I heard public sex in a toilet is pretty fun
If you're wondering where I got the idea for the title, it comes from the fic Hellhounds and at the suggestion of Liam O'Brien. I reviewed this one a while back, and noted Liam's suggestion sounded a lot like the wonderful English custom of cottaging - or, how Queerty puts it, just your average everyday gay activity. There's nothing like fighting over plants and ladders!
Are you gay, Christian Grey Nope, nope we're better than that, remember? And you're going to be one helluva partner, Shay...that's why your new codename will be Ice Swallow Come.
Just like 50 Shades of Nope, nope, we're better than that.
Also, so much for Ziio not being fridged: she's just the ex-wife of a gay man. What a way to keep her memory going, eh?
Think of the children, indeed.
And everyone deserves a nod to Current Year status, with Ezio having a husband like good ole' Mayor Pete. What's Sofia's role? To be the womb with the money. Definitely breaking that gender role, eh Saetha?
Yeah...no. It doesn't happen. Unless you're Steve Jobs or one of the geniuses at Silicon Valley, this is a pipe dream. There is no way huge corporations are going to take in a blue-collar worker at a low-skilled job in their mega-corporation unless they have major contacts. There's also a thing called 'nepotism'; you know, the thing you complain about on your Twitters about privileged 'white' guys getting university positions?
Chapter 4 sure does satiate my concerns:
Chapter 6 gets a little more interesting, if by that I mean ret-conning.
I guess not.
A PhD. A Ph-freaking-D.
Definitely smashing those gay stereotypes, Saetha.
At the beginning of Chapter 7, Shay deals with the consequences of destroying the artifact and creating an earthquake that ravages Vancouver.
Just two problems. One, Shay doesn't actually deal with the consequences. And two, Vancouver, sitting on the Pacific, is next to the Juan de Fuca Pacific plate. Buildings on this coastline, especially in California, are required to be retrofitted with earthquake resistant foundations and steel beams. This is done to reduce damage and deaths from the initial earthquake and the aftershocks. 5,000 people die in this earthquake, compared to the original Portuguese earthquake which killed anywhere from 10,000 to 100,000 people and was catastrophic to the nation's economy. 5,000 isn't a joke, for sure, but sitting next to the Juan de Fuca plate 5,000 is a walk in the park.
Yes, it's a tremendous mistake. It's a burden. And your'e carrying it because you refused to tell the Brotherhood what happened and are shocked and appalled at a death toll of 5,000 people in an area bordering a major fault line. Seismology. What is that?
I'd like to say you're insulting your audience, but they're probably too wowed by your PhD and are too busy salivating over the pairing to care.
Busting asses as well as busting those gay stereotypes.
Chapter 8 begins with this doozy:
Even Mr. Potatohead had more intelligence than these fuckwads.
Yup, definitely crushing those romance tropes.
In the beginning of Chapter 9, there was this lovely note:
Of course he's changed, Liam. Can't you see the whipped cream at the side of his mouth?
A PhD truly at work.
Chapter 10 begins with a 'trigger warning' for police brutality. Oh, come on, Saetha. I know you only care about police brutality when it involves black people. Maybe Shay should invest in a BLM t-shirt for extra brownie points.
Wait a minute. Wait just a cotton pickin' minute. Did you just drop your gun in a gunfight? A gun you only fire two shots out of, and which is still loaded?
Never go full retarded. You don't bring knives to a gunfight, and you sure as hell don't drop a fully loaded gun while doing a roll. How in the ever living fuck did you get your PhD, Saetha?
Saetha, there's Google. It's not hard.
Chapter 10 ended with the police brutality scene I expected but didn't get. What a shame. I wanted a nearby NPC to shout 'Black Lives Matter!'
Chapter 11 starts off with a surprising bit of self-reflection:
Yes, you broke into your boss's apartment. You attacked him, he attacked you. The motive is not yet clear. Self-defense is obvious for Haytham's case, and you were caught with your hidden blade and hidden knives. You didn't think what would happen if you got caught, did you Shay?
Chapter 12 has this gem from George Monro:
Two, Shay didn't completely vanish. The Brotherhood knew where he was. It doesn't know that Shay kept the earthquake's true origins a secret, however. That lies entirely on him.
In Chapter 13, the end chapter, it is revealed Shay needed surgery after being shot in the shoulder. If the bullet made a clear path through the body with an entry and exit wound, you are usually released after a few days, if not hours depending on how extensive the injury is. If it the shot came from a hollow point, you are going to have a lot of torn flesh. However, I don't know what sort of round or weapon was used, but if Shay needed surgery, I assume it was pretty high. Anyways.
In the end, Shay agrees to be Haytham's Tomb Raider and go on a date with him. The Brotherhood is hunting him, and he lets go and finds a therapist and everything is good.
However, as I've repeatedly pointed out, Shay isn't deserving of any good ending.
He repeatedly refused to tell the Assassins what the artifact in the cave did. In-game, he was angry the Assassins knew what it was capable of but refused to leave it alone; he was angry because he, as an Assassin, was responsible for hundreds of thousands dead. Achilles refused to believe him or listen to reason. Here, Shay simply opt for no explanation, even though Altair and Ezio - who experienced the Apples of Eden - would be inclined to believe him the most. Shay could have sought them out for advice, but he didn't. The whole scenario was his fault, and instead of feeling legitimate guilt, turned to drink (which the author decided trigger warnings were necessary) and sucking Haytham's cock. That is a sure way to make you a star in my eyes.
His character development revolves around screwing his boss. He doesn't know how the Internet works or even remember he has a burner phone with a tracer on it, but he knows all the soft spots of Haytham's rectum. He knows how to give head and whether to spit or swallow. He did nothing for the Brotherhood, and the one thing he was tasked to do - spy on Haytham - was spoiled from the get go because Haytham knew who he was.
Who would have thought, with a background in Dunkin' Donuts and not a business, would've roused suspicion?
In the tags, Saetha wrote she didn't want to 'fridge' Ziio. She made no appearance aside from being the 'divorced wife' of a now gay guy. The amusing thing about these authors is that they claim to care about female characters but will shove them aside in the name of gay romance. What's also worth noting is that the romance tropes they complain about in heterosexual romance novels are prevalent in M/M fics - but it's suddenly OK when they do it. How about it: a guy sent to spy on his boss and then fucks him? 50 Shades with a bit of Tom Clancy: A XXX Parody. Even those films have better plots and scripts.
Saetha,a PhD grad in I don't know what, apparently doesn't know what fault lines are, what constitutes a tragedy in terms of natural disaster, what spying means, how technology works, or how blending in works. Because crafting a character who only cares about sucking dick doesn't help your case. Hammering how bad he feels over the deaths of 5,000 + people before feeling jubilant over Haytham's cock doesn't help either. Either you realize you made Shay into a callous, stuck up gay guy who cares only about the sex he gets, or you keep on assuming it's OK. I'll go with the latter.
Saetha admits the story is cliche, but doesn't like others pointing it out, hence the modded comments. People turn to her/him/whatever for advice on their stories and for ideas. Coming from me, I hope they nuke the bitch before it takes off. Saetha doesn't want to admit she/him/whatever writes like E.L. James, but snarking at critics will work just as well.
Just hope that PhD didn't lead you to working at Dunkin' Donuts, boyo.
“The Haytham Kenway?” Liam finally asked as he clambered down again.
“I wasn’t aware there was more than one,” Shay grumbled in response. “Of course it’s the Haytham Kenway. Head of Kenway Industries, successful businessman, no currently known partner, father of one Connor Kenway, and, as it happens, Grand Master of the Templar Order.”
“No, they wanted me in particular. Kenway is only six years older than me and they thought I’d be a good fit for working as his new personal assistant, apparently.”
This was one mission he truly didn’t want to screw up; especially since it seemed as if they might finally begin considering him for Master Assassin if he was successful. And successful was what he would be; surely, shadowing one arrogant and self-obsessed CEO couldn’t be that hard.
Could it?Ah, nothing like pulling the usual romance cliches we all know are going to be proven true in the end. You're going to be one perfect Anastasia, Shay. Now cluck like a chicken.
Two men exited the office, and Shay could only think that of all the ways he thought he’d meet Haytham Kenway in the flesh for the first time, this certainly wasn’t one he’d imagined. True to his reputation, Kenway was dressed in an immaculately fitted suit, his hair bound back neatly. In contrast, his son – Shay had recognised the name from his files – was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt that sported the faded logo of a nearby animal rescue.This introduction and description of the office building is uncannily like 50 Shades of Grey. I don't know if Saetha, a PhD grad, is aware of this, but maybe his (?) superior IQ can help. Of all the topics and of all the toxicity associated with that title, why do most of these fics resemble 50 Shades so much? Cognitive dissonance? Projection? Who knows. I'm definitely putting more thought into it than the author.
Shay was sure that he should have given a lot more intelligent and elaborate answer, but he couldn’t think of any. In fact, his entire surroundings seemed to render him quite speechless – it was everything he had imagined, and yet so different. Haytham Kenway’s office was as clean and functional as might be expected, the only personal touches a picture on his desk and a painting on the wall depicting a forest clearing. To Shay’s surprise, it bore the signature of one KaniehtÃ:io. Nothing that obviously connected him to the Templars, as far as Shay could see. But then, it was probably not an association one would want to flaunt so openly.The author wrote that s/he did not want Ziio to be fridged, so naturally, her only role in this fic is to be the leftovers in Haytham's life: she is a divorced mother, a painter, and she's a strong, powerful woman. Haytham decides to honour that commitment by banging his assistant. Sound like a tacky Hallmark PornHub parody? You guessed right.
“And here I thought it was the British who were being known for getting smashed at the most inopportune moments,” Shay couldn’t help but say, cursing his loose tongue immediately after. Kenway frowned and anger flickered across his face for just a moment, the first real emotion Shay had seen from him. Then he relaxed.
“If my time at university was anything to go by, this stereotype has some truth to it, yes.”Uh oh, some offensive stereotypes! The amusing thing is, is that Native Americans like Connor have some of the highest alcoholism rates out there, and the Irish are known for their public drinking as well. There shouldn't be real anger here; Britons in general are known for their love of ale. It's more of a unification and cultural thing than a nasty stereotype.
Sure, there were minor errors – the overturned glass of water on his desk, for example, or the fact that he had stood helplessly in front of the complicated looking coffee machine for fifteen minutes before he finally caved in and asked for help on how to use it.You know, K-cups are pretty easy to use. There's always your smartphone if you need help, boyo.
Ah, Maria. Crusader chick. Hated by fans for stealing away Altair from Malik. In this AU, with every Assassin and Templar across different epoches existing in one, we're going to see a lot of shenanigans that makes me wonder if the author wasn't aiming for a 'tee hee, aren't I relatable?' approach. What's important to note so far is that Kenway's conglomerate banned plastic cups - does Greta Thunberg get a first-rate seat at his meetings?
The Assassins knew almost nothing about her; she seemed an enigma to even the most senior members of their ranks. Shay had once heard Ezio refer to her as ‘the biggest mystery about the Templars in our time’, although with Ezio you could never be quite sure when or if he was joking.
“Yeah. Seems to me like one of those events where everyone knows who everyone truly is but they’re all trying to put on a polite front and outdo each other on who can be the most charitable. At least the charities profit…”I can't imagine this is a good thing to brag about. Rodrigo Borgia, while being Grand Master of the Roman Rite, was prominent and influential, the public never knew he was actually a Templar. In this situation, all heads of the Assassins and all heads of the Templars are meeting together for a meeting, and what this meeting is used for it is not said. They're not there for a truce, they aren't there for valid business, so that leads to the next sentence:
Good to know. So...who starts the threesome first?“Let’s just hope that Ezio isn’t coming then. Because in that case it’d turn into an actual, not just figurative, dick measuring contest.”
And handsome he certainly was.
Shay wasn’t quite sure how he had never noticed it before, but there was something about Kenway that drew you in, physical beauty and charisma mixed into a dangerously addicting substance that seemed particularly potent under the soft light at the gala.
The job, he thought. Concentrate on the job.Ah, here we go: the 'there was something about that someone that's really important' cliche. It's cliched enough where, if used properly, it doesn't raise too many eyebrows. However, seeing a PhD use it with such a lack of finesse makes me wonder how much money the lad/lass spent on their education. You know you're an Assassin on the down-low when you can't stop dreaming about the boss you just met.
Shay had no doubt that there was a betting pool running about how many of them would fall to his charms this night. Sofia would be the one keeping track of the money – and Yusuf the one keeping count. Sometimes it still seemed like a marvel to Shay that the three managed to keep their open relationship working so well. But work it did.These scenarios usually end up on Reddit under the 'cuckold' thread or the open relationship threads involving bisexual or gay people. Sofia is clearly the typical golddigger holding the money, not caring that he man sucks dick or eats ass provided he balances the books at the end of the day. Yusuf, by contrast, gets to enjoy the D unconditionally. Nowadays these relationships are called 'polyamorous', but what they are is whoring with permission. Or, to be nicer, they were called open relationships.
Shay could hardly believe his own eyes. Altaïr! The greatest assassin alive! The man who had become a legend amongst their own brotherhood during his lifetime! Making small talk with the Templar Grandmaster and apparently not for the first time.Yes, for reasons as yet unexplained - and no, don't give me the charity talk. Assassins are supposed to be hunted down by the Templars and so have to work in uttermost secrecy. This level of open association suggests the two organizations are on equal terms like J.P Morgan and John Rockefeller.
You don't have a problem mingling with them at galas, and Haytham is one of the biggest head honchos there is according to this AU. He must've not uploaded enough of his personal history to Grindr.
None of their sources had ever been able to find out much about Haytham Kenway’s family besides the basics – it was one of Shay’s primary tasks to gather more information on them, but so far he had only been able to find out very little. Namely that Kenway was fiercely protective of his son and still friends with his mother, although they had ended their romantic relationship shortly after Ratonhnhaké:ton had been born.
Also, so much for Ziio not being fridged: she's just the ex-wife of a gay man. What a way to keep her memory going, eh?
Such a brazen display of the Templar symbol astonished him, as he hadn’t ever seen it before. He had to do some deeper digging in his memory to remember who the newest arrival was – George Monro. A Scott born in Ireland and, more importantly, a military man who had served as a colonel for British Army before moving to the United States after retiring from service. Despite his official retirement status, he was still very much serving in an active role as one of the highest members of the Templar order. He had apparently joined their ranks back in England, when he had still been very young. He was one of the least well-known members of the inner Templar circle at the top of the American rite.It's 'astonishing', despite you knowing - as well as all of the Assassins present - that everyone at that gala is a Templar. What's 'astonishing' is the lack of self-awareness here: Shay is sent to spy on Haytham Kenway, a known Templar and who makes no secret that he is one; and Assassins, the people he is working for, are seen in person next to these people in the name of cancer research and charity.
Think of the children, indeed.
“And who is this dashing fellow at your side, if I may ask?”
It was all Shay could do not to turn bright red. He was so busy covering up his own embarrassment that he didn’t have the time to see how his boss reacted to Monro’s words.As red as the cherry that's going to be popped, no doubt. It's a compliment, dude. No need to start blushing like a virgin bride.
If the goal of Kenway’s conversation with Colonel Monro was to demonstrate to Shay that Templars were people like any other, he had succeeded. However, Shay was still Assassin enough to know well that these words could potentially be no more than a façade. Once again he wondered how much Ratonhnhaké:ton knew about the Templars – and whether an extended break on Monro’s farm would be the perfect way to indoctrinate him. Shay shook his head at his own thoughts, both disgusted with himself and convinced that he was right. You couldn’t trust Templars. Ever.Daily reminder every Assassin at that gala knows they're cavorting with Templars. Shay is already having doubts because he has the hots for his boss rather than have a valid moral dilemma. You can't trust Templars, but you'll fuck 'em anyways.
"You aren’t planning on killing us all with poisoned champagne, are you?”
“No,” Haytham pressed out with an expression that said he’d like to do exactly that. “Trust me, I would opt for a lot more of a…statement if I truly wanted to kill you. No need to ruin a perfectly good beverage. For now, feel free to enjoy all the champagne and company without worry.”
“Glad we could clear this up.” Ezio raised a taunting toast towards Kenway and Shay. “I will, of course, give as much money to this noble cause as I can spare. Even if it has to go through your bloody hands. For now, please excuse me – my husband is desperately trying to get my attention, it seems.”See what I mean? Assassins are putting themselves at risk here, being in one location all at once - and for a charity no less. I would like to say the PhD author is a fucking idiot, but hey, we can't be mean so early on in the story. Everyone deserves a chance.
And everyone deserves a nod to Current Year status, with Ezio having a husband like good ole' Mayor Pete. What's Sofia's role? To be the womb with the money. Definitely breaking that gender role, eh Saetha?
He risked a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see Ezio exchange an overly enthusiastic kiss with Yusuf. Altaïr was out of his sight, but Shay was fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes somewhere – he and his husband preferred to keep things much more private. So private, in fact, that nobody knew whether the rumours that they were both involved with a third person were actually true or not.Wow, everyone is going the Mayor Pete route! I'm sure they'll be on the cover on TIME magazine, and, like Terry Bean or Harvey Milk, avoid being caught with teenage boy prostitutes. Wouldn't that be just grand! I also like how their gay relationships are being put on a higher pedestal than the logic of Assassins meeting Templars in public. Here, have a checkmark for that diversity box!
The natural arrogance that seemed to seep through every part of his character only served to heighten the polite and impeccable manner with which he carried himself. It endeared and annoyed Shay, as much as it, unwillingly, aroused him.
It was infuriating.Ah, not to worry. You'll be on your knees soon enough, getting the 'after hours' treatment.
The little group consisting of Maria, Lucy and Altaïr (Altaïr? What was he doing in the company of the two Templars, especially without his husband?) smiled as he pressed past them.Didn't you just write Altair having a conversation with Haytham Kenway, Grandmaster of the American Rite, not half a page ago? Or does he need to have the permission from Malik to talk to whomever he wishes? They're already in the presence of Templars at the gala. There's no point arguing semantics here.
This conversation happens at a gala, within earshot of many Templars, and in a building owned by them. 200 IQ. Also, Shay hasn't spent that much time with Haytham, so he is of no use yet. Clearly, the operation isn't that important when you're talking about it within earshot of the Grandmaster.
“To answer your question,” Adéwalé continued, “yes, we did take the utmost care. This operation has been planned for longer than you can possibly imagine and on a scale far beyond our borders. And I was against your positioning in such a key role from the beginning; whilst your abilities are almost unparalleled amongst the peers of your age, others are far more biddable. However, Ezio and Achilles both suggested that this might be just the test you needed and so…” he shrugged, his gaze warning Shay to say another word to contradict him.
'Fundamental understanding' my ass. You're not being all that useful, Shay. You're just crushing on your boss and you can't seem to understand working for Templars in a world where both Assassins and Templars are best buddies for some reason might conflict with your reasoning. You also can't seem to understand that, as a spy, you need to blend in and that involves understanding the enemy's ideology. Why is this so hard for Shay to understand, let alone the PhD author writing it?
More importantly, Shay found it easy to talk to him. They shared the same fundamental understanding of the world as he and Liam did. According to their sources Gist was another Templar. It only served to feed Shay’s growing bad conscience. He wasn’t supposed to get along with the Templars. He was supposed to be spying on them.
Shay thanked the heavens that he had spent so much time studying his fabricated CV that he could’ve recited even the most minute details in his sleep.
“Yeah, I’ve had a couple of smaller managing jobs here and there, at minor firms. Most recently I was personal assistant to the regional manager of one of the Dunkin’ Donuts here in Boston.”
“From Dunkin’ Donuts to the Kenway Industries,” Maria mused. “Quite a leap, I must say. You must’ve come with shining references…”I want to take a minute and digest the fact a PhD grad wrote this. A guy with a fake CV, who is sent to spy at a corporation, had a Dunkin' Donuts job which miraculously earned him enough experience to land said job.
Yeah...no. It doesn't happen. Unless you're Steve Jobs or one of the geniuses at Silicon Valley, this is a pipe dream. There is no way huge corporations are going to take in a blue-collar worker at a low-skilled job in their mega-corporation unless they have major contacts. There's also a thing called 'nepotism'; you know, the thing you complain about on your Twitters about privileged 'white' guys getting university positions?
It was all Shay could do to have his facial expression remain composed. He hadn’t known that the Assassins were seeking Church. Or that he had stolen anything from them.A shitty spy and an assassin in an even shittier spy plot with even shittier dialogue. Wew. Are we sure this isn't dollar store Chick-Lit romance?
This didn’t look like a sniper; it was more likely that the shooter (or shooters) were right above them, carrying high calibre bullets to be able to penetrate the wooden boards. Which made their situation all the more dangerous.If you're a PhD, using Google or YouTube shouldn't be an issue. Most high-calibre bullets can shred through wood, especially if they're meant for piercing armour. Tupac was killed from a drive-by shooting; stainless steel cannot protect against most bullets, let alone wood. I should not be seeing this from someone with this degree of education.
A quick look showed him more blood dripping through the ceiling and onto the floor boards below. It was a miracle the entire ceiling wasn’t just coming down on their heads.Good thing these guys are using high calibre bullets through wooden ceilings, right?
“We have to move with the times, Haytham. You might try and maintain the façade of a modern business, but…the Templars are old and outdated and soon both you and the Assassins with their laughable Creed will sink below the waves of history.”He's not wrong, and it's especially ironic considering Haytham owns a corporation that very likely crushes the working class much like Silicon Valley oligarchs effectively erased the working class in California. Somewhere, somehow, the people will have had enough.
Shay found himself frozen to the spot with indecision. Should he help Haytham and at the same time almost certainly throw his cover? Or watch as the Templar Grand Master was killed by one of his own? And why did he care about Haytham Kenway’s life?Because...you're his assistant and quasi bodyguard? Why would it blow your cover if you were just saving your boss's life? You not saving him would arouse more suspicion.
Shay watched in horror and awe as Haytham dismantled the man in front of him with the efficiency of an experienced fighter. Church tried to offer some sort of feeble resistance at first, but it was quickly extinguished. Haytham made no use of any other weapon save his fists; a murder most intimate and yet all the more terrifying for it.Why are you watching in horror? You're an Assassin. Taking other people's lives shouldn't shock you, but apparently it does all of a sudden.
None of this should shock you. You know he's a Templar and you know what Templars are capable of. Who sends a guy who's shed no blood to guard a man who can kill someone without a second thought? You know that's suicide, right?
Haytham’s eyes were dark, still filled with the burning wrath that had led to the blood spatters all over his face and chest. Oddly enough, it reminded Shay of Ezio. A man of violence hiding underneath sheep’s skin. The fire in Haytham’s eyes burned so brightly that Shay almost physically recoiled, especially when he looked directly his way. Haytham frowned and-
He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, tried to recall every exercise he had ever been taught to help calm himself. “Just an after effect of the earlier panic, I suspect.”Look, if you're having major anxiety attacks in a job that requires you to be focused, it definitely isn't the job for you. If you can't control it, you need to be on meds or maybe not try to score diversity and tolerance points by injecting a disorder most people cannot control in the place of people having mild, normal reactions to stressful events. What'd you get your PhD degree in, again?
Chapter 4 sure does satiate my concerns:
“You’ve heard what happened?” Shay asked, after Liam still didn’t speak. There was something strange about him today, but Shay was unable to put his finger on it.
“Yes, I read the short preliminary version of your report. The Templar Grand Master killed a man. Are you surprised?” There was a bite in Liam’s voice that made Shay frown.
“No, of course not.” Shay rubbed some more sweat from his face, sniffed the towel, and scrunched up his nose in disgust. “It’s not exactly about the fact that he killed someone. It’s about how he did it.”
“You’ve seen people die before, Shay,” Liam said, radiating confusion. “You’ve killed them before. I know it’s never pretty, but…”
“But not like this.” Shay took a deep breath. He didn’t even know what disturbed him more – the memory of the previous day, his reaction, or Liam’s nonchalant dismissal of it. “Liam, he killed him with his bare hands.”So, you've killed people before, but the notion of a guy killing another with his bare hands shocks you. Why? What did you kill with before? And why haven't you ever been put in that situation, Shay, despite being an Assassin and one handpicked for this mission? Liam is being nonchalant because that's what being an Assassin entails: killing people. You're only having an anxiety attack because you are ill-suited for this mission. It's time to stop, Shay.
“You didn’t see him, Liam. I always wondered what made him so dangerous that he is feared even amongst the masters between us. I always thought it was his intelligence and cool, calculated planning, but…”
“…but now you’ve realised that behind every high-ranking member, be it in the Brotherhood or the Order, lies a monster just waiting to rear its head. Congratulations.” Despite his dismissive words, Liam looked serious as he spread his arms. “The next step is to find and accept the one that lies within yourself.”Nothing dramatic about this. Shay shouldn't act shocked; he is an Assassin, this is the life he chose and grew up in. Don't tell me you didn't bother reading the fine print, Shay. Liam is offering sound advice, but you're too cucked to accept it.
“Why? Am I not part of the Brotherhood anymore?” Shay’s voice had taken on the same biting tone as Liam’s earlier, almost without noticing.Well from the way you're acting, I'd say yes. What have you done aside from being a suck-up? What information have you gleaned? None, so far.
“Given how much you seem to be enjoying the company of the Templars around you, perhaps it’s wise not to tell you everything anymore,” Liam said laconically. “I wasn’t aware that your mission included going out for a drink with them.”
Shay hissed in anger at the insinuation in his words. Now Liam’s strange mood was beginning to make sense.
“You’re jealous? Is that it? And how do you know what Gist and I did earlier?”
“I was tasked with keeping an eye on you. In case of any…troubles.” Liam shrugged. “As for the first question, you tell me – should I be jealous? You’re not fucking any Templars, are you?”
The expression on his face was almost enough to make Shay lose control and ask him for a fistfight to resolve things between them, just like they had solved all their problems when they were sixteen. The fact that most of these fights had usually ended with them in bed together didn’t help matters.For one, why is Liam acting surprised? He knew Shay was at the gala; hell, everyone was there. Now, Liam is 'jealous' Shay is paying more attention to a man other than himself. Of course, in their past, they'd fight each other with fists flying and Irish Sunglasses making a hot new fashion statement before fucking each other. I'm getting 'Men Who Beat the Men Who Love Them' vibes. I wonder if PhD Saetha is aware of LGB domestic violence rates?
“And if I was? Just because I’ve sucked your dick a few times doesn’t mean I suddenly belong to you,” he yelled, for once glad that the safehouse was empty except for the two of them. “But for your information: no, I’m not ‘fucking any Templars’. And I’m not planning to, either.” Even if he had thought of Haytham’s face more than once when he was taking care of his needs in the shower. At least before yesterday.Wow, that's a nice way to establish your dominance and settle disputes: tell your ex-boyfriend just because you sucked his dick when you were teens, you're not sucking your boss's dick - yet. I'm glad the character development so far revolves around whether or not Shay feels regret over sucking Liam's dick and Liam being jealous his dick isn't being sucked.
The Templar Grand Master looked as composed and self-assured as every other day – nobody would’ve guessed that he had committed murder the previous afternoon.A few paragraphs earlier, Shay asks Gist why Haytham was called the 'Grand Master', as if the Templars are supposed to be secretive after holding a pubic gala with the Assassins. You know he's a goddamn Templar. You were sent to spy on him!
Shay couldn’t quite make out the look in Ezio’s eyes, the video call screen being slightly too grainy for the purpose. It had always been a source of hilarity to him that the Assassins, despite making use of the newest technology for their missions, had never mastered the use of webcams with particularly high resolution.Well, these are the same guys who go to public galas with Templars, so it doesn't surprise me they still use dial-up connections.
In some ways, the digital age was a curse for the Assassins (and, perhaps, Templars as well). Shay was certain that it would have been much easier to find a paper trail of any Templar business two hundred years ago. Nowadays, unless he significantly increased his non-existing abilities as a hacker or accidentally managed to gain access to Haytham’s phone or laptop, chances of finding actual pieces of paper with important information on them had markedly decreased.Whose fault is that? Yours. If you can't hack, find someone who will. The Watch_Dogs were able to do this, and that game takes place in the same universe. If Assassins can't learn to hack (hi, Rebecca Crane!) then they really do deserve to get steamrolled. They managed to do this in canon, ffs.
He prayed to every god who might be inclined to listen that he wasn’t blushing.I have to keep reminding myself these stories are written by people who complain how heterosexual stories utilize such sappy romance tropes. Apparently, the same logic doesn't apply to same-sex relationships.
There was no denying, however, that he was an incredibly good-looking man, and Shay wondered once more how a man of his looks and status seemed evidently without a partner at the moment. Or perhaps he has one, and you just don’t know, he told himself. It would certainly make things easier for the Assassins, give them a point where he’s vulnerable, a weakness to exploit.I just wonder how much self-awareness these authors have. Are any of you aware you're committing the same romance tropes you bash YA authors for using? Nothing about how this is a copycat of 50 Shades or your typical 'I fuck my boss' chick lit novel? No? I guess it's gotta be me to notice these things.
“Reluctance is something that can be overcome with time and training.”A double entendre, eh?
“And who would be teaching me? I don’t think I have any desire to go to college and get a Business degree. Or attend one of these dreaded Leadership seminars that cost too much and don’t do anything.”Reminder you work for a billionaire with no experience aside from a Dunkin Donuts job - and even that is fake. You're pretty much admitting you are unsuited for the job. Who the Hell came up with the papers?
“So you think a democratic process would work better?” It remained unclear whether he was still talking about Kenway Industries or the world at large. Shay decided to humour him, nonetheless.
“Of course. At least that way, no matter the result, the majority will be satisfied.”This is a business. It's not a democratic process. Also, do you know how many countries adopted democracy, Saetha? How is it, as a PhD, this was even brought up as a serious point? Le sigh.
A few hairs had escaped his hair tie, softening the usually so severe frame of his face. For the duration of a single split second, Shay had to suppress the impulse to reach over and brush them away from his face.What was that about romance cliches?
“What a shame. Maybe you should meet different men, then.” Amusement was still heavy on Haytham’s tongue and Shay held back a relieved sigh. At least Haytham didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his assistant was primarily interested in getting compliments from other men.First, you write Shay as being a person who likes doing things his own way, and damned if anyone says otherwise. Now, he's a person who thrives and relives on compliments from other men. One suggests a cavalier attitude; the other, one who needs affirmation from someone else. It's a walking contradiction. Though I suppose this wasn't the first thing on the author's mind, as Shay getting a boner for his boss comes first.
Chapter 6 gets a little more interesting, if by that I mean ret-conning.
Shay himself still remained shaken. He hadn’t slept for a week after the incident, constantly awoken by nightmares and even the smallest noise outside.Look, if this is your attempt at showing anxiety symptoms, it clashes with what you've established as his 'I can do what I want, fuck you' attitude. It's clear he's unsuited to his life and really should be punching holes in dough and licking the cream out of the hole - if you catch my drift.
“We think they are artefacts of…an ancient civilisation,” he said carefully. “Artefacts holding a power far greater than we had imagined. It’s vital that the Templars never get their hands on them.”
“’An ancient civilisation’…so the Precursors are real?” Did they think Shay wouldn’t have made the connection? It seemed to take Altaïr an almost physical effort to force out the next words.If you're a foot-soldier being kept in the dark, sure, you'd be a great foot-soldier. But as a spy, you need to know your enemy down to what kind of bedsheets they like to sleep in. You have to be completely aware of your surroundings and the intel; you need to give your pseudo-identity so much life it becomes a part of you and you even forget who you were before. Not knowing what the artifacts are you're hunting for, and then admitting (mentally), that you know what they are, why are you even asking? Shouldn't the Brotherhood strike you as a bunch of idiots sending a lackey who doesn't know jackshit to go fetch artifacts he might screw up with a single touch?
I guess not.
“We are unsure about the danger or their exact capabilities,” Adéwalé’s eyes were unreadable. “As Altaïr said, the only thing that we are truly sure of is their immense power. There is no telling what the Templars would do with such a weapon. And they would turn it into a weapon, no doubt.”
“Are there any hints that this…business trip is linked to the artefacts?” Ezio took over. Shay shrugged.Oh for fuck's sake. Of course you know. If you didn't, you wouldn't be sending Shay to spy on Haythan Kenway, Grand Master of the Templar Order. You also know the PoEs are dangerous and immensely powerful. Why else would you even bother to seek them out?
A PhD. A Ph-freaking-D.
No need to be pointlessly confrontational now. He should have been proud, most of all, to have been entrusted with such a crucial mission, but somehow his mentor’s trust rang hollow. Shay rolled his shoulders, staring at his screen for long after the connection had been cut. It was far too early to give the things rolling around inside his chest a name, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.Proud of what? They're being deliberately dishonest despite you knowing what the artifacts are, and they send you to go on a treasure hunt for them. The Brotherhood 'doesn't know' what the artifacts are do, let alone where they're located. But they'll send you out to look for them, because they 'trust' you. Yeah, OK.
“Well. It wasn’t entirely fruitless, given that two cats are part of my household now.” The revelation was slightly surprising to Shay – he hadn’t pegged Haytham for a someone with pets at home. But then, he probably had enough money to always have a cat sitter available even during his long work hours and business trips.This makes a lot of sense because the author doesn't have children, but has a lot of cats. It's a different way of getting pussy, don't you know.
It wasn’t difficult to be lulled into a false sense of security with the steadily growing familiarity between Haytham and him, long past the point where he had to pretend friendliness and an honest enjoyment of the man’s company. However, he was still an Assassin, no matter what his traitorous heart might feel. And failure was not tolerated amongst Assassins.You see, it strikes me as being hypocritical when these people complain about romance tropes and bad romances in general while writing shitty romances themselves. These two barely know each other, and already Shay is having the 'I can't have traitorous thoughts to fuck my boss' mental debate. Not like he's actually doing his job, or anything.
There was a big sign taped to the door that unfortunately, this specific set of toilets was broken and that alternative toilets could be found on the first floor. The shadow of a smile travelled over Shay’s face as he ignored the sign and stepped inside.Related.
“I remember Atlantic City as well as you do.”
Liam snorted at his answer.
“Well. I doubt we’ll have sex in one of the stalls today. Unless you-?”Yes, there's nothing like dismantling those homophobic myths and stereotypes gay media is determine to swat away like writing about gay guys fucking in a public toilet. Out of the mouths of babes.
Shay took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, forcing himself to remain calm. They both knew that Liam wasn’t only there to help him in case things should get awry. Did the council honestly think he would switch sides so easily?When you're a moody gay man, yes, yes you will change sides easily provided dick is involved.
“Should I be impressed by your newly found dedication to your job or insulted by your insistence that there will be absolutely no sex between us in the near future?” There was a laugh caught between Liam’s words, however, almost covering up the edge of bitterness in his voice.
Shay rolled his eyes.
“You’re entirely too pre-occupied with my dick,” he sighed. “Still, it would be good to have you there.”Yes, I would definitely trust you with a top secret mission when all you can think about is A: sex in a public toilet; B: sucking dick in a ferry's public toilet; and C: sucking dick and fucking in a ferry's public toilet. We're crushing that homophobia and flying the rainbow flag, now!
He didn’t know whether it had been Assassin or not – they wouldn’t stoop so low as to abduct children, would they?You're in an organization that murders people for a living. Why would you think it is 'so low' for them to kidnap children? If it means getting the job done, yes, kidnapping children would be involved. This happens all the time in spy organizations; in fact, for many it's a primary recruitment option for new spies. You joined around Connor's age, Shay. Just because you weren't kidnapped, doesn't mean it's beyond your reasoning young kids can join/be forced into the Creed. The Farm is a prime example of that.
He looked up, meeting Haytham’s gaze and noticing how close they somehow ended up standing to each other. Shay realised he had never truly paid attention to just how piercing Haytham’s eyes were, or how fine the bone structure of his face was. Warmth began to pool somewhere in the region of his stomach, and he could feel his mouth going dry.You don't have much in the way of relationship or character development, but you sure can get hot when you notice how beautiful your boss's face is. What was that about not falling for those romance cliches that so plague heterosexual literature?
Liam had been right: Vancouver Island was covered in caves. A quick search on the internet already yielded hundreds of results, and it made Shay hope fervently that Haytham and Gist did indeed know the location of what they were looking for.You use the Internet now when you didn't earlier? Huh. Glad you've gotten past your fears, Shay. You're finally thinking for yourself!
Hiding amongst trees seemed a romantic and exciting notion at first, but it could quickly become tiresome and slightly embarrassing if performed amongst a multitude of tourists. Shay still had the copy of a newspaper article saved on his laptop where someone had caught Ezio climbing the colosseum. The police had nearly arrested him; the story was a classic amongst each successive generation of novices by now.It's no wonder the Assassins keep losing to the Templars. They have Master Assassins and Mentors climbing buildings in broad daylight, ending up as memes to be shared on FaceBook. Their novices don't know what the Hell they're going after and can't be bothered to use Google Maps; and, finally, one of their agents they sent to spy on a Templar Grand Master despite not having the necessary qualifications is too busy daydreaming about fucking an old love in the trees.
Definitely smashing those gay stereotypes, Saetha.
Shay had to admit that he was right. Still, it rankled at him that he apparently had to be content with sitting here and doing nothing whilst the Templars were potentially unearthing an important artefact.You don't have to sit there. You've been spying on them but haven't gathered enough information to see what they plan to do with the artifacts anyways. You can simply wait until they leave the cave. It's not hard. You know patience is a virtue, right?
At the beginning of Chapter 7, Shay deals with the consequences of destroying the artifact and creating an earthquake that ravages Vancouver.
Just two problems. One, Shay doesn't actually deal with the consequences. And two, Vancouver, sitting on the Pacific, is next to the Juan de Fuca Pacific plate. Buildings on this coastline, especially in California, are required to be retrofitted with earthquake resistant foundations and steel beams. This is done to reduce damage and deaths from the initial earthquake and the aftershocks. 5,000 people die in this earthquake, compared to the original Portuguese earthquake which killed anywhere from 10,000 to 100,000 people and was catastrophic to the nation's economy. 5,000 isn't a joke, for sure, but sitting next to the Juan de Fuca plate 5,000 is a walk in the park.
Ever since their disastrous return from Vancouver, Shay had barely felt alive. How his flimsy lies had held up before the Templars, he didn’t know; but somehow, he had convinced them that his outgoing flight had been affected by the earthquake when they crossed paths again in Vancouver. Liam had quickly left him to his own devices, to ‘avoid detection’, as he said. Shay suspected that it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t bear listening to his raving admissions of guilt and self-flagellation anymore.This wouldn't convince anyone. The Templars were watching the cave and miraculously didn't include any surveillance equipment to keep curious tourists out. And it just so happens the Grand Master's assistant is a guy who used to work at Dunkin' Donuts with no business experience, and who happened to go missing from his hotel room. It's not hard to put two and two together, and any Templars on the island wouldn't be able to leave, either. Your flimsy lies fly because the Templars are idiots just like the Assassins.
‘Well, I’m actually an Assassin and tried to steal the artefact you were searching for, thereby ‘accidentally’ killing more than five thousand people?’ The need to tell someone, anyone, who would listen to his current predicament was so strong that he almost gave in. Especially since the Assassin Council had dismissed Shay’s failure as nothing more than that – a momentary failure, a minor setback at most. In fact, they had commended him for taking the initiative and trying to recover the artefact by himself. All of them seemed to regard the death of so many innocents as a regretful coincidence, rather than a momentous tragedy and tremendous mistake. No, the burden was Shay’s, and Shay’s alone to bear.You don't make it a secret about what you are. Besides, if the Brotherhood is commending you for going after the artifact, and knowing full well that it caused the earthquake...they, as much as you, are celebrating breaking the Creed, aren't they? Why would they dismiss your failure when they are as guilty as you are in the deaths of 5,000 people? Why didn't you try to argue your case, Shay? Why are you taking the burden upon yourself when you could have told the Brotherhood there is a WMD hiding in a cave and they should be left alone because there'll be untold amounts of destruction?
Yes, it's a tremendous mistake. It's a burden. And your'e carrying it because you refused to tell the Brotherhood what happened and are shocked and appalled at a death toll of 5,000 people in an area bordering a major fault line. Seismology. What is that?
Instead, he still found himself turning his head at every sudden sound, expecting the sight that had been haunting his nightmares to have come back: water and mud everywhere, filled with debris and bodies, highlighting the destruction around him. All his fault. All his.Yes, and this is even truer since you don't want to admit you couldn't tell the Council what happened. In-game Shay told Achilles and Achilles did not want to believe him. Here, Shay doesn't even bother to explain his side of the story. His moral conscience rests on him sucking his boss's dick.
“I feel that maybe, if I’d just stayed, I somehow could’ve helped more. Instead of waiting at the airport for my delayed flight to leave, I could’ve done something. Could’ve used the connections with the company to…do more. I don’t know.” He gave a half-hearted shrug.Nothing stopped you. But I bet you would've done something if Haytham's life was endangered.
“There are things that nobody should have to deal with on their own. If you want to talk, we’re here. Or if you’d rather see a professional, I’ve got a few numbers. Just…I’ve seen too many young people destroyed by their own mind. Don’t become one of them.”I suspect this is the author's viewpoint talking. Stress kills, depression is a bigger killer. Yet in Shay's case, he's getting depressed at an event he deliberately caused and exacerbated by not telling the Brotherhood. I can't feel sympathy for him. He made his bed, let him lie in it.
He wondered if this was what it was like to have a family who cared.Suck enough dick and you might find one.
He’d been close to taking up Monro’s offer for someone to talk to once or twice but was held back each time by the distinct knowledge that nobody could know. He didn’t trust any confidentiality agreements; one way or the other the Templars would find out what he had done and who he was. Drowning himself in alcohol would still be preferable to the end that would expect him at their hands. Not even his good standing with the Grand Master himself would be able to save him then.You being Haytham's assistant and drinking on the job is definitely going to be noticed. They're going to wonder why a random assistant is getting all worked up over a natural disaster, and no, 'death of a family member' wouldn't cut it. Nobody could know there was a Precursor WMD in that cave, despite the Templars looking for it and the Assassins suspecting the Templars are looking for it.
I'd like to say you're insulting your audience, but they're probably too wowed by your PhD and are too busy salivating over the pairing to care.
The Assassins, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care either – outside his regular reports back to the council, he had little contact with them. Liam had been withdrawn ever since they had parted on Vancouver Island, refusing to answer Shay’s questions as to what the Assassins were going to do about the artefacts and the fact that they seemingly held the world together. In all fairness, it wasn’t as if Shay was going out of his way to get into contact with him either; no, he rather preferred to be on his own for now.They don't care because you didn't tell them. Despite their tenet of 'never harming an innocent', they preceded over an event in which 5,000 people died. You didn't tell them the truth, Shay, so they will continue to operate in ignorance. They lack the self-awareness to deduce the Templar search for Precursor artifacts led to that cave and whatever was in that cave set off the earthquake. They don't have anyone with analytical skills, it seems.
Shay could feel the hyperawareness of Haytham’s body creep through every single one of his sinews. He didn’t quite know exactly what it was that overrode his last defences – the alcohol, the lingering tendrils of depression, defiance and spite against the Brotherhood, or simple recklessness. Either way, at some point he simply stopped caring.There's drunk sex, there's sex to relieve temporary depressive feelings, and one-night stands. All have varying degrees of intimacy. Here, Shay fucks his boss in a relationship he over analyzed. It's not unconditional love. It's conditional lust.
This is an awful decision, the last vestiges of his mind, still capable of rationality, screamed.But you'll still do it anyways, because your cock is talking.
They were both slightly uncoordinated, sloppy from too much alcohol, distracted by the expectations of too many unfulfilled daydreams. However, there was an undeniable hunger in the way their lips touched, and no shyness at all, neither from Haytham nor from him.This relationship came from nowhere. Only now do I even see a hint of 'daydreams' or some kind of erotic thoughts from Haytham. Before, this was all in Shay's mind. There wasn't even an attempt at friendship here. This romance came as sudden as the spew in a malfunctioning toilet.
“Fuck propriety,” Shay hissed, reaching down to palm Haytham’s crotch through his pants. “I want it. And if there is anything else but the notion of manners holding you back, we will stop and never speak about this again.”
“No,” Haytham’s voice was low and raspy in his throat. “You- I’ve been wanting you so much that it hurts. I did not want to abuse my station-“Again, this shit came out of literally nowhere. Haytham didn't want to 'abuse' his station with a #MeToo harassment allegation (and it's even better when it's a man accusing another man of inappropriate sexual advances) but he'll still abuse his station while you're drunk. OK.
“Do you have condoms?” Haytham would’ve sounded remarkably collected, if not for the edge of heat pulling at his voice. Shay growled and cursed.
“No lube either,” he said. Well, he hadn’t exactly expected to begin this year by fucking his boss in the printing room. Haytham expelled a sharp breath, making Shay shiver at the sensation of heat on his skin.What, no barebacking or spit as lube? You surprise me, Saetha. So glad these guys are focusing on safe sex.
Whatever Haytham was trying to say, growling against his skin, it was unintelligible and lost as he came, spilling hot over Shay’s hand.Well this didn't take long. Not even a minute? My dude, you need practice.
Whoever had taught Haytham to give blowjobs must have been a true master. If it hadn’t been for the door in his back, Shay was fairly sure he would have stumbled and slid to the ground.His adviser was Monica Lewinsky. He learned how to walk around on his hands and knees all throughout the office.
“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes, make me feel.” Something, anything again. Make me forget and feel alive, all at once. Haytham’s fingers dug more deeply into his skin, his rhythm changing slightly, becoming even more intense, with just the faintest grazing of his teeth.Make you feel what? What it's like on Cloud 69?
Shay almost lost his balance when he finally came, despite the door behind him holding him up. He looked down and there was something about the sight of Haytham, mouth still swollen and sticky, that almost made him hard again.Hope Shay didn't eat fish beforehand. I'd suggest some Listerine for Haytham to wash out the taste.
His motives had hardly been unselfish. He could tell himself that he had only been trying to distract Haytham to get to his papers, but there was hardly any truth to it. ‘I need you to fuck me properly at some point in the very near future’ seemed slightly presumptuous. ‘Good Night’ was perhaps the safest option, although hardly appropriate.Imagine being sent on a mission to find out where Precursor artifacts are, killing a bunch of people by inadvertently destroying one, entering a bout of depression and drinking binges, and topping it off with the fantasy that you want to fuck your boss in an anal reach around.
Busting asses as well as busting those gay stereotypes.
Chapter 8 begins with this doozy:
“You have no new information?” Achilles frowned, looking rather sceptical. “Nothing new, not since last year? It’s April.”
“No.” Shay shook his head. Except for how the Templar Grand Master and I can’t seem to stop shagging in inconvenient locations. He coughed quietly. After the earthquakes in the previous year, Templar business seemed to have slowed down considerably. He’d shared some minor information regarding Templar accounts, but that was the majority of what he’d been able to find.Imagine being the guy sent to go after these things but nothing even gathering enough intel or courage to tell your superiors they cannot disturb these things or else people will die. But oh no, you'd rather fuck your boss, suck his dick, and dream about sucking his dick instead. I'm going to trust the Dunkin' Donuts guy with his cream getting licked out of the hole with sensitive information and people's lives.
And although no concrete plans had been made, he was loath to tell the Brotherhood about the newest traces they had of the Precursor Artefacts. None of them understood. None of them wanted to acknowledge that touching, using the Precursor Artefacts had been the reason for thousands of deaths during the previous year. To Shay’s mind, nobody should find them, be they Templar or Assassin.But you're not telling anyone the truth, Shay. Not even your own Brotherhood. You know the Templars are searching for them - and the Brotherhood apparently doesn't have other people doing their research - but you won't tattle because...what? Because you're fucking your boss? Yeah, OK, buddy.
Shay was glad that they couldn’t see his hands under the table in front of him. He had clenched them tightly to keep the shaking from travelling to the other parts of his body. His anger was like a dark wave, rolling through his mind. Over six thousand people dead, he thought. And you don’t seem to bat an eye.You didn't tell them, Shay. You didn't even try. Stop acting as if they piss you off when you were the one who didn't take the first step. He is later informed the Rite all over is on the move, and the Brotherhood just can't figure it out.
Even Mr. Potatohead had more intelligence than these fuckwads.
Despite his growing dissatisfaction with the Brotherhood, he was intrigued. It was the stuff every novice’s dreams were made of – a large conspiracy that needed unraveling, a chance to prove oneself, to save the world. A year ago, he and Liam would’ve been beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of a mission like this. And even now, he could feel an inkling of excitement inside him, the deep-seated urge to find out more and be the first one to solve the puzzle. It was almost enough to cut through the grey fog that still seemed to cloud his mind on most days when he wasn’t fucking his boss or sampling the contents of his liquor cabinet at home.You are just now figuring this out, when you didn't when you unleashed and earthquake? Jesus Christ, dude. You are one slow motherfucker. But you'll happily screw your boss, because priorities.
He knew for a fact that the Brotherhood did care; they had counselling sessions, therapists at hand in at least some of their centres, with some of its members steadily pushing for more. It was just that they didn’t really seem to care much about him.But you didn't tell anyone. What makes you think I'll give a damn about your mental health sessions when you don't tell anyone about the event you caused? Christ almighty. A Ph-fucking-D wrote this. Waaah, they don't care about my feelings! Here, have a rope. It's better if you try jump rope around your neck.
Shay hated how such a simple touch already electrified him. It became harder and harder for him to separate the man whose body he was helplessly and foolishly attracted to from the Grand Master of the Templar Order he was supposed to spy on. And the fact that he had started to develop a grudging respect for the Haytham Kenway himself was something he’d rather not dwell on at all. Such thoughts were far too dangerous.They're 'too dangerous', but you sucked his dick anyways and continue to drink your sorrows - completely deserved, btw - while also continuing to fuck your boss. Of course you're going to hate how a single touch is so 'electric', because you're a gay man driven by lust. You can't rationalize anything, but you can think with your dick. You can't tell the Brotherhood the truth, or even try to, but you're fine falling in love with your boss.
Yup, definitely crushing those romance tropes.
Shay sometimes wondered whether it had been Monro who’d put him up to peppering hints about mental health in their conversations. The fact that they kept having sex only seemed to complicate matters in that regard – the both annoying and unexpectedly soft thing about Haytham was that he never initiated any of their sexual encounters, despite proving himself more than willing throughout the act. Shay knew that it was solely due to him not wanting to abuse his station, but he still wished he would see some more initiative from him.You keep having sex because you think that is going to solve your problems. It won't. It only makes you feel worse in the end, especially if the person doesn't love you. You leaped into the arms of your boss, Shay, in order to assuage your guilt, but all it's making you do is engage in self-destructive behaviour you won't apologize for. Haytham is already abusing his station with you because he knows you are suffering but does what he wants anyways. It's wrong - gay or straight. If you care about someone you don't use them in this way.
The concept of a holiday, of the personal freedom to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, hadn’t really existed for him thus far. He was vaguely aware that some of the more senior members of the Brotherhood maintained their own private lives on the side, some even taking a break from time to time. It had never really been a question for him, however.You're a guy who likes playing by his own rules, and generally don't take things too seriously. I'm not sure why this issue is being brought up. Also, how are you 'vaguely aware' of what the Mentors' lives are like when you know they're married and even in polygamous/open relationships? Do you even remember what you wrote, Saetha? Does the gala ring any bells?
“What could possible so urgent as to almost blow my cover? Do you even realise how dangerous-“
“I do realise, Shay.” Hope’s glare could have turned a volcano to ice. “You forget that I still outrank you. I know about your mission and its importance, and I know about the danger of waltzing into a centre of Templar activity unprotected.”It's not as if you're hiding your cover, Shay. Hope outranks you yet waltzes in to a Templar stronghold when she hasn't heard of a text message. You remember that burner phone, right Shay? Might be a good idea to use it once in a while.
“The Templars attacked one of our two main quarters here. We don’t know where they got the information from, but they were over us like a thunderstorm. Liam and I were in Boston for a mission – he stayed to nail down the last bits of mission prep whilst I went out to grab lunch.Imagine this: you're a group of lethal killers struggling against your mortal enemy who operates under the guise of a massive media conglomerate. You end up losing one of your agents when you go to get a fucking sandwich. Jesus Christ. There's nothing more incompetent or Florida Man material worthy than that.
How had he not known? How could he have been so blind? If Liam died…
And all because you couldn’t keep your dick inside your pants, Shay thought. If he had only paid more attention to the happenings around Haytham, put more effort into uncovering the Templar plots. Perhaps he could’ve seen it all coming.Whose fault is that? Yours. And yes, it's all because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants. You're incompetent and you're a stereotypical gay man. It's a shame you're not the only one who's a total idiot - your friend gets kidnapped while his superior goes to buy a fucking sandwich. Wew, lad.
The hidden blades of their historical predecessors had been large and bulky things, difficult to hide; nowadays they were sleek and so well designed that their presence was barely noticeable, even underneath his well-fitted suit jacket.The whole point of a hidden blade is that they are hidden. If they're big and bulky like a Roblox outfit then they're not practical for use in any time frame.
Shay had seen the corpses of one of his siblings in the Creed before, but this…somehow it was different.How is it different? You're trained for this. If you can't handle seeing a dead body, you have no reason to be in this occupation. You cannot have an Assassin who runs at the first sight of blood.
In the beginning of Chapter 9, there was this lovely note:
(Also, apparently people are now hatereading this fic, so it's a great coincidence that I (who, btw, is neither female nor straight) was able to add even more fanfic clichés and gay things to this chapter. Just to piss you off ❤)There are plenty of reasons to be pissed off at this fic, but the gay relationship actually isn't one. It's how utterly stupid the plot is, AND it's written at the hands of a PhD. It speaks volumes, then, that an author tee-heeing over someone being 'pissed off' promptly moderated comments so she/he/zim/zir wouldn't get any more critical comments. That says a lot more about you than it does me.
Shay could feel his fingers clenching into a fist.
“And you? Do you believe I was the traitor?” He raised his eyes then, directly meeting Liam’s gaze. It was Liam who looked away first, clearly uncomfortable.
“I don’t know,” he finally said, seemingly forcing out the words one by one. “You’ve changed. I can’t tell anymore.”
“I came and saved your fucking life.” And there it was again, the anger running through him so bright and hot, like liquid iron in his veins. “That should be answer enough for you.”For one, we don't actually know who the mole is. But it's not too impractical to suspect Shay. After all, he caused the earthquake and yet didn't tell the Brotherhood what had happened. The Templars have no reason to suspect he's innocent, either, so all this suspicion Shay is getting is wholly deserved. He's a bad liar.
Of course he's changed, Liam. Can't you see the whipped cream at the side of his mouth?
“Well. I still remember what happened the first time we got hold of a pack.” Shay watched with no small amount of glee how Liam choked on his Twizzler. He couldn’t help but add: “That’s almost the exact same sound you made when you tried to give me your first blowjob.”
“I hate you, Shay. You know that? I hate you.” Liam was gasping for air and whether his face was red from choking or a remnant of the embarrassment from that first night, Shay couldn’t tell. “You weren’t really faring any better though, were you.”A normal human reaction to a friend, a lover, or someone you care about being suspected of a highly treasonous act isn't to brag about sexual conquests or blowjobs. You would normally press them to convince yourself of their guilt or innocence. The shock of the accusation alone should turn off your sexual drive completely, but, apparently, none of these guys have any clamps on those balls of theirs so it's a free-for-all all the time.
“Although you have to admit, a nest of hay might sound romantic, but is a terrible place for sex in reality. You can’t blame me for complaining and wanting to move somewhere else in the middle of it.”
“I think I was still finding bits of hay in my clothes days later,” Liam agreed cheerfully. “Still, it could’ve been worse. I guess.”
“I pulled a damn piece of straw out of my ass in the shower later that day,” Shay grumbled. The memory was still far too vivid for his taste. Liam just looked at him for a moment before breaking out into haltless laughter.Hope you didn't get cowshit or chickenshit on that hay. Wouldn't want some parasite crawling up the poop chute, now would we?
“You’re such a prick,” Liam growled. He put the pack of Twizzlers aside, his healthy hand closing around Shay’s wrist like an iron vice. “I can’t believe I kept fucking you.”
“Me neither.” Instead of trying to free his hand from Liam’s grip, Shay leaned forwards, until his other hand was gripping Liam’s other thigh, not far away from where he’d been stabbed with a knife and definitely closer to his groin than was decent.I don't know if Saetha ever used that PhD, but normally, stab victims or people with broken bones have sex as the last thing on their minds. Why? Because there is a thing called pain, and you are often on painkillers. If you were also stabbed near the nuts, it's not a good to get frisky so soon after an injury.
Liam only hissed something unintelligible under his breath before he pulled Shay close, crushing their mouths together. As much as Shay was loathe to admit it, a part of him had missed this, longed for it even now, the way that Liam’s hands were anything but gentle on his body, the way his teeth were digging into his flesh, how his breath hitched against Shay’s skin when he was digging into Liam’s wounds just so. As per mutual agreement, they had never really been gentle with each other.
Shay pushed Liam back against the bed before climbing over him, careful not put any pressure on his broken bones. Despite his anger, and their preference for roughness during sex, he had no desire to seriously hurt him.This is exactly what I mean: the guy was nearly castrated from a knife, suffered multiple broken bones and lesions, and you're already going to have rough sex. In an infirmary where people can hear you. Where there are probably cameras and microphones. Where there are nurses working nearby. Yeah, you guys are totes subtle.
“You don’t happen to have any condoms here, do you.” Shay’s voice was breathless as he nipped at Liam’s lips, tearing at his shirt even as Liam’s hand dug deep grooves into his back.
“In the bloody infirmary? Don’t be dense.” Liam snorted, followed by a harsh moan as Shay reached that spot right behind his ear. “I think there’s some Vaseline in the cupboard over there though.”
“I’m not fucking you without a condom,” Shay hissed between two sharp breaths. Liam’s fingers had already made their way down towards his ass. “Forget it.”
“Use your damn fingers then.”Mighty fine of you to suggest safe sex with your clearly seriously injured friend. At least if there's any blood, those Maxipads will sop it up. Vaseline will make a nice mess, too, so I hope you packed some wet wipes, my dude.
Adéwalé was standing a half-step behind him, mustering Shay with eagle eyes. His gaze was so intense that Shay was certain Adéwalé knew of his little ill-advised tryst with Liam the previous evening.No fucking shit. You weren't really making a secret of it. You did it because you wanted to be caught.
Ten Assassins dead. And eight Templars. Shay took a shaky breath. The war between them had always been bloody, even in modern times. But this was a high number of lives snuffed out within a single week, far too high. Ezio was silent, the weight of his and Adéwalé’s stares at Shay an almost physical assault. It took Shay a moment to catch up on where their thoughts must have been going.Another PhD skill at work. In this AU, Mentors and legends like Altair and Ezio are alive, and the Assassins aren't in dire straits. Losing two dozen people isn't that much of a loss - more people are shot in Chicago in a single weekend. Besides, over 5,000 are dead from an earthquake and that was Hell on Earth for you, Shay.
“Would I have come here alone if any of this was my fault? Shouldn’t there have been an army of Templars attacking the Farm and our other most secret hiding places if I’d given you all away?” Shay demanded to know. His knuckles were white; the shaking inside his body stemming not from fear, but unbridled fury. “I dedicated my life to the Brotherhood. A modicum of trust is the least I could expect in return.”
“Which is why we have decided to give you another chance to prove yourself.” Adéwalé raised a hand, as if to stem the flow of angry words from Shay’s mouth. “Kenway clearly knows too much about us. He has become too dangerous, too powerful.”
No. No, no, no. Shay knew exactly where this was going. But he could no more stop the words coming out of Adéwalé’s mouth than he could stop an avalanche with bare hands.You haven't done any to earn their trust or told them what happened to the Precursor Artifact, Shay. You've delivered no useful information. The Brotherhood wonders how Templars are infiltrating and destroying their bases and the answer lies at their own feet: they're a bunch of incompetent idiots, especially if they think a Dunkin' Donuts guy can get a high-ranking Grand Master to spill his secrets.
A PhD truly at work.
Chapter 10 begins with a 'trigger warning' for police brutality. Oh, come on, Saetha. I know you only care about police brutality when it involves black people. Maybe Shay should invest in a BLM t-shirt for extra brownie points.
He reached into the bag in front of him, putting on his weapons one by one – his hidden blade, favourite knife and handgun, an assortment of small throwing knives. He’d haven taken more weaponry, such as his beloved stun grenades, but he still had to be able to hide them beneath his normal work clothes, so as not to arouse suspicion when he entered the building.If you can hide a gun, you can hide stun grenades. Women in the Vietnam war hid grenades in their hats before throwing them at American soldiers; Muslim women in Afghanistan routinely hide them under their burqas. They're not that noticeable. Have you even seen a stun grenade, Saetha? They fit on neat little clips on SWAT team belts. They're not huge canisters.
His heart was thumping loudly in his chest when he took the elevator up to the floor of Haytham’s office. The thoughts in his head were a swirling maelstrom of guilt, fear and burning anger. So many people were dead because of Haytham’s orders. And so many more because you carried out the Assassins’ orders, an unhelpful voice in his head whispered. What gives you the right to decide which side of the scales is heavier? And if not him, then who else?Sorry, but this moral dilemma speech won't convince anyone but mouthbreathers with stick fingers. You happily fucked your boss knowing what he did and what he was capable of. You did nothing to stop him. In regards to the Brotherhood, you did nothing when the earthquake happened. You didn't tell them about the nature of the artifacts. You kept all of it to yourself out of pure selfishness. Don't expect me to pity you when you're happy swallowing the come of your boss. Go fuck yourself.
“How long have you known?”
Haytham raised his eyebrows.
“From the beginning, of course. Oh, your…siblings in the Creed tried their very best and delivered quite passable work, but you didn’t seriously expect me to not vet any possible candidate for my personal assistant as thoroughly as possible, did you?”What a shocker. I totally did not see this coming. Man, what a revelation!
“-Sex? I’m afraid, that last point was utterly unplanned for.” Haytham rolled his shoulders ever so slightly, hissing when the movement jolted his injured arm. A strange expression flickered across gaze, leaving as quickly as it had come. “It seems I’m not free from weakness, after all.”
Shay fervently wished that the answer would’ve been different. He’d have preferred ice-cold manipulation to whatever it was that had sprung up between them.Shay, when you're too busy sucking dick, it tends to cloud your judgment. But, you never had any to begin with so this rollercoaster ride was bound to be taken to the shortbus anyways.
“You know, I am not sure, as loathe as I am to admit it. Because I held out hopes that you would see the futility of your Assassin ways, perhaps. Or because I thought you would lead me to some of the secrets your Brotherhood likes to harbour. In time, a conveniently planted tracker might have revealed useful locations. At least, your presence never bored me.”How come Haytham didn't do this from the get-go, to see where Shay was going? Or did PhD Saetha conveniently forget that while ranting about AC lore she/him/ze/zir obviously doesn't care for?
Yeah, it tends to happen when that's all you're good for.
“…it might surprise you to hear, but you really are a damn good fuck. Perhaps, if things had been different…” There was the tiniest flicker of surprise in Haytham’s eyes at the last words, but Shay barely paid attention to it. He dropped his gun, ducking at the same time and sprinting forwards in a roll, bringing the large and solid desk in between him and Haytham’s gun. He ripped the letter opener out of his shoulder with a curse. A shot rang out, but, as he’d hoped, just a millisecond too late. He could feel the heat of the bullet whizzing a hair’s breadth over his head.
Wait a minute. Wait just a cotton pickin' minute. Did you just drop your gun in a gunfight? A gun you only fire two shots out of, and which is still loaded?
Never go full retarded. You don't bring knives to a gunfight, and you sure as hell don't drop a fully loaded gun while doing a roll. How in the ever living fuck did you get your PhD, Saetha?
Shay threw himself around the side of the table again, not hesitating a single moment before launching himself at Haytham and making a grab for the gun in his hand. However, Haytham had realised how useless his firearm was, dropping it before Shay’s hands could close around his wrist. Instead, he brought his elbow around to ram into Shay’s throat. Shay blocked the hit and brought his other arm down, reaching for the hilt of the knife still in Haytham’s belly.You could've prevented this had you not dropped your fucking gun. Jesus Christ. Also, neck wounds, even if they're superficial, bleed a lot. The skin is thin there and it's distracting. Shay doesn't even try to close up the wound because it 'doesn't matter'. I should also mention stomach wounds aren't superficial either. If you pierce the stomach, the acid will burn any exposed tissue. Pierce the intestines, you might have a problem with disembowelment. Pierce the artery in the stomach, and you'll be dead in under two minutes.
Saetha, there's Google. It's not hard.
Chapter 10 ended with the police brutality scene I expected but didn't get. What a shame. I wanted a nearby NPC to shout 'Black Lives Matter!'
Chapter 11 starts off with a surprising bit of self-reflection:
He had failed.
Failed at his mission, at being an Assassin, hell, he had failed at being a decent human being to begin with. The Assassins would think that he had been the traitor after all, since he hadn’t killed Haytham. The Templars would be out for his blood after almost killing their Grand Master. And even if law enforcement ever released him (unlikely to happen any time soon, given how they had caught him with Haytham’s blood on his hands and holding a knife to his throat), he would be hunted by both. It was a surprise that he hadn’t been taken in and interrogated by the Templars on the Force yet.Yes, Shay. You did fail. You didn't even tell your superiors about an event you caused. Don't have this moral 'woe is me, I fucked up and you should feel bad for me' monologue because you have done nothing in this story to deserve such pity. I don't think Saetha is even capable of writing such dialogue without the help of others, so...
Yes, you broke into your boss's apartment. You attacked him, he attacked you. The motive is not yet clear. Self-defense is obvious for Haytham's case, and you were caught with your hidden blade and hidden knives. You didn't think what would happen if you got caught, did you Shay?
There was no path into the future where he’d be able to find any sort of absolution. No path that he could take that would make things okay again. The only reason he didn’t give voice to the screams inside him was because he didn’t want to draw more attention from the guards.At this point, I'd suggest some boxing gloves for the times you've punched yourself in the face. I'm not going to feel sorry for you or think you're three-dimensional especially with all the lampshading here. Saetha wants me to think she/he/zim/zir is deep and capable of writing complex emotions, but I'm just reading an edgy gay man upset he got caught in a mission he was explicitly tasked not to fail.
The only hint that he'd been shot and knifed three days ago was his slightly awkward sitting position and the fact that he wasn't wearing a full suit for a change, only dress shirt and pants. And some thick woollen socks instead of shoes, as Shay noticed with an amused smile. They looked very much like something that Ratohnhaké:ton would gift his father.Pretty sure you need more protection from a stomach wound, and if Haytham got elbowed/punched in the face, there'd be bruises. Dude must have awesome healing powers. Does he get his skin cream from Umbrella?
His hand was slightly cold, but its familiar touch still sent goose bumps down Shay’s spine. For just a second, he thought about kissing Haytham, imagined those fingers travelling down his chest and the feeling of Haytham’s lips on his skin. Haytham’s thoughts evidently walked along similar avenues – Shay could see the slight twitching of muscles in his cheeks, a sign that he had grown to know far too intimately over the recent months."I'm a failed Assassin and I failed the Brotherhood, but that's OK because my boss forgives me and he gives me a boner every time he touches me."
Chapter 12 has this gem from George Monro:
“You are, I believe, a young man who has been through a series of extraordinary events,” Monro said thoughtfully. “And that you do not blindly accept what people tell you only speaks highly of you. You already know for yourself what’s right and wrong; now you just have to bring it into harmony with everyone else’s beliefs, even if they might be different.”Yeah...that's bullshit. Shay blindly accepted what the Brotherhood sent him to go after. He never did any research and he never bothered to tell them what happened. All he cared about was the D. He has no pragmatism or critical thinking skills, and any guilt he has over his actions is mitigated the moment Haytham makes pretty eyes at him. It's a fine way of saying and proving gay men are shallow and don't care how many people suffer for their own wants.
“How did you find me?” Shay asked.
“Did you really think we wouldn’t keep tabs on you? After everything?” Liam’s voice was biting. Shay could feel his eyes narrowing as he mentally sorted through his possessions.
“The burner phone,” he said, understanding dawning inside him. Fury followed not far behind.Yeah, the same phone you had on you the entire time which you conveniently forgot. Neither the Assassins or Templars ever thought to put a tracer on it, and only now did Shay even conceive the Assassins are capable of finding out where he is because of the phone they gave him. Not only that, they didn't think to use it to listen in on his conversations (there was no indication he'd ever turned off his phone). If a guy can do it in 'Law Abiding Citizen', so can Assassins. Probably.
“They ‘cautioned you against it’?” He frowned, his fury once more sweeping aside any sympathy he might have felt after Liam’s admission of fear for him. “They never expected me to return, did they.”The original Levantine Assassins in history often took their own lives after killing a target. This was so they could not be tortured for information. They were not shamed; in fact, the were lauded to get into Paradise. Even while later Brotherhoods didn't take such a drastic approach, it is to be expected when, going after any Grand Master, you are expected to lose your life. You need to make peace with it and understand you are doing it for the greater good. Shay has difficulty understanding this, and Saetha doesn't understand AC Lore as much as she/he/whatever thinks she/he/whatever does.
“If I’d died then tough luck, at least we got rid of an unwanted member of our Brotherhood. If I’d killed Haytham and returned, then all the better! And if I’d turned traitor and joined forces with him, well, then at least they could be reassured they had been right all along. How very convenient.”Well, yeah. Not like you're keeping any secrets, Shay.
“I told you, I haven’t sided with them,” he explained, feeling endlessly tired. “But if you want to know why I don’t hate them with the same burning passion you seem to, the answer is simple – because they care. Or at least some of them do. Monro, for example, was there for me in a way that nobody else ever was. Gist, too.” He didn’t mention Haytham. That topic was still far too complex for him to touch upon, let alone talk about with Liam.
“I could’ve been there for you. Hope could’ve been. Hell, even Adéwalé, or Ezio. But you never asked us, never let us come close enough to help. You just vanished, Shay!” There was real hurt in Liam’s voice now. Shay shrugged and spread his arms slightly.Look, if this is some mental health awareness thing you've lost the plot even worse than you already have. Shay doesn't have room to cry about 'muh feelings' when he was candid letting other people's lives be lost so long as he got to fuck Haytham in the board room. That's how shallow and callous he is. Yet, you expect me to believe he deserves sympathy because he has feelings? Fuck right off and bend over the the Mac truck.
Two, Shay didn't completely vanish. The Brotherhood knew where he was. It doesn't know that Shay kept the earthquake's true origins a secret, however. That lies entirely on him.
Shay dropped down and to the side, flinging himself at Liam. Or at least, that had been his ill-conceived, spontaneous plan. Liam pressed the trigger at the same time that Shay moved, and Shay could feel the bullet slam into his shoulder, throwing him backwards. He tried to stay on his feet, but suddenly the ground beneath him was gone and he was falling, falling, falling…
He landed on his shoulder, and the impact knocked all the air out of his body. He must have blacked out at least briefly. When he came to again, every single inch of him was hurting. He tried to move and found that he couldn’t, at least not without losing consciousness again. The ground beneath him was slowly turning warm from his blood. The shadow of a sharp and bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat as he looked up at the sky above.I don't think Saetha is aware of what 'stopping power' means. I assume Liam is using a basic 9mm without a silencer. You usually have about 13-20 rounds in a Glock or Baretta, but you can add extended clips to them for more. In a fight, it doesn't take one shot to bring down an assailant with a 9mm. If you watch any police clips, when an assailant is driven mad by adrenaline or fury or drugs, it can take two clips or more from multiple officers to bring them down. Stopping power is designed to make it easier. If Liam was using a SOCOM pistol or Desert Eagle with its .50 cal bullet, you would blow a hole through your target. If 'every inch' if you is hurting, it means the calibre of the bullet was pretty high. Saetha doesn't elaborate on this. I assume she/he/whatever thinks all guns are the same. PhD at work.
In Chapter 13, the end chapter, it is revealed Shay needed surgery after being shot in the shoulder. If the bullet made a clear path through the body with an entry and exit wound, you are usually released after a few days, if not hours depending on how extensive the injury is. If it the shot came from a hollow point, you are going to have a lot of torn flesh. However, I don't know what sort of round or weapon was used, but if Shay needed surgery, I assume it was pretty high. Anyways.
Hunted by his own people, not for any of the crimes he had actually committed, but for being part of the Order that he refused to join, even now. This was something for his therapist to sort out later – her practicality had already helped him put things slightly more into perspective.No shit. I wouldn't expect anything less.
In the end, Shay agrees to be Haytham's Tomb Raider and go on a date with him. The Brotherhood is hunting him, and he lets go and finds a therapist and everything is good.
However, as I've repeatedly pointed out, Shay isn't deserving of any good ending.
He repeatedly refused to tell the Assassins what the artifact in the cave did. In-game, he was angry the Assassins knew what it was capable of but refused to leave it alone; he was angry because he, as an Assassin, was responsible for hundreds of thousands dead. Achilles refused to believe him or listen to reason. Here, Shay simply opt for no explanation, even though Altair and Ezio - who experienced the Apples of Eden - would be inclined to believe him the most. Shay could have sought them out for advice, but he didn't. The whole scenario was his fault, and instead of feeling legitimate guilt, turned to drink (which the author decided trigger warnings were necessary) and sucking Haytham's cock. That is a sure way to make you a star in my eyes.
His character development revolves around screwing his boss. He doesn't know how the Internet works or even remember he has a burner phone with a tracer on it, but he knows all the soft spots of Haytham's rectum. He knows how to give head and whether to spit or swallow. He did nothing for the Brotherhood, and the one thing he was tasked to do - spy on Haytham - was spoiled from the get go because Haytham knew who he was.
Who would have thought, with a background in Dunkin' Donuts and not a business, would've roused suspicion?
In the tags, Saetha wrote she didn't want to 'fridge' Ziio. She made no appearance aside from being the 'divorced wife' of a now gay guy. The amusing thing about these authors is that they claim to care about female characters but will shove them aside in the name of gay romance. What's also worth noting is that the romance tropes they complain about in heterosexual romance novels are prevalent in M/M fics - but it's suddenly OK when they do it. How about it: a guy sent to spy on his boss and then fucks him? 50 Shades with a bit of Tom Clancy: A XXX Parody. Even those films have better plots and scripts.
Saetha,a PhD grad in I don't know what, apparently doesn't know what fault lines are, what constitutes a tragedy in terms of natural disaster, what spying means, how technology works, or how blending in works. Because crafting a character who only cares about sucking dick doesn't help your case. Hammering how bad he feels over the deaths of 5,000 + people before feeling jubilant over Haytham's cock doesn't help either. Either you realize you made Shay into a callous, stuck up gay guy who cares only about the sex he gets, or you keep on assuming it's OK. I'll go with the latter.
Saetha admits the story is cliche, but doesn't like others pointing it out, hence the modded comments. People turn to her/him/whatever for advice on their stories and for ideas. Coming from me, I hope they nuke the bitch before it takes off. Saetha doesn't want to admit she/him/whatever writes like E.L. James, but snarking at critics will work just as well.
Just hope that PhD didn't lead you to working at Dunkin' Donuts, boyo.
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