”

“Fine, fine, fine!” The two men retreated from the door, and it was safely shut, although Stephen had not been worried anyway; no one else had been very near it, and the two of them had been talking quietly. “As I was telling the doctor here, we weren’t expecting to have to go see His Royal Not-So-Excellency today, and I suppose if you want people to believe you’ve got one of your crazy family members come to town, he should probably tag along. Pity we don’t have time to think up a really good identity for him.”

“A Catalan cousin, obviously,” mused Mrs. Rothschild. “One who perhaps does not speak the best French, English, or any language other than his own. I am sure you must know, Dr. Maturin, how much of an advantage it is when others do not think you can understand them, and are irritated when people mangle your own tongue. Within an hour they will all give up on any attempts to speak to you, and then because of that their attention on you will be lax.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack. “You’re not telling me he’s going to be the one to go looking into the other rooms of the mansion? That’s my job!”

“That is normally your job only because as my attache, you are the person our hosts tend to pay less attention to of the two of us, and we usually do not have any third parties on hand to do it for us. Even so, you are hardly the most discreet man at reconnaissance that I have seen, and I am certain Dr. Maturin will be better at it.”

“You don’t even…” Mr. Stiles started, but something in Mrs. Rothschild face seemed to illustrate to him that any further argument would be fruitless. “Fine then, have it your way. You better be good at this, doctor.”

He gave Stephen a detailed description of the governor’s mansion, including a couple of secret rooms he’d discovered over the years, while Mrs. Rothschild went off, and came back with a coat and boots far fancier than the ones Stephen had been wearing. They were also a touch large on him, which he thought would be a hindrance if he was required to run or walk very fast while wearing them. “I do wish I had a good wig,” she said, “but we have had none in the house ever since Jack threw them out.”

“I told you, that wasn’t me!”

“I shall bring my own next time, if you wish it,” Stephen offered. He suspected it would not quite fit the image Mrs. Rothschild wanted their foes to have of him, but it would at least be something.

“That will do,” she said. “For today, we will say you dropped it into the sea-I imagine it has the scent of the sea, like the rest of you does, more or less.”

As they went out, Mr. Stiles and Mrs. Rothschild kept up with each other the kind of crossness that Stephen soon came to realize they both were, in fact, enjoying, especially when he made a comment about her and her disguises that Stephen did not think many men he knew would ever make to a lady of Mrs. Rothschild’s standing, and though she countered his words with her own, she clearly felt no offense at them. The natives they passed did not even raised their heads at their audible squabbling; Stephen suspected those who lived near them had often seen this sight before.

The new governor, however, did look a little perturbed, when they came to his mansion to find him unexpectedly waiting for them outside in the heat, and the two of them were so absorbed in their dispute over what he had said to the previous governor during their final interview with him that they were nearly upon him when she saw saw him there, hastily broke off the lengthy sentence she had been in the middle of, and cried out, “You Excellency! I hope we have not keep you waiting out in the heat for very long!” She and Mr. Stiles turned to face him, while Stephen kept his position behind them both and tried to make it look like he did not comprehend their words.

Governor Traque took the three of them in, and continued to look confused. “Ah, excuse me,” she continued. “I believe you have already met my man, Mr. Stiles, and this,” she stepped aside and Stephen stepped forward and offered his hand, “is my cousin, Senor Esteban el Agujetas. I am afraid he does not speak English or French; in fact, he speaks only Catalan Spanish.”

“Salutations.” The governor took Stephen’s hand while showing no sign of suspicion, though his face was still that of a man who was more likely than not to mean trouble for anyone in the world who might want something contrary to what he himself wanted. There was something wolfish about it, especially when he smiled. Stephen continued to feign lack of understanding, until Mrs. Rothschild said in Catalan, “This is the governor, Esteban,” and Stephen rapidly nodded and mumbled, “Ah, si, si,” while deliberately shaking the man’s hand much more aggressively than was called for. Pity it was a bad idea to try to cause an arm injury.

“Tell him I am most pleased to meet him,” the governor grinned, “and I am looking forward to hearing all the details. There is a story going around about a much-feared British man-of-war lurking around our island, and that one ship has already been taken; I’m sure he’d heard of such a thing.”

This would be a problem, Stephen thought, if this man was really determined to talk to him. But when Mrs. Rothschild had spoken a full translation, he said, in Catalan, “The ship I was on did not hear of such a thing, and indeed, as far as I can tell my voyage was a dull one, although I am afraid I suffered so from seasickness that I was constantly in my cabin, and found myself not even equal to asking anyone for news on most days.”

He was fairly confident his pale pallor would lead the governor to believe him easily vulnerable to any ailments he might claim, but the guffaws that came from the man in response were a less than pleasant surprise. His next few words were comprehensible to absolutely no one at all, and when he spoke coherent English again, it was to say, “Not used to the sea, are you? You must come from the inner lands of Catalunya, but even then, have you truly never been on it in your life?”

It was unlikely, Stephen supposed, that this man knew the first thing about Catalunya. That was likely further to their advantage. When the question was translated, he answered, “Once before, but I am afraid the seasickness is constant with me, and there is nothing to be done. As you can imagine, I did not have an easy journey out here.”

Mrs. Rothschild translated this, then added her own words, “I do not think you wish to hear that story, Your Excellency.”

“Oh no, definitely not,” Mr. Stiles chimed in. “We had to sit through it yesterday, and it put us off our dinner completely.”

“No, perhaps not. Shall we go in?”

The governor’s mansion was a bit grandiose and expensive for such a small island, although it was not necessarily maintained very well; Stephen’s sharp eyes picked out telltale signs on the walls and even a few indentations on the floor, although they were all covered discreetly by rugs. There was one place he even noticed Mrs. Rothschild very carefully pick her shoes over; she, clearly, had long taken note of this, and she and Mr. Stiles had probably also used it to their advantage many a time.

Unfortunately they were the only guests calling, and the Governor soon had the four of them seated, and said, “You have received a letter, Mrs. Rothschild, from the Empress. I am afraid it was most disgracefully handled by some people who wished to intrude upon her correspondence, and came into my possession, and opened already.”

“To me?” Mrs. Rothschild appeared to be genuinely astonished, though Stephen could detect the tiniest note of suspicion she failed to hide. “You speak of the Empress Marie Louise, I presume, but I cannot think of a reason she should write to me. I do not know how she even knows my name!”

“Well, beg pardon, of course, but the letter being opened my eyes did fall upon some of what was written in it. She said she was writing to you as someone whom her husband had told her might have been in her place.”

“Yeah, right,” said Mr. Stiles, “Like the Emperor would ever have treated her with that level of respect. It actually is true he tried to marry her a decade back, but-”

The Governor exclaimed his amazement in French; Stephen was equally shocked. He wished he could dare demand the story, but it was not a good idea to let the governor know he was ignorant of such a significant chapter in her family’s history.

“It was not so great an event as you think,” Mrs. Rothschild insisted. “He would never have taken me off this island, and while we did even begin a wedding ceremony, ultimately when the Dragoon showed up to call a halt to it, and succeeded, he let me go.”

“He treated her disgracefully,” said a much louder Mr. Stiles. “It was all about how he’d destroy England if she didn’t do everything he said. Imagine if you’d had to live the rest of your life that way, Ems.” His anger was obviously genuine and deep, that of a man who cared for a woman possibly more than he even cared for himself. Stephen was aware that this, also, was a bad sign from the viewpoint of British intelligence, but still he could not help but be comforted by it, purely for Mrs. Rothschild’s sake.

“In any event,” she said, “the Dragoon managed to rescue me with no harm done.” The warmth and amusement in her smile as she said this would’ve been understandable enough, of course, for two people referring to a secret they were keeping from someone they were talking with, although it was also an interesting contrast given how much they had been bickering during the past hour. “I believe I shall read this when I am back at home. Tell me, Governor, have you ever heard from the Empress yourself?”

“I saw her once,” he said eagerly, before beginning a lengthy account of the day he had seen the Empress from afar, shortly after her wedding to Bonaparte, including such details as which lady’s hat he’d accidentally jostled, and what she had said to him, and whose dog had startled him. Mrs. Rothschild encouraged him in such details, making such an impression of avid eagerness, and he was still telling the story an hour later, when Stephen gave a tiny groan and leaned forward. “Are you all right, sir?” the governor asked anxiously, as Mrs. Rothschild asked the same in Catalan.

“I…” Stephen stood and made a show of being tired and cramped up. “I think I could do with some fresh air.” When Mrs. Rothschild translated his words, the Governor nodded, and let him go.

He could give himself at least ten minutes, possibly twenty, although Stephen initially headed back towards the entrance of the mansion. He had spotted fairly near it signs of an entrance to one of the hidden stairways used by the servants, and when he slipped through it, thankfully none of the servants were actually using it at that moment. Mr. Stiles’ description of the mansion included details on all of its backstairs; he himself had used them plenty of times. Within five minutes of the most rapid walk he could manage, Stephen had exited into the corridor adjoining the Governor’s office, and when he reached the door he found it had not been locked.

The study was richly decorated, its desk quite large and covered with papers that did not look very well arranged. A glance over them initially did not reveal anything that looked unusual; most of them appeared to be what one would expect on a French governor’s desk. Stephen did spot one letter with the Emperor’s seal, but when he read it, he found it short and full of very general words, typical for a new governor. He supposed anything more unusual would probably be in the locked cabinet adjoining the desk, which was unfortunate, as he lacked the time to break into it, even had he been willing to leave evidence of an intruder having been in the study.

But when he was putting it down in the exact spot he had found it, he noticed underneath three pieces of paper was a fourth that appeared to have writing on the side of it facing downward. Still not thinking that necessarily meant anything, he carefully pulled it out and looked at it.

On top of it was a symbol he had never seen before, and below was a letter written in Dutch, with French words written clumsily below in what looked like the governor’s attempt to translate it. Dutch was not a language Stephen could read without effort, so instead he took a few minutes to read the French words and commit them to memory. There were enough he could get a general idea of what the message was about: it sent salutations to both the governor and Napoleon Bonaparte, and offered them the support of great warriors. The signature was in Japanese script.

He replaced it as close to the position he had found it in as he could, shifting the exact same papers over it. Then he hurried out and back the way he came.

They had confirmation of their main fear, except that Stephen could not help but feel the sending of such a letter to this governor was odd. From what he could tell of the language they had used, they’d seemed to have no clear idea of who the man was, even though they knew the title of his position, and that they might think him a much more important man than he actually happened to be. To some extent some false impressions and ignorance made sense for people living in a country cut off from the world, but there had also been a mention of Australia as a “small” place, and if they were attempting to sail anywhere, they ought to know it was not. At the very least, they likely hadn't yet made concrete plans for their voyage.

Once again he was fortunate enough to run into none of the servants on the backstairs, nor was anyone in the foyer when he emerged into it. Quick walking brought him back to the drawing room, though he was careful to slow down before his footsteps were likely to be identified. “You were quite some time,” Mrs. Rothschild observed to him in Catalan. “We were even thinking about taking our leave of here.”

“It was hotter outside than I anticipated,” he answered, and sat down as she translated their words for the governor’s benefit.

“If it is,” said the governor when he had heard them, “perhaps you don’t need to leave so soon.”

“I am sorry,” said Mrs. Rothschild, “but I have business this afternoon that truly must be seen to. It has been a pleasure.”

The walk back was quick and quiet, and Stephen used it to study his two companions as best he could manage without making himself obvious. There was not much to observe; theirs was mostly the easy silence of two people who had spent a decade in each other’s pockets and were at least momentarily in harmony with each other. But he did take not at one point when his eyes flicked towards her, and she tilted her head slightly, and slight twitches of his lips and eyebrows gave away further silent communication from her. Careless for a spy, on his part. Although he could not merely from this determine what they might be communicating about.

Down in her laboratory, Stephen recounted to his two companions what he had seen. Mrs. Rothschild insisted on writing it all down, although she was quick to reassure him the notes would never leave the laboratory, and the means of disposing of them within seconds if necessary were available. He watched her and Mr. Stiles survey her finished notes together, though they did not seem to attempt any more communication without him noticing; their eyes remained fixed on the papers, and when he managed to glimpse their hands he did not see them do more than handle the pages. She finished reading first, he very shortly after. “Don’t think it’s anyone we’ve run into here before,” he said.

“No,” she agreed. “Which means we still have too little information to do much with. Except…it might be a mistranslation, of course, but it sounds like they will arrive in more than one ship, and possibly not all at once. No small army, obviously.”

They also read through the letter from the Empress Marie Louise, but if there was to be anything of significance to be noted in it, they did not identify it on that day. She claimed to have heard Mrs. Rothschild’s name from one of the older servants, which was not implausible, and to simply be intrigued over the fact that her husband had been so determined to marry a proud Englishwoman, which was also plausible, but less likely. “I shall send her a response,” said Mrs. Rothschild. “Something short and harmless, not too encouraging.”

“You sure you don’t want to be friends with an Empress?” grinned Mr. Stiles. “It’d be useful, for one thing.”

“If she was married to another Emperor,” said Mrs. Rothschild, “but I would greatly rather that Bonaparte never received any unnecessarily reminder of my name for all the rest of his days.” That, of course, was understandable enough on her part.

The rest of the day passed without event. Stephen soon decided there was not an immediate reason not to return to the Surprise the following day Mrs. Rothschild happily ordered her cook to prepare dinner for three. While they ate, they entertained each other were the more harmless stories from their lives, and Stephen learned a great deal about the history of the East Indies, as well as America up to 1801. Mrs. Rothschild, as it happened, had not been entirely lying when she had told the governor she had business, though it involved meeting someone later in the evening. She and Mr. Stiles went out together, but as she was convinced the merchant she was meeting with was truly nothing other than what he claimed to be, Stephen elected to stay behind, saying he wished to go to bed early.

When they were gone, and he was certain none of the servants were watching, he carefully snuck up the stairs to the master bedroom.

He had not examined it for very long before he was satisfied that Mrs. Rothschild did not sleep in her bed alone. Between the bedclothes and the frame he found several stands of hair too dark to be hers. Most of the items in her closet were feminine, but in one corner they lay a stocking obviously made for the leg of a man. When he breathed in deep enough, he caught the lingering smell of sexual congress, recently conducted, likely only the previous night.

He lingered just a little longer, looking in the drawers and at Mrs. Rothschild’s papers. One was locked, with the key not in the room. He thought that must contain all her more sensitive documents, because he could not find any of them anywhere else. Instead she had records of her and her late husband’s shipping business, some scientific notes and sketches of devices, including the ones he had taken back to the Surprise, and a few miscellaneous materials, such as papers with Chinese lettering on them that were obviously her practice papers from learning how to read and write the script. Stephen regretted then he himself was not better versed in it.

The only real surprise was the lack of papers from Mr. Stiles anywhere in the drawers, when he had found none, sensitive or otherwise, downstairs either. It was a possibility he was one agent who burned everything he wrote upon, even if he wrote nothing that had to do with his spy work. But he did not seem to Stephen to be that type of man at all. More likely, he thought, he was instead a man who did not write very much. He had not struck Stephen as at all Mrs. Rothschild’s equal intellectually, though certainly he had to possess cunning, and all those particular gifts of mind.

When he had retreated downstairs to the drawing room, he briefly sat and contemplated whether it might not be impossible to get Mr. Stiles to defect. He clearly had a romantic image of himself, one that could very possibly override his loyalty to his country if pressed, and if he was genuinely attached to Mrs. Rothschild, the idea of defecting for love might be made to appeal to him. Or his image of himself could be of a man who would never let a woman persuade him to do such a thing, or, when brought to think of it, would expect her to do it rather than himself.

It was too risky, he decided, to even make the suggestion to Mrs. Rothschild. She might decide to bring it up to Mr. Stiles without being thoroughly sure he would not have the wrong reaction, too desperate to believe in the easiest way out. He needed to observe them further, preferably in a situation where they believed themselves to be alone.

He lingered a little longer in the drawing room after his decision was made. Mrs. Rothschild had an impressive library, and while more books in it than not were about mechanics, she also had some tomes on the native flora and fauna of both Australia and the East Indies. Stephen spent the better part of an hour reading about Caledonian birds, and was in the middle of a fascinating passage about kagus when he heard Mrs. Rothschild and Mr. Stiles return. He did not immediately move from where he sat, but he ceased reading, letting the book stay open with his eyes no longer focused on it, while he instead attempted to discern what they were saying.

Mr. Stiles was talking much more loudly than Mrs. Rothschild, so initially Stephen heard only his replies: “…don’t think he has the brains for that.” “Please, can you stand to be around him that much? He doesn’t even know anything about machines the way that other guy did.” “No, that’s the one where if we ever see him again I gotta punch him and run, because if I don’t, he’ll do it to me.” He thinks he hears Mrs. Rothschild actually chuckle at those words.

Then she says, loud enough for him to hear easily, “Under different circumstances, I think Dr. Maturin might have enjoyed his company. I know they both share a love for natural philosophy.”

“If that’s what you call a bug fetish.”

At that remark, Mrs. Rothschild outright laughed, a sound so unexpected it struck Stephen. Somehow it prompted him to put his book down, silently stalk to the drawing room entrance, and peer outside. He had a greeting ready in case they had their heads turned towards it and saw him, but some instinct told him that would not be the case.

The two of them were at the far end of the hall, arm in arm, faces so close together that kissing would not have increased the intimacy of it very much. They did not even look very drunk, though they had perhaps consumed a little bit of wine, not enough to make their walk at all unsteady, but enough to make her face much brighter than he had previously seen it.

Perhaps, too, it was part of the reason she was looking at her companion the way she was. The main feature on her face was open affection, only a little bit of her amusement remaining. It made her to Stephen’s eyes look both younger and older.

He withdrew back into the drawing room, only just enough so there would be no chance of their seeing him. He at least knew they had not done so already when Mr. Stiles said, “You think the good doctor is still up? Guy strikes me as the type to stay up at night and lurk in the corners.”

Tonight, he had assessed the situation better than Mrs. Rothschild, who said, “After all the exertion he has had to engage in today, surely he must be asleep, as he said he would be, remember.”

She was no fool, however. The next thing she said was, “We need to keep an eye out, however. I am almost certain he is here to spy on us as much as on the French.”

“So they couldn’t leave us alone, could they?” sighed Mr. Stiles. “Never mind that it’s been made clear to me I’m to still work against Napoleon, whatever anybody else involved is doing, and meanwhile they’d be damn idiots if they took you away from here. I tell you, if any of those assholes from wherever they’re running it out of now come here to inquire about my loyalties..what’s he gonna do? He better not try to hurt either of us. It’ll be two against one then, and it’ll be all his fault.”

He spoke as if he had no doubt that she would protect him from her own colleagues. But Stephen thought that at least somewhat presumptive on his part when he heard her cautious response, “I do not think he will engage us in such a manner if we give him no good reason to. He is a very smart man.”

Her lover understood her thoughts as well. “So you might not?” he demanded, and there was a new, harder anger there, unlike anything there had been in his cross words to her earlier that day. “If he came out here right now and tried to kill me, you’d just stand here?”

“I would not let him kill you.” She spoke it swiftly and certainly; no doubt there.

“Well,” he replied, unimpressed, “nice to know you wouldn’t let him go *that* far.” His footsteps increased in volume, both because he was now passing the drawing room, and because he was in fact storming by it.

“Jack!” Mrs. Rothschild called after him. “Jack!” He gave no response before Stephen heard their footsteps reach the stairs, descend upward, and then fade from his hearing.

Stephen remained another hour in the drawing room, engaging in a little further reading, and listening for if either of them came back downstairs. When they did not, he eventually descended back down to the laboratory to sleep, and found himself hoping that his two hosts had at resolved their quarrel, at least for the night, before they had slept.

#aubrey-maturin #jack of all trades #jack aubrey #stephen maturin #jack stiles #emilia rothschild

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theluminousglass-blog · 4 years

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6 Stories

The Cask of Amontillado

The Cask of Amontillado showcased different lessons or morals that we can use in our everyday lives. However, its association with the golden rule is what we should really pick among all of its offered dilemmas or morals. The Cask of Amontillado is a short story written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1846. He used a very unique approach since he conveys the story from the murderer's perspective, which can be considered as a taboo for some individuals

Despite the spooky and thrilling effect of the story, it also provides a detailed narrative of its setting. Making a reader visualize the scenario better. Thus, after reading a very satisfying story, one of the greatest lessons that I’ve perfectly remember is: We should always be sensitive about how we treat or approach others.

Cruelty and rudeness should never be accepted especially if it was used to disrespect or to insult others Regardless if we meant no harm towards others. To do unto others as you would have them do unto you is not just being virtuous and divine but it is being prudent, for it is our duty and responsibility to give no harm to other people. And to balance my opinion, we should also remember that we should not hold any grudge towards others since we are all perfectly imperfect. We are all capable of committing different level and kinds of sins. For we should know to forgive and how to move on. Hence, vengeance will never be considered as an equal act for justice.

God Sees the Truth, But Waits.

“Throughout life people will make you mad, disrespect you and treat you bad. Let God deal with the things they do, cause hate in your heart will consume you too.” -Will Smith

Forgiveness and acceptance; these words can simply describe the morals shown in the story, “God Sees the Truth, But Waits.” it is a Russian short story written by Leo Tolstoy in 1872. The story revolves around Aksionov’s life after being imprisoned due to a false accusation of murder. Despite witnessing and experiencing life without mercy and happiness in Siberia, Aksionov learned the whole process of acceptance and forgiveness using his faith as a center of his everyday life.

As stated above, we as individuals should learn how to forgive others, No matter how hard it may be. We should let our faith conquer our hearts to help us to become a better person, despite our hatred and pain from the past and our anxiousness for our future. Hence, Tolstoy helps us realize that no matter how painful our sufferings are, no matter how times people tried to do you wrong, we should always seek acceptance and forgiveness. For us to heal and for us to move forward.

The Masque of Red Death

The Masque of Red Death is a short story written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1842. The flow of the story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death, by hiding along with many other wealthy nobles. They host a masquerade ball within seven rooms each decorated with a different color. Amid their revelry, a mysterious figure disguised as a Red Death victim enters and makes his way through each of the rooms. Prospero dies after confronting this stranger, whose "costume" proves to contain nothing tangible inside it; the guests also died. “There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be...” this quote from John Lennon can be used to explain the moral lesson of the story. Death, whether we like it or not will always be the bottom line of our fate. We cannot change our fate. Thus, we cannot escape death. Regardless of your social status or how smart you are, death can never be denied just like how Prince Prospero had his own party and locks his guests and himself in his home to avoid contracting the Red Death. But still after trying their best everyone or anything should always come to an end.

The Piece of String

The Piece of String was written by Guy de Maupassant in 1883. It is included in the short story collection "Miss Harriet”.the story revolves In Goderville, where there lived Maitre Hauchecome and his enemy Maitre Malandain. One day, Maitre Hauchecome saw a piece of string in the road and thought that he could make use of it in the future, and so bent to pick it up. He noticed, however, his enemy Maitre Malandain was watching, and he knew that he would be embarrassed if Maitre Malandain saw him picking up an itsy bitsy string, so Maitre Hauchecome acted as if he were searching for something. That day, news came out that someone lost his wallet. Quickly, Maitre Malandain accused Maitre Hauchecome of stealing the wallet, and the town believed him, but Maitre Hauchecome did not steal the wallet. The town of Goderville did not believe Maitre Hauchecome was innocent, even though someone found the wallet in the street and returned it. Maitre Hauchecome died of a broken heart, despairing of being thought a liar.

The story showed how important credibility and reputation for someone. And how easy for others to stain and manipulate our views towards others. Hence, A way of building a good reputation is by telling the truth. Telling the truth will reward you in times of need wherein you can gain the trust of others. furthermore. The story shows how cruel our judgment can be so we need to sensitive in speaking or in approaching a certain scenario that involves others.

Hills Like White Elephants

Hills Like White Elephants is a short story written by Ernest Hemingway in 1927. It was published in the literary magazine transition. The story focuses on a conversation between an American man and a young woman, described as a "girl," at a Spanish train station while waiting for a train to Madrid. The girl compares the nearby hills to white elephants. The pair indirectly discuss an "operation" that the man wants the girl to have, which is implied to be an abortion.

Killing a child is one of the topics raised in this story. We may have different opinions about this. However, we should always remember that we should not do several things that we don’t want others to do to us. Lastly, Those who kill others because of their greed, meet the same fate for their cruel deed.

The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World

The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World”= is written by Gabriel García Márquez in 1968. It tells the tale of a corpse found on the shore of a small fishing village. Esteban, is unusually tall and so shockingly handsome that the villager begins to fall in love with him, treating him with religious beliefs. Eventually, they dump the body into the sea but leave it unweighted in the hope that Esteban will float back someday. They vow to transform the village into the kind of place worthy of Esteban.

Indeed, our physical appearance can simply pronounce our impact to different personalities or individuals. It may be temporary. however, it is also an art that we should respect and appreciate. This story showed how we can inspire someone just by giving our best in terms of our appearance. Just like how we can communicate using our facial expressions and how we can convey messages through body language. But we should also remember that we still need to have a good character regardless of your age, sex or appearance for the character is only thing that fully describes who you are and what you’re going to be in the future.

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