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junicai · 3 years

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applause.

| order no. | 10/21

| summary | While filming for NCT2020, Aria fears her interview partner is coming down with a fever. Spoiler alert: He’s not.

| word count | 1.8k

| warnings | None

| era | circa. December 2020

a/n: ok so i figured i’d mark my return to posting with a lil floof for the soul :) before i ruin it again :) so here u go here are two idiots being idiots :)

Oftentimes, it was easy to forget just how many members NCT had amassed over the years. With the sub-units separated the majority of the time for their own promotions; the odds were that if you weren’t in a sub-unit with another member, you’d rarely interact with them outside of the company walls.

NCT2020 was incredible in that sense. Twenty three boys and one girl, all in one room, singing the same songs and performing together. The impact left on the spring-flooring when they danced as a group physically shook the mirrors.

They had a reputation to uphold; something which every single member took as seriously as a blood oath.

Aria, over the years, had formed bonds with most of the other boys. She hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter; it was either, make friends with the people around you, or have no friends at all. It was lucky, in that sense, that they were all so warm and welcoming. She found her home in the 127 dorms, and later, her family with the Dreamies. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The fact remained, however, that when it came to Aria and WAYV - there was a gap. Be it because of the differing promotional schedules, or the fact that SM had point blank refused to acknowledge WAYV as a sub-unit of NCT up until the announcement of the NCT2020 promotions; the bottom line was, Aria didn’t know half of the members beyond their first name.

So, when the randomized name selection came out, and she was paired with Xiaojun; Aria took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a chance to start to form some new relationships.

She’d never been all too good at making friends as a child - always a little too shy, and then all of a sudden far too abrasive in a lost attempt to compensate for her earlier quietness.

Sitting beside the boy in question, Aria left her hands tucked beneath her thighs to prevent herself from fidgeting. The air between the two vocalists was thick; and Aria found herself looking around desperately for Mark or Ten or hell even Yuta, even though she knew Dejun was significantly more scared of him than her.

Anything to break the awkward, stifling silence that was hanging over the both of them.

“Do you-”

“Hey, I-”

They turned to face each other at the same time, sentences blending together before being cut off abruptly. Aria’s face flamed beneath the foundation, and by the darkening tips of Dejun’s ears, she could tell his cheeks were flushing as well.

“Go ahead.” He gestured with a nod.

“No no, it’s okay! What were you saying?” Aria disagreed.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you feel the breeze as well?” Dejun questioned, hands coming to tug his light jacket around his shoulders tighter. “It’s giving me goosebumps,” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aria frowned. “No? It’s quite warm in here I thought.” The pair were surrounded with several lamps that were shining large bulbs onto their faces. With the heat from them, and the blanket that she had tucked over the legs, Aria was toasty warm - but a quick glance at the thin material Dejun’s jacket was made out of had her untucking the corner and folding it out again.

“Here,” She offered, holding out the edge of the blanket.

“Oh no I can’t,” Dejun began to refuse, but a shiver ran down his spine, cutting his words up into pieces.

Aria raised an eyebrow. He relented.

“Thank you.” He acquiesced, once the soft material had been laid over his lap. He was still shivering lightly, but the body-shaking tremors had worn off, so Aria was better pleased than she was a minute ago.

“Okay!” A voice called from outside the set. “It’s just an interview, like you were both briefed. Feel free to take it where you want and - Aria can you just -” The director gestured to Dejun. “Don’t sit so far away, people will think you’re scared of him.” He teased.

Coughing lightly, Aria scooched towards Dejun, the blanket bunching up in-between their legs. She could feel him leaning back slightly, as if he was afraid of their faces being too close together.

“Little more.” He insisted, now peering at the two through the viewfinder of the camera.

Aria shuffled into the middle of the set’s sofa, her knee lightly brushing Dejun’s thigh.

“Better! Now just don’t look like someone’s about to shoot you.”

Aria opened her mouth before schooling her expression back into something less, terrified. “Sorry!”

This close, she could see the light flush that sat high on Dejun’s cheeks. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his chest was moving at a moderately quicker pace than it had been a few minutes ago.

Aria placed a hand on his arm, lightly, patting the exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves.

The filming went as well as it could. As they were told prior to entering the set; it was just a couple questions on how they were getting on together as a group, what it was like performing as a mix of all twenty three members, recounting some entertaining tidbits from the practice room or from behind stage.

Over the next hour, the icy feeling that had surrounded the two vocalists melted into a comfortable conversation, soon drifting away from the interview questions and flowing sweetly into a little chat that czennies were sure to adore.

With Dejun now turned to face Aria completely, and Aria sitting back with her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked beneath her; they were solely focused on each other; like the cameras had stopped rolling a half hour ago (They hadn’t) and they were old friends, catching up (They weren’t).

Aria learnt that Dejun had a penchant for green tea lattes, and the number eight. He slept on the top bunk, and was a lot funnier than his members gave him credit for.

Dejun learnt that Aria was a lot more accident prone than her ‘professional image’ would let on, that she has a dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that when she smiles she beams - bright enough to beat out a lightbulb - and that her favourite colour was yellow and she still looked at the stars when she got homesick.

Aria learnt that Dejun wanted to travel to Paris one day, that he wanted to learn how to bake bread properly and that he stayed up too late playing games only to regret it the next morning every single time.

Dejun learnt that Aria had an addicting laugh; and he wanted to hear it as many times as he could. That he wishes she’d let herself laugh for longer; that she wouldn’t lift her hand to cover her face as she giggled.

His cheeks flushed brighter, the tips of his ears now a bright red.

“Dejun? Are you alright?” Aria leant forwards into his space, her face moving closer to his. She had noticed the poor boy’s flush over the course of the last hour; but the pink was slowly becoming a deep red, and her concern was deepening with it.

Dejun immediately pulled back; floundering. “Yeah! Yup, yes, absolutely fine.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m doing wonderful! Are you alright? Aria?” Dejun flipped the question on her, sweat beginning to bead beneath his fringe.

Aria squinted at him, relenting. “I’m okay, yeah. Are you still cold?”

“No!” The reply was sharp, and she jerked back a little.

“Oh- okay- sorry?” Aria pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying the skin lightly.

Dejun could have punched himself in the face, but he settled for pinching himself beneath the blanket where it was out of sight.

“Aaand, cut!”

The two vocalists turned to the director who was grinning madly. “That was perfect, you two. I don’t know what you did, or where you pulled that from, but you’re definitely the best duo we’ve had in here so far.”

Aria didn’t think that was hard, there had only been two other groups in before them, but she kept these words wisely to herself.

“You’re both free to go! I’ll expect to be seeing a lot more of you together though, this is going to go down an absolute treat.” The director’s smug little grin reminded Aria of a cat who had gotten the cream; and her own little grin formed to match it.

“Thank you,” The two bowed lightly towards the staff, before collecting their things from the set and shuffling towards the door again. Once outside, they were silent again - but this time the lack of noise was not unsettling.

“Hey I-”

“What about-”

Dejun and Aria looked at each other momentarily, before bursting out into laughter.

“Okay that has to stop.” She giggled, hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Agreed,” Dejun coughed out, ears flushing one final time.

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You looked a little flushed back inside; that’s all.”

“Fine!” He squeaked. “It must have been, uh, the lights, or something. Yeah.”

Aria puffed her cheeks out, but made no further comment.

Pulling away, she slipped her feet into the runners she was wearing for the interview - uncaring as to whether or not she’d accidentally break the backs of them. They were old ones, anyway, ones she’d been gifted as part of a brand deal that had fallen through; no wonder, she thought, as the shoes really were all look and no practicality. They were the least comfortable shoe she owned - and Aria owned a lot of uncomfortable shoes.

“’Til next time?” She straightened up, head turned to Dejun.

He nodded, going to extend a hand as Aria stepped forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

What followed, was a painstakingly awkward hand-body-shuffle-jerk dance that left Aria’s face flushed red from embarrassment and Dejun’s desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole growing to immense proportions.

Eventually, Dejun moved away, waved, turned on his heel and borderline sprinted away back down the hallway before Aria had a chance to return the wave. He rounded the corner, slowing to a stop in anticipation of slamming his head into the wall. However, thinking against it, Dejun instead turned to put his back to the wall, sinking down against it; lifting a hand to smack himself in the forehead.

“Idiot.”

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madsthewordclown · 4 years

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Fire Lily | Pt. 8

warnings: some angst, nothing too heavy. Again, bad at warnings.

a/n: this chapter is significantly shorter than the last one because Pt. 9 is gonna have a lot!! Y/N and Lee have a much needed conversation, but I did mess with the canon timeline a tiny bit. I keep telling myself I’m allowed to take some ~creative liberties~.

Fire Lily Masterlist

Lee was more chipper than usual, and Y/N noticed right away. She was feeling much better, although she was definitely not at one hundred percent. But Lee was smiling more frequently, and it made the weight on her heart feel a bit less heavy. His hair was getting shaggier, too, and she found herself trying to resist reaching out to touch it.

They still hadn’t talked about it. The lake, or her bending. It seemed like he was avoiding it, and Y/N didn’t want to ruin whatever had put him in such a good mood. Lee and Mushi didn’t ask about the hook swords. Y/N was sure that they both recognized those weapons. She was grateful that they didn’t ask. Jet would still be here if it wasn’t for her.

“Who would have thought that one day I’d have my own tea shop?” Mushi mused with a smile. To Y/N’s surprise, Lee smiled and threw an arm over his uncle’s shoulder. Mushi looked to Y/N with a grin.

“I’m very happy that you get to share a part in this with us, Y/N.”

“Thank you, but you’re the one who earned it.”

“Pa!” Mushi blushed.

It was the grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon, and Y/N was the newest hire. She still hadn’t gone back to Pao’s. She couldn’t, not after everything. With Jet. And the Dai Li would know to look for her there, if they were looking for her.

“Are you sure you’re alright to work?” Lee asked with concern. Y/N nodded.

“My head feels fine today, and I need something to do.” She didn’t mention that it was a distraction from Jet, and from the secret that she felt hanging between them. Y/N didn’t know why he hadn’t said anything yet. She honestly didn’t know why he had come for her. She was a firebender, and firebenders hurt people. Firebenders had hurt Lee.

“If you need anything, just tell me,” Lee offered. Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand in response. It was nice, she thought, that she could do that, and he didn’t flinch away. His hand was always so warm.

---

The Jasmine Dragon was a smashing success, just as Y/N had predicted. There was a steady flow of customers all day, and Y/N was more than happy to serve them. Oddly enough, Lee seemed happy, too. Y/N supposed that he must be proud of his uncle. Mushi was beaming the entire time.

“Take a break before we close. There are not many customers left, I’ll take care of them,” Mushi told Y/N and Lee as Y/N rinsed out another teapot. Y/N was about to protest, but before she could say anything, Lee responded.

“Are you sure?” Y/N was surprised. Lee hated working.

“I insist. This is only Y/N’s first day back on her feet, and you have both worked hard. I am sure she could use some rest, and you can keep her company.” Mushi’s eye seemed to twinkle as he spoke, and Y/N felt her face warm.

“Alright, we’ll head back to the apartment,” Lee agreed, hanging up his apron. “Congratulations again, Uncle.”

Y/N walked with Lee back to the apartment, under the darkening sky of Ba Sing Se. Without the distraction of working, she felt sharp, demanding thoughts pushing their way to the forefront of her mind. Why had Lee saved her? Why hadn’t he confronted her yet?

Worse yet were the thoughts of Jet. He died believing I was someone I wasn’t. Y/N felt like she was choking at the thought. She hadn’t really acknowledged that truth yet. Jet was dead. His hook swords were still sitting on the floor of the apartment.

Lee held open the door for her with a smile. Odd. Then he pulled out a chair for her at the table in the kitchen. This is it, Y/N thought. The inevitable questions were finally going to be asked. She rehearsed her answers in her head. She’d tell the truth this time; she just needed to remember what that was.

“I’m so happy for Uncle,” Lee grinned, sitting down across from her. “He’s finally getting his dream. A new life.”

They weren’t the words Y/N was expecting. “Yeah, it’s really good for him.” She couldn’t stop staring at her hands, wringing them together on the table. There were still light marks on her wrists from the cuffs. From the arrest that they still hadn’t talked about.

“I think we’ll be getting an even nicer apartment before too long,” Lee continued. “It’s already a big upgrade from the lower ring.”

Y/N nodded. Why were you in that mask? She wanted to scream. Why did you save me when it’s all my fault?

“Do you want anything to drink?” Lee offered, already beginning to stand.

“Just ask already!” Y/N burst, slapping her hands flat on the table. Lee’s eyes were wide in shock.

“Ask what?”

“Spirits, Lee!” Y/N groaned. “It’s been how long? Days? And we still haven’t talked about what happened.”

“I…” Lee mumbled, sitting back down slowly. His eyes fluttered and he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you wanted to talk about it.”

Y/N’s eyes stung. “I want to get it over with.” She focused on keeping her voice even. “I’m tired of lying, and I want to know what game you’re playing.”

That had to be the explanation. Lee was waiting to turn her in again or waiting to take care of her himself. Justice against the Fire Nation had been on Y/N list of dreams for a long time, and she didn’t have a scar on her face as a testament to her suffering. Lee wore his mark like a brand from the enemy.

It hurt to think about, but Y/N tried to prepare herself. His kindness to her, Mushi’s kindness… it had to be an act. There was no way. Her parents had warned her what would happen if other Earth Kingdom citizens found out what she was, and she had listened. But she’d slipped up.

“I’m not playing a game, Y/N.” Lee reached across the table like he was going to grab onto her hands, and then stopped.

“Then why?”

“Because I care about you.” Lee seemed to be struggling to explain. “Y/N, we all have our secrets. That’s how we ended up here. And I don’t judge you for yours. And you don’t have to explain anything to me yet. I trust you.”

There was that word again. Trust. Jet had trusted her and look where that landed him. Her family had trusted her and look where that landed Bihun.

“I’m a monster!” Y/N yelled, the sound scraping her throat. “Jet attacked you because of me.” Y/N held back the tears. “Jet was arrested because of me, and now he’s…” Y/N choked, digging her nails into the wood of the table.

“That’s not your fault, Y/N,” Lee reassured, standing and walking around the table to place a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to believe me. We all have our secrets, and I promise that I’ll explain everything soon. I just haven’t found the right way yet.”

Y/N’s shoulder were shaking slightly as Lee helped her up and pulled her into a tight hug. Y/N let her tears fall on his shoulder. She knew that it was too good to be true, but she had to believe him. That he accepted her, despite everything. If she didn’t believe him, she’d be no better off than she was under that lake.

Lee brought her water and didn’t mentioned the scorch marks in the shape of her hands that marred the surface of the table. She hadn’t realized that she had done that.

Y/N’s heartbeat eventually slowed, and the shaky feeling in her chest was replaced with a hollowness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Lee even brought out the Pai Sho board. Y/N had to remind him how to set up the tiles. She didn’t really pay attention to the game; she had to give him a chance.

Lee was sliding a tile across the board—bad move, Y/N noted—when Mushi arrived. His smile was even wider than before.

“Great news!” Mushi cried. “We’ve been invited to serve tea to the Earth King!”

“Congratulations, Mushi,” Y/N said with as much enthusiasm as she could manage. Lee put a hand on hers and smiled.

“Congratulations, Uncle.”

Fire Lily Masterlist

Taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele

#atla fanfic #eventual zuko x reader #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #lee from the tea shop #iroh #tiny bit more pai sho #the earth king #zuko #atla #jet atla

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whumphoarder · 5 years

Text

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder.

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

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Long Distance Dadding

#sick peter parker #hurt peter parker #irondad fic #peter parker whump #hurt/comfort #blood #injury #broken nose #nutrient deficiency #anemia #fluff #whump #humor #peter parker is a mess #tony stark has a heart #morgan stark is adorable #my fic #mcu writing

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hjnsa · 3 years

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An Interview With David Herlihy, Author of "Bicycle - The History"

David Herlihy's book, Bicycle: The History, was the sole book on bikes which came to the most unmistakable presentation remain at my neighborhood Barnes and Noble. Distributed in 2004, it has been a staggering achievement, carrying the historical backdrop of bikes to a huge number of individuals in a few unique dialects. The book is rich and brilliant, both in its photographs and its words.

I met David while I was in school during the 1980s. He was making a bit of additional money by purchasing delightful, marginally utilized street bicycles in Italy (DeRosas, Cinellis, Tommasinis and so forth) and afterward offering them at surprisingly reasonable costs to cyclists in the USA. This permitted him to enjoy his adoration for movement, play with great bikes, and welcome delight to individuals on the two sides of the Atlantic. On second thought, his books on cycling do essentially exactly the same things...

Q: Bicycle: The History was an enormous achievement. How has this achievement transformed you?

A: Thanks, Forbes. "Tremendous" is a family member (and exceptionally complimenting) term. Yet, in the event that I might gloat a little, since it turned out in fall 2004, Bicycle has sold more than 20,000 duplicates, for the most part hard covers. That is a beautiful thrilled figure for a book of this nature, distributed by a scholastic press. I'm certain it's much more than even Yale had expected. From what I hear, it's currently one of their untouched blockbusters (there are even releases out in Russian and Korean).

This is exceptionally satisfying, just like all the consideration it got in the press, remembering surveys for lofty distributions like The Economist and The New York Times Review of Books (I need to credit my splendid marketing specialist, Brenda King, for designing quite a bit of that). Most were very great and simple to process (a couple were less fulfilling, however I figured out how to get over them before long).

What's more, indeed, I savored my brief encounter with popularity. It was incredible fun visiting and advancing my book, regardless of whether I needed to cover my own costs generally. I delighted in giving slide talks and marking books, and meeting cycling aficionados, all things considered. One of my most significant minutes was at a bicycle show in Edison, New Jersey, where I had a table. After one person affirmed that I was indeed the creator, he sort of lost it. He had his image taken with me utilizing his phone. I felt like a hero.

Returning to reality a bit, I can't say that the book has fundamentally transformed me or way of life, essentially not yet. Be that as it may, it has been an extremely sure encounter and I think it has opened up new imaginative potential outcomes.

First off, it was an extraordinary alleviation and fulfillment to at long last transform 10 years in addition to of examination into something substantial that could give me some acknowledgment and really produce a little income to keep body and soul together (also assisting with paying for all that exploration, which incorporated various outings to Europe. Not that I'm requesting compassion, mind you!) And I should say, with all due respect, that a lot of my best material surfaced around the finish of my request. Had I distributed the book even a couple of years sooner, it basically would not have been as vivid or as rich.

In addition to the fact that i was ready to share many intriguing disclosures, I likewise had the opportunity to air some profoundly held feelings. I think there are a great deal of misinterpretations out there about bike history, particularly as to the innovation and early turn of events. The kick-impelled Draisine of 1817, specifically, was not a bike as such and, as it ended up, it didn't lead straightforwardly to the first bikes of the 1860s (however it was seemingly the essential motivation). I've likewise inferred that the Scottish need claims emerging during the blast of the late nineteenth century are questionable, best case scenario. Also, obviously the extraordinary commitment of Pierre Lallement, the first bike patentee, has for quite some time been eclipsed by the Michaux name, which similarly covered the job of the Oliviers, the genuine mechanical pioneers.

سكوترات كهربائية

In some sense it very well might be a losing fight to demand this load of focuses legends are obstinate things. In any case, presently I've spoken my tranquility and I can continue on to other energizing ventures with somewhat more monetary soundness and somewhat more validity and clout.

Q: What are some different activities you are chipping away at?

A: Over the previous few years, I've kept on giving talks to a great extent for different cycling gatherings and instructive projects. One month from now, for instance, I'll take an interest in a board conversation at the uncovering of the Major Taylor dedication in Worcester. What's more, on May 24 I'll give a discussion at the Museum of the City of New York. We're beginning to discuss assembling a show on the historical backdrop of cycling in New York, related to properly enough-Bike New York, (patrons of the yearly 5 boro ride that draws 30,000 cyclists).

I've likewise completed a few ventures with Velopress of late. I interpreted an extraordinary book on the historical backdrop of Paris Roubaix by the editors of l'Equipe. It's an excellent foot stool book with astounding photographs. Furthermore, I need to say the content is likewise very captivating! I additionally interpreted a book on the Alpe d'Huez stage by my old buddy Jean-Paul Vespini. It's turning out in half a month and I'm truly anticipating pawing through it. I just saw a few evidences and the photographs are eye-popping. Besides the creator worked really hard covering the historical backdrop of this marvel not just as a definitive stage in the Tour yet additionally as a beautiful social rendez-vous.

What's more, I just marked an agreement with Houghton Mifflin to compose a book on Frank Lenz. Exploring his captivating however failed to remember story has been my concentration for as long as couple of years and will keep on being so for a significant length of time.

دراجات هوائية

To sum up: in May 1892, on the cusp of the bike blast, Lenz set off from his old neighborhood of Pittsburgh to circle the globe on the most recent "wellbeing" bike with inflatable tires. Two years into his excursion, in the wake of intersection North America, Japan, China, Burma, India, and Persia, he bafflingly disappeared. Examiners later followed him past the Persian boundary, into Turkey and the premonition place where there is the Kurds. Unexpectedly, Outing magazine, Lenz's support, sent another American "globe girdler," William Sachtleben, to discover Lenz in any condition. It ended up being an extremely awful an ideal opportunity to visit Turkey, with slaughters of Armenians unfurling before his own eyes. Sachtleben himself was fortunate to get back alive. He immovably accepted he had settled the secret, however his inability to discover Lenz's bones or bike, or to get palatable feelings for homicide, left the matter putrefying. Lenz's crushed mother at last got a repayment from the Turkish government, yet his inheritance immediately blurred in the twentieth century as the public lost interest in the bike. I'll talk about Lenz's experience and character, and what persuaded him to go off on this risky experience. I'll likewise follow the excursion exhaustively, putting a positive twist on it. At long last, I'll seriously investigate Sachtleben's discoveries and attempt to sort out what truly befell poor Lenz.

افضل موقع بيع دراجات هوائية

Q: Do you actually have the opportunity to ride your bicycle?

A: I admit that I have the opportunity in principle. What's more, the bicycles. In any case, I don't do as much sporting riding as I ought to (and it shows, though it pains me to say so!). Of late, I've for the most part done coordinated rides every now and then. Bicycle New York has become a practice each May, and it's an impact. I likewise did part of Cycle Oregon a couple of years back, and a couple of other gathering rides from that point forward. Yet, generally I cycle in the Boston region, just to get around. I just procured another Bike Friday, which I actually need to gather. I hope to ride significantly more get-togethers. I might want to get once again into street riding, as well. In principle I could utilize one of my old Italian racers, yet I couldn't want anything more than to get something more contemporary. Also, perhaps a trail blazing bicycle as well. Had the opportunity to complete this book first, however, so I have some optional assets.

Q: Your book clarified that you love bikes. Do you cherish any one kind of bike more than others? Is there a specific sort of bike that is closest and dearest to your heart?

A: I'd need to say the exemplary light weight street bicycle with thin tires is as yet my top choice. But at the same time I'm into bikes as essential transportation, particularly during circumstances such as the present. The Bike Friday offers an incredible mix off both riding delight and reasonableness. I can't actually address mountain trekking as I've never truly enjoyed that game. In any case, I have companions who are truly into it, and I know some time or another I ought to truly check it out.

Q: You used to bring brilliant utilized street bicycles back from Italy. Do you actually have associations around there?

A: In principle, indeed, however I haven't purchased any bicycles around there in a long while. I spent various years in Italy growing up, I actually go one time each year. So I'm as yet conversant in the language. In the past I went routinely to the Milan career expo. Also, I found the opportunity to meet and meeting some incredible names like Cino Cinelli and Valentino Campagnolo, when I composed for Bicycle Guide. However, I haven't kept up my contacts in the bicycle business, though it pains me to mention it. Recently when I've gone over it's been really investigating, eating, visiting, and mingling. In a specific order, obviously.

دراجة هوائية رياضية

Q: Have bikes improved through their set of experiences? Or on the other hand were the old bike plans more down to earth than the plans for new bikes?

A: Well you can surely present the defense that the bike advanced in the second 50% of the nineteenth century, turning out to be progressively roadworthy and thus pragmatic in that sense. The first "boneshaker" of the 1860s was an honorable thought yet one in urgent need of material improvement. You could contend that its substitution, the armada however shaky high wheeler, took the idea off course, that is, away from reasonableness. All things considered, the first bike created a global uproar decisively in light of the fact that it should fill in as a reasonable "individuals' bother." And the high-wheeler, obviously, turned into a costly toy for athletic guys.

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stowaway-macaw · 4 years

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Biome Curse (Part 6)

Xisuma flipped through pages and pages of logs, eyes strained at the poor lighting in his small filing room. Of all the places in his base to not be lit well, Xisuma was frustrated that it was this room. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it didn't matter. Something was obviously and unbelievably wrong. The rapid sound of paper flipping was cut through by a loud knock at the door. Xisuma jumped at the noise, but quickly regained his composure and called out to the door.

"Come in." The door opened and in the doorway was Iskall and Stress.

"Dude, you look terrible." Was the first thing that was said, straight from the mouth of Iskall.

"Gee, thanks. What'd you guys need?" Xisuma asked while setting the papers on a box that had already been opened, but hastily resealed.

"We wanted to ask you for some stuff… and talk about all of the recent uh… events." Stress phrased the sentence carefully, but she was obviously eager to get some information. The two visitors could see Xisuma's eyes grow serious, and Iskall turned to signal Stress to explain.

"See… I think something's going on with the jungle. In a bad way. Also, everyone's been so paranoid since that message showed up in chat. I think I might know a way to help, but I needed information. I asked Iskall to check out some spotty places in the jungle and he told me about one area by a lake." Xisuma stopped her to ask a question, hoping to find a lead of some sort.

"What were the coordinates?" Iskall handed him a small piece of paper with some numbers hastily scribbled on it.

"I wrote these down when I got to the edge of that lake. I boated across to get a better look, and while the place looked normal, I couldn't hear anything. It was mega weird. There were no mobs either, but I felt like I was being watched. When I walked far enough, I could hear everything again. Even Jel- erm… a cat showed up." Iskall's fumble didn't go unnoticed by Xisuma, but he elected to ignore it.

"But besides that, are you sure you're cool with helping us, dude? You seriously look like you're about to fall over." When Iskall brought the attention back to Xisuma, Stress nodded her head.

"Yeah, you look exhausted. How long have you been at this? Your helmet is hard to see through and even I can see how bloodshot your eyes are." Stress pointed out, knitting her eyebrows.

"I don't think it's been that long. I've only been at this since the message came in." Stress proceeded to move to Xisuma's side and place a hand on his back.

"Oh no, we've seen you do this before. It's almost been a full day since we saw that thing and the sun will be down in just a few hours. We're not going to have another delirious X on our hands. It's off to bed with you." Stress scolded as she shoved her friend towards the door.

"Wha- hey, it's really not that bad! Besides we need to solve this problem." Iskall cut Xisuma off before he could protest more.

"Dude, it's fine. We're all still here and okay. The world isn't gonna end because you got a good night's sleep."

"But what about Stress's-"

"Xisuma, love, it's fine! If it really bothers you that much then give us a thirty second run-down on what you've already found and we'll go from there!" They kept pushing their admin to his bedroom, and Xisuma sighed in defeat.

"Alright, fine. You're right. I haven't actually found much. It's more what I can't find that's bothering me. I've looked over documents and commands, but there are two things that are always missing from all of them. Two players to be exact. Player one has a longer name while player two's is much shorter. Their names are always missing and all of the characters are replaced with question marks. It's strange, I can't find their names anywhere, but they show up so much in the logs, like they were there from the beginning of the world, like the rest of us. All of their messages are in that language and it looks like we had even talked to them before…" by the time Xisuma had finished, his two friends had led him to his bed and he sat down on it while talking.

"That's so weird, but I think that makes sense." Stress looked at Iskall when he said that and raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yeah, haven't you noticed? Something's missing. Something big that we used to see all the time. It would make sense if it was two whole players that went missing." Xisuma processed Iskall's words and eventually nodded.

"I agree. But that still wouldn't explain why we don't remember them."

"Maybe it's magic?" Stress offered, only to get two looks from her friends that just screamed "really? You're going with that?"

"I'm serious! Magic stuff happens all the time among the hermits! Cub has his weird vex thing, I'm pretty sure Ren is possessed by something? He keeps talking about an emperor, but maybe that's not a good example. I've had magic and still do! We enchant our tools, so why wouldn't someone who knows that enchanting language enchant players?" The longer she talked, the more convinced her friends looked.

"That would explain some things, but that also makes this much harder." Xisuma said, looking down.

"Why?" Iskall questioned, somewhat discouraged by Xisuma's interjection.

"Magic doesn't have strict rules; it's not as clean cut as code or admin commands. If it really is magic then this could mean a game of loopholes. Finding the loopholes in spells is the key to exploiting and breaking enchantments." Stress nodded once Xisuma had finished.

"I can confirm that. I've had more experience with ice magic in the past and I can tell you right now that none of it was reliable in the slightest. Every time I thought I had figured out a rule, I would break it. It's still happening now with my flowers and nature magic, but I haven't had it for as long."

"So it's magic then. We need someone good at loopholes then." Iskall put his hand to his chin, thinking of who they could ask. Stress suddenly cringed. Iskall looked at her, noticing the sour look on her face.

"What's up? You think of someone?" Stress sighed and nodded.

"Yes, but only because he scammed the whole server." Xisuma perked up at her sentence.

"Ooh…" he cringed as well, but with significantly less malice.

"The lifetime subscription… "

"...Of free glass." She finished. The two then looked at each other and nodded before saying in unison:

"Etho."

Etho himself was a different kind of chaotic. A kind that was much more… intentional. Despite that, the trio agreed it would be smart to bring him into the mix while using Stress as a reference for magical tendencies. The man usually had good intentions anyway. Emphasis on "usually".

"Well now that we have that sorted out, you need to go to bed early." Iskall said, while motioning for Stress to follow him out of the room.

"Yes yes, alright. If you guys find anything else though, let me know." They both nodded and left the room where Xisuma promptly fell asleep much quicker than he had thought he would.

Stress and Iskall eventually parted ways, but Stress still had something on her mind. The bird man she had met earlier had a strange air about him. She could sense magic on him, and his body language suggested he was hardly used to the showy attire he sported. She also had this overwhelming feeling that she had seen him before, but her brain wouldn't let her remember. To her, that was enough proof that maybe he was one of the missing players, but she wasn't sure if she should tell the others since there were quite a few hermits who could turn a mess into a wildfire.

With a new resolve, Stress went off to work at her base, not before glancing over to the mysterious mansion looming in the distance and the shore of the shallow lake that looked too barren. She resolved to go to the same place the next day, hoping the bird man would be there then.

And a mere two hours later, said man was flying his way back to the shallow lake, the wish Stress had made clutched in his hand. Grian could feel himself cross the barrier and landed gracefully on the grass and fallen leaves of the jungle, careful not to stir up the surrounding foliage too much with his landing.

"You're back!" Scar ran up to Grian, Jellie in his arms.

"Sure am. And look what I've got." He waved the book in the air in small, quick motions.

"It's Stress's, right?" Grian fumbled at Scar's guess and sputtered out,

"Wh- y-yeah. How did…?" Scar laughed a genuine, good-natured laugh at his friend's surprise before explaining.

"Iskall came by here earlier. He walked through here and couldn't see me or the village, but he was able to see Jellie once he crossed the barrier on the other side. He started talking to her and mentioned that Stress told him to look around." While Scar talked, he made his way to the village snail and led Grian up the ladder, not before tucking Jellie in his robe.

"Also, the jungle gave me some pants." When they had reached the top, Grian looked to see that the jungle had, in fact, given the wizard some pants.

"I see that. Did you have a conversation with it?"

"Yeah. Remember that red parrot that we both saw before all this happened?" Grian nodded.

"I think that's the form it's taking. Which is good. It means it won't always be watching our every move. The bird doesn't blink though, so it's kinda cree-" Scar stopped mid-sentence.

"Hello? What are you-"

"Shh, quiet." Grian immediately stopped talking. The two stood in silence for a few minutes, after which Scar closed the door and dimmed the lanterns lighting the place.

"I think it's gone now, but just in case, I'm going to make it look like we've gone to bed." Scar explained.

"I can sense it's presence. I've been trying to teach myself how since it approached me, and I'm able to sense it while it's about six meters from our barrier. Not much, I know, but it's better than nothing." Silence.

"So, yeah. Can I see the wish?" Grian handed Scar the wish, still not saying anything.

"Thanks." Scar read the wish, and nodded.

"Okay, I think we'll be able to do this. I think it's actually pretty simple. It shouldn't require any magic, just a public event maybe." Silence.

"Sound good?" Grian nodded.

"Why are you suddenly so quiet?" Grian pointed to where his mouth was under the mask, made a zipping motion with his fingers, then pointed at Scar.

"What? What are you- oh! Oh I'm so sorry! You can talk now." Grian let out a groan.

"I'm really getting sick of this whole familiar thing." Grian said in a begrudging tone. Scar laughed nervously and looked away.

"It's good that you can sense where that thing is though. And yeah, I think you're right about the event thing. The hermits aren't very hard to cheer up, excluding a few."

"Yeah. You don't mind doing what you did today, tomorrow, right?"

"Nope. I've gotta check up on Stress anyway."

"Awesome. Well we should probably get to bed now." Grian nodded at Scar's suggestion and plopped down on his designated bed.

"I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep though. I've been doing nothing all day except wait." Grian complained, staring down at his pillow.

"You said being in the pendant was like a good night's sleep, right? Why not just do that?" Grian thought for a moment, not sure if he should take the offer.

"I mean, I guess? It's worth a shot. I don't know if I can do it on my own though, so you should just tell me to do it." Scar agreed.

"Alright. I guess I just…" he hesitated.

"Go back to the pendant?" The command sounded more like a question, but it was still a command. Yet, nothing happened.

"Umm, maybe you weren't commanding enough?" Grian suggested. Scar thought back to when the phenomenon had happened previously. What was different? Suddenly, Scar perked up.

"Oh! I know! Take off your mask." Grian's hand slid the mask off of his face seemingly on its own and the room was filled with a burst of color as soon as Scar could see Grian's face. And just like that, he was nowhere to be seen.

"I guess I'll… wait until morning?" He directed the question at Jellie, who was curled up where Grian would have slept. He took her comfortable purr as agreement and settled into his own bed.

"There goes day two." Scar mumbled to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

#hermitcraft #xisumavoid #iskall85 #stressmonster #grian #goodtimeswithscar #biome curse #fanfic

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cursedserpenthq · 4 years

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(summer bishil, 33, woman, merperson) Blimey! Is that (BRIAR BRANDO)? (SHE) is the (CARPENTER) on the Cursed Serpent and has been onboard the ship for (TWO YEARS). Legend has it they are (QUICK-WITTED & PROVOCATIVE), but don’t get on their bad side, because I hear they’re (INFLAMMATORY & HEDONISTIC). Aye! Stop staring! (BRIAR) has their (FLINTLOCK BELT PISTOLS) out! (ooc: dea, pst, 24, she/her, rape/sexual assault)

THE CURSED SERPENT

After devoting several decades to living amongst her merfolk colony, conflicts of interest led to her choosing a more landbound existence. She found it easy to blend in with the lively energy Westburgh, having observed and the behaviours and dynamics of humans as well as the amount of traffic which crosses through the city. However, eventually, she found herself getting restless and in desire of a profession which would sufficiently satisfy her mind and body. She developed a fascination for metalsmithing and carpentry, shadowing masters of each field in exchange for fetching them supplies. Her good looks allowed her to barter fares for goods to a significantly lower amount, which paid off the space she took up. Otherwise, she kept a low profile and wore deliberately unflattering clothes, keeping her hair tied back and her words few; altogether generating an attitude aligned with a masculine demeanour that blended in better.

Time passed and eventually she grew restless in her apprentice positions, having understood what needed to be done multiple times over. Unfortunately, when Briar’s impatience flared an unfortunate event was soon to follow. Since her departure from the sea, she was careful to neglect using her sonic abilities — it was merely coincidence that the local lead carpenter happened to one night wander past the city limits and slip into a watery grave. With an open position, Briar seamlessly filled it and kept customers pleased and impressed with the speed and precision at which she worked.

Briar heard rumours of the Cursed Serpent throughout her years in Westburgh. Their reputation and the obstacles they’d surmounted preceded them — each one singing louder to Briar’s disobedient scallywag heart. To be a part of such a group always sounded enticing, although she was less interested in the prospect of being at the sea’s mercy for a prolonged period of time. Since leaving her colony, she harbours a hatred for the sea. The idea of swimming or being underwater to hear the voices of her kind leaves a sour taste in her mouth and a white hot anger under her skin. But, once again, she began to grow restless in her city-bound existence that followed the same rhythm everyday.

Considering life aboard a ship meant commanding the waves rather than falling beneath them, she reasoned with herself that it seemed a safe enough distance to submit to her heart’s longing for piracy. Soon, the siren call of adventure, prosperity, and infamy beckoned her over the edge. After following the trails of gossip, Briar found the Cursed Serpent and boldly pledged herself as the carpenter they needed to truly succeed in the rough times ahead. It remains her highest goal to maintain truth in the statement.

Briar enjoys being of aid and service to whatever the ship demands. She has a hungry work ethic and ability to juggle projects, likely to fly under the radar for stints at a time as she works in her preferred space — below deck. In the aftermath of storms she has remained acutely aware of any issues on board, and tends to stay an active member on deck taking initiative on repairs or reinforcements when others venture to shore, restock at ports, or find a rare moment of sleep. Briar mostly likes doing her own thing, but will readily take on tasks when asked. She works at an incredibly rapid pace without sacrificing perfectionism.

Briar fits right in with the lifestyle of a pirate with her rowdy attitude and hedonistic desires, likely to stir the pot whether she intended to or not. She finds it keeps things dynamic, and enjoys witnessing others as work almost as much as she likes bothering them. Although she likes the crew for their attachment to the Cursed Serpent, she has remained emotionally distanced and wary of everyone. Only shallow bonds have been formed with fellow members, in her reluctance to divulge much about herself nor interest in being close friends with anyone. At the end of the day, she wishes to find the Jewels more than anything else. Lives lost or injured along the way is inevitable collateral damage, hence her disinterest in growing too fond of anyone lest they be lost to the larger goal. Accordingly, in the face of any tragedy, she does not dwell in gloom or disappointment. Three modes govern Briar, at any given moment — rage, sardonic humour, and impulsivity.

The Captain’s death unnerved her, making the mistake of deeming him better than other humans for the kind of ship he ran and the notoriety he was responsible for. Briar deeply respected his leadership and intelligence, never in disagreement with the calls he made. His death had Briar, for the first time, considering him weak and tactless for not avoiding the final hit that killed him. It made her feel bitter. Human mortality was a heavy burden to live with and, with more dangerous waters likely ahead, above all else it frustrated her to think the Jewels may be harder to access without his level-headed order and discretion as the crew’s compass.

SECRET

In her spare time, on the down low, Briar likes to work on developing unique weapons. With a specific interest in fire and ignition; grenades, hand cannons, and other explosive projectile matter are her predominant under-development works. Most prototypes are too dangerous and volatile to work on in an enclosed space whilst active, and although it sacrifices swift progress, she ensures her materials are kept dampened until satisfied with her design. She remains confident that her awareness of the elements on board could curve any potential malfunction issues, but also knows better than to waste materials. In the meantime, she stocks up on ideas and their necessary frameworks as she awaits the day she can assemble something and put it to real use.

Briar was exiled from her merfolk colony for repeatedly breaking the law, branded for repeated fraternisation with a sorcerer that supposedly put her colony in jeopardy. Even though she claimed she was careful, travelling a great distance each visit, the relationship was deemed reckless for both the act itself and the (literal) dangerous waters she tread in the process. As a result of the mark bestowed upon her, Briar exclusively wears long sleeved shirts — high collared or tightly laced at all times, at the bear minimum. Even on sweltering days. She would say it’s for protection from any shrapnel or splintering that she may encounter during her work. Due to the painful treatment her colony put her through despite her efforts to explain herself, she is very wary of other merpeople until she learns where their allegiance lies. Merfolk wandering in disguise amongst humans make her paranoid that her cover of normalcy may be blown. She is only sympathetic for outsiders, whether by force or choice — she wouldn’t hesitate to help another in true and dire need, as it’s what she would have wished happened to her in her initial castaway phase.

KEY RELATIONSHIPS

ALLUDED APPRENTICE: Someone that wishes to learn more about carpentry. Briar didn’t like the idea of company at first, and was by no means interested nor in possession of the patience required to be a teacher. Initially it was purely through absorbing continuous examples of her at work from a distance that they were able to pick up a few things. Only when it became obvious how observant they were did Briar willingly begin to divulge a few techniques or skills that would enable better execution. Occasionally, she’ll make a game out of it and challenge them to making something in a limited amount of time. She’s far more critical than likely to praise anything they come up with, but she’s grown to appreciate having someone to share with and bond over her enjoyment of crafting.

CHARRED CAMARADERIE: Briar’s abrasive manner sometimes gets the better of her for its lack of discrimination. Anyone in her line of sight is fair game to rub the wrong way, even if that entails disrespecting someone ranked above her or twice her size. She doesn’t care much for rules and order, at the end of the day far more willing to be selfish if it means survival. It’s her unyielding audacity that this person can’t help but somewhat respect, yet they don’t want her to give her the wrong idea that she has any power in her beliefs. For the sake of order, no matter the weight of their personal opinion, they always make sure to shut down any instigative remarks she makes. Inwardly, she finds it both challenging and commendable that someone dares to keep her accountable and under some measure of control. At the heart of this dynamic, there is deep respect that goes both ways. However, on the surface, one wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s a lot of bickering and empty threats — a game of baiting and entrapping until one side concedes… until next time.

ALL THE FIXINGS: chock it up to plain clumsiness or one too many drunken stupors, this person is always causing bumps, scrapes, and breaks upon the ship’s materials as well as their own possessions. Briar fixes the result following each incident, no questions asked. It’s an explicitly need-to-know basis. The only thing she asks for her services is for there to be an exchange of some sort, which varies on her mood. Sometimes payment is as simple as a coin, other times a bottle of booze, or — for an undisclosed yet ongoing project — some pilfered gunpowder. The “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule goes both ways.

ANYTHING ELSE

Intended to play the assisting role in Lachlan Rhodes’ Guardian Angel WC.

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lifeisstrange-blog · 5 years

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‘Designing the Cast and World of LiS2′ with Rachele Doimo

At its core, Life is Strange 2 is a road trip game. Sean and Daniel’s journey from their home in Seattle takes them all across the western states of America: from the snow-covered gardens of wintery Beaver Creek, to the drifter camp under the giant redwoods in California, to the arid Nevada desert. Each environment adds something to the story and they are carefully crafted to feel unique but real: places you could almost go and visit in real life.

But locations only come to life when you put people in them. The biggest part of world building isn’t just where does this prop go, but asking yourself: why is it there? Who are the people that live there and what effect do they have on the environment, and the environment on them? Creating a world that feels lived in and is a place that makes sense narratively requires both careful environmental and character design.

To explore the creation of the memorable locations of LiS2, and the diverse cast of characters who live in them, we’ve sat down with Square Enix Art Director Rachele Doimo to discuss how the incredible art teams we work with at studios like DONTNOD bring everything to life

Let’s start with Environments first. And remember, as with our previous blogs: beware spoilers!

Can you tell us what research went into some of the environments covered in Life is Strange 2?

Everything started with a trip that the game directors did a few years ago across the USA. It was a journey through a continent that made quite a mark in their life and work. All the memorable places they visited and people they met have contributed to their vision of Life is Strange 2.

What were some technical challenges for the larger scope of Life is Strange 2?

Performance had to be monitored constantly from asset creation to final lighting pass on each shot. A high number of lights can significantly slow down performance, but at the same time, they can make a huge difference in the quality of each single shot so all assets in a scene, from character models, to props, to lights, to total number of polygons, have to be managed in order not to reduce the framerate.

Given the changing environments in each Episode of the game, were there any environmental assets you were able to re-use, or was it a case of starting with a fresh palette of trees, rocks, and ground textures every time?

Each location had to be bespoke. Only a small amount of props could be reused, which also impacted development time. Generic grass, for example, is used in multiple locations, but trees and specific flora needed to be consistent with the part of the country that each episode is set. Every asset and material contributes and builds towards the unique, captivating look of an environment in Life is Strange.

Into the woods in Episode 1 is the biggest environment to date. Do we see something similar in Ep4?

At the beginning of Episode 4, when Sean is heading to Heaven Point, the Nevada desert area is probably the largest location in the game, in terms of visible distance. Although not the highest in asset density, it hopefully successfully creates a sense of loneliness and highlights Sean’s separation from his brother: walking on a vast unknown road through an unfriendly territory.

With Life is Strange 1 we had a broad cast of characters but one that remained in a single location: Arcadia Bay. The town had a set number of inhabitants and wasn’t changing in the same way the environments do in LiS2. Though new characters were intermittently introduced, the cast broadly focused on a specific set of people. In Life is Strange 2, the boys are on the road, passing through all manner of towns and communities on their journey south, which, out of necessity, required a much larger supporting cast – from the handful of major characters Sean and Daniel each Episode, to the innumerable secondary and background characters needed to populate each stop on their journey. More characters were designed during the Episode 1 and 2 concept art stage than were designed for the whole of LiS 1. Rachele, with that in mind, we’d like to talk about how the art team develops characters that fascinate us, whether they feature in an episode, a scene, or are just seen in the background.

What’s the process of designing a cast of memorable secondary and tertiary characters? The art process starts when an approved character biography is provided by the design team. This is the foundation of what the character should actually look like, the details of which all have to speak about who this person is and what they went through in life before the player encounters them.

Facial features and body shape are extremely important, but clothes and accessories play a crucial role too. Even small details like a pin on a jacket can add a lot to the character’s “visual story”. Designing a character is a rather long process that goes through many concepts and revisions, from the mood board stage to digital sketches, to the very detailed in-game model, which can itself be revised multiple times – but it is extremely fun and rewarding when you see them being brought to life in the game.

The design process for Cassidy's tattoos went through a lot of development to make sure they represented her personality and character. No detail is too small!

Some characters obviously get more attention in the narrative of Life is Strange 2 than others. Do lesser-seen characters get the same special treatment in art and design as more primary characters? What does this process look like? The main cast obviously is where the art team has spent most of their time, especially at the beginning of the project, but secondary and tertiary characters are no less detailed or less looked after.

Main characters, in this case Sean and Daniel, are designed and created at the beginning and then serve as a benchmark for the rest. What is built during this process sets the style for the entire cast, the level of detail, the level of definition in the textures and the overall rendering style. In Life is Strange 2 there was a major need for extras and minor NPCs in every episode. While those didn’t need the same “uniqueness” as the leads, they certainly still had to be consistent to the narrative, place and role in the story.

Similar to the intricacies of her tattoos, Cassidy's overall appearance went through many iterations to get her style just right.

Who is your favourite character featured in Episode 3?

Very tricky question… I like all the drifters, of course! They are fun to play and watch. I have a particular soft spot for Cassidy – she is visually very interesting, without being conventionally dressed or styled, it really allows her personality to shine through. Her punk-inspired style, with worn-out clothes and purple hair, makes her a very iconic and memorable character. She is both contemporary and unconventional, both with her style and her charismatic personality.

Many thanks to Rachele for walking us through these elements of environment and character design. What were your favorite locations and characters on the journey so far – do you have a soft spot for a background character?

Join in the conversation, and stay with us all the way to #JourneysEnd!

#Official News #JourneysEnd #Blog

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rotzaprachim · 5 years

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in secret, between the shadow and the soul 1/2

Kanej, Inej-centric. Teen ish, marriage of convenience, 3000 words

(About 6 years post Crooked Kingdom)

Read here on ao3

The apothecary asks her how long it’s been since she’s been intimate with her husband, and Inej almost chokes, says no, she hasn’t been in a very long time. Honesty is always difficult in her carse- dealing with her own past, own demons is hard enough without having to watch other people attempt proper emotional responses on her behalf, and maybe the apothecary senses that because she doesn’t ask more.

----

“It’s legal more than anything. A question of economics,” Kaz said, and Inej nodded, because it's kerch and how could it be anything but? Certainly nothing as tawdry as emotion or desire, let alone love, could interfere with so large a life decision.

Only Kerch citizens can hold berths in the water, and its significantly easier to manage bank accounts and conduct major financial decisions of the kind Inej needs to make on the near daily when restocking her ships. There's one route faster than all the others to becoming a Kerch citizen.

Inej suggested it before Kaz did.

She isn’t ready for marriage, she said. She isn’t ready to be tied to a man, to be anything more or less than herself alone. The Kerch made the whole business easy by never referring to this thing they’re doing as a marriage, all the paperwork is about Economic Units, Civil Unions. There’s so many pages of jargon it made Inej’s eyes bleed. Future children held less inches of fine grey type than agreements on pigs and shipping company stocks, and were described in the same economic language.

Kaz went through the whole thing line by line until the shore she was going to call for an annulment before they’d even gotten the damned thing notarized, or else make herself a tastefully rich and very young widow.

“It’s a contract,” he said. “You should know all the details before you sign your life away.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Inej said, irritated by the last several pages about Property Division in the Event of Medium Sized or Larger Storms, Grisha Attacks, and General Flooding, “I’m not signing my life away.”

“When you get married, it might be difficult to annul if you’ve still got a legal Kerch-”

“When I get married?” she shoots back challengingly. “To who?”

“I don’t know. That fire-tongued revolutionary who writes you poetry and will make you a new world. The Kaelish tavern maid who always pours you a free beer in her bar while you sing about the plight of the repressed. Someone hopelessly moon-eyed and optimistic, who thinks the world shits rainbows and knows what you’re worth.”

“You, Kaz Brekker,” she finally sighed, “are a hell of a lot dumber than they say you are.”

---

She doesn’t tell her parents. She’s not ready for that conversation.

---

She doesn’t tell Nina. She’s not ready for that conversation either.

---

The whole thing was finished in a notary’s office in ten minutes.

Kaz’s gloves were off, more because they both need to be fingerprinted than anything else.

He swore a short, official oath of his loyalty to both her and the Kerch market, promising not to cheat in foreign ports and to provide for and any hypothetical children. She thought of the paid-off indenture and the ship and the found parents and berth twenty-two and and her room in the house in bought on the Zelverstraat and thought that maybe he’s better at doing that than he thinks he is.

She swore a shorter official oath about fidelity and staying true and all her children being her husband’s, because to do otherwise would be bad economics and make her a poor investment, a value-destroyer, on the family line. Because it’s Kerch and of course it is.

---

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her afterward in an attempt at being casual. They’d been sipping at warm lukewarm flagons of beer in one of the harbour’s more reputable establishments and looking out at the water for twenty minutes.

“I’m thinking,” she said slowly, tasting her words, “that Alys Van Eyck is a very, very lucky woman that we came around when we did.” She’s still thinking about the various punishments for women who pollute the family line, which even if motivated by economics over faith as such things would be in Fjerda, are not dissimilar in practice. She’s realising more and more the Kerch neuroticism over bastardry probably comes from having so many of the young men gone for half the year at sea.

Kaz guffawed, which was not a sound she was really used to him making. “You never fail to surprise me, Wraith.”

“How is the Vrouw Dazi”

Kaz shrugged. “Not useful to my purposes anymore. Wylan’s got her an Bajan set up in a little cottage outside Pijl with a tidy sum tied to not making too much noise.”

Sometimes she fantasized about breaking into that cottage and putting on a performance similar to the one that sent Pekka Rollins screaming from Ketterdam. She didn’t, because she didn’t subscribe to the idea of the sins of the father and thought Saartje Kazanja deserved a da with his mental pieces mostly intact. But saints take all, she wanted too.

“How’s Saartje?”

“I don’t know. Kid? Looks more like she could be ours than Jan Van Eyck’s, that’s for sure.

The tips of Kaz’s ears went red before he finished that sentence and he stared into the foam at the bottom of his glass, head turned decisively away from her.

“Fine, I think. In school now. No reason to keep tabs.”

They toasted her new Kerch citizenship. Inej swore she saw his hand shaking.

----

Her citizenship documents, stamped with a wax seal of three flying fish and a small Kerch flag came three days later, expedited by Kaz in ways she cannot begin to fathom. It’s only then she realised that they’re for the new Vrouw Rietveld, that she made her vows to Kasper Rietveld. It’s only logical- Rietveld can be the upstanding businessman who only exists on paper in a way Kaz Brekker cannot, all the better for her dowings, but it still feels like a piece of himself gifted to her.

She could forge Rietveld’s name for her own purposes too; they practiced on old betting slips that she then threw into the fire. Kerch women can legally make almost every kind of financial decision and dealing, less due to the Merchers’ Council’s upstanding opinion of the female gender than the portion of the year the men are at sea, the incredible odds they won’t come back.

(They’ve rather flipped that scenario.

“How much cross-stitch will you do do fill up the void of my absences, she chided him. “They say the old sailor’s wives used to knit lace from the white froth of the sea.” Nowadays Wealthy Kerch women waiting for their husbands to come home tended to stick to knitting hats and scarves for orphans. So saints-damned many hats and socks, and yet you could still scarcely move for the number of bare-headed, barefoot orphans come winter. It was one of Ketterdam’s greatest mysteries.

“Inej,” Kaz sayid, eyes closed, genuine concern cutting his voice. Ever more she was picking up a sailor’s sense of gallows humour.)

---

They exchanged rings at the registry. Inej’s was a simple band, no gemstones but she suspected it was solid gold. Inside was etched a wave pattern, an endless strip of open sea.

Wearing it on her finger meant something, soo she looped it onto a sturdy chain that she hid between her shirt and her beating heart. That seemed appropriate, doable. Young sailors often took the bracelets and handkerchiefs of their sweethearts out to sea as good luck tokens; Inej had a gold wedding band.

Kaz’s fingers brushed the chain in the warm dip between neck and collar as he said goodbye to her on the docks, and after she nodded infinitesimally, telling him to go on, finish this chapter of the story, he slowly pulled up the rest of the chain and found the band.

“I thought-” he said, but she looked him in the eyes, square as she could, and he halted. She doesn’t know what he thought.

“There was not and is not and will probably me a different man for me than you, Kaz Brekker.

He swallowed thickly and then slowly lifted her skin-warmed band to his lips, even though he did not believe in luck, had said he believed in nothing but her.

---

The Kerch don’t have seperate words for “husband’ and “man.”

---

“Mijn mann,” she says in response to the curious looks her crew gives her after the band slips free during repair work, and it doesn’t feel like anything more or less than the truth.

“Mijn mann,” she says tacitly when border authorities raise their eyebrows in suspicion at her Kerch passport.

“Mijn mann,” she begins her letters back to him. “Dearest Inej,” his come back, sometimes even “Loveliest Inej,” but he never uses a possessive pronoun form.

---

Having any kind of passport, official documentation, feels alien and strange. She comes from a people without a land, and for her entire childhood they Suli were denied any official documentation of Ravkan citizenship. That’s changing now, but many are still wary, and with very good reason to be.

---

The quick bureaucratic sketch to mark Vrouw Inej Rietveld as a Seetsen Van Det Kerchrepublik, looked absolutely nothing like the drawings on the three individual sets of national wanted posters that keep cropping up in seedy port cities. Absolutely none of the above get her nose right.

“I look white in this one,” she said, holding a particularly egregious example up to Aigerim, who commiserate mightily. “Look how fucking straight this nose is. No eyebrows.”

Hitting the nose furnishes very fun target practice for when her fingers itch to throw knives.

Inej wins a lot of games of darts in a lot of seamy seaside pubs tucked into a lot of different gritty port cities.

---

They dock in Pijl before Ketterdam to catch their breath and do repairs. Ketterdam’s a good place for business and to look for secrets and plan strategy but a shite location to re-sew a sail or patch up a wall, unless you like replacing your supplies every time they’re stolen. The prices of grain and barrels of water and apples are lower are lower closer to the fields as well, even if that involves bartering loudly in a Centraalmarket that smells like spilled cider and pig shit, straw crunching underfoot, rather than the hallowed halls of the Exchange.

It takes her three days to come down with the evil hybrid chest cold-stomache flu of her fucking life. Ameera shoves her back into bed with ginger tea and another blanket. The thing they don’t tell you about awesome pirate ships with awesome international crews is that you also get the full spectrum of awesome international germs.

By the fourth day, she’s putting on all three of her coats and stuffing a wad of kruge and her passport into a pocket to visit the clinic in town.

---

Other people seem to register this whole being-married business than Inej ever does. She just prefers the expedited customs lines.

The splotchy faced, matronly woman at the clinic sits her on a paper-covered table and reads through a list of questions on a clipboard. Nian loves the lab smell of pure alcohol, would probably dab it on as perfume if she could, but Inej only associates it with injury, with being patched and stitched up after a bad scrape, with the white-coated doctor who came in every two weeks to swab Tante Heleen’s girls for disease, with the brown bottle of the stuff she uses to clean blood and worse off of her knives.

“Family history of pulmonary infections?” the woman asks her. “Smoking, alcohol, jurda use?” Every question makes her squirm slightly, as if in the historyof her wheezing lunghs is some sin she’s committed and will only now find out about. Nejn, nejn, nejn. Inej forgot how much she hated being looked at.

No grisha in her family that she knows of- scribble scribble scribble- but a lot of bad eyesight.

“When was the last time you had intimate relations with your husband?” the woman asks bluntly, and that’s the question that knocks the air out from her. The woman’s thin yellow eyebrow quirks up, but Inej manages to disguise her gasp as a particularly bad fit of hacking. She knows its nothing but a bit of intrusive medical questioning, but words can have many meanings and the answers to questions can be both yes and no at the same time and a certain turn of phrase can punch like a fist and cut like a knife. So she just says “six months ago,” and gives the woman her answer for the write-up.

“Long time.”

“He’s a sailor. I cry as I wait for him to return to me.”

“Ghezen’s speed that he does.”

---

She isn’t quite sure the Kerch even believe in Ghezen as anything beyond a bit of window-dressing to their financial affairs and the punchlien to jokes. Not like she honours her saints, the small painted icon of Sankta Inej she also keeps next to her heart, her daily prayers in the dark comfort her her room. She stands with Merjan, one of her crewmates, at the grave of Sankta Mahari, Queen of Mercy and Patroness of the Lost as they read the ancient prayers together, their voices settling into the steadiness of bees. Our queen, protector of our people, give us mercy, pray for peace, pray for us, pray to bring light to the shadows of the things we have done.

Sankta Anastasia, Sankt Dmitri, Sankta Mahari, she whispers into her knuckles, her fingers moving along the prayer rope with the decisive snapping of wooden beats, pray for our safety in the storm and bring us to the shore.

---

If Inej has found her own name, written with a familar jagged hand, among the prayer-knots tied to the Zentzbridge in a plea of mercy from the sea, she will not mention it.

---

Ketterdam is ugly and bright and familiear. You can smell the rotting flesh and beer smell before you see the smoky smudge of the city on the horizon. The crew makes quick work of unfolding the grishaworked official three-flying-fish flag that gives them clearance to enter the harbour without having their decks searched by the council of tides and carefully docks at Berth 22. Considering that the berths are now being numbered out into the two-hundereds, its a plum location, but its also damn close to the action, meaning that she can already see the glimmer of plastic beads floating on the water, the dark smudges of drunkards bobbing along. A few of the crew memebrs are going to get their pockets picked right off the bat. Inej already has a slush fund tucked away for precisily this reason. She’s getting better at this, she hopes, being a leader. Predicting what will happena dn why and when. Being someone that other people- many younger and more vulnerable than her- can rely on.

“AIGERIM,” she screams as she buttons up her city coat, “only two of thsoe pink trinks with the paper umbrellas MAXIMUM. You hear me?”

“Yeah, boss.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss. “If there’s anything like what happened with the canal and the Stadwatch last time happens again, I think I’ll find the decks need a good scrubbing.”

Aigerim gestures wildly. “Course, boss..”

She tries to take deep rbeaths to calm her nerves. Maybe she’s becoming a worried old crone forty years early, but she’s the one who survived this hellhole of a city. She’s the one who survived this far. In this world, twenty-three is a badge of honour.

---

He cuts a familar figure on the docks. THey each have their own webs now, know of each other’s doings three or four times removed, like recognising a faovrite drinking song on it’s third round of translation. The recognition of a familiar trick, hand, murder method. Kaz will read in a news paper of a mysterious storm that’s tripled the price of indigo and sweet-wood fans after a whole line of ships went missing off the Southern Pelagic Reefs and Inej will hear in a greasy Kaelish bar about the shocking downfall of an old Kerch trading family and they will each smile, privately, and admire the other’s handiwork.

But seeing him in person is something altogether different, and she still rushes over the slats of the quay, coat streaming behind her, stopping abruptly when she comes to him. They pause there for a second and then he lifts his arms and they wrap themselves together around each other, hesitantly but then warmly, firmly, sturdy as a sailor’s knot and with all the inevitability of the sea wearing stone to sand.

“I’ve missed you, Wraith,” he says into her hair and she shrugs into him, her head level with his chest. His chin rests neatly on her head now, if he leans down slighlty, and she swears that wasnt the case the first time they embraced, the first time she left Ketterdam. He denies that the Ice Court, Van Eyck, all that happened while he was a boy not finished with growing. Yet she herself’s tried on that first Wraith outfit- a costume of sorts, really, how different was it from the Scarab Queen’s glass-bead veil in the third act of the Komedie Brute- to find it no longer fit, that she couldn’t easily do up the buttons on the front. She has more of a woman’s set of curves to her hips and long, hard-earned muscles on her legs and thighs, and even if she is creating some new kind of legend it is under her own name now.

Sometimes, Ketterdam feels like that too-small jacket; it cannot fit the woman she’s becoming. So she sews herself a new coat from the fabric of the world.

“Mijn mann,” she says, because she likes the way his body flinches and then stills under her fingers with those words, sharp and unexpected as any knife. “I’ve missed you too.”

#my writings #kanej #i'm surreee there's spelling mistakes #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kanej fic #six of crows fic #grishaverse fic

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sage-nebula · 4 years

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Game Review — Best Friend Forever

Ever since playing (and enjoying) Mystic Messenger, I’ve had a casual interest in dating sims, and particularly those that allow for queer relationships. And as someone who has had and loved dogs my entire life, I have a marked interest in dog raising and training. So of course, a game that is at once a queer dating sim and a dog raising sim should be right up my alley. What could possibly go wrong with this?

Overall Score: 3/10

A lot. A lot can go wrong with this. I can’t remember a game that has disappointed me this badly in recent memory, one that feels almost like a betrayal because it sounded like it was tailor made for me and I’d been looking forward to it since the initial announcement, only to be met with what honestly feels like an incomplete mess. If given more time, it’s possible this game could have been good. As it stands now, it is absolutely not. More details under the cut, and as always, view it on my blog for better looking formatting.

The Pros:

Obviously, first and foremost, that it’s a queer dating sim. You don’t have to be in a queer relationship if you play, of course, but the option is absolutely there with every single one of the romance options being available to you regardless of gender (similar to Stardew Valley in that regard, though Stardew Valley isn’t a dating sim, but rather just has a romance element). There is other queer representation as well, with at least one of the romantic options being a trans guy (who is actually the one I dated, though I can’t remember his name off-hand), and another two characters being bi considering they once dated each other and will date you regardless of your pronouns. You can choose gender-neutral pronouns, and as far as other representation goes, at least one of the characters is blind as well. So representation-wise, this game does well, and I will give it credit for that.

The art is very cute. The dogs are cute, the characters stand out from one another and have clear differences, the colors are nice and everything is drawn very well. Since the entire concept of the game is cute (move to an idyllic dog loving town and fall in love while raising a dog!) it stands to reason that the art would be as well.

The Neutrals:

The dialogue is okay. At times it felt like they were trying to hard to make the characters sound like Today’s Youth, which would absolutely age the game in just a couple years if the game had any lasting power at all (which I highly doubt it does). There were times when I enjoyed it, but other times where I cringed a little.

The music is also okay. Nothing memorable, but it fit the setting well enough.

The dog events during play did a decent job of making the dog feel involved, but at times were a bit distracting and not always intuitive (for instance, having to hold A to pet rather than pressing it repeatedly like I thought at first, which can lead to your dog being depressed).

The Cons:

There is so little character customization there might as well not be any at all. You can pick between three designs which cannot have their features changed at all. Three. You can’t even do simple things like change hair color, skin tone, or clothing options. This is a $20+ game and it has less customization than a free picrew. I could understand if your character had to be very involved, action-wise, but they’re not! They just stand off to the left side constantly and have very small changes in facial expression. The severe lack of customization was extremely disappointing.

But you know what’s even more disappointing? Having a game where a key component is raising a dog and then only having FOUR DOGS to choose between. FOUR. Three very specific breeds, and then a “mutt” (come on, you can’t even call it a mixed-breed?). Dogs are a huge part of this game; if we can’t customize because the idea is to adopt a dog, why can’t we at least have a bigger selection to choose from? The reason in-game is that you get to the adoption shelter late, but that’s a narrative excuse created to cover for a lack of development. It doesn’t excuse it, and it was disappointing.

Despite each dog having quirky little story cards you can read when you’re adopting, as far as I can tell the dog’s stated personality has absolutely no bearing on what the experience raising them is like. For instance, I adopted the mixed-breed, who I believe was said to have been abandoned and therefore very mistrustful of humans. But I had no trouble raising the Trust stat at all; I had the dog trusting me completely in less than a day. If you’re going to bother adding things in like “this dog was abandoned” and “this dog was rescued from an abused home,” then you should at least put in the effort to make that affect the dog’s stats so that, again, players can experience something a bit different depending on the choice they make.

Speaking of the choice they make, at the beginning of the game your character signs up for a dating app and they have to answer all these questions about themselves. Near as I can tell, these questions also have no bearing on anything whatsoever because you meet and can date any of the love interests you choose. So while it’s a cutesy idea, it’s ultimately a complete waste of time that could have instead been put into developing other aspects of the game.

Back to the dog aspect: part of the “story” (if it can be called that) is that the shelter requires every adopter to go through mandatory dog training and check-ins before they let you keep the dog. (Which . . . is not at all true to life, but whatever.) As a result, during the week you train your dog in various activities to raise their stats. Multiple issues with this:

You don’t actually train your dog. Like there aren’t minigames or anything. Instead, you select which activity you’d like to do each day, and then the week automatically runs through them and you get little blurbs on how the dog did (which always say the same thing for every activity) and which stats were raised. That’s it. You don’t actually get to do these things with the dog at all.

Near as I can tell, there is no way to get a good score on the check-ins. Even though I would raise my dog’s stats by several levels every time, I got bronze medals in every category at every check-in and a ribbon for “barely trying” even though I WAS trying, and even did all the extra activities each week as well. I looked online and others had this same problem, so it seems to me that the entire dog training aspect is rigged, and you fail no matter what you do, which again, really isn’t good game design. (That said, you get to keep the dog regardless, so it really is just an entirely pointless and time wasting aspect of the game.)

There really isn’t a story. Or well, there kind of is, but it’s a very bare bones one. Here’s the story: Your character used to work for a mega corporation but decided to quit because said corporation was Evil. You move to this dog town because you like dogs and you’re an aspiring photographer. During your time there you adopt a dog, get a love interest, hold a photography exhibit after doing one (1) sort-of job, and that’s it. There are a few events that trigger depending on which love interest route you’re going for, but there are never stakes at any point (because you’re never actually in danger of losing your dog, and even when your camera is stolen the lady who hired you for the exhibit just gives you a free replacement right away immediately), and I would argue there’s not a climax, either. It’s pretty much boring from start to finish, but that said . . .

Start to finish is a grand total of two hours! For a game that was $20+!! As I’ve expressed in other reviews, my basic rule of thumb is that I should get one hour of gameplay for every dollar spent. I am somewhat flexible on this—I can give leeway depending on the game and how much I enjoyed it—but charging twenty dollars and up for a game that lasts only two hours is an absolute rip-off in my eyes. To be fair, I didn’t play any of the other romantic routes to see those cutscenes, but the overall story would be the exact same no matter which you chose (unlike in Mystic Messenger, where it changes pretty significantly depending on which route you choose), so I honestly don’t see a point to it. It doesn’t feel worth it to me, at all.

Speaking of the different routes, while the characters have unique designs and seem interesting enough on their own, I don’t think their stories have any real depth. For instance, with the one I played (and again, can’t remember his name, sorry—though I do remember that his dog is an Italian greyhound named Marshmallow), he has a small story about how his family kicked him out when he came out as trans, he traveled around, met his roommates and formed a found family with them. One roommate, who is also this guy’s ex-boyfriend, is moving away soon and is annoyed that the love interest character is spending so much time with the cute neighbor (they live in the same apartment building), as well as the fact that the love interest is allowing his parents to contact him bit by bit. Now, this could be interesting . . . but it’s never resolved. Ever. They fight and that’s the last we see of the roommate, or hear about the situation at all. I haven’t played the other routes, but given the length of the game I assume it would be the same way; they would talk about past conflict but that’s it, you don’t get any real resolution or get to see how that story plays out. It contributes to the game feeling very unfinished, like there were ideas here but the developers lost steam halfway through and decided to just end it.

And speaking of not caring about finishing or polishing things, this game is absolutely riddled with typos. Now, I don’t want to be too mean, and I know this isn’t a AAA game. But if you’re going to release a game on the Nintendo eShop, and if you’re going to charge over $20 for it, then I feel like you should at least do the bare minimum of quality control and check for spelling and grammar. But that wasn’t done, to an extent that was noticeable. Additionally, there wasn’t quality control done to make sure that dialogue fit the route you were on. After the camera is stolen, the love interest I chose is there to comfort the main character and tell them he’ll help out. Then the next day he’s like, “I heard what happened, that sucks” as if he . . . wasn’t there. That dialogue was clearly meant for if he wasn’t the love interest, but it still played on the route where he was. This is something quality control should have caught, but since this game appears to not have any quality control whatsoever, it wasn’t.

I probably should have mentioned this above, but I just remembered—during the character creation process, there doesn’t seem to be an option to go back if you change your mind about which avatar you want, what you named your character, etc. Or at least, if there was, I couldn’t find it even by pressing the standard buttons such as B or Y. Instead, I had to restart the game about three times. Again, a simple design feature that should have been included, but wasn’t for some odd reason.

They hired voice actors, but the only real voice acting is the very annoying (and somewhat cringy) radio broadcast at the very beginning of the game. Voice actors can be expensive, so I can understand not having the whole game be voiced . . . but why hire them at all, in that case? Not all games need voice acting. This game doesn’t, but it’s odd to open the game as if you’re going to have everything be voiced when it ends up very clearly not. Not a huge deal, but on top of everything else, it bugged me.

Honestly, there’s probably more that irritated me, but it’s been a week and some change since I played, so this is all I remember right now. Suffice it to say that this game, which should have been right up my alley as a gender non-conforming queer woman who loves dogs, is one of the biggest disappointments I’ve experienced in gaming in a while. There were some good ideas here, but the execution was absolutely abysmal and I don’t recommend this game to anyone, especially not for the current price. There are much better games out there. Go play those instead.

#2020 game reviews #could not be more disappointed by and angry about this game if i tried #typically i don't read reviews before playing games bc i want to form my own opinions & i don't always agree with reviews anyway #but in this case i really wish i'd checked out the reviews #bc this game was TERRIBLE & a waste of money #which really really sucks bc i love dogs & also queer romance so much but #it is what it unfortunately is :/

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kinkyuus · 5 years

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» Word Count: 2,507 words Cross-posted on AO3

This was an ask from the main! Thank you for requesting :3 (Note: I’m posting them separately ‘cause reasons. Sakusa’s going first!)

“Could you please not sit on my bed in your outside clothes?”

The edge to Sakusa’s muffled words unknowingly triggers the reflex to roll your eyes at him. “For the record, you’re more disgusting than I am at the moment, Kiyoomi.”

He grunts, narrowing his eyes into a glare as he shifts under the covers. A sigh escapes your lips when your gaze drifts onto the sheets of paracetamol on his nightstand. God forbid the day Sakusa Kiyoomi catches the flu. Yet here he is, confined in the solitude of his room as he paves his way on the road to recovery.

Komori made it a point that Sakusa wasn’t allowed to step inside the common room at the risk of spreading his affliction to his other housemates. But something tells you that it was the libero’s sly attempt at payback because everyone knows that Itachiyama’s resident germaphobe is brutal when he’s in the vicinity of a sick person, not letting them five meters near him at all times. How the tables have turned.

Your eyes then saunter back to the poor creature in front of you. The mask he donned limits your glimpse at his face, but you can tell from the flushed color of his skin that he certainly isn’t at top notch condition. Sakusa is pale, but it turns out that there’s still room for desaturation when he’s running a fever.

“Is Komori at practice?” he asks in a throaty voice, hauling himself into a sitting position with his elbows.

“Probably,” you offer, pulling out your phone from your pocket with the intention of leaving Komori a text message. “No one was lounging in the common room when I got here.”

Sakusa’s eyes meet yours and nods. “Why are you here?”

You shoot him a bizarre look, crossing your arms over your chest as your bottom lip swells into a pout. “Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend when he’s sick?”

His face mask shifts, giving you the idea that he’s wrinkling his nose under its guise. “I still believe you’re ensnared by today’s standards for a relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

Sakusa spares you a pointed stare. “You told me last week that you have other matters to attend to today. Did you really cancel your plans just to see me in this pitiful state?”

Had he uttered those words to anyone else, they would take offense. But you’ve been around him long enough to understand that he truly means no harm when he questions other people’s intentions for their kind gestures. Your lips tug into a sly smile as you quickly typed in a message to Komori, informing him that you dropped by their dorm to give the quarantine patient a visit.

You turn to Sakusa once the message delivers. “You know how other people become concerned when a person close to them gets sick?”

His face contorts, furrowing his brows. “What about it?”

“Well, just imagine the worry I felt when I found out that the person I know that’s least prone to any kind of illness winds up under house arrest because of a flu.” Your hand inched closer to his on the smooth covers. When your fingers touched, a familiar warmth spread across your chest when Sakusa didn’t jerk away from the contact.

The tension on his face relaxes at your sentiment. He heaves a sigh, carding his other hand through the inky tufts of his hair. Sakusa then proceeds to mumble something incomprehensible under his breath.

“What was that?” you urge, scooting a little closer to him.

“The rain,” he articulates gruffly. “I jogged in the rain yesterday.”

You blink, but your surprise lasts for a second when it’s overtaken by a fit of giggles spilling from your lips. Sakusa steels his gaze at your reaction, but you don’t think much of it.

“That’s all right, Kiyoomi,” you coo. “A person’s immune system isn’t perfect no matter how much you avert yourself from bacteria.”

His glare doesn’t ease up, frigid hostility outlining his features. Sakusa hates being belittled in any way even if it was meant as a jest. But you’ve mapped your way around his quirks and habits a long time ago. You knew the protocol when his annoyance is beginning to sizzle.

You kick off your sneakers before climbing under the covers with him. The sudden invasion of his space chinks the armor of his belligerence, making him drop the hard-eyed stare he’s been holding for a while now.

Your arms weaseled themselves around Sakusa’s broad shoulders, holding his feverish body closer to you. He grunts once but doesn’t make any moves that suggested he wasn’t pleased with your forwardness. If anything, he seems to be leaning into your touch.

“If you keep glaring at me, you’re going to get wrinkles when you get old, Kiyoomi,” you chide, nuzzling yourself further into his chest. As expected from the clean freak, he faintly smells like a laundromat. But his own distinctive scent mingles with the fabric softener, diffusing an aroma unique only to Sakusa himself.

This time he doesn’t make any noise in retaliation. Instead, Sakusa shifts to his side to face you. Even through the several layers of clothes in between, you can feel the taut muscles shifting under his sleeve as he settles his arm around your waist. The intensity of his gaze makes you squeak and you’re forced to put a few more inches between the two of you. However, your sudden timidness doesn’t escape his notice.

“Do you not like it?” He arches an eyebrow.

“‘Course I do, stupid Kiyoomi,” you grumble, hiding your reddening face in his chest. “I’m just not used to it when you cuddle me back so soon.”

His dark eyes soften at your proclamation. He clears his throat, resting his chin on the crook of his neck. The fabric of his face mask brushes against your skin and you’re hyper aware of the steady breaths filtering through it.

“Komori once told me I could be a downer at times,” he admits.

You hum as you reach a hand out to drag the mask beneath his chin, exposing his chiseled face to the cool air of his bedroom. Something akin to distress flashes across his eyes for a split second but you have the mind to ease him with a soft peck on the corner of his mouth.

“You think I’m still bothered by your perpetual hostility, Kiyoomi?” You giggle.

“Perpetual?” he echoes, craning his head to the side.

“Everyone calls you a genius, but you’re totally oblivious off the court.” You sigh.

“I am not very sure I like the sound of that, (Name).”

His words are met with a playful smack to his chest. As you drink in the sight of the boy before you, you wonder why everyone thinks of Itachiyama’s ace as an indecipherable force of nature. It’s probably because most only saw him reaping victory after victory in each volleyball game the team competed in. The way he carries himself with unrivaled gallance may have contributed to his image significantly as well. But at the end of the day, Sakusa is still human. He’s capable of falling ill like this; capable of being spread vulnerable. He even laughs at the occasional joke from Komori shared over lunch sometimes. Sakusa is no god, but not a lot of people are given chances to get to know him in a different light, and frankly, he doesn’t want to be thought of as anything less either.

You’re simply one of the lucky ones who get to witness him without his walls up and barbed.

As he leans in to ghost the shape of his lips onto your own, you can’t help but grin at the way his eyes dip half closed at the sight of you.

“I don’t remember you being this impatient, Kiyoomi,” you tease, trailing a finger across the pair of beauty marks dotting his forehead. It’s only when you’re this close to Sakusa that you can fully observe him eyeing you with subtle desire through thick lashes that would make any woman envious.

“Blame it on the fever.” The sultry purr that underscores his words spell out a challenge, and you want nothing more than to take it.

Note to self, make Kiyoomi run in the rain more often. Fevers bring down his inhibitions.

The warmth of his lips slants over yours without a moment’s hesitation. Your fingers immediately entangle themselves in his mess of curls, tugging lightly to encourage more ferocity. A groan rumbles somewhere low in his chest as he yanks at your waist, not allowing an inch of you to remain out of his grasp. You sigh against his mouth and Sakusa takes advantage of the opportunity to slither his tongue inside. His appendage swirls with your own with a sloppiness that feels foreign to you. But his eagerness only serves as a catalyst to the growing heat in the pit of your stomach.

One of your legs hooks itself around his hip, pressing your bodies flush against each other. His skin is hot to the touch and you’re slowly becoming engulfed in the flames of his unspoken desire. But Sakusa doesn’t have to utter a sound to let you know just how deep his hunger plunged. The evidence is in plain sight—his impending arousal springing forth from his sweatpants.

Momentarily, you break away from the union of your lips, to which he responds with an aggravated click of his tongue. Before he can resume his assault, you climb over his body, accommodating his hips on either side of your thighs. From this view, you can clearly see that the short exchange dyed his previously flushed face a few shades redder. Wild locks of his obsidian hair spill across his pillow in loose ringlets. Sakusa’s respiration comes in quick, uneven breaths as his fingers dig into your hips at his waning patience.

“I think…” You tilt your head downward, eyes penetrating through him. “I’m starting to like you better when you’re sick.”

Sakusa simpers for a moment, composing himself so that his back is pressed against the headboard. The look in his eyes beckons you closer and when you comply to his wishes, one of his hands find purchase tangled in your hair, while the other holds your hips in place. You aren’t able to stifle the moan that resonates in your chest when he begins sucking greedily across the column of your neck, fisting your hair to grant him ample access to the tenderness of your skin.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second to completely remove the face mask, discarding it in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Kiyoomi,” you mewl when he bites down particularly hard on a sweet spot, igniting your desire for more friction between your legs.

A soft growl escapes him before he finally captures your lips once more, trapping the lower line of your mouth between the edges of his teeth. He surrenders his hold on your hair and teases the fabric on the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing the skin of your hips.

“May I?” Sakusa’s voice is raspy and very much unlike him, but his plea is met with your urgency to simply feel him without any barriers of clothing separating you from each other’s need.

He drags the material of your clothes over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you on the bed. Sakusa’s lips curve into a lazy smirk, one finger hooking beneath the strap of your bra to bring it down from your shoulders. He mirrors the action on your other shoulder, but his attempt to completely liberate you from the confines of the cotton material is intercepted by your hands prodding underneath his own shirt.

“I want to feel you,” you plead, desperate.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip before hastily ridding himself of his own clothing. Your lips part in a breathless gasp at the sight of him bare. Volleyball truly does wonders to a high school boy’s body, and that’s evident in the prominent lines and contours that mar Sakusa’s chest and abdomen. Your eyes lock with his in a heated gaze, and you can see a sheen of sweat lining his forehead.

You chuckle, leaning closer to his ear. “I was told that the best way to cure a fever is to sweat it out.”

“That’s a complete lie and you know it, (Name).”

When the sound of Komori’s voice sings in your ears, you violently jolt away from Sakusa, clamping your arms over your chest at a pathetic attempt to shield the last shred of dignity you have on you.

The libero chuckles as Sakusa glares at his intrusion, draping his blankets over your half naked form. “Komori, I thought we made it a point to knock if we have business with each other.”

Komori shrugged. “I did. You’re just too caught up in the throes of passion to hear, I guess. Plus, you didn’t put a sock on the doorknob.”

“A sock on the…?” you trailed off, suddenly recalling their house rule of stuffing a single sock on the outside doorknob to let all the house’s residents know that the denizens residing in a room aren’t to be disturbed. You’ve always remembered that one precaution whenever you came over to pay Sakusa a visit while feeling a little frisky. But today, you had no intention of jumping your boyfriend since he’s sick. All the actions leading up to this moment were driven by the mad temptation that permeated the air, and God—

“I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here, Komori,” Sakusa speaks flatly, the threat in his words as clear as day.

But like you, Komori isn’t the least bit fazed by the ace’s ill-disposed words. “No can do, Sakusa. The coach wants a word with you.”

“I’m sick.”

“Not sick enough to want to bone (Name), though.” Komori shrugs. “I think you can haul yourself to the gym, given that she gave you the ample energy boost.”

The scowl Sakusa gives him provides you a sense of comic relief. Just a few minutes ago, you were about to dive into your own pooling desire, but now your plans have been abruptly derailed.

“Go.” You pat him on the shoulder, tossing him the shirt he discarded earlier. “I’ll wait.”

He narrows his eyes at you. Then at Komori. But he ultimately resigns himself to his responsibilities with a defeated sigh. Sakusa climbs out of his bed, putting his shirt on as he glares at his teammate.

“I still have to grab something from my room,” Komori informs. “Tell me when you’re done kissing her goodbye, Sakusa~”

When the door closes behind him, Sakusa pulls you to your feet. Confused, you let him do as he pleases. But when he leans down to your ear, the heat of his breath sends a shudder rocketing across your spine.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu hc #scenario #sick fic

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taule · 5 years

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J.J. Abrams on The Rise of Skywalker Critics and Defenders: “They’re All Right”

But they’re wrong about his relationship with The last Jedi director Rian Johnson: “It’s been nothing but collaborative.”

Remember when Obi-Wan Kenobi decided he would no longer fight Darth Vader in their final showdown during the original Star Wars? At a post-screening Q&A for The Rise of Skywalker on Friday night, J.J. Abrams essentially did the same thing, lifting his lightsaber in reflection rather than battle. Strike if you feel that's right; but he will not be striking back.

The only thing he rejects is the notion that there is a disturbance or hostility between him and The Last Jedi filmmaker Rian Johnson.

The newest Star Wars film has received punishing reviews from critics, although audience scores on sites like Rotten Tomatoes are significantly more positive. There’s no denying that the ninth film in the Skywalker saga has divided the vast fandom for the series, even as it tallies strong box office numbers. Intense and heartfelt reactions both in favor of its story and against it continue to emerge as more people see it.

After a screening at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences on Friday, Abrams was asked what he would say to those who are unhappy. Are they not getting something? “No, I would say that they’re right,” he answered quickly. “The people who love it more than anything are also right.”

Abrams still believes in his movie, but he expressed respect to those who had a differing view and suggested everyone in the fandom should do the same to each other, no matter where they stand.“There is an MO of either: ��It’s exactly as I see it, or you’re my enemy,’” he said. “It’s a crazy thing that there’s such a norm that seems to be void of nuance and compassion — and this is not [a phenomenon] about Star Wars, this is about everything.”

The director had just returned from a global tour with the film, where he also fielded questions about that mixed reaction. “I was asked just seven hours ago in another country, ‘So how do you go about pleasing everyone?’ I was like’ What…?’ Not to say that that’s what anyone should try to do anyway, but how would one go about it? Especially with Star Wars.”

With a series like this, spanning more than four decades, nearly a dozen films, several TV shows, and countless novels, comics, and video games, the fanbase is so far-reaching that discord may be inevitable. “We knew starting this that any decision we made — a design decision, a musical decision, a narrative decision — would please someone and infuriate someone else,” Abrams said. “And they’re all right.”

But they are wrong about him and Johnson, he insists, and the notion that The Rise of Skywalker is trying to undo what Johnson did with The Last Jedi. “It would be a much more interesting answer if there were conflict,” Abrams said. “The truth is when I was getting [The Force Awakens] up and running, I was nothing but grateful that a director and writer I admire as much as Rian was coming in to do [the next one.] Not expecting to come back to this, it was just fun to watch what was happening and get to respond to it.”

Johnson earned exceptionally high marks from critics for The Last Jedi, which depicted Luke Skywalker as fearful and embittered before rediscovering his courage through the help of Rey’s decency and determination. However, that 2017 film was just as divisive within the fandom— with some irked about moments like Luke dismissively tossing aside his family lightsaber, and Kylo Ren smashing his iconic mask after it was mocked by his Supreme Leader.

A backlash and counter backlash over The Last Jedi endures to this day. It was hailed for its originality by some, but criticized by others for going too far to subvert expectations. There were critiques about the movie’s plot and logistics, but it also suffered unspeakable and indefensible racist and misogynist attacks from online trolls.

In some cases in The Rise of Skywalker, Abrams may be getting dinged for picking up where Johnson left off, because some may only be thinking of where Johnson began. With Snoke now deceased in The Rise of Skywalker, Ren rebuilds his mask — but the ugly memory from that previous insult lingers, and he is hypersensitive to anyone he believes might mock it. Abrams himself noted that Luke’s presence in Rise (which we won't spoil here) is more in line with the hero he is at the end of The Last Jedi than the hopeless figure at its start.

Johnson also introduced "the democratization of the Force," a notion that the invisible cosmic power was reaching out to ordinary people beyond the descendants of Jedi and Sith. That premise is still in Rise, albeit less overtly, in the form a group of new warriors led by Jannah (Naomi Ackie) who reveals she and others have experienced a kind of extrasensory power that guides them in inexplicable ways. They’re describing the Force, although they don’t have the word for it.

There is one major change, though, that is prompting the most objection. The Force Awakens introduced a mystery about Rey’s family history, and The Last Jedi appeared to answer it by having Kylo Ren reveal that the former scavenger was far from the being the descendant of a powerful Force-wielder. Instead, she was a “nobody, from nowhere,” whose parents were junk traders who sold her for drinking money.

“The easiest thing for Rey and the audience to hear is, Oh yeah, you’re so-and-so’s daughter. That would be wish fulfillment and instantly hand her a place in this story on a silver platter,” Johnson said at a Q&A for the same opening-weekend Academy screening in December 2017. “The hardest thing for her is to hear she’s not going to get that easy answer. … You’re going to have to find the strength to stand on your own two feet and define yourself in this story.”

Tasked with the creation of a new film, Abrams and co-screenwriter Chris Terrio (Argo) felt they had to up the ante — taking her despair at being “no one” and revealing that there may be an even more unsettling answer than that one. Abrams said Johnson was consulted on the story, adding that many of their new plot points were only possible because they built upon Johnson’s offbeat narrative.

“We had conversations with Rian at the beginning. It’s been nothing but collaborative,” Abrams said. “The perspective that, at least personally, I got from stepping away from it and seeing what Rian did, strangely gave us opportunities that would never have been there, because of course he made choices no one else would have made.”

“In a way it felt kind of like a gift, though of course there were challenges in every direction,” Abrams said. “It was actually weirdly more helpful than not, having that other energy to the story. There was an alchemy because of the things that he did.”

[ Vanity Fair ]

#JJ Abrams #Star Wars #TROS #The Rise of Skywalker #i haven't readi it all yet #just pasting here because some people can't access

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theliberaltony · 4 years

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarah (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): Former Vice President Joe Biden’s team is talking a big game about an expanded electoral map with Arizona, Georgia and Texas in play, even though those states haven’t voted for a Democratic presidential nominee in two decades.

So let’s talk about just how feasible this strategy is. How competitive are those three states at this point? And what’s more, how does this strategy complement — or counteract — Democratic efforts to pick up Midwestern battleground states like Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, or perennial swing states like Florida?

First up, Arizona. What do we think? Does Biden have a shot there?

geoffrey.skelley (Geoffrey Skelley, elections analyst): Of the three states we’re looking at, I think it’s pretty clear that Arizona is the most in play — and that Biden may even have the lead there, based on the limited polling we have.

President Trump won Arizona by 3.5 points in 2016 while losing the national popular vote by 2 points. So it stands to reason that if Biden is up 6 points or so nationally, Arizona is a toss-up, and that’s before we consider other things that may have shifted between 2016 and now.

nrakich (Nathaniel Rakich, elections analyst): I agree, although I have been surprised at the degree to which Arizona seems to have moved to the left since 2016.

sarah: What other evidence do we have that Arizona has moved to the left since 2016?

geoffrey.skelley: Well, unlike in Georgia and Texas, Democrats actually won major statewide contests in Arizona in 2018 — including the state’s marquee Senate race — and election turnout was nearly as high as the 2016 presidential contest, meaning that performance may reflect a broader shift toward the Democrats rather than just a side effect of the midterms’ blue wave.

nrakich: G. Elliott Morris of The Economist had an interesting newsletter item recently that showed how much various states have moved left or right since 2016, based on the 2020 polls so far. Arizona had the starkest movement.

And Geoffrey’s right that, if Arizona were still 6 points redder than the nation and Biden led by 6 points nationally, we’d expect polls of Arizona to show a tied race. But Biden has consistently led in Arizona polls so far.

Biden has the edge in Arizona polling so far

Presidential general election polls of Arizona conducted since March 1

Dates Pollster Biden Trump Margin May 18-22 HighGround 47% 45% D+2 May 10-14 Redfield & Wilton 45 41 D+4 May 9-11 OH Predictive Insights 50 43 D+8 April 7-8 OH Predictive Insights 52 43 D+9 March 10-15 Marist 47 46 D+1 March 11-14 Monmouth 46 43 D+3 March 6-11 Latino Decisions 50 42 D+8 March 3-4 OH Predictive Insights 49 43 D+6 March 2-3 Public Policy Polling 48 47 D+1

Source: Polls

On the other hand, I’m still somewhat skeptical of the idea Arizona has moved that much to the left. Some of the higher-quality polls, like from Marist and Monmouth, do have the race closer to a tie, whereas the polls suggesting Arizona has gotten significantly more Democratic (e.g., by showing Biden up by 8 points) are not coming from gold-standard pollsters.

sarah: One other thing about Arizona that makes me think it might be fertile ground for Democrats in 2020 is that Democratic Senate challenger Mark Kelly seems to have the upper hand against Sen. Martha McSally, and if that race ends up close — or flips blue — that bodes well for Democrats in the long run, as it’s more evidence that Arizona might be becoming more of a blue state.

nrakich: Yeah, Kelly has been a monster fundraiser. He’s taken in more than $31 million since the beginning of last year.

Although I don’t think a down-ballot race is likely to drive turnout for the presidential. If anything, Kelly might run ahead of Biden because of his money and great bio.

geoffrey.skelley: That’s fair, but it’s worth remembering that every Senate seat that was up in 2016 went for the party that carried the state at the presidential level, so the fact a Democrat is polling that well in the Senate contest is probably a decent sign for the party’s chances as a whole.

sarah: For sure. It’s less that a down-ballot race would affect the top of the ticket, but more that Arizona really might go blue in 2020.

It sounds like we agree with the Biden campaign’s assessment that Arizona is in play, so does it make sense for them to campaign there?

Or is there an argument to be made that they should keep an eye on it, but maybe not commit fully?

nrakich: I mean … both?

It’s a spectrum.

I definitely think Biden should spend more time and money in Arizona than in Georgia and Texas. But I still think Arizona is unlikely to be the tipping-point state, and Biden should spend even more time and money in must-win states like Wisconsin, Pennsylvania and Michigan.

geoffrey.skelley: Oh, they should definitely fully commit. Arizona gives them another possible path to 270 in the Electoral College. Arizona’s worth 11 electoral votes, so it could sub in for, say, Wisconsin (10 electoral votes) if Trump were to narrowly carry the Badger State.

nrakich: Now you have me questioning myself, Geoffrey! *whips out calculator*

Hmmm, Florida and Wisconsin were 3 points to the right of the nation in 2016. Arizona, as discussed, was 6. That’s not a big gap at all; maybe they do converge this year?

geoffrey.skelley: Another thing to keep in mind is that Democrats have been making inroads in the suburbs and dominating urban areas. Maricopa County (Phoenix and its environs) was the most populous county in the country to vote for Trump in 2016, but Trump only won it narrowly by about 3 points, and in 2018, Democratic Sen. Kyrsten Sinema carried it by 4 points. So Democrats may be hoping for a repeat in 2020. Win Maricopa, win Arizona.

sarah: OK, it sounds like focusing on Arizona is smart for the Biden campaign, but maybe we’re a bit more skeptical of Georgia and Texas, the other two states the campaign has included in its “expanded” electoral map?

nrakich: Yeah. Georgia was 7 points to the right of the nation in 2016, and Texas was 11 points to the right. Given long-term trends, they have both probably moved a little to the left, but they have further to go than Arizona.

That said, Biden may well win those states — take a look at the polling there:

Georgia polls are extremely close

Presidential general election polls of Georgia conducted since March 1

Dates Pollster Biden Trump Margin May 16-18 Civiqs 48% 47% D+1 May 11-13 BK Strategies 46 48 R+2 May 4-7 Public Opinion Strategies 47 46 D+1 April 25-27 Cygnal 44 45 R+1 March 31-April 1 Battleground Connect 46 48 R+2

Source: Polls

Can Biden shock Trump in Texas?

Presidential general election polls of Texas conducted since March 1

Dates Pollster Biden Trump Margin May 8-10 Emerson College 48% 52% R+3 April 27-28 Public Policy Polling 47 46 D+1 April 18-27 University of Texas at Tyler 43 43 EVEN April 10-19 YouGov 44 49 R+5

Source: Polls

But if he does, he will probably already have clinched the Electoral College in the Midwest, Arizona or Florida.

geoffrey.skelley: Georgia is interesting. On the one hand, Biden could target the increasingly Democratic suburbs of Atlanta. On the other hand, it’s one of the most inelastic states in the country — meaning voters there are among the most likely to stick with their usual party regardless of which way the rest of the country swings — in part because its white voters remain predominantly Republican and its large black population is heavily Democratic, and there just isn’t a ton of movement there.

Additionally, if Democrats couldn’t carry Georgia in 2018 when the electoral environment was very pro-Democratic, that makes me skeptical they can win it in a presidential year, when partisan conditions could be more balanced. That said, if Biden is winning by 6 or 7 points nationally, that might be enough to put Georgia in his column, as Trump only carried it by 5 points in 2016. But as Nathaniel was saying earlier, that’s not a situation where Georgia is an integral part of Biden winning 270 electoral votes. It’s gravy at that point, though maybe it helps Democrats in the two Senate contests there.

nrakich: Yeah, Georgia is definitely inelastic. But on the other hand, Georgia has inched leftward (relative to the nation as a whole) in the last three presidential elections. And I think there is room for more suburban whites to move toward Democrats, not only in Georgia but also in Texas and Arizona.

sarah: That’s a good point, and I think a real question determining whether Georgia and Texas will be competitive is just how much the trends of 2018 — namely, suburban white voters moving to the Democratic Party — hold true.

This is an extreme hypothetical, but earlier this year, Nathaniel looked at what would happen if a state’s presidential vote was based strictly on how rural or urban the state is, and he found that Georgia would remain in the R column, but both Arizona and Texas would swing blue:

What if the urban-rural divide dictated the 2020 election?

The results of a hypothetical presidential election if a state’s urbanization were the only factor, based on the relationship between FiveThirtyEight’s urbanization index and 2016 presidential election results

State Result State Result Alabama R+16.0 Montana R+30.8 Alaska R+27.3 Nebraska R+8.2 Arizona D+6.1 Nevada D+12.3 Arkansas R+20.5 New Hampshire R+11.9 California D+17.7 New Jersey D+18.3 Colorado D+4.2 New Mexico R+12.2 Connecticut D+7.6 New York D+22.5 Delaware D+2.3 North Carolina R+6.6 Florida D+8.3 North Dakota R+23.2 Georgia R+3.6 Ohio D+0.6 Hawaii D+3.3 Oklahoma R+11.6 Idaho R+16.1 Oregon R+1.5 Illinois D+10.3 Pennsylvania D+4.1 Indiana R+5.5 Rhode Island D+11.6 Iowa R+16.1 South Carolina R+9.4 Kansas R+9.3 South Dakota R+27.4 Kentucky R+13.6 Tennessee R+8.3 Louisiana R+8.6 Texas D+4.5 Maine R+23.4 Utah D+1.7 Maryland D+11.5 Vermont R+25.9 Massachusetts D+13.2 Virginia D+1.0 Michigan R+0.3 Washington D+3.8 Minnesota R+4.9 West Virginia R+22.4 Mississippi R+25.1 Wisconsin R+8.3 Missouri R+8.2 Wyoming R+33.6

Source: American Community Survey

What do we make of this? Might Texas actually turn blue before Georgia?

nrakich: We have a tendency to think about elections through the lens of the decisive voters in the previous election, which for 2018 was suburbanites. But as I showed in that urbanization article, Georgia does have a lot of rural voters too, and there is still room for them to move even more toward Trump. So, actually, maybe those two trends will cancel each other out.

geoffrey.skelley: OK, but Georgia was still notably closer to going for Clinton than Texas — Trump won Georgia by 5 points and Texas by 9 points, which is a fairly sizable difference. And while Georgia may be more inelastic than Texas, Texas is not that elastic. Our 2018 elasticity score for Texas was 1.03 — not that far above the baseline of 1 — while Georgia’s was 0.90.

Texas is changing, but Barack Obama lost it by 12 points in 2008, which was a really good environment overall for Democrats.

nrakich: Yeah, there’s just too far for it to go.

geoffrey.skelley: As is often the case with questions about when Texas could go blue, it depends on how fast the political environment changes, but it still probably won’t happen until sometime after 2020, given what we know currently.

sarah: People seem to agree that the Biden campaign shouldn’t invest too much in Georgia and Texas if it comes at the expense of other battleground states in the Midwest or Florida. Is that fair?

nrakich: I think there’s a case for keeping your options open in Georgia. But the Biden campaign would be foolish to invest significantly in Texas. If Texas votes Democratic, Biden will already have won virtually every other swing state and, therefore, the election. It’s simply not a part of his path to 270 electoral votes — more like a part of his path to 400.

Also, Texas is an extremely expensive state in which to campaign, so it just wouldn’t be an efficient use of his money.

geoffrey.skelley: If Trump really is doing a lot worse among older voters than in 2016, it would be foolish for Biden to abandon Florida, which has one of the oldest populations in the country.

I could see reasons for Democrats to worry about Florida being a mirage after they failed to win the gubernatorial and Senate races there in 2018, but it’s just been too close in recent presidential elections to actually give up on it. Trump only won it by 1 point in 2016!

nrakich: Oh, I have strong feelings about Florida.

sarah:

nrakich: Florida is definitely still a swing state; it’s not as inelastic as the 2018 results implied. The Democratic nominees for governor and senator, Andrew Gillum and Bill Nelson, still outperformed Hillary Clinton in most counties; they just underperformed Clinton in a few key areas, especially Miami-Dade County. (This article by Florida Democratic consultant Matthew Isbell does a great job showing that.)

The reason for this is probably that their Republican opponents, Ron DeSantis and Rick Scott, did a lot better among Hispanic voters than Trump did. According to exit polls, Trump got 35 percent of the Latino vote in Florida in 2016, while DeSantis got 44 percent and Scott got 45 percent. In 2020, I don’t think Trump will be able to match DeSantis’s and Scott’s numbers.

So if Biden can pair Clinton’s performance among Hispanic Floridians with Nelson’s and Gillum’s among other voters, he can absolutely win Florida.

geoffrey.skelley: We’ve talked a lot about how Biden might be able to expand his electoral map, but he can’t afford to give up on Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin. In 2016, they were collectively decided by 78,000 votes, and who wins them in 2020 will likely be consequential as well.

The bigger questions in the Midwest and Rust Belt are probably whether to invest in Iowa and Ohio, which Trump carried by about 9 and 8 points, respectively. Those two states might be harder for Democrats to win back considering how they swung hard toward the GOP in 2016 after backing Obama in 2012.

That said, Iowa does have some history of being pretty swingy. It’s also cheaper to advertise in Iowa than Ohio, and if we’re talking down-ballot races, there is more at stake there, too. Potentially four competitive House races and a Senate seat in Iowa, whereas Ohio has no Senate race and is likely to have only one or two close House races.

nrakich: Yeah, if Biden wants to be an effective president, he’ll need a Democratic Senate. IMO, that means he should give extra credit to Georgia and Iowa when deciding where to allocate his resources.

sarah: The balancing act that the Biden campaign will inevitably have to engage in isn’t entirely clear to me yet. How much will they actually invest in states like Arizona, Georgia and Texas versus doubling down on states like Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin?

Much of this will inevitably boil down to what the tipping-point state is in 2020, but one thing that’s hard to figure out is how much of the map already realigned in 2016. Put another way, does Biden have his eyes on states like Arizona because winning states like Wisconsin back will be difficult?

nrakich: But I think that’s the needle we need to thread: Arizona might be moving in one direction and Wisconsin in the other, but even in the “realigned” (really more “recalibrated”) 2016 map, Arizona was redder than Wisconsin.

geoffrey.skelley: It’s curious because some of this comes down to the national environment. Maybe Wisconsin is a point or two redder than it was in 2016, but if Biden wins by 4 or 5 points nationally, maybe that’s enough to carry it even if Wisconsin is continuing to move toward the GOP.

But how exactly that plays out in each state is hard to say.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Sarah Frostenson #Nathaniel Rakich and Geoffrey Sk

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years

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Partner search!

Hello all! I’m looking for a skilled, experienced 1x1 partner or two for a Discord roleplay. I have a few particular plots, though please feel free to come with your own ideas. Please read to the end as there is a password I won't answer messages without.

•General/Writing Style•

I usually prefer sticking at around 4 paragraphs and up, but quality over quantity for the most part. If you usually write 3 paragraphs or less, it'll be hard for me to stay interested, however. I would prefer you write in 3rd person, past tense. Please have decent grammar and spelling, varied vocabulary and sentence structure, as well as decent syntax. Please provide me something of substance to respond to in your responses. Please also be somewhat experienced.

•Age•

18+ only, but 21+ preferred (I'm 23)

•Timezone•

Mine is EST. I do not mind what timezone you're in.

•Response Frequency•

I'd prefer if you could respond at least once a week. I'm a pretty busy student can't definitely commit to much more than that, so I won't ask that of you. Please try to communicate when you will be gone or significantly less active for several weeks or more. I will try to do the same.I'm a bit less lenient with this when we're still doing introductions, so if we've barely said hello but a few days pass and I hear nothing, I'll assume you're no longer interested or never were in the first place and close our discussion. You are free to assume the same of me.

•Genre•

I'm a sucker for Romantic Slice-of-life with a healthy dose of drama and angst, but I do like to weave other genres in there too such as Supernatural, Mystery, Action, and Adventure. I'm really open to most things if the plot interests me.

•Gender and Romantic Preference•

I strongly prefer playing a female main outside of MxM. Beyond that, I am open to MxF, FxF, and MxM . Currently, I'm mostly in the mood for an MxF or possibly F//. My apologies, but please note I do not play male in MxF unless we have roleplayed other pairings together before and have highly compatible writing styles. I rarely double up.I do not engage in dichotomy personality dynamics(ie- dom/sub, ABO, top/bottom) and like pairings to be close to even as possible in contributions to the relationship. If a scene gets intimate, I'd prefer we fade to black.

•Plots/Creativity•

The plots I’m looking to do atm are listed below. Despite this, you're more than welcome to share plots of your own. I'd prefer it if you are open to brainstorming plot points and bouncing ideas off each other too- let's keep this interesting for both of us so it stays alive.

•OCs•

I would prefer not to roleplay with OCs that are excessively shy, Mary-Sues, or OP. Additionally, please ensure your own OC does not monopolize the plot with their own issues and background. Let's share the spotlight.I tend to play multiple characters and would prefer if you did too.Please do not control my main OC or any named side characters I introduce. It can really mess with my plans with them if you suddenly auto-kill out of nowhere or something... If necessary, I may permit you to control a side character of mine, but please run it by me first. Communication is key.

•Platform•

Discord is strongly preferred. I can potentially be convinced to use kik, tumblr, or line.

•Fandoms•

I am willing to roleplay within the universe of several fandoms, but please note I do not roleplay as canon characters and would prefer not to roleplay with canon characters either. Please recall that I am more than happy to do original plots too if you aren't into any of these.-Corpse Party**-Black Mirror-Death Note-Avatar The Last Airbender*-Downton Abbey-Call The Midwife*-Dragon Quest(IV-IX)***-Miraculous Ladybug****(I'd love to delve into the more subtle, darker elements like the consequences of a broken miraculous and time travel)-Fruits Basket**-Soul Eater*-The Hunger Games-Harry Potter(The number of * indicates craving)

•Original Plots•

(Muse I would like to play is bolded. If neither are bolded, I can do either. All of these are open to brainstorming and tweaking!)

Muse A was born into a society where ‘falling in love’ is not a thing. Sure, it’s written in about fairy tales and even history texts, but most Readers laugh it off as a silly, archaic concept. All couples are formed by reading Cerebral wavelengths, stats that are unique to every individual. Every person has a single match and are paired with that person permanently when they come of age. No trades, no take-backs. Muse B, though born into the regular world, doesn’t believe in love either. Perhaps it was the plight of their parents, or that one nasty breakup. Perhaps it was the sight of all the couples around who’d be lovey-dovey one week, but strangers the next. Whatever it is, they don’t buy it. That suits Muse A just fine- their Cerebral wavelengths not only don’t match, they bang together in a cacophony. Why is it then that these two begin experiencing an undeniable pull to each other?

One night, Muse A is taking their usual jog through the park when they trip right over Muse B tying their shoe. Cliche start is cliche, I know, but stay with me here. After some initial awkwardness, the two hit it off quite well. Flash forward a week or so and the pair are starting school in the same class, Muse A as one of the typical debutants, and Muse B a lucky upstart on a basketball scholarship. Muse B had high hopes for where things’ll go…only to find out Muse A has a boyfriend, who happens to be Muse B’s nemesis on the courts. Whoops. But something’s really off with the couple. As in the boy is downright awful, and it isn’t just the rivalry talking. Yet Muse A refuses to leave him…why is that?

(This is an older one of mine, but I’ve recently kinda been in the mood to start it up again.) Marianoh’s Culinary Institute is the most renowned school for culinary arts in the country. Any who truly wish to be a master chef would be foolish not to attend. Unless they don’t have the means- the tuition is insanely high. Muse A is part of the lucky few of humble beginnings that has been selected to attend via scholarship. They couldn’t be more excited. Muse B, on the other hand, comes from a family of celebrity chefs. Their spot at Marianoh’s was confirmed before birth. Yet, somehow, they don’t share Muse A’s joy. Far from it, actually. What happens when the two are partnered up for the year?

(A brand new one definitely open to suggestions) St. Cornelius’ Academy(or University) is an academic institution reserved only for those of royal or noble background as well as their future servants, attendants, and body guards. Students of the academy hail from kingdoms where individuals are born gifted with control over the 8 elements- light, wind, flame, flora, lightening(tech), water, earth, and darkness. Students are divided based on status into ‘Golds,’ ‘Greys,’ and ‘ The ‘Gold’ category includes all royalty and nobility aside from viscounts and barons of low birth. The ‘Gray’ category includes future ladies and men in waiting, other servants, attendants, and body guards. Students are instructed in all areas in order to best prepare them for their future roles from political science to etiquette to combat. Given the wealth of a portion of the student body, the campus is a vivacious display of luxury, featuring lavish gardens, seemingly endless grounds, state-of-the-art learning facilities, and even an expansive kitchen headed by a world renowned 31 star chef. Currently, I have three potential pairings in mind for this set-up.

-Muse A is a new lady in waiting assigned to a spoilt, catty Duchess of Aquaria(Water Kingdom). Catering to the every whim of the young princess-to-be is exhausting, but her goal of reaching far greater heights than her questionable background merits keeps her going. What faster way to do that than catching the eye of Muse B, the princess’ bethrothed and crown Prince of Aquaria using abilities bequeathed to her by her merpeople ancestry? The lines between acting and reality are prone to blurring, however and actual feelings soon begin to muddle her plans. Muse B isn’t as unaware as he first seems either..

-Muse A is the somewhat naive prince of Angion(Flora), unsure of his future. He’s distant from his fiancée, Muse B a cold, proud Marchioness of the same kingdom, and his closest confident is one of his newest body guards, Muse C. Little does he know, that Muse C has quite the secret- she’s truly a girl whose taken on her brothers identity to serve. What will happen when all comes into the open?

5. Muse A has always been at the top of their class since early elementary and thrived on it. They come from a family of high achievers where failure is neither seen nor accepted. Proud and arrogant over their achievements, their grades make them, them. All that changed when Muse B showed up, smashing the entrance exams with marks unheard of. Of course Muse A wouldn’t take that lying down, thus, the classic rivalry begins. What happens when the two find they have more in common than they thought? Life on Muse B’s side is not all it seems as well.

Contact Instructions: Please message me here on tumblr (https://lisanimelis.tumblr.com/) with your favorite color and a writing sample. If all goes well there, we'll move to discord.

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #long term #messenger #submission

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