#Game of Bezique

[jayjtheunsispiciousmelodicathem]

FUN CARD GAMES TIME:

Q♠ Bezique J♦

The object of the game is to get 1000 points (or another, previously agreed upon value). Points are gained by melding cards into combinations, as well as winning the last trick, gathering tens and aces, and for the trump sevens. The game is primarily for two players, but more players can play.

To play you'll need:

two (or more, more on that later) standard poker decks with cards 2-6 removed (or two piquet decks) for a total of 64 cards

a pen and paper to track the score (if you're lucky to find it or have the ability to make it yourself, you can use dedicated score tracking boards with pegs)

The Deal

Having shuffled the cards, cut it and draw to see who's the first dealer - lower ranked card deals first, in case of a tie, draw again until the tie is broken. The ranking, universal for the entire game, is, high to low: A 10 K Q J 9 8 7. Dealer duty alternates in the following hands.

Deal eight cards in packets of 3, 2 and then 3 again to both players. Reveal the 17th card, and stick it under the remaining cards. This card determines the trump suit for the hand. The remaining cards form the stock or talon, from which the players will draw cards after each trick.

If the revealed card is a seven, the dealer gets ten points on the spot.

The Play

Phase One

The non-dealer goes first. They lead any card they like to a trick. The other player plays any card they like as well. There is no obligation to follow suit, trump, or overtake the trick in this phase. The player who played the highest card that follows the suit led, or played a higher trump, wins the trick and leads to the next one.

The winner of the trick collects the two played cards, and places them face-down on a pile close to themselves. Immediately after taking the trick, its winner can declare a meld, if they hold one in their hand. Once they do, decide not to, or if they just can't make a valid meld, they draw a card from the talon, and the other player draws too.

If a trump seven is played at any time, the player who did so scores 10 points. If both players play the exact same card (e.g. two sevens of spades), the card that was played first wins the trick.

Melds and Melding

As said, the winner of a trick has the opportunity to declare a meld. When they do so, they immediately score the points, and lay out the cards on the table. Those cards remain part of their player's hand, and can be played at any moment. They remain on the table until the end of phase one, or until they're all played to tricks. Only one meld can be declared at a time (although some players allow multiple).

The melds are:

Bezique (Q♠J♦) - 40pts

Double Bezique (Q♠J♦Q♠J♦) - 500pts

Trump Sequence (A 10 K Q J of trumps) - 250pts

Marriage (K and Q of the same non-trump suit) - 20pts

Royal Marriage (K and Q of trumps) - 40pts

Four Aces - 100pts

Four Kings - 80pts

Four Queens - 60pts

Four Jacks - 40pts

Seven of Trumps switch - 10pts and exchange the card for the card stuck under the talon, as long as it isn't a trump seven as well.

Cards that have already been melded, can be used to form another meld under two conditions:

The cards cannot make another meld of the same type

The cards cannot make a meld of inferior value to their previous meld

Basically, if you declared a marriage, the melded king and queen can't form another marriage, even if you hold another king, or another queen of suits, but you can use them to declare four kings, four queens, bezique, double bezique (of the queen is of the right suit) or trump sequence (if they're of the trump suit).

But if you declare four kings, four queens etc with them first, you cannot use them to meld a marriage.

Note: some players allow for re-melding cards in lower-ranked combinations, as long as the category is different. Note 2: Double bezique is a different meld category than single bezique. You can safely declare double bezique after declaring single bezique, as long as the previous bezique remains unbroken in your melded cards. Note 3: in the "fours". the suits may repeat.

Phase Two

Once the talon runs out, all melded cards return to their players' hands. Now the players have to follow suit and win the trick if possible - this includes trumping in case they don't have a card to follow suit. If both players play the exact same card (e.g. two sevens of spades), the card that was played first wins the trick, but in this phase it happens only out of necessity.

Playing a trump 7 does not give you points anymore. You cannot meld anymore. You only get points for the last trick.

Brisques

The tens and aces are worth 10 points each, no matter the phase of game. Usually you count how many of them you captured after finishing phase two, but some players score points for them as they go, which speeds up the game a bit.

Next Deal: the next player gathers the cards, shuffles them, offers the cut, and deals.

3 players

If you want more players to join in on the fun, you'll need another 32 cards shuffled into your deck. Each player gets 8 cards as earlier, each plays for themselves, and the only major difference is the existence of the triple bezique, scored at 1500 points. Game lasts until 1500 or 2000 points. According to the descriptions I've read, 4 players can play, but the descriptions disagree on how they can play (some descriptions ask for four decks, others for three, some add another degree of bezique, the final values are also incinsistent).

[michaelceraifhewasagirl]

I accidentally assaulted Clarisse

NEW SERIES ALERT

summary: A new girl at camp, but…. She’s different..

warnings: minimal swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ow. “Ow” is a onomatopoeia, I think, but it didn’t matter if I was grammatically correct, because I had just hit Clarisse La Rue in the head with a rubber axe during practice with the Stoll brothers, and she was now sitting on the ground in a fetal position, holding her head in agony, and staring at me with anger in her eyes.

“Oh my God” I muttered under my breath, as I slowly backed away. “Avery, come back, she’s, she’s not going to hurt you!” Connor Stoll pleaded, but then Clarisse began to get off of the grass and I sprinted towards the strawberry fields. I looked around frantically, trying to see if Clarisse was still following me, but then I caught a glimpse of Beckendorf scolding Clarisse, and I visibly relaxed. 

Okay, quick Backstory: two days ago I nearly got killed by a big bear-wolf thing. A goat-child told me that my mom fucked a Greek God and I’m the offspring. If that makes sense. I thought my mom was Hindu, can multiple Gods exist at once? Anyways, the goat guy brought me back to this cool camp and I got to talk to a horse man and a LITERAL GREEK GOD but he was an asshole so I don’t really care about him to be honest. Fast forward to now, this is my first day training, and I somehow managed to injure 5 people, including myself. 

I was sitting down under a tree, trying to catch my breathe after running a fricking marathon trying to not get stabbed by Clarisse, when I noticed one of the Stoll brothers coming up to me, Connor, was it? “Hey, Avery,” he greeted 

“My name is Aikaterini”

“…Can I call ya’ Avery?”

“No”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah” I responded “She’s just… She’s terrifying” and Connor chuckled.

“She’s not that scary, give her a chance, she’s tolerable” he said, and gave me his hand to take to get up off of the dirt, and I took it and dusted off my pants when I was off my butt, “She wants to kill me” I retorted and Connor grimaced. “Stay outta trouble, okay? And be careful”, I nodded and he offered a hand on my shoulder as comfort before heading off somewhere to scold an Ares kid, or kill a small child, one of the two.

I awkwardly walked to the Hermes cabin, in which I was staying in, since my father hadn’t claimed me as yet. I hope he does. I heard a lot of undetermined kids get stuck at the Hermes cabin because their bitch-ass parents didn’t claim them. Anyways, I was like, an Inch away from the cabin, before the boat goy came up to me, wait, no that didn’t sound right, anyways, he came up to me, “Chiron needs to talk to you” he said and he practically dragged me by my arm towards a big building “Who’s Chiro- woah! Okay, so I guess I don’t get to say no”

We arrived inside the building and I paled at the sight of the old horse guy. “Aikaterini Balakrishnan, how are you? Getting along well with the rest of camp?” I could tell that he was trying to make conversation, but I couldn’t focus when there was a 7-foot centaur standing infront of me “I… uh… yeah” was what I managed to choke out before glancing around the room, and noticing that the asshole of a Greek God was sitting at the table, with a irritable look on his face and I rolled my eyes.

The centaur sat down on his hind legs and offered me a seat at the table, where I noticed that they were playing a card game “You’re playing Pinochle.” Chiron raised an eyebrow “Why, yes, do you know how to play?” “Yeah, my mom taught me, well, actually, she taught me Bezique, but I taught myself how to play Pinchole” Chiron nodded in approval “You know how to play Bezique as well, that is quite impressive for a girl your age” I blushed in embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess, why did you call me in here?” “Ah,” he put down his pack of cards and looked at me.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” He asked

“Friday” I responded confidently

“Yes!” He clapped his hands excitedly and I squinted my eyes “Huh?” Mr. D groaned and stepped out of the room, and Chiron waved him away “Don’t take him on. Tomorrow is Friday! Which means we are playing capture the flag!” He explained and I pursed my lips “You guys actually do things in this place besides trying to impale people or set people on fire?” And Chiron grimaced, “Now now, girl, what happened yesterday with Sanya was a mistake, she was just trying to make a sword and her hair caught on fire, it was a, what is it you children say now-a-days? No biggie” I raised my eyebrows “So why don’t you go find a group to be apart of, huh? Get out there, make some friends, I heard you were training with the Stoll brothers, cheeky bastards, aren’t they?” I furrowed my eyebrows “No, no, they aren’t cheeky, they seem really nice” I said and Chiron chuckles, “That is until they steal a family heirloom from you” “Why would they steal from me?” Chiron seemed suprised I didn’t know about these things, “Aikaterini, their father is Hermes, the God of thievery” “I thought he was the God of messengers?”

Chiron looked at me with a thoughtful look on his face, “Has your mother not thought you anything about your roots?” “Not really, I’m Hindu, I grew up believing in Hindu Gods, now, I don’t know what I believe.” If my mother knew that, that Greek Gods are real, and not just fiction, then why would she grow me up with a religion?” “I am sure your mother had her reasons, that of which, I do not know, but you will come to find out anyways, now, I’d like you to meet some people, if that’s okay with you,” I nodded. Chiron called the goat boy, in which I learnt his name, being Grover, into the room, “Yes?” “It would be appreciated if you could kindly locate our respective leaders, those being one for Team Blue and another for Team Red." Grover nodded and came back into the room shortly with a two girls, a pretty one, with long box braids, and then Clarisse.

“Ladies, we have a new camper joining us, I’m sure you have seen her around, I am going to be making a public announcement soon, tomorrow, before the tournament, but for now, you can introduce yourself to her, and maybe recruit her to your team,” Chiron smiled and I looked at them and awkwardly waved, “Hi, uhm, hi Clarisse, sorry for hitting you, uhm, at- at the uh, the axe throwing thing, sorry” I swallowed nervously “My name is Aikaterini, it’s long, I know, you can call me, Kat, or whatever” my voice cracked and I made a mental note to hit myself in the head with a bat later.

“Hi, I’m Annabeth, I’m blue team leader” “You’re not joining the red team”

“Clarisse.” Chiron butted in, “Atleast see what she can do before you make a decision, now go on, bond, I want to finish this game of Pinochle.” We left the building and Annabeth made conversation “So, do you have any special training? Or any training at all?” “Uhm, I can do kumon?” Annabeth looked at me, a puzzled look rested on her face “What is that?” “It’s like… maths” and Clarisse snorted, Annabeth glared at her, “I mean, physical combat. Do you know any form of self defence?” “I, I can dance?” Clarisse butted in “Yeah, no, Annabeth, you can have her on your team.” I looked down in embarrassment, God, I wanna go home. “What kind of dance can you do? Ballet?” “Kuchipudi,” “Okay, I don’t know what that is, how hard do you have to train for that?” “Not as hard as ballet, probably, but if you saw me do it you would be terrified” “You can’t be any scarier than any monster I’ve ever fought, if you put the same energy that you put into dancing into training, then you’ll be a pro in no time” 

I smiled at her, she was nice, unlike Clarisse, who was walking away, I didn’t mind though, being on the blue team seemed like the better choice. I guess we’ll see how the tournament goes tomorrow, but for now, I’m going see if I’m any good at hand-to-hand combat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hey guise 😁 I hope you enjoyed the first part of this Pjo fandom seriesssss 💗💗 nones of the characters in this stories except my oc’s (Aikaterini Balakrishnan) that were used in the story so far are mine. I wanted to add a Desi character to this story because they don’t get enough recognition 💗💗 Please lmk what you think about this in the comments and lmk what else you would liek to see in this series 💗 idrk where I’m going with this but I am not gonna let this story go to waste, I’ll try to get it done but I got school and stuff so 😪😪 thanks for reading 💗

[gustave-caillebotte-paintings]

-The Bezique Game-

[theolddalatribune]

Realism by Paolo Dala

[L] Whistler’s Mother  James Abbott McNeil Whistler (1871) [R] Game of Bezique Gustave Caillebotte (1880) Louvre (Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates)

When photography was invented, some people thought painting would inevitably die.  Why, after all, would we continue to painstakingly reproduce the world as we see it by repeatedly daubing small bits of pigment suspended in liquid on to a piece of fabric using a stick with short little hairs attached when a camera could do so incredibly effectively and much, much faster?  We all know that painting persisted and not just the impressionism and abstraction and pop art and what have you that took paintings in directions other than the pursuit of realistic optical effects.  Artists still attempt to recreate what we see in approximately the way we humans see it.  But why?  What's with this tireless obsession, and why is it worth our time to look at it when the world itself is all around us in pure form?  This is the case for realism.

So there's an actual art historical movement called realism and it came about in Western Europe in the mid-19th century, right around, come to think of it, when photography was emerging and getting its fingers into every aspect of our lives.  The French art critic Champfleury used the term realism to describe what Gustave Courbet was doing in the 1840s, which was rejecting the stronghold of academic teaching, the dictated subjects be mythological or historical.  Courbet wanted to paint what he saw around him instead, everyday people and places of his own time, more gritty and less idealized than say, Jean-Francois Millet, who painted contemporary rural life, but let's face it, in a sentimental way. So realism the movement was about depicting the world as we find it rather than as we want it to be, but it wasn't about painting  in a photographically realistic way.  Naturalism was the term for that, although the two approaches were often paired as in the work of John Constable, whose landscape paintings show us the English countryside of the early 1800s and in a manner closer to the way we see it.  

Neither realism nor naturalism were anything new.  Nothing ever is. Courbet had been influenced by Velazquez and the painters of the Spanish golden age, who represented their time with astonishingly realistic effects. Courbet was also wowed by the work of 17th century Dutch painters like Rembrandt and Frans Hans, whose work people of the time claimed looked like life itself.  The Flemish painter Brueghel was a painter of everyday life before that.  Miniature painting of the Mughal Empire drew from many traditions and dazzles with moments of incredible naturalism, as does 18th century Chinese scroll painting, and don't even get me started with the Italian Renaissance.  

Yes, the development and use of linear perspective helped tremendously in crafting the appearance of a three dimensional world on a two dimensional surface, but artists like Leonardo Da Vinci also pioneered painting techniques that yielded faces and figures that are startlingly true to life and Caravaggio's dramatically lit scenes brought well-known Biblical stories into the present day with shocking immediacy and impact, and of course, those artists were looking back to the ancient Greeks and Romans who for sure represented ideal figures but also during the Hellenistic period portrayed old age, peasant life, and physical anomalies. This reminds us that realism, naturalism, or whatever you want to call this desire to depict life itself has long played out in three dimensions...

Realist art has a trace relationship to the objects and people and places it describes, but an indirect one.  The realness to which it strives isn't necessary the realness of lived experience but the realness of a physical photograph.  In the process, these artists have constructed a new reality, one we must remember is not a window but an intricate web we can explore of images and moments and acts of translation...

Realism reminds us that we don't see in two dimensions and challenges us to distinguish real from virtual in increasingly advanced environments.

Even when it's really good, realism prompts us to remember that there's no way to perfectly recreate any moment, person, place, or thing, and yet we still derive pleasure in this attempt to fix some bit of our world in time as artists and appreciators.  We look closely.  We think in layers, of the opacity and translucency and adaptability of images and of vision.  Realism asks each of us how we process reality, how we organize it, and perhaps most importantly, how we share our reality with others.  

Sarah Urist Green

The  Case for Realism

[thedalatribune]

© Paolo Dala

[L] Whistler’s Mother James Abbott McNeil Whistler (1871) Louvre (Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates)

[R] Game of Bezique Gustave Caillebotte (1880) Louvre (Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates)

Realism

When photography was invented, some people thought painting would inevitably die.  Why, after all, would we continue to painstakingly reproduce the world as we see it by repeatedly daubing small bits of pigment suspended in liquid on to a piece of fabric using a stick with short little hairs attached when a camera could do so incredibly effectively and much, much faster?  We all know that painting persisted and not just the impressionism and abstraction and pop art and what have you that took paintings in directions other than the pursuit of realistic optical effects.  Artists still attempt to recreate what we see in approximately the way we humans see it.  But why?  What’s with this tireless obsession, and why is it worth our time to look at it when the world itself is all around us in pure form?  This is the case for realism.

So there’s an actual art historical movement called realism and it came about in Western Europe in the mid-19th century, right around, come to think of it, when photography was emerging and getting its fingers into every aspect of our lives.  The French art critic “Champfleury” used the term realism to describe what Gustave Courbet was doing in the 1840s, which was rejecting the stronghold of academic teaching, the dictated subjects be mythological or historical.  Courbet wanted to paint what he saw around him instead, everyday people and places of his own time, more gritty and less idealized than say, Jean-Francois Millet, who painted contemporary rural life, but let’s face it, in a sentimental way. So realism the movement was about depicting the world as we find it rather than as we want it to be, but it wasn’t about painting  in a photographically realistic way.  Naturalism was the term for that, although the two approaches were often paired as in the work of John Constable, whose landscape paintings show us the English countryside of the early 1800s and in a manner closer to the way we see it.  

Neither realism nor naturalism were anything new.  Nothing ever is. Courbet had been influenced by Velazquez and the painters of the Spanish golden age, who represented their time with astonishingly realistic effects. Courbet was also wowed by the work of 17th century Dutch painters like Rembrandt and Frans Hans, whose work people of the time claimed looked like life itself.  The Flemish painter Brueghel was a painter of everyday life before that.  Miniature painting of the Mughal Empire drew from many traditions and dazzles with moments of incredible naturalism, as does 18th century Chinese scroll painting, and don’t even get me started with the Italian Renaissance.  

Yes, the development and use of linear perspective helped tremendously in crafting the appearance of a three dimensional world on a two dimensional surface, but artists like Leonardo Da Vinci also pioneered painting techniques that yielded faces and figures that are startlingly true to life and Caravaggio’s dramatically lit scenes brought well-known Biblical stories into the present day with shocking immediacy and impact, and of course, those artists were looking back to the ancient Greeks and Romans who for sure represented ideal figures but also during the Hellenistic period portrayed old age, peasant life, and physical anomalies. This reminds us that realism, naturalism, or whatever you want to call this desire to depict life itself has long played out in three dimensions…

Realist art has a trace relationship to the objects and people and places it describes, but an indirect one.  The realness to which it strives isn’t necessary the realness of lived experience but the realness of a physical photograph.  In the process, these artists have constructed a new reality, one we must remember is not a window but an intricate web we can explore of images and moments and acts of translation…

Realism reminds us that we don’t see in two dimensions and challenges us to distinguish real from virtual in increasingly advanced environments.

Even when it’s really good, realism prompts us to remember that there’s no way to perfectly recreate any moment, person, place, or thing, and yet we still derive pleasure in this attempt to fix some bit of our world in time as artists and appreciators.  We look closely.  We think in layers, of the opacity and translucency and adaptability of images and of vision.  Realism asks each of us how we process reality, how we organize it, and perhaps most importantly, how we share our reality with others.  

Sarah Urist Green The Case for Realism

[zoemikel-stites]

Baron Weaver's Game of Bezique by Elle Beaumont | Book Review

Baron Weaver’s Game of Bezique by Elle Beaumont | Book Review

Baron Weaver’s Game of Bezique by Elle Beaumont was a really fun novella that left me wishing that we had more adventures in the world that was created. Continue reading

[solsticerunnr]

A Rare 1830 French Fashion Doll Miniature Bezique Playing Card Games Set in a Walnut Shell

My ko-fi ☕

[logicgunn]

Vanilla Latte and Rose Hip Tea

Vanilla Latte : Board games or drinking games?

Board Games all the way. Me and Bunny play Scrabble as often as we can. I've always liked board and card games. Highly recommend Bezique!

Rose Hip Tea : Describe your first kiss

Eh. Wet. Soggy. Moist. Damp. Teen boyfriend, and it was all wet tongue and so much drool. It was all I could do not to vom.

Thankfully my first kiss with my wife was everything I wanted. <3

[artist-caillebotte]

The Bezique Game, 1880, Gustave Caillebotte

Medium: oil,canvas

[theawkwardterrier]

Games We Play

Steggy Week 2k20, day 3 Prompt: Modern Day

Summary: Steve and Peggy’s new interest in their phones has the others confused and concerned.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

Steve often sits up front to chat with Clint when he’s in the pilot’s seat. According to him, he used to do that during the war sometimes too, just shooting the breeze while being transported here or there. (Well, he actually said “shooting the shit,” which made Clint raise an eyebrow, but probably like him more than he thought he’d ever like someone who referred to “the war,” as if there’d only been one.)

It’s just the two of them today - unusual but they were the ones around - and yet Steve takes out his phone as they take off, fiddling around and muttering at it.

“You need me to drop you over the Apple Store on the way back?” Clint finally asks, trying to tease out what the issue is. He’s actually fine without a conversation, and Steve is pretty good at comfortable silence, but you take care of your teammates, notice when something’s different. Agent Carter might be around, understanding him in ways no one else can, but it can be good to get a new perspective.

“What?” Steve says, still distracted. “No, it’s fine.” He gives a final, triumphant tap to his screen, mutters, “How d’you like that?” and puts his phone into his pocket.

“Okay.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Now explain the appeal of NASCAR to me again.” So Clint does, and Steve still doesn’t get it, and Clint notices him continuing to check his phone the whole rest of the trip back.

“Morning, Aunt Peg!” Tony strides into her office as if Peggy’s assistant is a potted plant, and not even a particularly interesting one. Hugo is a bulldog with nearly everything, and had actually tendered his resignation in shame over his inability to stop Tony from doing what he wanted; Peggy told him that unfortunately this was a Stark feature that they would both have to simply learn to live with.

By which she means that Hugo can stand down and allow Tony entry without a fight - but that Peggy doesn’t have to give him a scrap of attention until she is ready to do so.

She doesn’t even glance up as he seats himself across from her, slapping a file folder against his palm. The gum he is chewing - actual bubble gum, like a child - is obvious from both the scent and the bubbles he blows to entertain himself as she continues to drag her finger across her tablet.

His patience, of course, runs out first. Doubtless he’d already been a little buzzy with energy if he’d decided to take a trip down with hard copy documents for her. “What are you doing there?” he asks, craning to see, but the glare from the window is too strong and a second later, she’s dropped the cover shut anyway and transferred her attention to her computer monitor.

“I think you’ve adapted too well to modern technology,” he tells her grumpily, watching the ease with which she switches between them. That actually makes her flick a laughing eyebrow upward.

“We use what we have and do what we must. I would certainly like to see you trying to get by in 1945.”

Tony shudders. “No bet. I’ve seen one of my dad’s old soldering irons from back then. Thick as a pipe. Totally without finesse.”

“Howard did manage quite a bit without your fancy tools, but there’s no shame if you couldn’t,” she says innocently, attention entirely focused on clicking something as he sputters in front of her. Typing a few final words, she finally turns toward him fully. “Now what was it you needed, or were you merely finding it dull in your workshop despite your precision soldering irons?”

“I’m starting to remember why I always regret coming down here,” he mutters, but flips the folder onto her desk anyway. “Just need your John Hancock by the arrows. Or Jane Hancock, I guess.”

She picks up the file, starting to page through it as she remarks over the top, “Oh, are we going to waste some perfectly good tea by tossing it into the harbor?”

“I think your Lipton is safe.”

“As if I would ever,” she says sternly, marking a large X across a paragraph she doesn’t like, turning the page and doing it again. Once she’s finished with the whole document, she drops it back onto the desk so it slides toward him.

“You must have known I wouldn’t sign that.”

“Worth a try,” he shrugs.

“Well, try again and see if it’s worth your while,” she says, just as her tablet makes a soft, insistent ding.

“Need to get that?” Tony asks, leaning shamelessly forward as she flicks the cover open.

She spins her chair, saying archly, “I do, actually. I assume you can find your way out?”

“Naughty pics from Cap, huh?”

“Yes, which leaves me to wonder why you’re so eager to catch a glimpse.”

“He’s a handsome man,” Tony says, seemingly unbothered, but when Peggy replies, “He certainly is,” he makes a retching sound and stands to leave.

“Bothered by a woman enjoying her sexual prime, are we?” she asks, and he beats his way out of her office, passing Hugo at a near-jog.

She chuckles quietly and applies herself back to the task at hand.

“I don’t think it has an easy answer,” Bruce says, “and we’ll probably be dealing with it for a long time yet.”

“It’s probably a good first step that it’s being taken on at all. Back—” Steve stops himself, takes a sip of his drink; he tends toward coffee on the whole, but when they meet up he usually joins Bruce in his search for the best chai in the city.

“You were going to say, “back in my day…” weren’t you?” Banner teases, gently delighted. “It’s okay, you still can. I won’t tell.”

Steve shakes his head. “Tony probably has some kind of radar for it.” He moves off the curb to let a couple pushing a baby carriage go by, then steps back up to walk the last block to the tower beside Bruce.

“How’s the latest alloy coming?” Steve asks, tossing his cup into the garbage by the reception desk. Bruce groans, even though it’s nice to have someone actually remember what project he’s working on.

“We’re getting close, but the fine tuning is a killer.” The elevator arrives and people start flowing out into the lobby. “What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Not much,” Steve starts, but then puts his hand in his pocket, distracted by the vibration from his phone. “I’m just—I have to—”

“Are you coming?” Bruce asks, after he’s been holding the door of the empty elevator for a solid minute and Steve, engaged with the device, doesn’t even seem to have noticed. Bruce wonders if he’s read the research about changing brains based on screen use.

Steve waves a hand, attention still on the screen. “I’ll take the next one.”

“Same time next week for book club?” Bruce calls as the doors close.

“Yeah.” Steve actually looks up at him for a second, that familiar grin on his face. “This’ll all be finished by then.”

Bruce returns to his lab with the definite feeling that he doesn’t want to know exactly will be finished.

“There really aren’t any beaches like the ones over there. I’ve only ever been while I was working, and I still managed to have a good time,” Natasha says, finishing the last of her steak.

“We are planning a vacation,” Peggy says thoughtfully. “The middle of April, as long as no world-ending danger pops up between now and then.”

Nat smiles. “We’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Although you could always slip out before things get really bad and just forget to have your phones on.”

“Steve would never stand for it,” Peggy says, which is true, but they both know that Peggy herself wouldn’t either.

“Is everything…” Natasha hesitates. Uncharacteristic, maybe, but she still isn’t entirely used to the rules of having friends. “Are you and Steve okay? Because I’ve been picking up a little...something lately.”

“What? Oh, yes, everything’s fine.” Peggy takes a little sip of iced tea through her straw. “I have no idea what you might have detected.” And if Nat wouldn’t have said it with equal complete casualness, she might have believed her.

“Are you sure? Because--”

Peggy’s phone buzzes inside her purse on the table. She takes it out, pursing her lips as she looks at the screen.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot lately,” Nat says slowly.

With a laugh, Peggy taps one last time and slides her phone away. “Isn’t everyone these days? Terrible habit, but I’m sure I’ll break myself of it one day soon.” She picks up the dessert menu. “Now, what’s for pudding?”

Natasha orders the most deeply chocolatey thing on the menu; she figures she deserves it with whatever’s going on.

“A strong bout,” Thor says, clapping Steve approvingly on the shoulder.

Steve walks over to the bench at the side of the gym where they left their stuff. “You too, even if the whole ‘mythical god who can call down storms’ bit tilts things a little in your favor.”

“Your little disc stands up well to them!” Thor assures him earnestly, tapping the shield as Steve sets it down and picks up his phone. “But perhaps I can make it up to you.”

“Depends,” Steve says with a frown, taking in whatever is on the screen, “on whether you know anything about the game Scrabble and what to do with these letters.”

Thor leans over to look. “You use the letters to make words which intersect, I understand.” His eyes roam over the board and then he says tentatively, “Are there not gherkins on Midgard?”

“Huh?”

“Gherkins?” Thor forms a little shape with his large fingers in demonstration. “Small pickled cucumbers?”

A smile grows over Steve’s face. “You’re a genius,” he says, manipulating something on the screen. “A genius at storms and at Scrabble.”

“Well,” says Thor, clearly pleased but trying to be fair, “perhaps only very good at Scrabble.”

“You know what was really great? When you put down kinkajou,’” Steve says around the toothbrush in his mouth. He spits. “I had wanted to use that N but it was worth it.”

“It was,” says a satisfied Peggy from where she’s changing into her pajamas. “And I’d like to know where exactly you pulled ‘bezique’ from.”

“Churchill loved it. He tried to get me to play a time or two. I was just lucky the B was already on the board.” Flipping off the bathroom light, he comes over to the bed and pulls the covers aside for himself.

Between their combined salaries - well, after Peggy found out that Steve was still getting the baseline amount agreed to after he’d woken up and had negotiated an appropriate raise on his behalf - they’ve been able to afford not only a bed that they can sprawl in, but a bedroom that their new mattress can fit into. Lying down in it might be Steve’s favorite part of the day.

“Did you realize we’d been worrying everyone this week? They all think something awful has been happening or that we’re breaking up.” He stretches, shoving the extra pillow to her side (he can’t sleep with more than one).

Peggy snorts. “Amateurs. They should just be lucky that they didn’t see us after the poker championship back in—What was it, ‘44?”

“Just before - December of ‘43. I didn’t think I’d make it to New Year’s,” he recalls fondly as she climbs into bed and snuggles into him.

“I’d never have let that happen. You’re smart, moderately talented, and you play to win; it would be a shame for that to go to waste.”

He kisses her. “Good to know where I stand, I guess.” He kisses her again. “Maybe we’ll tone things down a bit but how about a new game tomorrow?” He kisses her a gentle third time.

“We’ve played every day since we discovered the application,” she points out. “Why should tomorrow be any different?” She kisses him this time, pressing him back into the pillow until he forgets all about competition or vocabulary or any of it.

(Eight and a half months later, she types “magnetizes” triumphantly into her phone - and on a triple word score too - as they wheel her up to the maternity floor. They don’t tell anyone else about that part.)

[bookaddict24-7]

New Young Adult Releases Coming Out Today! (July 16th, 2019) ___

Have I missed any new Young Adult releases? Have you added any of these books to your TBR? Let me know! ___

New Standalones/First in a Series:

The Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee & Michael Dante DiMartino

Game of Bezique by Elle Beaumont

Just My Luck by Jennifer Honeybourn

In the Woods by Carrie Jones

___

New Sequels: 

Please Send Help (I Hate Everyone But You #2) by Gaby Dunn & Allison Raskin

Within Ash & Stardust (The Xenith Trilogy #3) by Chani Lynn Feener

___

Happy reading!

[mobilepubliclibraryteens]

At eighteen, Etienne Mercier shouldn't have to worry about being hunted in the streets of Paris. To survive, he cons people with games of chance, hoping no one will discover the truth his grown-out hair hides—he is Fae. Baron Weaver knows, though, and when Etienne tries to con the man, he's the one who gets surprised. Etienne flees to escape the Baron, but soon realizes he's not being chased for the reason he thinks. The Baron offers him a once-in-a-lifetime chance—the opportunity to work in Cirque de la Tempete as an aerialist. Jumping at the chance to earn an honest living, Etienne never expects to find what he lacked all along—a purpose and a family—especially when he meets Lili. But Lili has plans of her own, and together, Etienne finds himself taking his biggest--and deadliest—risk yet. Care for a game of chance? Step right up!

[emzeciorrr]

rubicon : A limit that when exceeded, or an action that when taken, cannot be reversed. (card games) Especially in bezique and piquet: a score which, if not achieved by a losing player, increases the player's penalty. rubicon v (transitive, card games) Especially in bezique and piquet: to defeat a player who has not achieved the rubicon. Today is Festa della Repubblica or Republic Day, Italy’s national day.

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/rubicon#English

[standbyyourmantis]

Bottle Episode 3/3

PART 1 | PART 2 | AO3 | FFN 

THIS ‘VERSE IS OPEN FOR PROMPTS. YOU’LL SEE WHY.

They were halfway through the pack of cookies before they came up for air from the game. Belle was surprised at how good Eli was at Scrabble, she hadn’t been allowed to play with anyone back in San Diego because she was so good at it. She was still pretty sure she was going to win, but it was nice to at least have a challenge. They’d been playing for ages, and the longer it went on the less talking they did, he was pretty competitive but so was she. If they were slightly more comfortable with each other, she could easily see this turning ugly. She was already choking down her worst instincts whenever he put down a particularly good word.

“I should have let you stay outside,” she muttered when he played QAT down to a double word score.

He just chuckled as he drew his replacement tiles and she watched his face settle into a smirk as he started rearranging them in his tray. She couldn’t quite decide if she liked it or not. He was a smug bastard, but he was a handsome one.

“Nervous?” he asked her, and she just glared at him as she contemplated her tiles, letting her eyes flick between her letters and the ones on the board while she mentally arranged and rearranged them until they made some kind of sense. At last, her eyes lit upon her vengeance, and she watched with no small amount of satisfaction as he took in the word BEZIQUES where she’d placed it coming off of his Q.

“Well played,” he said.

“Wasn’t it just?”

“I hadn’t pegged you as a sore winner,” he said with a voice dripping with amusement.

“I am not. I am competitive. There is a difference.”

They played in silence a little longer, he may not have expected her to be competitive but she’d always assumed that he would be. He had a reputation for being such an asshole, but the more time she spent with him the more she realized that wasn’t the whole story – sure, he was almost certainly a right royal bastard when he wanted to be, but beyond that he was mostly just competitive and a little sarcastic. But he had a sweetness to him that peeked out on occasion. He would banter with her over Life and match her intensity at Scrabble. There was nothing else for it, she was having fun with him.

They played in relative silence for the rest of the game, until finally the last tiles were played and on checking the scores he’d edged her out by less than a dozen points. That was...different.

“Are you okay?” he asked her carefully, and she tried super hard to relax. She always won at Scrabble, she should not be this upset by it, and she definitely did not know him well enough to freak out about this.

She nodded, and bit her lip to keep from talking. Talking was bad, and she’d say something she regretted. Instead, she just set about packing away the board and pieces. After a bit she felt him watching her and when she glanced up he was watching her and obviously trying to hide his amusement. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly.

“No, tell me!”

“It’s really nothing.”

He was trying so hard not to smile it actually made her smile. She was being ridiculous. This was all ridiculous.

“I’m sorry. I’m overreacting.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll beat me next time.”

“Maybe.” Next time. If that was her way of asking her on a date, she was willing but he was definitely going to have to do better than that. “We’ll see.”

“How long have we been playing this?” he asked, pulling his phone out and checking the time. “Wow, it’s already afternoon.”

“Oh, damn. I guess I should probably make lunch.”

“I’ll help.” He jumped up to his feet and offered her his hand where she sat. She took his hand and let him help her up off the floor. It took her a split second to realize that she was standing too close to him and she quickly took a half-step back with a muttered thank you before retreating to the kitchen.

Belle surveyed their options in the pantry and the refrigerator. She hadn’t really prepared to be snowed in (the news had called for ‘flurries’ not ‘the apocalypse’) and she certainly had not prepared to be entertaining anyone in her home. This storm needed to clear up or she was going to be in trouble.

“How do sandwiches sound?” she asked. There wasn’t much else without getting into dinner territory, which was something else she was going to have to figure out later.

“Sandwiches sound perfect. What can I do?”

“Can you check the pantry? I may have some canned soup or something in there.”

He poked his head into the pantry. “I see a carton of tomato and… how much Top Ramen does one woman need?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Can you make the tomato soup and I’ll make sandwiches?”

He nodded and pulled the little waxed paper carton of soup from the pantry. It was a slightly higher quality than the canned variety, but honestly snowy weather made her miss the canned stuff. It wasn’t a complicated meal, but it was nice just cooking quietly with another person, even if she did only sort of know him.

 Eli hadn’t done anything like this in ages. When Bailey had been a little boy they’d certainly had snow days together, but that was a decade or more ago and certainly a different energy altogether. He didn’t know that he’d ever had a day like this before.

The radio was still playing after they’d finished eating, the conversation had paused and she was just smiling at him and it was comfortable. Very comfortable. He stood quickly and grabbed the dishes off the table, bringing them to the sink like he’d done after breakfast.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can get them in a little bit.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

“Well, thank you anyway. It’s nice not having to worry about them for a change.”

He could well understand that sentiment, as much as he didn’t mind living alone the daily minutiae of keeping a house by himself did wear thin. It was nice to have a short break from dealing with his own home, even though his was going to be completely destroyed by a college student by the time he got back to it. Well, real life could wait just for the day.

Belle filled a kettle while he washed the dishes, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she opened a cabinet next to the refrigerator.

“Coffee, tea, or cocoa?” she asked.

“Um, tea is fine.”

She was humming a little tune as she prepared the tea, and he ended up distracting himself cleaning the sink just to stick around a little bit longer and listen to it. Besides, what else was he doing before the tea was finished?

“Do you mind taking the tea out to the balcony?” she asked him. “I want to get some blankets.”

He took the mugs and followed her back into her bedroom and out through a door he hadn’t noticed to a small patio with two chairs and a little table which he set the mugs on before sitting. She offered him a blanket and he settled in with the tea and blanket. It was nice and comfortable, and even with the cold there was a warmth he hadn’t anticipated.

 They weren’t able to stay outside much more than an hour or so, but somehow it didn’t seem like a wasted day. It was actually almost comfortable, even pleasant, which wasn’t how he was used to feeling around strangers. But then, could he really say that she was a stranger still? They’d most likely had sex and sure, he didn’t remember much of it, but it still meant something. Or at least it should. He wasn’t exactly in the habit of having casual sex with women, and especially not with women who he actually rather liked. So, the question just remained, how not-casual was this, and how to move forward from here.

Belle was sprawled across the sofa with a book in her face – an inexpensive looking paperback copy of a novel he’d never even heard of, and he was trying to lose himself in an article on his phone, but it wasn’t really working. It was a dull article about tax rates, and it just could not hold his attention.

“So what do you want for dinner?” she asked without even looking up from her book.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“No, that’s okay. I can handle it.”

“I don’t mind. You look a lot more interested in your book than I am in what I’m doing, and besides, you cooked for me this morning.”

She didn’t look completely convinced, but she was also glancing down to her open book in a way that implied that she was at an interesting part.

“Keep reading,” he said and she finally nodded and leaned back down into the sofa with her nose back in the book. It was cuter than he’d have thought it would be, and he was enjoying her obvious enjoyment of her novel.

The kitchen was still a bit of a mystery, but a quick glance through her pantry revealed dried pasta, garlic, olive oil, and some chili flakes. Her fridge yielded a lemon and parmesan cheese. Parsley would have been perfect, but she had cilantro which would work fine. He put the pasta on and set about sauteing everything else in a saucepan when he heard her nearby.

“That smells amazing,” she said, glancing into the pan he was working on. “What is it?”

“It’s pasta aglio et olio, nothing fancy.”

He was showing off, and she probably knew it, but she didn’t say anything about it. It was an easy enough dish to make, but it always sounded complicated if you didn’t see it being made. She made a little humming noise and smiled before retreating to the pantry. She emerged with a bottle of red wine and stood on tiptoes to reach two wine glasses in the cabinet. She poured one glass and offered it to him with a little tilt of her head, wordlessly asking if he wanted the wine. He took the proffered glass and she poured the other one for herself as he started mixing the pasta into the oil sauce with a pair of tongs. A spritz of lemon, a little bit of the leafy parts of the cilantro, and a lot of parmesan and it was ready to plate.

 Dinner went well. The wine had eased both of them just enough to smooth the conversation, but not enough to cause any stupid decisions like the night before. They finished all of his pasta followed by the remainder of the cookies and a second bottle of wine. She was all easy smiles and sweet giggles no matter how bad the joke he told. It was pleasant and fun, and by the time they retired to her living room he was already beginning to sense that she might have some interest in him. It was an odd thing to be sitting next to a woman he hadn’t thought twice about two days ago wondering if he should ask her on an actual date, but it was also his new reality.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked. That was never a good thing to hear from a woman in general, and he was not sure at all this was going to go well.

“Depends on what it is.”

“Where does your son think you are?”

Oh. Well, that certainly wasn’t where he saw that going.

“He knows I spent the night with someone, but I didn’t exactly go into details.”

“So he’s not going to come around telling at me to stay away from his father?” She said it with a sly smile and he realized all at once she was flirting.

“No, I think you’re safe.” He had to come up with some way to flirt back. But subtly, because this was still so new and so promising. “What about me? Am I going to have an army of jilted admirers chasing me down to defend your honor?”

She giggled again and stretched out her foot to tap his knee playfully. “No, I’ve been staying away from men for awhile now. But you’re not supposed to talk about that before, like, the fifth date.”

“Yeah? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“It’s really not that interesting. I mean, do you date a lot? Since your divorce, I mean?”

He had to laugh a little at the sheer absurdity of the question. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t that many single women in this town.”

“You know what I meant! I just didn’t want to jump back into another mistake.”

“Fair, although I admit I am curious how you managed an annulment.”

“That was the easiest part! We got married in Vegas, and the first night of our honeymoon he confessed he’d been having an affair, and his side chick was pregnant.”

His jaw dropped and he wanted to say something comforting, but honestly what was there to say to that?

“I could have gotten a divorce at home and it would have probably been easier, but I wanted it to have never happened. So I petitioned for an annulment in Nevada and that was that.” She took a long drink of her wine and looked away for awhile and he pretended not to notice that she was blinking back tears before she looked back at him with the big smile back on her face.

“Would you like to dance?” he blurted out before he could even think about having asked her. The radio was still on, there was music playing, and he’d just asked her to dance. He was about to backpedal and try to play it off as a joke, but then she surprised him.

“I’d love to.”

She got to her feet before he did, and at that point there was no backing down without being a jerk and a coward, the dumbass who panicked at the idea of a girl liking him.

 It was silly to dance to the radio in her living room, but it felt so damn romantic Belle couldn’t stand it. She probably shouldn’t have said the things she’d said about her marriage, but he was probably going to find out sooner or later and she’d never actually told anyone what had happened, they’d all just sort of figured it out when he’d posted the sonogram on Facebook. It was just nice to have said it all out loud. It had felt like the rug had been ripped out from underneath her and she’d spent the last two years in a freefall before finally landing and finding her feet again. And now, she was dancing.

He was a decent dancer, though they weren’t exactly doing anything special. Just swaying in time and trying not to be so self-conscious that she couldn’t look at him. It was nice, and it was easy to pretend just for a moment that this was going to be her life from now on. She knew next to nothing about Eli, it was a silly fantasy world and he was just a stand-in for the ideal she’d created of the man she should have married, but it was her fantasy and for right now it was exactly where she wanted to be. He was looking at her like he wanted her, like she was the only girl in the world, and she wanted to chase that elusive feeling for just a little bit longer. The Belle who lived this life would think nothing of tilting her head back and kissing him, but the real one was only given the courage by the wine and the late hour of the evening.

Kissing him sober was a whole new experience for her. He was a good kisser, he didn’t try to push too hard or control the kiss, he asked and she answered. They weren’t dancing anymore, but it took her awhile to figure it out because she still felt like she was spinning. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this, but if so it was the right kind of bad because she just felt better about herself when she was talking to him. He already had to stay the night again, what did she have to lose?

She broke away from the kiss and loved the dumbstruck look on his face. That made the choice for her, she wanted to keep seeing that look for as long as she could.

“Do you want to go to bed?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if he’d gotten her point right away, so she punctuated the question by teasing the ends of his hair in her fingertips waiting for the dawning realization of what she meant. It had been on the table all day, and it was time to follow through.

He didn’t reply, instead he just leaned down and kissed her hard again. She sighed into the kiss when his hands came up to hold her face and she leaned into him. It was so nice to be close to anyone, but especially to him. They had all night, and they were both finally, blissfully, sober.

 The morning had come too soon, and Eli was actually disappointed to find out that the roads had been cleared and he was safe to go home. She’d kissed him goodbye, and he’d asked her to get lunch sometime. She’d agreed, and as soon as Bailey had gone back to college they’d started dating in earnest. It was the happiest he thought he’d been in the last decade.

He was at work when he heard the bell on the door ringing, and when he looked up she was there, dusting snow off her shoulders and looking just as beautiful as she ever did.

“Hey,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is there someplace we can sit?”

He felt his stomach drop to his feet at her mood, because she was more serious than he’d ever seen her. He pulled the curtain to the backroom open and she didn’t wait before walking in ahead of him and dropping onto the daybed in the back with a dazed look on her face. He was worried as hell now, and if she didn’t tell him what was going on soon he was going to have a heart attack.

“What –”

“I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t even waited for him to finish sitting down across from her before saying it, and for a brief moment he thought that she might be kidding, but she was stone faced as she sat there and it wouldn’t have been funny in any event.

They’d only been dating about six weeks. He couldn’t believe this had happened – what the hell were they even going to do?

[polhandmore]

Pinochle io

If he fails to show enough to win, he loses the game. Though points are not counted during the play, a mental count is kept, and whenever a player sees that, by adding the value of his " melds " to what he thinks his cards will count, he has enough to win the game, namely woo points, he " calls out " or knocks on the table, and proceeds to expose his cards. Ace counts 11 points, ten 10, king 4, queen 3, and knave 2, whatever the suit, so that 240 points for " cards " are divided between the two players. for the five highest cards in each ,suit, which after all the tricks have been played, are counted for the player holding them. A failure to do this is a " revoke " and is penalized by the loss of all points made by " cards," i.e. The last twelve tricks are then played, but now both players must follow suit and must win the trick if possible, either with a superior card or a trump. When this happens all announcements cease, and all cards exposed are replaced in the hands. All combinations " melded " must be laid face upward on the table but still belong to the player's hand, though they may not be taken up until the stock has given out. Playing, announcing, and drawing then go on until the stock is exhausted. After he has " melded," or refused to do so, he draws a card from the top of the stock and adds it to his hand without showing it, his adversary doing the same, so that each player continues to hold twelve cards. The winner of the trick leads again, before which, however, he may " meld " any one combination he holds. There is no obligation either to take, follow suit or trump. The non-dealer leads a card, to which the dealer plays. In single pinochle (two players) each player receives twelve cards, four at a time, the twenty-fifth being turned up beside the stock for trumps. Of the third class the " melds " are: four aces of different suits, loo four kings of different suits, 80 four queens of different suits, 60 four knaves of different suits, 40 eight aces, 1000 eight kings, 800 eight queens, 600 eight knaves, 400. In the second class the " melds " are " pinochle " (queen of spades and knave of diamonds), 40 " double pinochle " (both queens of spades and knaves of diamonds), Soo " grand pinochle " (king and queen of spades and knave of diamonds), 80 this `` meld " is not often played in America. They are of three classes: (1) " marriages " and " sequences," (2) " pinochles," and (3) " fours." The " melds " of the first class score as follows: " marriage " (king and queen of any plain suit), 20 " royal marriage " (king and queen of trumps), 40 " sequence " (the five highest trumps), 150. melden, to announce), as used in pinochle, means " to declare." " Melds " are combinations which are declared during the play of the hands. The nine counts nothing unless it be turned for trumps, when it scores io. The cards rank as follows: ace 11, ten 10, king 4, queen 3, knave 2. The object of the game is to make 1000 points. Two packs, from which all cards below the nines have been deleted, are shuffled together, forming one pack of 48 cards. Pinochle may be played by two, three or four persons. It bears a general resemblance to Bezique, and has almost entirely usurped the place of the older game in America. Pinochel or Binochel, of uncertain etymology), a game of cards probably invented by Germans in the United States about the middle of the 10th century.