#apologies for posting the same thing twice but this one is higher effort
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I liked this meme so much I decided to paint it. Who framed Roger Rabbit style breaking bad tutu crossover. You see it.
[ID: the “I think we’re gonna have to kill this guy meme” with Jesse pinkman and princess tutu. Jesse is painted in a more portrait like semi realistic style while Tutu is cartoony, resembling her on model appearance from the show. Jesse says “yo I think we’re gonna have to kill this guy Princess Tutu” with his hand on Tutu’s shoulder, and Tutu responds “damn.” End ID]
#apologies for posting the same thing twice but this one is higher effort#princess tutu#jesse pinkman#lea doodles#im rewatching both of these shows rn and its very fun#lea posts
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Ocean Eyes (Ethan x F!MC)
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,400 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: When Ethan posts a daring picture, she responds just how he hoped. Part 2 of Lovely. Tags: @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies | @the-soot-sprite | @infinitiestones | @emotionalswift2 | @flyawayboo | @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum| @myusualnerdyself |
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Donahue's was far more crowded that night than its usual Friday night tally. The dance floor she had just inhabited with Bryce was brimming with twice the number of dancing couples, all drunker and louder than usual. Lilac didn't mind, though. Everyone in general seemed to be having a good time and the high spirits were almost contagious.
Before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to the same spot at the bar where they had been wandering to all night. He was still there, completely disinterested in the revelry around him, his attention instead on the nearly empty glass of scotch in his hand. He seemed to sense she was looking at him because his piercing blue eyes locked on hers for the first time that night.
Ethan's expression, as usual, was unreadable but the way he looked at her sent a spike of adrenaline through her body. It was almost painful, like looking directly at the sun. Lilac could not look away.
“Lil?”
“Hmm?” she said, finally breaking away from Ethan's spell to look up at Bryce.
Bryce, seemed unfazed by her distraction. If he noticed her exchange with Ethan, he didn't comment on it. “I was saying my surgeon buddies want a game of darts. Want to come with?”
Just then, a tiny figure dropped down next to Lilac in the booth, breathless and flushed. “Don't even think about stealing her away into enemy territory, Lahela,” teased Sienna. “You've been hogging her all night.”
Bryce put up his hands in defeat with his signature, dazzling laugh. “No arguments from me. I know better than to mess with you, Trinh.” Giving them both a mock salute and a wink, he strutted off to meet his friends.
Sienna laughed. Once Bryce was out of earshot, she took a hold of Lilac's arm and leaned in to say in a lovely sing-song voice, “You have an admirer.”
Lilac didn't have to look to know she meant Ethan. “My goodness, he is giving you some serious bedroom eyes,” her friend commented with wonder.
“That's how he always looks.”
“That's how he always looks at you,” Sienna corrected. “Any updates?”
Lilac gave her a noncommittal shrug.
“Things are still…weird,” she allowed, even though “weird” was a poor descriptor. Things between them were downright tense and miserable since their phone call a few days ago.
Lilac cringed inwardly at the memory. Leave it to her to get plastered enough to desperately throw herself at him. Where had she found the courage? Was she really that desperate for Ethan Ramsey? She knew the answer to that immediately.
Sensing the shift in her mood, Sienna rubbed her forearm comfortingly. “This calls for a round. You can tell me all about it over mind numbing alcohol. What do you want? The usual?”
But Lilac shook her head, already standing up. “If I'm going to burden you with my dreadful love life, then drinks are on me.” And before Sienna could protest, she was off to the bar.
Ten minutes later, Lilac thanked Reggie for the drinks, left as generous a tip as her salary allowed, and turned back towards her booth. She only made it half a step when she almost collided into a solid, cable sweater clad chest.
“Oh,” she yelped, ready to apologize. The words were struck dead when her eyes met bright blue ones. She froze, internally hating the fact that someone could paralyze her entirely with just a look.
“Dr. Allende,” Ethan said with a brief nod.
“Dr. Ramsey,” she returned.
The music blared just as loudly as before, bodies moving and dancing all around them, yet all she could hear was the ringing silence between them. Lilac bit her bottom lip anxiously, struggling to find something, anything to say for neither made an effort to move away.
Ethan was giving her that same indiscernible look from before. It was driving her to the brink of insanity. Just when she thought she could decode what it meant, he opened his mouth, as if to say something. He seemed to think better of it because he shook his head so imperceptibly that she might have missed it.
“Enjoy your night, Doctor,” he said instead, before continuing his way.
Lilac blinked, so stunned that she did not even turn to watch him walk away as she always did.
“Oh my God,” Sienna squealed when Lilac rejoined her. “That was the most sexually-charged interaction I've ever seen in my life.”
“He barely said two words to me.”
“It gave me Pride and Prejudice vibes. That scene where Mr. Darcy visits Elizabeth at Charlotte's house and he doesn't know what to say."
Lilac gave her an unmoved glare that did nothing to quell her friend’s amusement.
"What have you done to poor Dr. Ramsey?” Sienna cackled with unconstrained glee.
“Very funny, Sienna.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, sobering up. “No more Austen references, I promise.” She took the drink Lilac offered. “Is he still stalking your Pictagram?”
“Not sure. I stopped checking,” Lilac lied. The last time she looked for the username "ejramsey" in her notifications was the previous night.
“Only one way to find out,” Sienna told her, already scrolling through Lilac’s Pictagram feed on her own phone. It didn't take long for Sienna to freeze, grab Lilac's arm with a sense of urgency, and almost shout, “Lilac, go to your last post right now.”
She did as instructed with some reservation. Her last post had been that very morning, a selfie of her in bed, carefully constructed to appear casual and offhand when the reality was that she took several shots before she settled on one she liked. Lilac had captioned it "good morning" for no particular reason. But then again, was there any real purpose to posting on anything Pictagram?
And there, among the comments mostly from people she hadn't seen or spoken to in years was his.
“He liked it!” Sienna declared, victorious. “And he commented, too.” Her friend said this with a certain finality that suggested the deal was sealed. Lilac and Ethan could practically marry now.
“Is this what made you almost late to work, Allende?”
She reread his comment, unsure what to make of it. In her mind's eye, she could see the small, carefully guarded smirk that would accompany such a comment in real life. A small indicative that he, regardless of what he might say, had a soft spot for her.
“Call this wishful thinking but,” Sienna started, “he is totally flirting with you. In his own weird Ethan Ramsey way made even more bizarre by technology. But flirting nonetheless. ”
Lilac would have immediately disagreed, dismissed the comment, and changed the subject, but her attention was robbed by a post on her Pictagram feed. It was from the man himself, time stamped only a few minutes after hers that morning.
She almost choked on her drink.
-------------------
Ethan was weak-willed and a tad bit pathetic, he had to finally admit that. Nothing else could explain the uncontrollable grin spreading across his face when his phone pinged with the notification: "Pictagram: dr.allende commented on your post."
“Unfair,” was all she had commented.
His grin broadened. God, he knew then why people were so addicted to social media. The thrill of instant gratification he felt then could be sold profitably in doses if it could be bottled.
No, he had reached the ultimate low of weak when he decided he had had enough of being tormented by her posts. He wanted to turn the tables on her and hope he had the same effect on her. The thought that he might have made his stomach swoop.
He took a swig of his drink. What was wrong with him?
When Reggie kicked everyone out a few hours later, Ethan retreated to his favorite lounging area in the now deserted beer garden.
It did not surprise him that she joined him a few minutes later. At her brief hesitation, he nodded, a silent invitation for her to join him.
“You win,” she said by way of greeting, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.
Their bodies were so close that her thigh almost skimmed his. As if that wasn’t enough to wreck his sanity, she was looking at him with a glint in her eye that was telling of the effect his picture had on her.
“What did I win?” he asked, humoring her. In his state of absolute abandon where his defenses had been rendered useless by her mere presence, he could give her anything.
“You win at Pictagram. I could never top that picture.” There was that look of longing again, unmistakable in the golden lights of the beer garden.
She was going to be his demise.
“You’ve already done so,” he said quietly. “Many times.”
Lilac looked up at him, a quirk in her brow. “The green dress?”
There was a moment of silence in which they both remembered that night.
“Yes, but also the one this morning. It was…” again, he was at a loss for words. “Nice,” he finished flatly.
He almost laughed at the inadequacy. The picture inspired this male brain to fantasize about waking up next to her, kissing her neck, making his way lower and lower until her body twisted in pleasure against his mouth. Ten years of higher education proved inefficient at the sight of green eyes, full lips, and bed sheets. He was reduced to the simplest of beings.
“Yours was very... nice too,” she returned, allowing a small pause before the insufficient word. “I miss that sight,” she confessed with no filter.
An all too familiar tug in his chest.
“Earlier, at the bar, when we bumped into each other,” she started when he failed to respond. “You wanted to say something.”
It wasn't a question but an observation.
She knew him so well. Ethan had been arrogant enough to believe he had concealed his intentions so masterfully. Yet, she always saw right through him with the same precision that made her a brilliant doctor.
“What did you want to say?” she asked in the softest of whispers, eyes locked on his.
Ethan himself was not sure what he meant to say. He had seen her, suddenly in front of him, and he wanted to desperately say something. Anything. There had been no point. No words would be sufficient aside from the three that tormented him everyday.
They were fully facing one another now, bodies mere inches apart. Before he realized what he was doing, he raised his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His thumb lingered, stroking a feather light touch on her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered closed and when she opened them again, they dropped directly to his lips.
That was all it took for the last bit of his resolve to break.
“Ethan, I—”
Fueled by weeks of yearning, Ethan interrupted, filling in the distance between them and pressing his lips to hers.
The kiss started with a rough force that she matched at once, their pressed bodies swaying Lilac back and almost toppling him on top of her. She didn't seem to mind, too entranced by moving her lips against his, arms clasped securely around his neck.
Ethan was a fool for ever thinking two months in Brazil would be escape enough when what he wanted the most was right there, on Lilac Allende’s lips.
“How do you do this to me?” he whispered gruffly against her neck, where his lips had found refuge.
Lilac’s response was a soft moan. The things he'd do to hear that sound repeatedly, preferably echoing every wall of his apartment.
Not breaking his lips' ministrations on the ridge of her collarbone, his hands fiddled with the front of her dress. In his eagerness, he struggled with the damned contraption.
“Need help?” she teased breathlessly.
Ethan broke apart to give her a wolfish smirk. She was going to pay for that.
Without warning, he moved his hands to her hips and in one swift movement, he flipped her on top of him. Her skirt rode dangerously high as her thighs straddled him. Lilac's little yelp of surprise gave way to another maddening moan when his fingers lazily brushed the inside of her thigh.
“I can manage, Rookie,” he whispered hotly against her ear. The old nickname had its desired effect for her legs quivered in response.
His small triumph was short lived, however. Her small revenge was swiveling her hips against his entirely. The pulsing, straining front of his trousers came in full contact with her and Ethan groaned.
“I'm not a rookie at this,” she whispered defiantly, moving against him again with agonizing steadiness. “Lucky for you, I know what I'm d—” she broke off, biting her lip in a futile effort to repress a small cry. Ethan had lifted his hips off the sofa with ease, suspending her entire weight against him.
“I know a thing or two as well,” he growled. His fingers moved higher up her thigh.
“I remember.”
“Do you remember moaning my name?”
His hand roughly moved the lacy fabric of her underwear aside.
“Yes,” she gasped.
His fingers teased her.
“Make me scream it,” she begged in a whisper.
Ethan groaned again.
“Lilac,�� he muttered huskily, any other coherent thought interrupted by the way she took his lower lip between her teeth.
“I want— ” she started, but was far too distracted by his expert fingers. She buried her face against his shoulder, desperate to stifle her moan.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice a husky sound deep in his throat.
Before she could answer, however, Reggie's voice called from inside the bar, “Ten minutes, Ethan.”
Thank God Reggie had not bothered to come outside. Otherwise, Ethan would have spent the next five minutes trying to find a sensible reason why his colleague straddled him shamelessly, his hand lost in the depths of her skirt.
They looked at each other through hooded eyes, skin flushed bright.
“Any chance that's enough time for you?” she joked.
Ethan attempted to shoot her a look dripping of indignation, but the effect was ruined by his own chuckle winning out. “You insult me,” he said dryly.
Lilac laughed out loud at that. When she sobered up, she regarded him with a very serious expression. Wordlessly, she pressed a tender kiss against his lips.
“Lilac,” he said softly when they at last broke apart.
“I know,” she said in a small, defeated voice. With that, she carefully climbed off him.
She fixed her dress in thoughtful silence. “You know what this means, right?” she asked, a hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You posted a devastatingly hot picture on Pictagram to bait me. You won't be able to stop now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Presumptuous of you to assume it was for your benefit.”
“I'm your only follower.”
Ethan rolled his eyes but he smiled regardless.
“Don't worry. I'll post for you too,” she assured him. “Hope you're ready.”
He laughed despite himself. “Is that a challenge, Dr. Allende?”
Lilac matched his laughter. “Game's afoot, Dr. Ramsey.”
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AN: THANK YOU for all your wonderful comments on my last one. I appreciate everyone who read, liked, and/or commented!
Masterlist
#ethan ramsey#open heart#ethan x mc#playchoices#choices stories you play#OPH#OH#OHSY#My writing#ethan ramsey fanfiction#Ethan ramsey x mc#dr. ethan ramsey#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfiction
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Oops pt. 2 but not like you’re thinking
Before I get into this, I just want to make it clear that I am very bad at commitment. I’m not good at doing things every day, either because I forget to or lose motivation, and almost as soon as I promised to post things I fell into a bout of ‘sadness’, no further details needed. I have requests that I will fill, you have been heard, but until then.
I did a rp with @the-elusive-libbin and she gave me permission to post it. Granted there’s demand there might be a second part, but I’m posting this now because it’s starvation and the second half would be stuffing. I don’t want to subject you to it if that’s not what you’re here for, I understand. This is @the-elusive-libbin‘s own self-insert and Jakurai Jinguji of Hypnosis Mic: Division Rap Battle. Let me know if you enjoy it.
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Exhaustion and fatigue was something Jakurai was sort of used to. He had a high stress job that squeezed the energy out of him throughout the day, and often he would be able to be just fine until he got home and he would instantly collapse after getting at least a few mouthfuls of food into his belly. But that was all granted things went sort of well.
Everything needed his attention today, and emergency after emergency forced him to go in and out of rooms without being able to even think between moments. He lost track of time and didn't exactly desire to check, but before he knew it he was stopped and told to take his lunch.
He probably did need to eat. He definitely needed to eat, but by then he was already full of adrenaline and had patients to take care of. He brushed off his breaks and his lunches and kept working, not yet feeling any sort of hunger or exhaustion. He wasn't worried about it yet.
He actually didn't have to worry about it for a long time and his body was patient enough to keep him going until his last patient. All of a sudden his body started slowing down and it took that much more effort to keep his eyes open and stay awake. He fought with his body on it for as long as he could until he was free to go, at which point he went right to his desk and fell asleep.
It wasn't as much of a 'I'm going to take a nap', it was more of a 'I'm going to collapse in the middle of work if I don't sleep'. Either way, he was completely blacked out.
Lily started down the miraculously clean corridor towards the doctor’s office. Sterile white walls surrounded her as she walked, a maze of monotonous barriers that all seemed to connect to everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Lily knew her route and hardly even had to think about where she was going or which direction to take, she had grown accustomed to it all through work.
The doctor was her higher up, that was all too true and she worked mostly for him as his nurse and organizer, in fact it was rare that she ever worked for another doctor within the practice; but today was different. She had hardly seen the long haired man with his ever present bags under his eyes and his white coat today aside from one point mid day where she had reminded him of his break, during a fleeting moment where the two passed by one another in a corridor. It had been way too busy to breathe, let alone chat and so the nurse thought it best to save discussing future plans with the older male until after the rush. The rush passed and the doctor was still MIA.
Lily approached a large, grey door that sported a miniature, frosted glass window and a small, golden nameplate. ‘Jinguji Jakurai Sensei.’ It stated in bold, black lettering. Perhaps the nurse had thought it best to check the doctor’s office last? In theory it should have been the first place she concluded to find the target. With a sigh at her own thought process, she turned the handle and entered the room What she saw left her slightly in awe. The doctor was sat at his desk, seemingly passed out, his long hair draped across the surface as his folded arms cradled his sleeping head. This was the first time the nurse had ever seen the doctor in this state. At first she became concerned that he may actually be dead but the soft rise and fall of his back as he breathed disregarded that notion.
The sound of the door stirred the doctor, forcing a quiet groan of unwillingness out of him. He hated the idea of moving, of waking up after sleeping for what only felt like a few seconds. His body was drained,, exhausted after not even finishing a full day. It was rather disconcerting.
His arms were suddenly comforting here, but once he saw who was in his office that comfort melted away into slight embarrassment. "Excuse me." He murmured as he straightened himself out, brushing out his uniform. "Our break.. is it over so soon? I only meant to be a few minutes." He combed his hand through his hair. "I'll be right out with you. I must have lost track of time."
“It’s only me.” Lily smiled, clipboard clutched close to her chest as she listened to his words carefully. Seeing him in a sleeping state like that was so out of character, so unusual, so....adorable! She wished just for a moment that he would fall back asleep. She shook the thoughts from her mind, quite literally and made herself dizzy in the process. “Hmm, sensei....you were gone for quite a while. You uhh, how do I put this? You fell asleep for longer than you may have thought. Your shift is over...you slept through.” She touched his shoulder gently with the softest smile she could muster. “You were so exhausted, I think your body may have started working against you there.”
His rest felt so short.. had he really slept that long? He glanced at his clock and felt his heart sink when it was confirmed before his very eyes. "Damn." Of course he slept through the rest of his shift. He held his hand to his forehead, cursing the time and his own body. It was embarrassing, being that reckless on the job when there very well could have been something serious that he should have been present for. Not that he seemed to mind that sort of thing, as his own stomach was one of the very things that he neglected most when it needed his attention.
"I didn't miss anything, did I?" He continued, meeting Lily's eyes. "I wish you would have woken me up sooner."
"You didn't, all of our patients remained stable after you left. We were busy but we managed to keep a hold of it all. Everything's okay. I'd have woken you up but I had no idea you were sleeping in here." She gestured to the office. "My apologies sensei, had I known where you were I'd have come to get you sooner"
It helped to know that he, at the very least, wasn't absent for something serious. He couldn't even imagine how embarrassed he would be if they needed him and he wasn't there because he was napping in his office. He would have to make it a note to force himself to sleep better at home, not that the damage hadn't already been done. "I'm glad they're doing better. Our patients, I mean." He started to trail off a bit as a growl tore through his stomach, stealing his thoughts away. He cringed at the feeling and clutched at his stomach. "Ah.. excuse me.."
Lily stared at the doctor’s stomach for a moment and then blinked. Once. Twice. Was- was that what she thought it was? The nurse’s thoughts were confirmed when she saw a hand grip tightly at the doctor’s abdomen. “W-was that your-?” A light blush rose to her cheeks as she accidentally cut herself off .
"We had an emergency during what was supposed to be my lunch." His arm didn't leave his stomach, partly out of shame and partly because the pain was somewhat lessened with the pressure. It was embarrassment after embarrassment, and Jakurai couldn't tolerate another noise like that. "I suppose that might have been a part of the problem. I didn't exactly have enough time to.." He cleared his throat and spoke in a more hushed tone. "You understand."
The nurse could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her face felt warm even without physically touching it. It took a minute or so before she could speak again, secondhand embarrassment washing over her. She had never in her life heard the doc's stomach and now she had, while they were alone....and it was fairly loud. "Y-you haven't eaten then?" A question that was more rhetorical than not.
The pause was just as excruciating for him, if not more. He was very grateful when she started talking. "Not since.." Well, his breakfast wasn't exactly outstanding either. He usually just ate whatever was quick enough to bring along with him if he even felt breakfast was necessary, as he was normally fine until lunch. Maybe 'fine' wasn't the best word, but rather he didn't feel weak or queasy until then. "No, I guess I haven't."
"Your poor tummy!" She almost cooed, accidentally using a less scientific term for stomach in the process. Perhaps she meant to keep that part in her mind bit regardless she blurted it into the open and now she felt even more warm in the face.
"It doesn't usually give me trouble." He loosened his grip over his stomach, choosing to ignore how cheery she seemed to be about the situation~ "I suppose I don't really allow it to give me trouble. We don't exactly have time to be focusing on ourselves." He was more or less speaking for himself. Obviously. "I'll be fine."
"You'll be fine when you get sustenance sensei. Your stomach is empty and you need fuel." She reached out and tentatively placed her palm against his midsection over his clothes, her hand shaking nervously as she did.
He didn't make any sort of effort to stop her. She already heard it, he didn't feel the need to pretend it didn't happen. He did get a slight tingling sensation under her palm, but that was greatly overshadowed by the dull, nigh constant rumbles that he had been trying so hard to conceal. He was sure she could feel them, but he couldn't tell how she felt about it. "I appreciate the concern."
It was then that without thinking Lily began to rub at the abdomen in front of her, setting the clipboard she held with her other hand down on the doctor's desk. She could feel harsh vibrations from palm to fingertip as his stomach clenched and spasmed under her hand. Deep yet fairly quiet grumbling came at intervals, sounding through the layers of muscle, skin and organ. Up and down, gently adding pressure as she rubbed his concave stomach, her face turning a colour that she presumed to be nothing short of crimson. The nurse could not meet his eyes and therefore could not tell his expression. The nerves were too real.
That certainly answered his question. He initially assumed it was a mistake, that her hand had slipped or something, but that proved to be absolutely ridiculous within the very same instant. He felt his breath leave his lungs once he realized what she was doing, but the more she massaged his clenched muscle the better it started to feel. Her hands felt soft and comforting even if they were above his clothes, and it really did feel like she was suppressing painful hunger pangs and making them more bearable. If not for her hot blush, the doctor would have no insight on how she was feeling or how nervous she was.
He gently took her hands into his, temporarily pausing the massage. "I don't understand where this is coming from. You have to tell me."
"I-I just-" she stammered. He was actually HOLDING her hands. Both of them. Not just one, but both! She would have flushed more if she could. "I j-just thought if I massaged your stomach it would ease the p-pain. I meant no I'll will"
"It did ease the pain." He started to let go of her hands when he saw how quickly she fell apart. "It just seemed so sudden. You're always so nervous around me." It was such a confident move. Seemed so out of place for someone so timid, especially one that was proving his point with that powerful blush. "I really didn't mind it."
"w-well I..." she hid her face in her hands and said nothing more. What if he thought she was weird now? What if he became wary around her?
"I didn't mean to embarrass you." He stopped himself from touching her hands again. "I just needed to ask. I'm sorry if I.. spoiled it for you." Whatever 'it' happened to be. He didn't think of it as a pleasure thing and really did think she was doing it to help him feel better. It was a service, more like~ "It felt nice."
Lily peeped through the fingers on her one hand and gulped nervously. Was he actually smiling softly back at her? Her heart skipped a beat and she removed both hands from her face. "W-would you like me to continue?" She fidgeted on the spot.
The massages to help with the pain ironically kept him from going home and properly eating. The irony wasn't lost on him. This was the better option though-One where he got a free massage after a long day from someone that could hardly be around him without nearly combusting before this. "I wouldn't say no to it." He agreed, a slight purr evident in his voice. "Though I imagine it will get worse no matter how much you take care of it."
“T-then...” Lily tucked her hair behind one ear and knelt down on the floor next to the doctor. She placed her hand back onto his empty tummy and began to massage once again. “Then I’ll continue a while longer.”
His cheeks reddened as she knelt next to him. He didn't get this sort of attention a lot, really ever, and especially not from her. He didn't think she was even capable of doing this. He felt like he should talk, or say something at least, but all he could really think about was her hands. "Have you thought about doing this before?"
She flinched. “What? D-do you mean massaging your belly?” She immediately flushed and ducked her head as she realized what she had said.
"Y..yes." It was strange to go from how they usually talked to each other to how they were talking now. His hand twitched, a visible effort he made to stop himself from covering his stomach as a noisy rumble sounded off beneath his shirt. It would take some time to get used to hearing that. "..You don't have to answer that."
Lily twinged as the doctor’s stomach groaned beneath her hand and was surprised at the little noise he gave off himself “Answer your question or your stomach?”
"The question." His face flushed at her statement. "I assumed that this had to come from somewhere. That you wouldn't have done this for no reason." He looked at her hand rather than her face. "I'm looking too far into it."
“M-maybe you are.....” she trailed off, letting her words linger in the air for a while. She massaged what she thought was a knot and earned a deep roar from the belly in return. Changing the subject seemed to be a good option so lily took it. “You sound so empty.”
The roar was extra painful for him, making it impossible to stop a grunt. It was bittersweet, both the pain of such deep growls with the pleasure of the massage, and he couldn't agree more with her. "I'm sure I've gone this long without eating before. I can't remember it ever hurting this much." That didn't really mean an awful lot. "I guess I stuff it when I get home on days like this before I give it the chance to hurt."
The nurse’s eyes widened. “Stuff...” it came across as a question though it was never meant to be. Her eyes met his finally as they sparkled hopefully.
"Not intentionally." He dragged his fingers through his hair, taking her question as concern or judgment. "I just try to shut it up before it gets started. I don't mean to gorge or anything. I stop before it gets to be too much. I promise." His mood shifted when he saw that glittering in her eyes. There wasn't any sort of judging to be seen on her face. "I really do try not to eat too much. Even when I'm hungry."
“I see~” she smiled, her grin showing just how happy in the moment she actually was. “But you have been stuffed before? Full of food.” She knew talking about food could possibly upset his stomach into complaining and cramping up but in Lily’s eyes that was a bonus. Regardless of embarrassment, she was finding a way to push through and talk about things she really wanted to talk about. Things she truly desired.
"I don't think I've ever needed to." He had accidentally overeaten maybe once, but he never let himself indulge. He was tired when he got home, lunch was his main meal and dinner was what he could get down before he fell asleep. Stuffing himself.. didn't seem so bad right now. It actually sounded nice, and thinking about it made his hunger feel that much more dramatic. "Maybe I will tonight.. since I've already slept plenty."
Lily fidgeted. She remembered how Hifumi tended to cook for the doctor on occasion to save time and an idea struck, sticking to her mind like tape to paper. “I....I could cook for you sensei...I-If you’re not busy.” She rambled, her face flushing. “I mean you don’t have to, it’s not weird like a date or anything....!!!Date?!? No I didn’t mean that, well I did, it’s just that you’re hungry and I have food...I mean I can make food....I’m going to stop talking now.”
Her scrambling was sort of charming. This was the Lily that he had come to know. He had somewhat expected an offer after her line of questioning, though he had to admit he didn't know what the offer was going to be, exactly. Free food was always a pleasure regardless. "I don't know how much energy I'd have to cook when I got home anyway. If it's not too much of a bother, of course, I'd love to eat with you. Ah, please don't feel pressured to feed me. I know it seems pretty bad, but I assure you I know how to feed myself.”
Lily paused, her face turning red. She stood and looked around the doctor’s chin area, again avoiding eye contact. “T-then....w-would you like to come to my house for a homemade meal? I’ll t-try to keep the portion size as accurate as possible...”
He wasn't sure what she meant by 'accurate', but he would trust her. They were both trained to take care of people, who would know better than her? Homemade sounded good anyway, no matter what it was she planned to cook. He supposed people enjoyed cooking for him, that he wouldn't have to cook for himself with all of this pampering. "That sounds nice. I wouldn't mind the company, either."
~~~~
That’s all I have for you. It’s pretty long, sorry about that. Maybe.
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With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? (2/5)
Chapter Summary: Clover is screwed.
There are three points of evidence that definitively back this conclusion:
1. The other Ace Ops are never going to leave him alone about his so-called "crush" on Huntsman Branwen 2. He has somehow already upset said huntsman in their first real interaction with each other 3. He has been partnered up with the twice-aforementioned upset huntsman for a mission into the abandoned SDC dust mines
Warnings: Swearing (you can pry Clover-The-Undercover-Pottymouth from my cold, dead hands), Slight Spiciness, Light Angst
Link to Chapter One: [X]
AO3 Link: [X]
Notes: Hello everyone! I cannot believe how positive of a reception this story has received from you all. I could not be more grateful to all of you who have read the first chapter, liked, and reblogged--you're all absolutely amazing. As a heads-up, chapters 2-4 of this story will focus a lot more on Fair Game, then chapter 5 will transition back to some Ace Ops interaction that will set up for future installments of this series. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please, please like, reblog, and comment <3
---
Clover is thinking about Huntsman Branwen and he is fucked.
“Clover.” General Ironwood gives him an odd look.
The near-hysterical vestiges of his functional mind wonder at the tinge of concern in the address.
“Clover? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Clover replies, on autopilot.
He’s screwed, he’s fucked, he will never hear the end of this from the rest of the Ace Ops and he is fucked six ways to Sunday.
General Ironwood watches him for a long moment before turning back to the papers he holds in his hands. Normally, Clover would plan out these smaller missions, but seeing as how this was the first one that would combine the Ace Ops with Huntsman Branwen and his team, and as this mission was so vital to the plans for the Amity communications tower, General Ironwood had personally seen to the arrangement of the troops. After their meeting is through, it Clover’s job will just be to pass on this information to everyone and insure that the operation runs smoothly. Which is why he really needs to stop being so distracted by his impending doom and focus.
“Yes, well… as I said, Clover, you’ll be working with Qrow today.” General Ironwood glances up at him again, making brief eye contact before shifting his focus back down. “I can see that you’re worried about him, but I can assure you that he’s a perfectly able huntsman.”
“I have no doubts about that, sir. I’ve seen his record,” Clover hurries to put in, concerned that the general will believe him to be unable to work competently just because of a minor team reassignment.
(Is he going to be able to work competently?)
“Then what--” General Ironwood stops and narrows his eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Clover worries that he has been somehow caught-out in his (non-)attraction to Huntsman Branwen. Instead, though, the general simply sighs, “Has Winter been bad-mouthing him to people again? I’ve told her time and again that that sort of behavior is extremely unprofessional….”
Clover shakes his head hurriedly. He may want to save face, but he isn’t willing to get Winter in trouble to do so. She’s a good soldier. “No, sir. I apologize, I have no issues with the mission assignments. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Which. Isn’t technically untrue. It’s just that the reason he hadn’t slept well last night had been because his dreams had been plagued with gorgeous, dancing red eyes and high cheekbones and alabaster skin that he was sure would bruise so easily if met with the proper treatment....
Holy shit, he’s about to have a problem in the middle of his briefing with his commanding officer; Marrow was right, he’s acting like a teenager. He’s in his mid-thirties, this should not be a problem for him anymore!
General Ironwood still doesn’t seem entirely pleased with his response, but after a few seconds, he gives Clover a final, firm nod. “Alright. Dismissed.”
Clover nods back then stands and hightails it out of the general’s office before anything else can go wrong.
Isn’t he supposed to have good luck?
Apparently not, as, within moments of leaving (not fleeing!) the room, he quite literally runs straight into Huntsman Branwen as he’s turning a corner.
They collide hard, and Huntsman Branwen likely would’ve been sent to the ground if not for Clover quickly reaching out to grab him around the waist and haul him up. Of course, this causes them to be… very close for just a moment, and the faint heat radiating off the other man’s body is just a little bit intoxicating, and Clover just hopes that Huntsman Branwen can’t see the flush on his face.
Huntsman Brawen pulls away and takes a step back, reaching up with one hand to rub at the back of his neck in a move that Clover would call sheepish if not for the fact that he can’t imagine the man before him as ever being shy or embarrassed; Huntsman Branwen is practically a legend in their circles. The most skilled scythe-wielder in Remnant, some say. A member of the once-renowned Team STRQ, which was still only the second team in history to win the Vytal Festival Tournament twice consecutively (and considering that the first team to do so had been mysteriously stripped of its titles later on, he isn’t sure that it counts anymore).
Still, the faint redness spreading across Huntsman Branwen’s cheeks seemed to suggest otherwise.
“Shit, sorry,” Huntsman Branwen mutters, pulling Clover out of his musings. And Brothers, his voice. “Wasn’t really looking where I was going…. Didn’t mean to run into you.” He has a thick Mistrali accent, and his quality of voice is unexpectedly rough. Clover is pretty sure that he can feel his higher brain functions melting into goo.
Clover isn’t blind and he isn’t deaf. He knows an exceptionally attractive man when he sees one, and if it weren’t for the fact that his team would tear him to shreds (and that he isn’t sure what the general would think if he got involved with Huntsman Branwen), he absolutely would have already started to pursue some sort of connection with the other man. As it is, though, he doesn’t think he could deal with the mockery that would come from encouraging his “crush,” as Elm would say, on Huntsman Branwen, so it’s probably for the best that he avoid doing so.
Resolved, Clover straightens to his full height, causing Huntsman Branwen to have to look up a little to meet his eyes. His chest squeezes. “It’s perfectly alright, Huntsman Branwen. The blame is at least partly mine; I should have been paying more attention.”
The other man cocks an eyebrow at him and folds his arms across his chest. Clover makes a very valiant effort at not looking at the way his biceps flex and stretch the material of his new clothes (which are… extremely flattering, to say the least). “‘Huntsman Branwen’? Atlas and its titles…. Just call me Qrow. The other thing just sounds weird.” He moves one hand down to rest against his hip and lets the other hang loose at his side. “And you’re Clover, right? One of Jimmy’s Special Operatives?” He tilts his head, birdlike.
Clover’s breath catches for a second at the way that his name sounds coming from Huntsman--Qrow’s--lips. He thinks that he’d be wheezing if he weren’t trying so hard to be as in-control as ever.
Please, Brothers, let this man be into men.
He crushes the errant thought as though it were a Sentinel, with the same cut-throat efficiency.
“That’s right,” he crosses his own arms and thrills a little at the way Qrow’s gaze bounces down and lingers for a second too long before returning to his face. “You’re in luck,” he says, going for humorous, but apparently failing, if the way Qrow’s slight smirk dips is anything to go by, “General Ironwood wants us to pair up together for today’s mission. Maybe it’s a good thing we bumped into each other beforehand.”
Qrow looks away, a full-on frown tugging at his (gorgeous) lips, now. Clover internally panics. What did he say? “Luck, huh?” Qrow scans Clover up and down, his face falling a little more. “Is that what… all of this is about?” He gestures expansively at Clover as a whole, and there’s a note of hurt in his voice that Clover can’t quite puzzle out, but before he’s able to voice his concern, Elm appears at the end of the hall.
Normally, Clover would be happy to see her. Right now, he is tempted to wring her neck. Not that he could, probably--she is both taller and objectively stronger than he is--but it’s a therapeutic thought, even if he is ashamed by it.
She looks back and forth between them for a moment, a wide grin quickly spreading across her features. Clover barely resists the urge to groan. “Clover,” she practically sings, “you and Huntsman Branwen are needed in the mission briefing room! Two of those kids are already waiting there for you!” She walks away, snickering. Her heavy footfalls echo long after she’s out of sight.
Qrow gives him one last glance before turning and hurrying away, his tattered red cape fluttering behind him.
And Clover stands alone in an empty hallway, wondering what the hell just happened, listening to the quickly-receding sound of Qrow’s footsteps.
---
More Notes: So, there we go! Clover is a mess, and honestly? Relatable.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you again tomorrow for the next one! <3
(Also, side-note, I may or may not have written a small story that centers around the rare-pair to end all rare-pairs: Clover/Qrow/Elm. Would anyone be interested in reading that if I posted it?)
#rwby#qrow branwen#clover ebi#fair game#qrowver#lucky charms#luckbirds#elm ederne#james ironwood#general ironwood#rwby fanfiction#my writing#rwby volume 7#rwby volume 7 spoilers#rwby v7#rwby7#rwby7 spoilers#rwby 7#pining#humor#light angst#angst#fluff
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Shooting with a 21-Year-Old Camera: The Fujifilm S1 Pro
I find it incredibly fun to use older, especially unique, digital cameras both as a challenge and for sheer enjoyment.
I think part of it is psychological. With archaic cameras sporting outdated technology we anticipate subpar results, and so we focus more on what we can control: composition, lighting (when applicable), exposure, and so on — the things we should always be focusing on.
Conversely, when we have a Hasselblad in our hands, we may let go a bit in the unconscious belief that the camera can make up the difference for our lack of talent or effort. Of course, we all know it can’t.
I won’t get into the boring history of why I own a lot of early to mid-2000s digital cameras, but at some point, I found myself the owner of a Fujifilm Finepix S1 Pro — the first in a five-model line of Fujifilm DSLRs that housed some incredibly unique sensor technology that it dubbed “SuperCCD.”
Apologies for the subpar product photos. I didn’t have access to my full setup.
In the S1 Pro, the photodiodes of the 3.1-megapixel SuperCCD sensor took the form of a honeycomb tessellation, oriented in a zig-zag array rather than a simple vertical/horizontal mosaic. Because of this, the distance between cells is smaller, making for about 40% more (square root of 2 = 1.41) sensor cell rows horizontally and vertically than a regular Bayer sensor.
The camera then uses an interpolation algorithm that supposedly results in a resolution equivalent to a 6.2 megapixel Bayer sensor. The 45-degree orientation also allows for improved capture of horizontal and vertical detail. This is good because most of the world, thanks to gravity, exists in horizontal and vertical planes — however, this happens at the expense of diagonal resolution, which is where traditional sensor layouts excel.
The honeycomb design of the SuperCCD sensors.
Released in January 2000, the Fujifilm S1 Pro is based on the Nikon N60 (aka F60) film camera body (with modifications by Fuji). It logically sports a Nikon F mount and can use AI, AI-S, AI-P, AF, AF-D, or G type lens — however, only AF and AF-D lenses will autofocus. AI and AI-S lenses can only be used in manual exposure mode as there is no meter coupling.
Most of these photos were shot with either the Nikon AF-D 24-120/3.5-5.6 or Nikon AF-D 50/1.8. While the 24-120 is not a quality optic, it’s a more than sufficient match for this sensor, especially stopped down a bit — and you can stop down to your heart’s content without hitting diffraction on this camera.
I had initially gone out shooting with some superior G-type lenses, however, accurate manual focusing is impossible for me through the straw-like OVF (wearing glasses doesn’t help either) and the focus confirmation dot is totally unreliable. Strangely, I had more issues manually focusing on distant objects stopped down than closer ones wide open — the photo above was manually focused with the Sigma Art 35mm wide open at f/1.4, yet the below photo (slightly out of focus) was at 24mm and f/8 with the Nikon 24-120mm f/4G VR.
Shutter speeds top out at 1/2000th. There are several metering modes (3D 6-zone, 6-zone, center-weight), a pop-up flash and hot-shoe (Nikon TTL compatible), and ISO options of 320, 400, 800, and 1600. There is no auto ISO function, and you have to menu dive each time you want to adjust it.
File choices are JPEG or TIFF only — no RAW, unfortunately — recorded to either CompactFlash or SmartMedia. The camera certainly did not accept my 64 or 128GB cards, but I was able to dig up an old 1GB card that can hold a whopping 56 TIFF files in the highest quality mode available (“Hi RGB TIFF”).
This is easily the slowest camera I have ever used. The menu is the antithesis of intuitive; it’s mostly just a collection of symbols and abbreviations and my hat is off to you if you can guess their meaning without reading the manual.
Forget chimping. Just murder that idea and bury it. It takes a solid 31 seconds (yes, I timed it) for an image to populate the screen. Once it does, just about the only thing you can confirm is that a photo was indeed taken, though a histogram is available for more accurate analysis. JPEGs, however, are significantly faster to review.
In a way, if you choose TIFF over JPEG, using the camera is akin to shooting a bulked-up Nikon N60 loaded with a roll and a half of film — no image review, roughly 55 maximum shots, and no quick adjustment of the ISO.
The S1 Pro allows you to choose between either 3.1MP or 6.2MP output. To produce a traditional image file — which exists in rows and columns — the camera must interpolate by using adjacent photosites to generate data between existing pixels. After all, the recorded file can’t exist in the same zig-zag honeycomb pattern as the sensor. After each line is read out and the missing data is filled, you end up with twice the spatial resolution (6.2MP).
Compared to the Nikon D40, which uses a 6.1-megapixel Bayer sensor, the S1 Pro doesn’t quite reach the same level of pixel acuity. However, side by side with the 4.1 megapixel Nikon D2Hs, there isn’t much in it between the two. So, I think the real Bayer-equivalent resolution sits somewhere in the middle of 3.1 and 6.2MP — around 4-4.5 megapixels. As it would happen, this is exactly in line with the roughly 40% increase in sensor cell rows (3.1 * 1.41 = 4.37). It also depends on the scene — some benefit from the unusual sensor design much more than others.
CCD sensors are not forgiving of sloppy exposure. Pushing or pulling can quickly result in blotchy chroma noise, severe color shifts, and compromised roll-off from the quartertones into the highlights. It is not unlike slide film in this way.
The colors are phenomenally accurate and neutral out of the camera. “ORG” tone and color produce a lovely, neutral file that’s perfect for editing, and “STD” (standard) tone and color make for a pleasingly usable straight-out-of-camera file. Even with color set to “HIGH” and tone set to “HARD,” the images aren’t bombastically oversaturated and Disneyland like we often see with the “Vivid” setting in modern cameras. In fact, High Color/Hard Tone photos exhibit only a very modest bump in saturation and contrast compared to Standard Color/Tone. One thing is perfectly clear: Fujifilm was producing cameras with beautiful color output long before X-Trans.
All the images here were shot at ISO 320, 800, or 1600. ISO 400 is completely pointless given that it’s a mere quarter stop gain over base. It would be easier to just dial in a third of a stop of exposure compensation rather than clicking through the menu. I really wish there was a lower base ISO of 160, as well as intermediate options like 640 and 1280.
The camera’s high native sensitivity — combined with early CCD architecture — means that there is a noticeable level of noise even at base ISO. Thankfully, the noise is quite pleasing and mostly luminance up through ISO 800 — even 1600 has very minimal chroma noise straight out of the camera. Anecdotally, I’ve found this to be a running theme with CCD sensors — considerable noise even at base ISO, but the noise presents very favorably through most, if not all, of the sensitivity range depending on the camera. It also makes for astonishingly appealing black and white photos, especially given the finely grained texture from what is largely high-frequency noise. “Film-like” would be an apt descriptor for the results.
The considerable noise in this image is the result of bringing up an underexposed photo in post. Black and white helps cover the color shifts and chroma noise.
If you nail exposure in camera, ISO 1600 will produce remarkably great results with an unexpectedly low amount of noise for a sensor of this type and age — there isn’t much to speak of in terms of offensive noise and photos are completely usable without any noise reduction. However, at this point, you’ve lost a good bit of dynamic range and if you try to push the image in any way, blocked up patches of low-frequency chroma noise and banding immediately rear their head. There is essentially zero room for pushing the files at all if shot at ISO 800 or higher.
Quite impressively, there is almost nothing in terms of color shift throughout the entire sensitivity range — what is accurate or pleasing at base ISO will be accurate or pleasing at 1600. Again, this is something I have noticed on more than one occasion with CCD cameras — the Pentax 645D behaves almost identically throughout its ISO range.
ISO 1600, SOOC “Standard” color and tone, auto WB. Noise reduction and sharpening zeroed out in ACR. No adjustments aside from downsizing.
While restrictive by modern standards, a highly usable ISO 1600 in an APS-C camera in the year 2000 was exceptionally good. Fujifilm claimed the SuperCCD cameras to have superior sensitivity performance — the honeycomb photosites allow for more pixels to be packed within a given area and their shape more closely mirrors the circular microlenses that sit above them. I think Fuji’s assertation bears out in practice.
I would estimate roughly 7.5-8 stops of usable dynamic range, which is up against what I presume is an 8-bit ADC (analog to digital converter). Given this, along with the unforgiving nature of CCD sensors and processing latitude further limited by the lack of RAW, you need to be very deliberate with your exposure choices. Even in a scene of moderate contrast, you will almost certainly have either crushed blacks or clipped highlights.
However, like most CCD cameras, you do start to lose dynamic range quickly once you boost the ISO by a couple of stops. There also isn’t much in the shadows — modern cameras (CMOS) tend to have a lot of their dynamic range bunched up in the shadows, allowing for some truly incredible detail recovery. CCD sensors do not work the same way, and even with a full-blown RAW file, I doubt you’d find much usable information at that end of the histogram. You can mitigate this somewhat via ETTR (“expose to the right”), but with what is already a suboptimal amount of dynamic range, you’ll only have a small amount of latitude for ETTR, if any.
Oops, highway patrol got me. High contrast scenes like this are difficult – the whites are just on the cusp of clipping, but the blacks are gone in numerous areas.
While the camera’s light meter, particularly the 3D 6-zone multipattern meter, is exceptionally adept at balancing exposure in difficult scenes, the auto white balance is a duality: it’s either one of the most accurate I have ever seen or it’s the worst. Almost all the photos I took required zero tint adjustment and usually only +1 to +4 temperature adjustment. However, on three occasions the images were off by so much I’m still baffled as to exactly why.
The most egregious were photos taken about two hours before sunset in the shade — they were rendered extremely blue and about half a stop underexposed. The white balance went so far off the map that most of a plain white T-shirt measured blue values from 240 on up to completely clipped! I assume the culprit for this error is a combination of the camera’s CCD light meter design and spectral response — the infrared filter may be causing issues in certain situations too. IR filters can strongly affect the blue channel and it’s possible there was a bit of Rayleigh scattering at work.
The major issue is that without a RAW file, your options are extremely limited — those botched files required +76 temperature to correct. Such a massive shift in an 8-bit TIFF file results in horrendous noise — especially bad because the blue channel is always the noisiest — and extreme spectral shifts across the entire image. Strangely, a separate shot of a red step ladder taken five feet away at the same time required only -3 tint and zero temperature adjustment.
Using the S1 Pro reminds me of shooting with the original 18-megapixel Leica M9 and Leica M Monochrom cameras — both with Kodak CCD designs. Neither those cameras nor the S1 Pro has any tolerance for “underexpose to protect the highlights” or similar approaches in the same way that CMOS sensors allow — not unlike how slide film doesn’t take kindly to push processing. People who worry about how a camera handles being pushed five stops will need to adjust — it’ll help them in the long run so they can finally learn to stop underexposing so much.
Ultimately, while the files from the S1 Pro don’t contain anywhere near the latitude of even modern JPEGs, let alone the power of RAW, my biggest takeaway while using this camera was how much I adore and value transparency as a starting point out of the camera. In a way, the naturality of colors and tones from this camera makes it even more aggravating that the files can’t stand up to much manipulation — I would absolutely LOVE results like this out of my Nikon Z7, and every other camera I have for that matter.
My father assisting in the repair of a Pentax 6×7. In scenes like this, you just have to expose for your subject and let the extreme ends clip.
What I would love to see is a universal “Natural Color Solution” (to steal a term from Hasselblad) adopted by all manufacturers and implemented in their cameras as an option. If you want that “Natural Color” RAW file, you can have it. If you want the look that you’ve come to love from your manufacturer, you can pick that too. Aside from Hasselblad, I’m not sure what would be the risk for manufacturers to do this — other than that it would take some effort and time.
I would not call the Fujifilm S1 Pro a fun or pleasant camera to use at all. To be honest, I probably immediately deleted 99% of the photos I took while doing this review. And even among the ones you see here, there are more than a few that I am not happy with. Normally, I would not settle for posting simply passable images, but in this case, I think even the lesser photos here do have value by showing both the warts and the ornaments.
Have no doubt, this is a challenging camera to use. I’m sure my images would greatly improve with continued use, but how much I am not sure — I feel like you hit the ceiling quicker than you might imagine.
Perhaps I can follow this up with a retrospective review of 2005’s Fujifilm S3 Pro, which sports a new SuperCCD SR sensor with two photodiodes per photosite — one of normal sensitivity and a smaller one of lower sensitivity. Both are combined to produce enhanced dynamic range (and it works very, very well). The general principle behind such a design comes from the structure of the crystal coating in silver halide film. The S3 also has a 14-bit ADC and produces 14-bit RAW files! That’s just a few of the improvements, but I’ll tell you this much: the SuperCCD SR sensor does NOT disappoint.
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Title: The Silver Knight Ask Box Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Artorias the Abysswalker, Lord's Blade Ciaran, Hawkeye Gough Word Count: 2.398 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352534
Summary: The knights of Gwyn establish an ask box for the silver knights.
@anaurael @secretlyfemgarrus Thanks for prompting some of the questions.
„Ornstein, what is this?“
Artorias was looking curiously at the wooden box the dragon slayer had brought in to their team conference today.
„I was sick and tired of having to answer all the questions of the silver knights individually.“, Ornstein said while putting the box down on the table. „So I established this box where they could put all their questions and prompts in. I thought we could look through it together.“
„A good idea, this keeps things organized.“, came the voice from Hawkeye Gough from above them. And Ciaran added: „Ooh, this could be exciting.“
“There are quite a few in there.”, Artorias said. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes, everyone grab one and we can discuss them one at a time then.”, Ornstein said and each of the knights grabbed a slip of paper. Ornstein looked at his and his face fell flat upon reading it.
“I think this is for you.”, Artorias said and handed his slip of paper to Ornstein. “This too.”, Gough added and gave his to Ornstein too.
“Guys, you need to hear this.”, Ciaran started and cleared her throat before reading out aloud: “Captain, would you please consider improving your handwriting? One day we spent over 10 minutes trying to find out if these were our names on the shift board and then you came along and got mad that we weren't on our posts already. If that isn't one of the most hypocritical things to do, we don't know.”
Ornstein could see how much Artorias tried to hide his laughter. “I get it, my handwriting is bad. These were all about this. Captain, please improve your handwriting. Captain, your handwriting is really hard to read. But I really don't know how I should improve it, I already tried.”
“I can read it.”, Artorias said. “Just tell them to come to me if they have trouble reading something.”
“Well, fine, this would be cleared then. Let's look at some other ones.” Ornstein grabbed a new slip and quickly discarded it. “That aren't about my handwriting.”
He grabbed another one, unfolded it and quickly folded it together again, getting a slightly red tint in his face: “Ah, no, I don't think I should show you that...”
“What was standing on this, Ornstein?”, Artorias asked. “Did anyone found out an embarrassing secret?”
“It were votes for a popularity contest.”, Gough said, who had been able to see it from his higher position.
“Gough, I didn't want them to know. Things like this are not good for our morals!”, Ornstein complained, but Ciaran and Artorias were already there trying to pry the slip out of his fingers.
“Ornstein, that is not fair, you have already seen it!”, Artorias said. “Gough too.”, Ciaran added. “Now we have a right to see it too.”
It didn't take long for them to get the slip of paper from Ornstein. Artorias unfolded it curiously while Ciaran tried standing on her toes to get a look on it too.
“This isn't even so bad, we are pretty even, Ornstein.”, Artorias said.
“You still won...”, Ornstein said between crunched teeth. They hadn't even tried to fight this duel, but he had still lost.
“Where am I standing on this thing?”, Ciaran demanded to know and managed to slip the paper out of Artorias hands with a graceful jump. “What? At the very bottom?”
“Don't take it too bad, Ciaran.”, Ornstein said. “You are working as the assassin mostly, your work simply gets overlooked.”
“Are you saying that I am too small?”, Ciaran twirled around and then crouched into a corner. “And I am making such an effort to be an good assassin...”
“No, Ciaran, I never said that.”, Ornstein said. He knew, it wasn't a good idea to show this thing around. “He kneeled down next to her. “Besides, size is not everything. I am also one of the smaller ones here.”
Ciaran stood up to her full size, which made her roughly the size of Ornstein who kneeled down. “Are you joking? You are twice the size of me! How is that small?”
“I am still the third smallest of this group.”, Ornstein said. “Despite being around 2,60 meter tall. I tell you, that often feels strange.”
“Hey, you two, you have to listen to this!”, Artorias called, who had apparently rummaged around in the box while Ornstein and Ciaran had been talking. The both of them walked back to the table. Artorias read aloud: “You know this rafters Captain Ornstein always uses to do his jogging sessions? The ones you can enter the cathedral from? We would like to take post there with our dragon slayer bows in case of an invasion.”
Ornstein considered this for a moment: “That... that is actually not a bad idea. Any foe who would try to cross this would be in for a surprise and we could get rid of them in a very easy way.”
“Oooh, that is so sadistic.”, Ciaran said with a gleeful tone in her voice.
“It is, but I can't help but be proud of them.”, Gough said, having led the great bow silver knights in countless battles and trained their skills with their unique “arrows”.
“So we are going to allow it? I can't await the next time someone tries to invade us.”, Artorias said.
“Artorias, that is not a thing to look forward too!”, Ornstein scolded the wolf knight. “Besides, they have to go through Sen's Fortress first. Can you imagine anyone trying to get an army through that?”
The other knights shook their heads in unison. Anor Londo was truly the best secured town in this land. All of the knights spend a moment in silence after that decision.
“Fine, let's look at another one.”, Ornstein broke through the stillness and grabbed for another slip. “Why are we all wearing silver armour?”, he read. “Really, that is on their mind?”
“I think it is a good question.”, Gough said. “They want to know more about their origins.”
“Well, I guess Lord Gwyn just liked silver?”, Ornstein assumed. “I doubt that had some higher meaning or something.”
“Makes me think, Ornstein.”, Artorias started. “You are wearing golden armour. Was that because you are the captain of the silver knights?”
“Poor coincidence.”, Ornstein answered. “I just like gold. And it fit very well with the lion theme I was going for.”
“So your armour choice was a choice of fashion?”, Ciaran asked.
“It also has been imbued with lighting resistance so that I don't shock myself. And fire of course, because of dragon fire.”, Ornstein explained. “But I can also look good while slaying dragons, that isn't a crime.”
“Didn't think you were so vain.”, Ciaran said and got the next slip out of the box. “What does Lady Ciaran's face look like under that mask? What the?”, she read. “They even made assumptions about it!”
“I want to see that!”, Artorias said and was at Ciaran's side in mere seconds, where the woman tried to frantically hide the slip of paper. “Thanks for giving me that.”, Ornstein said and took the slip out of her hands from the other side.
“Ornstein, not fair!”, Ciaran called out.
“That is the payback for earlier.”, the dragon slayer smirked and looked at the paper.
“Oh, I know why you wouldn't want us to see that...”
“Show me.”, Artorias demanded and looked at the slip.
“I heard that Lady Ciaran has really bad teeth and that is why she always wears the mask...”, he read. “And there are also rumours that you are missing an eye. Where did these things come from?”
“Maybe you should show your face in public more often.”, Ornstein suggested to the assassin, who laid face own on the table in defeat.
“And that is coming from you.”, came her muffled voice. “You are running around in full armour pretty much all the time.”
“At least I show my face once in a while.”, Ornstein said.
Artorias nodded: “Yes, even while eating you only pull that mask far enough so that you are able to eat without trouble.”
“Fine, I guess I'll show them my face.”, Ciaran finally gave in. “Let's look at another slip.”
Ornstein pulled out the next slip and unfolded it: “Let me finally join as the fifth knight of Gwyn. Damn it, that was the executioner!”
Artorias, Ciaran and Gough sighed at the same time. Artorias took up the word: “Nobody of us wants that discussion. So please, could we skip this?”
Ornstein closed his mouth that he had already opened to rant about Smough and how much he annoyed him. “Uh, fine, let's look at another one.”
“I am picking the next.”, Artorias said in excitement and swooped another slip out of the box. “Captain Ornstein, why do you dislike animals?”, he read aloud.
Now it was Ornstein's turn to sigh: “It's not that I don't like them. It is more that they don't like me.” He considered for a short moment: “Well, I don't like birds and you know very well why, Artorias.” He glared at the wolf knight.
“Hey, I already apologized for this.”, Artorias said in a defensive tone.
“But why do most animals not like you, Ornstein?”, Gough asked.
“I know, it is because he has dragon blood!”, Artorias shouted out. “They sense the far more dangerous animal and that is why they don't want to have anything to do with you.”
“Artorias, we don't even know if that is true!”, Ornstein said.
“Besides, Ornstein is dangerous enough to put everything into flight he looks at menacing.”, Ciaran fell into the discussion.
“Do... do I have such a bad death stare?”, Ornstein asked. Artorias chuckled about this. “You should be glad that you wear your helmet almost all the time. I am sure all the silver knights were already gone if they would see your malicious stare.”
“I want the silver knights to have respect, but I don't want to scare them.”, Ornstein said.
Now Ciaran burst out into laughter: “Oh, Ornstein, we were just teasing you. You don't look menacing at all!”
“Well, thanks!”, Ornstein said, feeling insulted.
“That's the payback for calling me small!”, Ciaran said and grabbed the next slip of paper.
“Is it possible for us to get promoted into the ranks of the knights of Gwyn?”, she read. All three other knights looked at Ornstein, who had been the one to chose them as the four knights of Gwyn, but he didn't answer.
“Come on, Ornstein, stop sulking.”, Artorias said. “You know we didn't mean it.”
“That's not it. Well, not completely. That sounds like Smough again!”
Ciaran shook her head: “Different handwriting.”
“Oh then... I guess they need to fulfill some heroic deeds. Like single-handedly slaying 89 dragons.”, he answered.
“Will there ever be the day you stop boasting with this number...?”, Artorias grumbled.
“I am more upset that I couldn't make it a 90 in the meantime!”, Ornstein said.
Ciaran looked in the box. “Not much left.”, she said. “Only two. Let's look at them.”
She and Ornstein both grabbed one of the leftover slips. Ornstein read his aloud first: “At all the knights of Gwyn: Let us meet for some tea and snacks in my room eventually. Gwyndolin. Oh, I guess they feel lonely. We should visit them soon.”
Gough let out a deep chuckle from above: “Wasn't this thing supposed to be for the silver knights? Seems like all kind of people use it to send messages now.”
In the meantime, Ciaran had read the message and had a wide grin on her face. “Ornstein, is there something we should know?”, she asked.
“Why?”, Ornstein said confused.
“Because that slip reads: Ornstein, come to my room this night. I am eagerly awaiting you. This sounds like you are dating someone! Don't you want to tell us when you are in a relationship?”
Ornstein instantly knew who had put this message inside and what in the world was he thinking? They had decided to keep their relationship a secret for now. That really brought him into trouble.
“That... that must be a dumb joke. I am not dating anyone at the moment.”, he quickly said. “Besides, who would be so stupid to put a message like this at a place where everyone can access it instead of giving it to me directly?”
“True.”, Ciaran said and discarded the message. “But maybe it is someone who has a crush on you?”, Artorias asked. “But they would have signed it then. I guess you are right, it was just a dumb joke.”
Ornstein breathed out in relief that the others wouldn't ask further.
“Alright, this were all the messages. I think we can call it a day now. We tell the silver knights about our decisions tomorrow.”, Ornstein concluded their meeting.
“Good night, everyone. We should head to bed.”
“Good night. That tomorrow will be a successful day too.”, Artorias said and left the room at first.
“I am going to stay up a bit longer, but good night.”, Ciaran said and followed Artorias. That only left Gough.
“That was Prince Gwynfor's handwriting.”, he said. Ornstein froze and then slowly turned around to face the giant. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”, the giant said. “I just think that you are able to trust them. I am sure they would appreciate if you tell them.”
Ornstein sighed: “I made a promise to the master about this... But thanks for your concern, Gough. We will see each other tomorrow.” Ornstein left the room with a wave to the giant and made his way to the master's room.
When he already was heading there, he could ask if he could inaugurate the other knights in their secret. But at most he was glad that he could spend time with his loved one. He only had to made sure that he wouldn't use the ask box again.
This thing was for the silver knights after all.
#littlewritesstuff#dark souls#fanfiction#dragon slayer ornstein#artorias the abysswalker#lord's blade ciaran#hawkeye gough#man my laptop was acting up posting this!
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Oh, English speakers, you don’t know how lucky you are! Your language is the third most spoken in the world (first comes Chinese, second comes Spanish), yet it seems English is the universal language, the one you must know if you are going to try to communicate with others who don’t share your native tongue, especially online.
My native language is Spanish, for example. Every conversation I’ve ever had with an English speaker, has been in English. It’s almost like an implicit rule, that if a Spanish speaker and an English speaker are going to talk, they will be speaking English. The Spanish speaker is the one who is expected to learn and master the art of speaking/writing in English, never the other way around.
I recall arguing with this racist dude online once. He called me “brownie”, said I came from a rat hole because I was a latin girl, and said all of us latinos were starving poor devils with no education or IQ, then proceeded to correct a grammar mistake I made. I said, alright, if your education and IQ are so much better and higher than mine, if you don’t make grammar mistakes in a foreign language like I do, then I’m sure you'll be able to continue this conversation in my native language, Spanish. So far I’ve been able to carry a conversation in your native language, let’s switch to mine now. If I, a brownie with no education and low IQ can speak a second language decently, you must be able to at least do the same thing, right? Well, that never happened. The moment I suggested that, he never replied again.
The reason why I bring this up is because, even when I’ve rarely had any problems like the one I’ve just mentioned, I do think that many English speakers aren’t entirely aware of how lucky they are for not having to worry much (sometimes at all) about language.
Something as simple as posting on Tumblr can be quite trickier when your native tongue isn’t English. I’m constantly wondering if I should feel this slight guilt for “betraying my roots” when I post in English. Or if I should post in Spanish, knowing 99% of this site won’t understand a word I’m saying. So sometimes I post in English and translate it to Spanish in one same post, and wonder if it’s even worthy to take twice as time and effort. It’s silly, I know, I’m overthinking it. It’s just the way things are, and I hope this doesn’t sound as a complain, cause it’s not. It’s just the thoughts that usually cross my head when I’m online, things I wouldn’t need to think about if my one and only language was English.
Don’t get me wrong, I love and I’m proud of my language, and wouldn’t change it for the world. I also understand that Internet is essentially an English speaking space, and it’s ok, I’m not pretending for it to change. But I can’t say I wouldn’t wish sometimes that more people made the effort of learning a little bit of other languages. Maybe not even learning. Maybe just using google translator once to say some silly little thing to someone they want to reach out to in their own tongue. Even if it didn’t work properly, even if that useless translator came up with an absolute nonsense, just the simple gesture of trying, just trying, would feel really nice.
So basically, all this random post is just a friendly reminder to appreciate the effort from those who aren’t native English speakers and yet learn and try to improve it. If you’re a native English speaker, please be kind and patient with those who aren’t. Even if you’re having an argument with that person, don’t use their grammar or spelling mistakes to attack them and make them feel stupid. We’re making an effort speaking a foreign language just to express ourselves to you, just so you can understand us. Just so we can communicate. Don’t make us feel self-conscious about making an effort to reach out to you.
Also, shout out to those lovely English speakers who do encourage us and make us feel happy for our little accomplishments whenever we leave you a comment or a message in English and we apologize for not being 100% clear. I’ve found tons of them and I want to celebrate that too. You’re amazing :)
Thank you for reading! Gracias! :)
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If people haven’t seen this, Patinkin rejected Oak’s role because he agreed with the concerns of fans, and Oak’s choosing not to return later [NY Times]
Mandy Patinkin, left, who declined to replace Okieriete Onaodowan, right, as the male lead in “The Great Comet.”
The Broadway legend Mandy Patinkin said Friday he was canceling a plan to join the cast of “Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” after an uproar on social media over the fact that the show brought in Mr. Patinkin, who is white, to replace an African-American actor, Okieriete “Oak” Onaodowan.
“My understanding of the show’s request that I step into the show is not as it has been portrayed and I would never accept a role knowing it would harm another actor,” Mr. Patinkin said. “I hear what members of the community have said and I agree with them. I am a huge fan of Oak and I will, therefore, not be appearing in the show.”
The statement, which Mr. Patinkin emailed to The New York Times on Friday afternoon, came after a tumultuous two days for the show, which had been trying to stabilize its finances after the departure of Josh Groban from the leading role of Pierre. It was not immediately clear what would happen now — Mr. Onaodowan had said Friday morning he would leave the cast Aug. 13. The show’s producers and creative team were clearly blindsided by the turn of events. They had previously asked another performer, Brittain Ashford, to take a leave during the summer so she could be replaced by a well-known singer-songwriter, Ingrid Michaelson, and did not anticipate that replacing Mr. Onaodowan with Mr. Patinkin would be seen differently.
“So sorry to have missed the racial optics of it,” the show’s creator, Dave Malloy said on Twitter Friday. “We had to do same thing with dear beloved Brittain so in my head it was no different.”
Mr. Malloy also said that the show made the cast changes out of financial necessity.
“The show was in desperate shape; sales after Ingrid leaving Aug. 13 were catastrophically low,” he said on Twitter. “Show would have closed.” Producers of the show had no immediate comment on Mr. Patinkin’s withdrawal. But earlier in the day, the show’s producers had issued an apologetic statement. “As part of our sincere efforts to keep ‘Comet’ running for the benefit of its cast, creative team, crew, investors and everyone else involved, we arranged for Mandy Patinkin to play Pierre. However, we had the wrong impression of how Oak felt about the casting announcement and how it would be received by members of the theater community, which we appreciate is deeply invested in the success of actors of color – as are we – and to whom we are grateful for bringing this to our attention. We regret our mistake deeply, and wish to express our apologies to everyone who felt hurt and betrayed by these actions.”
The show’s producers announced in February that Mr. Onaodowan, a member of the original “Hamilton” cast, would step into the show’s leading male role after Mr. Groban left the show in early July.
But this week, the producers abruptly cut short Mr. Onaodowan’s expected nine-week tenure, saying that during his final three weeks, he would be replaced by Mr. Patinkin, who became famous with “The Princess Bride,” won a Tony Award for “Evita” and is now featured in television’s “Homeland.”
Although producers periodically replace lesser-known performers with big-name actors in the hopes of selling more tickets, the move at “The Great Comet” prompted outrage among some black actors. They turned to social media to express their concern that Mr. Onaodowan was not given sufficient opportunity to succeed before being replaced by a white actor.
There were multiple complicating factors. Mr. Onaodowan’s tenure was always going to be short — it just got shorter. Mr. Patinkin is unquestionably better known on Broadway, which could have boosted publicity for the show and ticket sales during a traditionally slow end-of-summer period. (On Thursday, for example, he was interviewed on NBC's “Today” show.) And the production is among the most diverse on Broadway, with an African-American actress, Denée Benton, playing Natasha, and multiple other nonwhite actors in the company. (This month, Actors’ Equity gave the show an award for “extraordinary excellence in diversity on Broadway.”)
But some performers argued that the casting change reflects a larger problem in the entertainment business. The move “raises questions about how Black actors are valued and supported within Broadway,” declared the website BroadwayBlack.
Rafael Casal, a writer and performer who called attention to the producers’ move on Twitter, called it “infuriating.”
“It’s like the integration of baseball, where a player has to be twice as good,” Mr. Casal said in a phone interview.
Mr. Onaodowan, who spent months preparing for the role, including learning to play the accordion, posted a response on Instagram on Friday morning — before Mr. Patinkin dropped out — saying, “In spite of everything, I am grateful to have had the time to bring this character to life with a remarkable cast that truly make the Imperial Theater a sacred place every night.”
Although the show’s lead producer, Howard Kagan, had said Mr. Onaodowan would be welcome to play the role again at a later date, the actor said he did not intend to do that.
“I will not be returning,” he said.
To no one’s surprise, the show’s grosses have dropped since Mr. Groban’s departure. The show had been bringing in about $1.2 million a week with Mr. Groban in the role of Pierre; it brought in $923,571 last week, with Mr. Onaodowan as Pierre. That’s still higher than the amount for most Broadway shows, and still more than the production’s running costs, but not as much as the musical was likely to bring in with Mr. Patinkin in the role. Mr. Patinkin was scheduled to play Pierre from Aug. 15 through Sept. 3.
The producers had not said who was to play Pierre after Labor Day, but they appeared to be considering the occasional use of well-known performers in key roles to excite interest — a strategy many other shows use.
The most prominent performer to express concern was the actress Cynthia Erivo, who won a Tony Award last year for her performance in a revival of “The Color Purple.” Ms. Erivo posted a series of seven messages on Twitter on Wednesday, suggesting that the changeover was unfair to both Mr. Onaodowan and Mr. Patinkin.
“I honestly am flabbergasted,” she posted. She added, “The disrespect of both actors is highly concerning.”
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Holly hadn’t always been a drinker. This was, arguably, one of the primary reasons Evan fell as hard for her as he did; she was ethereal in the way she chose composure and poise over all else, how she could enchant a room with a sober face, how she looked nothing short of angelic pulling his shoes off of his feet at the end of the night. When they met in the throes of post-college instability, everyone around them was still planning their schedule around the most convenient times to get drunk; she was planning hers around hobbies, events, trips to see her ailing mother in Ohio. She was different from anyone else. How exotic, he thought, a woman who doesn’t drink. To find someone so intoxicated simply by life was, in itself, addictive. How precious. How rare.
He wasn’t sure if the drinking started before the affair or after. Maybe during. It would be easy to pass the blame onto one specific event, one monumental fuck-up at his own hands, but in reality, there was no way of telling for sure. The affair was the tangible reason, the obvious option, too easy to blame. There were hundreds of unseen factors that shouldn’t be disregarded, things that littered the fracturing landscape of their fragile marriage that went unaddressed for months, years. He could pretend the fatal flaw in their relationship had existed before he fucked someone else. However, Evan was a smart man; he had a hard time being convinced even by himself.
They had never spoken about it. One evening he came home too late, smelling too feminine, too musky, too off. He came into the bedroom, an excuse made with little to no effort poised on the tip of his tongue. Holly stood before the dresser, folding clothes neatly into drawers, not turning at the sound of his heavy feet. On the bed, laid out neatly, a pair of lace panties.
“Those aren’t mine,” she had said, and nothing else.
He waited. He threw them away in the kitchen garbage, sat at the table. Waited more, watched the swift passage of the hands on the clock as they moved in circles that mimicked the way they moved about their marriage. She put the laundry hamper back in the basement. She got into bed. She said nothing then, and never again. The silence settled, and it remained.
And then it happened swiftly, all-at-once, from his limited perspective. For weeks following the revelation of it all there had been a heavier strain between them, a cavernous rift in every gesture, empty touch, sleepless night spent unfelt on separate halves of the bed. He had waited with baited breath for the inevitable conversation in which she decided to leave, where they argued for the first and last time and he yelled after her retreating back as she carried her clothes away in one of their shared suitcases. Certainly, she would leave. She was Holly; she was nothing if not practical, smart. Self-respectful.
On the night he opened the door to find the vitrola blaring, all of the lights burning in the house, he thought distinctly, this is it. This would be the night he lost his wife. She was supposed to be out on Wednesday nights; these were the easiest nights to slink in late, leave the empty house, make forbidden phone calls from the darkened porch. On this night she had made her presence a screaming thing, unmistakable from across the threshold. This is my home, it was saying. I live here, it said.
He kept his jacket on his shoulders. After so many weeks of worrying, after months of apathetic monotony, he was ready for the implosion. He looked forward to the noise, anything less unsettling than months of quiet. As he walked towards the heart of the home he grew nervous, skating over the hung pictures, the collected relics, the evidence of sharing a home with someone he now shared almost nothing with.
She was splayed out on the living room floor, legs haphazardly in front of her. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. She swayed her shoulders to the crackling music, eyes closed and tilted up. Her lips were tinged red. She was drunk.
“Baby,” she breathed, putting a nearly-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. “Baby, hey.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at book club?” He asked, arm instinctively halfway lifted towards the light switch, unable to move past the surprise.
“It’s Wednesday, isn’t it,” she said thoughtfully, looking towards the wall beside her as if a calendar might suddenly appear. “Oh well. I ordered pizza instead, it should be on its way.”
“You hate pizza,” he said slowly, stepping over the threshold into the living room. The skirt she wore bunched at the top, revealing the curve of her upper thighs, the hint of her favorite lace underwear peering beneath the modest print. Her face was flushed, but animated; there was a life to it that had been absent for longer than he realized. She followed his gaze, watched him appraise her. An alien grin appeared on her face, free of inhibition. She leaned back on the floor. Her skirt rose up higher.
“I don’t hate pizza,” she said, a slight slur beginning to blur the edge of her words. “I just hate how long it takes to get here.”
He smiled at her. She pat the floor beside her, once, then twice, putting a laborious effort into remaining upright in the gesture.
“Come sit, baby,” she said. “Have a drink with me.”
He walked through the living room, taking inventory of the untouched laundry hamper in the corner, the pile of bills on the counter. The bottle of wine on the table had a glass’ worth left. He reached for it.
“Don’t touch that!” She snapped, grabbing the neck of the bottle to cradle against her chest. “This is mine. You can get your own.”
“You don’t need all of that wine, Holly,” he said, reaching for it nervously, as if she might recoil, attack, go back to silently hating him.
“I do,” she insisted, grinding her teeth together in her swaying head. “I do need it. You have so much. This one is mine.”
It was here that the reality of the situation hit him; that surrounded by the evidence of their declining marriage and her decaying motivation, in the home where he had consummated both his marriage and his infidelity, that this was the first unscripted conversation he’d had with his wife in months. That this was, in fact, perhaps the first time in those six years of marriage that he looked at her and saw something unfamiliar, something new, something a little bit exciting. Perhaps this didn’t have to be the end of something. Perhaps it could simply be the beginning.
“Okay,” he said, stepping back towards the kitchen. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeated, and ran her tongue smoothly over the small smile forming on her swollen lips.
In the kitchen Evan pulled a whiskey glass out of the cabinet, filled it with ice, dumped the ice out into the sink, returned the glass to the shelf. He returned to the living room with a bottle of Jameson in his hand and nothing else, taking a stiff pull before settling down beside her. Holly appraised the Jameson with hungry eyes.
“I can’t remember if I’ve had that before,” she said, looking carefully at the label with furrowed brows. Her face expressed so much more in this state; he was used to her stoicness, but in the absence of sobriety, he could read every minute emotion in real-time.
“It’s good,” he said, taking another sip. “Do you want to try?”
He held the bottle out to her. She moved past it, putting a hand on his cheek and drawing his mouth into hers. Slowly, she pulled the taste of alcohol off of his bottom lip with her teeth, releasing a single, faltering breath into him. She pulled away, licked her lips again. Smiled.
“It’s good,” she repeated.
Evan’s heart hammered unsteadily in his chest.
She laid down on the carpeted floor, her feet perched upon the coffee table, big toe stroking the dwindling bottle of wine. Her long hair was pulled away from her face, piled on top of her head to allow the sharp planes of her neck, her shoulders to breathe. She smelled of alcohol and peonies. The skirt she wore was one that she typically reserved for special occasions; fancier dinner parties, visits to church events, Valentines Day dates. She had made herself intentionally handsome on this night, to drink alone, to make herself something out of the ordinary. To rise anew from the ashes of their crumbled marriage as something more beautiful than before.
“You look lovely,” Evan told her, drinking again. There was a wide gap to close. The whiskey settled uncomfortably.
“I know.”
They sat in a silence different from that which they had grown accustomed to. There were things to be said, problems to be addressed; and yet, neither made a move. The discomfort drained from the room with each emptying bottle. Holly moved closer to Evan with each shift of her body. She had always been the responsible one; the one to do the right thing, in any situation. He wondered what kind of person Drunk Holly was. He could tell, immediately, that it was not someone who would make the difficult decision.
“Holly,” Evan said, as the music began to wind itself down.
She said nothing. She stared at the ceiling, moving her hands above her head.
“Hol,” he said again, his voice beginning to grow hoarse with anxiety.
“Shh.” She said, rolling her body until she was perched directly on top of him. She removed the bottle of whiskey from his hand, leaving it empty to grasp the skin of her hips. She looked at him for a hard moment, studying his face, the dazed smile beginning to slip from her own. He opened his mouth to say something again, to apologize, to try. She silenced him with her lips.
He wondered when she had stopped tasting like magic to him. Nearly their entire relationship was defined by undeniable lust; for the first seven years that he knew her he swore there was no one else alive who could satisfy him the same way. It was a near-constant need, to be around her, to be with her, to be feeling her. She was flawless in design. But there came a time when the need stagnated, where the things he once found impossibly wondrous become commonplace and stale. When he became harder to impress. When he began to look elsewhere.
Now, with the taste of red wine on her breath and the urgency of her seduction, the draw to her was almost painful.
A sharp knock came on the door. Evan jumped beneath her, pulled from an almost impenetrable daze. Holly moved her mouth to his neck, kissing tenderly every inch of skin, like finding it for the first time.
“Hol, I think your food is here,” he said.
“Leave it,” she whispered into his ear, tightening her legs on his waist.
“Holly,” he said again, weakly.
“Come to bed with me,” she said instead.
He tried to remember the last time he’d made love to his wife. She reached down, methodically working to undo the belt from his pants. He couldn’t remember.
He tried to remember when he had stopped wanting her. There was nothing there.
“Okay,” he said, and lifted her with him.
Sober Holly made a point to shower after sex. She never fell asleep naked; even without showering she had to put on a full pajama set, brushing her teeth and hair before returning to bed. Sober Holly laughed, was a gentle lover, craved intimacy more than physicality. Drunk Holly did none of these things.
As she curled her body around his, breathing deeply above the covers, Evan considered flipping the light on, finding insurance that the woman in bed had been, in fact, her. There was an insidious burn growing inside of him, smelling the same shampoo that Holly had used every day, stroking the same hair that he found tangled in their drains. He wondered if this was the first time he had ever had sex with his wife drunk- could that be possible? Holly didn’t drink. Holly didn’t drink, and he’d had sex with her anyway.
“Holly,” he said, rolling out from where she rested, half-asleep on his chest. “Holly, what are we doing?”
She opened her eyes, blinking twice. Through the haze of it all he wondered for a moment if she had been pretending to sleep, if she knew what was coming.
“Why are you drunk right now? Why have you been drinking?”
In the splintered light that shone through the blinds he watched her fix her jaw. He wondered how sick she was feeling right now, if this was possibly the drunkest she’d ever been. How hard must it be, to conjure something meaningful in such a state, he thought. To even understand who you are. His heart began to pound uncomfortably. He regretted it. He regretted everything, every last bit of it.
She shrugged, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She rolled over to face the wall.
“You always drink when you fuck her,” she said.
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The Money Conundrum
The world of cost, price, and sales in video games.
Cost and price are two different ways to approach the understanding of value, which is fundamental for every product or service. Cost is the monetary expense that a business goes through to make what they offer, whereas price is the amount the customer pays for it; the difference here being price needs to go over what has been spent in order to provide room for revenue. For example: if it takes you $5 to produce something, price should be around $8 or higher in order for you to become financially resourceful, your price should be above that to foresee profit – continuously finding ways to grow that income over time.
Game developers must factor costs when setting up price, even though if the gamer is the one that ultimately chooses pay for it or not. Choice determined by the customer’s perceived value, which means it makes sense to them as long as they think it’s worth it, and unlike businesses – cost is invisible for them, they measure things up accordingly to their own cost of living.
Sadly, most gamers don’t have experiential knowledge once it comes to game development costs, if anything, they might be more familiar with retail costs instead: rent, utilities, distribution. Translating these to a digital purchase, very few would have some hands on experience on the costs of licensing, software, equipment among many other monetary nuisances. Unfortunately, this decreases the organic potential to understand value as its stands for indie game development, making indies become more immersed in trying to match up gamers cost of living than salvaging their own fixed costs, eventually forcing them to a painful sudden bankruptcy when costs not being covered then become debt.
Then you run into articles like PC Gamer’s - How much should games cost?, fair effort pooling together data to pose a question, but incredibly misguided in switching interchangeable the word cost with price. The entire article is based on price analysis without interjecting any cost variable or purchase value, presenting price only as a purchase trend. This perpetuates the notion that it doesn’t matter what you spend doing something, you need to tune in to the plethora of price range otherwise you won’t get anywhere. Thinking like this is what creates unrealistic and unhealthy practices for indie developers to measure up, not to mention to survive as a small business.
We often find pieces like this all over, with too much info and very little knowledge perpetuating misguided perceptions that are already affecting the gaming industry. From post-mortems that read as Skype chats to journalists hoarding data on subjects they have no expertise, these ideas become published and uninformed developers see their fears validated, continuing on foul business choices. It is vital to learn basics of economics such as production, inflation, market growth; just as it is paramount to know what cost, capital, revenue and all those pesky words mean before you decide to dissect them.
If we are to define how much games should cost, then we would be talking about proposing business models that would incentive and assist cut costs to developers. Unfortunately, while the perceived value in price would determine if someone would buy it or not, it does very little for how much it takes to make video game development happen.
Truth is, there has been barely an increase in the selling price to the public, yet next to no significant variation when it comes to actual industry salary (in case you didn’t know, well now you do); however, costs of licenses, software, technology, and all around development budget needs, continues to increase accordingly to life costs - economic values factor in, and of course, set up the bar. As I mentioned previously, if the way you understand your price does not subside your cost, then you run into debt while you need to provide revenue instead.
People complain about games being overpriced, incomplete, and whatever else - yet, this industry continues on with old fashioned models for production, a below average means of funding, and incoherent business practices which obviously results in: no developer understanding compromise or responsibility on delivery - it will be done whenever it will, five year development on one year budgets, abandoned projects, illogical overtime work hours - working 3 days for maybe 1/3 of that in payment, under paid skills - even PR in gaming is paid much less than in any other industry I know of, and overflow of unhappy players. Among many other things that I’m sure I forget to include.
There are a plethora of things to point out when it comes to cost and content woes in the industry that people don’t seem to want to talk about, at all. It’s just better to apologize irresponsible publishing deadlines, blame gamers when they grow upset at studios doing shady DLC to justify costs undercuts, and apparently debate whether price is right or not – regardless of finding meaning to what value should be. It is important to educate developers in business practices so it scales down to gamers, the better tools we provide to developers, the better gaming experiences there will be. Most developers do not know how to understand their own value, let alone their costs – so it is paramount to open conversations that promote a need for learning, rather than divide and perpetuate detrimental ideas that destroys indie studios.
Another key point from PC Gamer’s - How much should games cost?: “Big price cuts during sales don’t devalue games” when price cuts off into your cost, it doesn’t matter if you manage to sell twice as much as you did with the original price, you are still getting less than what you need. Reason why most developers feel nothing but disappointment in thinking all they have to do is just mass promote through bundles to get by - you are still barely covering what you have already spent, let alone any future money for any new game.
So thinking getting picked up for sales is a saving grace, if your price was set up to $5, but you do every single seasonal promotion - virtually speaking, your game spends more time being $2 than $5, you already undercut your cost whether you admit it to yourself or not - mistake most indie developers make in their first year of publishing. Do not undervalue your own game sooner than it has to; meaning, sales should not be your one and only sales strategy.
To put it bluntly - If you spent 150k in crowdfunding / development, it actually means your sales plan need to cover about 150k before any penny is actually considered revenue; all of this considering this is done in similar time frames - 150k in a year, is not the same as 150k in 5 years, it actually means less over time. Then people wonder why studios go out of business, or why others do crazy things like selling games for $60 yet having a shell of an experience with excess of DLC links to access content. Everyone gets blinded with numbers, yet nobody seems to care about time, most funding would withstand time through barely a year because inflation happens, other economic factors will increase costs for everything - even your rent.
Sales are fantastic, but not for the reasons developers seem to think they are. Organically, most studios do publishing platforms: they cover up PC and Mac, and eventually move to console, or the other way around; the idea is to continue to expand market, having already invested in development and publishing, at this point these options can translate to growth to earn more data that can potentially results into sales. Games drop in price over time because value becomes perceived different according to economic values; depending on time and demand, it can be just few months to maybe a year – reason why discounts are not to be taken as the canon advertisement or marketing tool. Discounts are excellent to introduce new content, retain existing customers; but still a short term strategy to drive traffic, monetize inventory – not to put a band aid on costs that have not been met via regular marketing.
All needs to go at the same pace, you can’t fall behind production costs, you can’t expect to keep a status quo in price yet lie to people to cover up your overblown costs. Desperation is hard to sell, and while gamers expect more for less - money won’t make a difference to that, discipline and accountability for business choices will.
Wall of text by an frustrated and exhausted Say
#saywat#saywatbusiness#video games#indie games#game development#games industry#business#marketing#social media#social media marketing#advertisement#sales#cost#price#analysis#data analysis
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Big step taken..... and only getting started
Well, I think we’ll go ahead and call Kevin Perry a success for the group. Let’s check the highlight results first. While it’s not the focus we need, they are the goals we are chasing, so we’ll hit those first.
Congrats to our 3 new Winter Jrs qualifiers. Kailee, posting it twice, dropped nearly 2 seconds in the 100 back to grab hers. With what she has done this season and her new found consistency in workouts, this is only the start for her. Eddie Cosic dropped twice as much as he needed, dropping the all important 4 tenths of a second. But wait, even that was done by grit and being tough, as he fought through illness to get it done. Then came Chris, and down to his last event, the 200 Breast. Just as he proved stepping up on the anchor leg of our A relay at the last dual meet and held on for the win, he stepped up big time in finals. Dropping nearly 3 seconds on the day to earn his ticket to Austin, and breaking the 15-16 TEAM record in the process.
Then we have Ronald posting 2 13-14 SCS records along the way. 21.16 lead off 50 split and an individual 100 Free at 46.16. Ronald is back to working his process, staying consistent, and the results are already coming in. December should prove to be a fun month of racing.
That’s not to mention the great swims all around. Something like 70% best times at a meet in-season, which half of you trained straight through and half I was generous enough to give you two days of “rest”. 😎
Let’s see some other highlights:
Maya Wilson, after facing her own battles through the meet, posted a phenomenal 1650 on the last day, after all of her events over the weekend. Maya dropped a nice 14 seconds on the swim, but I appreciate how she swam it much more. 8:32/8:32 first half to second, let two girls jump on her before methodically running them down and winning the heat. All along with strong turns to maintain that momentum. Great work!
Mark and Danny continue to learn the most valuable of lessons in this sport. Consistency, learning to be fast when you are hurting, knowing what the process really is as you grow out of Age Group swimming. It’s not an easy lesson boys, but you are doing a great job staying on it this season. I have no doubt big things are in store.
Alex, Nicky, and Amanda had huge meets, but just not quite their goals. Your response here is what matters though. If you come back and continue the process you’ve worked all season and start telling yourself now that you are ready for this, the Race Series will take care of it. Work that mental strength piece of the process to avoid the impact of those nerves. Trust me when I say it’s little changes for big results if you stay consistent from now forward.
Okay, I think you get the point. I likely have missed some great stories as I write this, and I apologize I can’t hit everyone. Just keep up the work! I want to finish with one more thing. Take either one and you’ll get the point. It’s not a straight line as you work the process and it won’t be the same for everyone. You do you and work your own process.
The process to success isn’t easy and it only gets harder the faster (better) you become at something. It’s take more work. It takes different work. It takes consistency in focus and effort. It takes not getting lost in certain pieces (like strength training for instance) to the point where you forget what we are here to do. It takes grit. It takes a growth mindset. And the list goes on, but in the end it takes reaching to new levels daily in practice so you can keep improving from here.
As I have said many times, we are off to a great start to the season/year, but we must fight complacency (word defined as: an instance of usually unaware or uninformed self-satisfaction). What I usually refer to here is the naturally “settling in” to a certain level. Hard work, if only the same as you’ve done in the past, will only earn you the same results. If we want to reach higher, it starts daily in practice, just as you have started this season. Keep it up!
Great work National Group!
Go Rose Bowl!
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Speaking of Teaching
TLDR; different schools have different problems that are the same. The intensity of that difference is what we tend to not be prepared for.
The beginning of this year is proving harder than last year. I did switch schools. I went from a higher socioeconomic school where the students were pretty mild to a low socioeconomic rural school. There is a huge difference in these school. I’ll talk about the student population first. I’ll talk about school structures another time.
First, these kids are great. They’re coming to school everyday and the truth is they aren’t very different from my students last year.The biggest difference is the population of Guatemalan students. Who are great and don’t have much education so the way we are serving them seems poorly designed. That’s for another post though. They are freshmen, which is a pretty big maturity difference from my sophomores last year but they aren’t so different that the trouble spots in the curriculum aren’t predictable.
There are some interesting behavior issues in this area though. Last year, I had one kid who exhibited things like racism, misogyny and the occasional defiance to authority figures. I had to send that kid out of my classroom once. This year I’ve already had to send the same kid out of my class twice. It started with an incident on Wednesday where he kept saying the same inappropriate phrase again and again. It as to the point that the other students in the class were tired of it and telling him “yeah, we get it.” He wouldn’t listen when I asked him politely to stop, more than once. I had to send him to what we call the “Solutions Center.” It used to be ISS (In School Suspension.) They decided they didn’t want to have something called ISS anymore, it sends the wrong message. I agree, I just also don’t know what it should be. The same kid had to be sent out again on Friday because he wasn’t following classroom procedures. Here’s the thing. I don’t think he’s a bad kid, I think there is stuff going on at home and in his head that he just doesn’t have a handle on. There are days when this kid is fine. He comes in he sits down with his book and does his work. Sometimes he’ll do this for a little bit and then he’ll say, “I’m bored,” but he’s still fine.
Other kids, some kids it’s easy to pinpoint that you’re going to have a problem. Figuring out how you are going to handle those problems is hard though. I don’t particularly like sending students out of my class. I don’t like writing them up even for little things. I have 2 “leaders” in one of my classes. The problem with having two of them is that you have to deal with them individually. The first few days were a struggle. I tried just talking to them and different ways of talking to them. Then I asked teachers who had previous relationships with these kids. One was no surprise, the other was a shock though. After talking to teachers who had him previously it became clear that he didn’t behave this way in other classes. Which brings up the whole “talk to other teachers” thing. We don’t want to judge students by what they’ve done before but knowing whether there is a significant behavior shift is important. One of the teachers pulled him from another class and talked to him. He wasn’t better the next day. I talked to the teacher and she said, “Write the infraction.” But I don’t want to write the infraction it makes me feel...defeated. I couldn’t create a decent enough relationship with this kid that he would just want to do what was needed. I know that’s not it though. I have to set the boundary and sometimes you have to draw that line in the sand with a flamethrower. The next time, I wrote the infraction. I haven’t had a problem with him since.
The other kid, he actually has been working himself into a position of better behavior and more productive work. He wants a leadership position in the school. He wants to do better because he wants to graduate and there is a goal in mind. Now that he’s a freshman he is starting to think about these things. It’s been amazing to watch him change over time. We negotiate. The beginning of the year we had a small blow up. I’d put him in the front of the class and he didn’t like it and he was bound and determined to make my life and the class miserable, said it out loud even. I told him he could tell me how that works out for him. Mind you all I did was create a seating chart that put him in the front row of my class on the 3rd day of school. We had a fire drill that period. I took all my kids out. We talked about the expectations during a fire and as we walked back into the building when it was over I walked over to the kid and talked to him. I told him that there are ways that he can gets what he wants or needs and that it’s not by treating people poorly. If you want something you have to ask. He apologized, I told him he would have to sit where I put him that day but I’d be willing to move him if he behaves the rest of that period. We haven’t had much in the way of problems since. He’s been trying and it’s really obvious he’s been trying. I appreciate this kids effort because I don’t think it’s easy for him to think about what he’s doing before he does it. Teachers talk about his lack of impulse control but I see a kid who has struggled with that his whole life and is trying so hard now. If he keeps going he’ll do great things.
In all, I don’t feel like college prepared me for the hardest cases. I don’t even feel like it prepared me for the mid-level crisis cases. I’m not sure they know how. A good start would be to get student-teachers into more classrooms in diverse areas. It’s important for us to see how different students are from cities to rural areas, from high socioeconomic areas to low ones, even areas where the migratory student population is high. It’s important to know what it feels like from place to place and yes, many people will want the easy kids. As teachers though we don’t get to choose. We only get to choose how we treat the kids we have. The kids we have are all amazing. They all have a chance at changing the world and we can be apart of that change. We have to be willing to walk into the fire sometimes. Like my new school. It’s doing amazing things and I think it will help to produce amazing citizens.
Thank you for reading this.
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WASHINGTON | AP FACT CHECK: Fabrications of Trump and his critics
New Post has been published on https://is.gd/ysY0cG
WASHINGTON | AP FACT CHECK: Fabrications of Trump and his critics
WASHINGTON — President Donald Trump fabricated history when it came to assessing the 2016 election, his achievements on the opioid epidemic and a congressman’s voting record on taxes. Critics of his immigration policy got it wrong when they accused the Trump administration of taking 1,500 immigrant children from their parents and losing them.
The week in review:
TRUMP: “African-Americans vote for Democrats for the most part. You know, vast majority. They’ve been doing it for over 100 years.” — Nashville rally Tuesday.
THE FACTS: Not 100 years or anything close. Most African-Americans for much of U.S. history were disenfranchised, then prevented from voting until the 1965 Voting Rights Act, which outlawed racial discrimination in voting. Before then, those who could vote mostly backed Republicans until the 1932 election of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, whose New Deal programs of economic relief helped spur a longer-term shift of black support from Republican to Democrat.
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TRUMP: “Some of these states, I won by 44 points.” — Nashville rally.
THE FACTS: Not some. One. He won Wyoming with 70 percent of the vote in 2016, exceeding Hillary Clinton’s 22 percent by nearly 48 points, according to Associated Press election data. His next biggest win came in West Virginia, where he won by 42 points.
Nationwide, Trump lost the popular vote. He garnered 46 percent to Clinton’s 48 percent, but ultimately won the election based on an Electoral College system in which the votes of smaller rural states that generally backed Trump are weighted more heavily than big, Democratic-leaning states such as New York and California.
Under the U.S. system of electing presidents, Electoral College votes are set equal to the number of U.S. representatives in each state plus its two senators.
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TRUMP: “A.P. has just reported that the Russian Hoax Investigation has now cost our government over $17 million, and going up fast. No Collusion, except by the Democrats!” — tweet Friday.
THE FACTS: The AP did not report the cost is going up fast. It cited a Justice Department finding that the investigation over 10 months has cost $16.7 million, which Trump rounded up to $17 million. Of the costs assigned to the investigation, $9 million would have been spent even absent the investigation, the department said.
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TRUMP: “Not that it matters but I never fired James Comey because of Russia! The Corrupt Mainstream Media loves to keep pushing that narrative, but they know it is not true!” — tweet Thursday.
THE FACTS: Trump himself fed that “narrative.” The president has said at least twice that Comey’s firing in May 2017 was related to the FBI’s investigation into whether Trump’s campaign associates coordinated with Russia in an effort to sway the 2016 election. And his lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, told Fox News in May that Trump fired Comey because the FBI director wouldn’t publicly state that Trump “wasn’t a target” of the Russia investigation. Trump’s public rationale for firing Comey has shifted on multiple occasions.
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TRUMP, referring to Robert Iger, CEO of ABC’s parent Walt Disney Co.: “Iger, where is my call of apology? You and ABC have offended millions of people, and they demand a response. How is Brian Ross doing? He tanked the market with an ABC lie, yet no apology. Double Standard!” — tweet Thursday.
THE FACTS: “No apology” is wrong. Trump should know that because he expressed satisfaction in December with ABC’s statement that said, “We deeply regret and apologize for the serious error” by Ross, an investigative reporter.
Ross had reported that Trump, as a candidate, directed aide Michael Flynn to make contact with Russian officials during the campaign, a potentially explosive development. Ross changed his report hours later, saying his source stated that Trump’s outreach actually came after Trump won the election, when presidents-elect might be expected to get to know foreign officials. ABC issued the apology, suspended Ross for four weeks without pay and said he would no longer report on Trump.
At the time, that pleased Trump, who tweeted: “Congratulations to @ABC News for suspending Brian Ross for his horrendously inaccurate and dishonest report on the Russia, Russia, Russia Witch Hunt. More Networks and ‘papers’ should do the same with their Fake News!”
Trump’s revived wrath at ABC and Iger comes after the network canceled Roseanne Barr’s show because of her racist tweet about Valerie Jarrett, who was an aide to President Barack Obama. Iger tweeted that the cancellation was “the right thing” to do.
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TRUMP: “There is no one better to represent the people of N.Y. and Staten Island (a place I know very well) than @RepDanDonovan, who is strong on Borders & Crime, loves our Military & our Vets, voted for Tax Cuts and is helping me to Make America Great Again. Dan has my full endorsement!” — tweet Wednesday.
HE FACTS: He’s incorrect about the tax cuts he signed into law in December. Donovan voted against them, one of the few Republicans to do so. He told AP on Thursday that Trump knew that. “The president was well aware,” he said. “We’ve had discussions about my tax vote, the president and I.” Donovan opposed the tax bill because he said it would mean a tax increase for his constituents. “With the state and local tax deduction nearly eliminated, this tax bill doesn’t equal relief for far too many New Yorkers,” he said at the time.
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TRUMP, sharing this tweet from broadcaster Rush Limbaugh: “If the FBI was so concerned, and if they weren’t targeting Trump, they should have told Trump. If they were really concerned about the Russians infiltrating a campaign (hoax), then why not try to stop it? Why not tell Trump? Because they were pushing this scam.” — Thursday.
THE FACTS: The FBI did tell the Trump campaign about threats posed by foreign intelligence services. What level of detail it disclosed has not been established. It is now well known that Trump aides had multiple contacts with Russian interests during the campaign and the FBI was investigating those contacts for any evidence of collusion between the campaign and Russia. It is therefore unlikely that the FBI would share specifics that might compromise its criminal investigation.
In August 2016, an FBI counterintelligence agent gave candidate Trump what is known within the bureau as a defensive briefing about the threats from foreign intelligence services. Such briefings are fairly standard and are intended to help campaigns guard against infiltration or hacking by foreign governments, such as Russia and China. Similar briefings were given to Clinton and the two vice presidential picks prior to the election, according to an October 2017 letter from Greg Brower, then the FBI’s head of congressional affairs.
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TRUMP: “We got $6 billion for opioid and getting rid of that scourge that’s taking over our country. And the numbers are way down. We’re getting the word out — bad. Bad stuff. You go to the hospital, you have a broken arm, you come out, you’re a drug addict with this crap. It’s way down. We’re doing a good job with it. But we got $6 billion to help us with opioid.” — Nashville rally.
THE FACTS: That’s misleading. One leading indicator of the opioid epidemic is down — painkiller prescriptions. Other indicators are up, such as the number of overdoses and deaths. And none of that has to do with the $6 billion enacted by Congress. The numbers are from 2017; the money is for this year and next.
Prescriptions for opioid painkillers filled in the U.S. fell almost 9 percent last year, the largest drop in 25 years. The total dosage of opioid prescriptions filled in 2017 declined by 12 percent because more prescriptions were for a shorter duration, fewer new patients started on them and high-dose prescriptions dropped. The numbers are from health data firm IQVIA’s Institute for Human Data Science.
But overdose deaths involving opioids rose to about 46,000 for the 12-month period ended October 2017, up about 15 percent from October 2016, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The numbers are preliminary because of continuing cause-of-death investigations later in the reporting period. They could go higher.
As well, the CDC says emergency department visits for overdoses of opioids rose 30 percent in the U.S. from July 2016 to September 2017. Overdoses shot up 70 percent in the Midwest in that time while increasing by 54 percent in large cities in 16 states.
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TRUMP: “Democrats mistakenly tweet 2014 pictures from Obama’s term showing children from the Border in steel cages. They thought it was recent pictures in order to make us look bad, but backfires.” — tweet Tuesday.
THE FACTS: He is correct about widespread misrepresentation of the photos on Twitter.
The photos, taken by AP, were from 2014, during the Obama administration, but were presented by liberal activists as if they showed the effects of Trump’s immigration policy now. The photos were taken at a center run by the Customs and Border Protection Agency in Nogales, Arizona. One photo shows two unidentified female detainees sleeping in a holding cell. It’s not clear that many prominent Democrats spread the photos, from a 2016 Arizona Republic story, though some did.
Democrat Antonio Villaraigosa, former Los Angeles mayor now running for governor, tweeted that he was: “Speechless. This is not who we are as a nation.” Jon Favreau, ex-speechwriter for Obama, tweeted: “This is happening right now.” They and others deleted their tweets when they realized the mistake.
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JIM CARREY, actor: “1500 innocent children ripped from their mothers’ arms at our border. Lost in Trump’s ‘system’. — tweet May 27.
THE FACTS: This didn’t happen. Many Trump critics, Carrey among them, misrepresented the fate of nearly 1,500 minors who came to the border — without their parents — and were transferred by U.S. authorities to sponsors in the country.
The Health and Human Services Department followed up with such children by calling their households to check on them late last year, getting information on the whereabouts of most, officials said. But they could not account for 1,475 of them, in part because many sponsors didn’t respond to the calls.
On that basis, Trump critics are calling the children “lost.” But in that round of calls, the Trump administration actually had a slightly better rate of confirming such children’s circumstances than the Obama administration did in 2016, according to an inspector general’s report — 86 percent versus 85 percent.
The episode with the unaccompanied children and the 2014 photos distracted from what is actually happening. Under a Trump policy to enforce criminal charges against people crossing the border illegally with few or no previous offenses, separation of parents from children is bound to become more common, and that trend may have started.
A Customs and Border Protection official told lawmakers that 658 children had been separated from their parents at the border from May 6 to May 19, after border agents began referring every illegal entry to criminal prosecutors. This is in addition to hundreds more who were estimated to have been removed from their parents at the border since October.
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Associated Press writers Anne Flaherty and Chad Day in Washington, Mike Stobbe in New York, Carla K. Johnson in Seattle and Elliot Spagat in San Diego contributed to this report.
By HOPE YEN and CALVIN WOODWARD, By Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (A.S)
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Stealing, The Pits For Write-up Online marketers.
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By the law of destination, our team will create the very same error over and over once again, until the repercussions injured a lot that our experts carry out gain from this! Don't duplicate the exact same mistake twice; make sure to not simply gain from your errors but implement processes and possess discussions along with your crew to ensure they do not happen once again. After this is all over, as dumb an other as I am actually may observe that blunders were created. The first thing to perform after making a mistake is actually to allow responsibility for it. Some individuals create the error of refuting obligation and also waste time mading fault on others. You are going to be shocked by exactly how swiftly you respond to errors later on as well as your capability to stay away from identical circumstances altogether. When you look for as several traits as you may to become happy for in an error, you magically enhance the mistake into great things. Oversights can harm, but if our team don't 1eaai coming from the oversight we have actually created, the discomfort our team've suffered from this has actually been actually for nothing. The only individuals that do not create oversights are actually those who relax alone considering their navels. Once you've opted for an oversight to magically transform into benefits, try to find the important things to be grateful for. Songs Licensing For Film makes certain that these seemingly unidentified but gifted performers receive discovered and they may come close to producers who may be capable to provide an appropriate direction to their profession. Obtaining the capacity to stop dwelling on your errors will definitely create you even more efficient, will definitely improve your self-esteem, as well as will certainly produce you healthier. The greatest way to prevent feeling like you created the wrong selection or even missed out on a wonderful possibility is actually making certain you are going into the procedure along with a strict understanding on what that suggests to end up being a homeowner. Some of the most typical car service center errors automobile owners create is actually failing to provide sufficient details concerning the issue. Right now you understand what they were performing to your site if you have been devoting any from the above stated oversights as well as were actually unaware concerning their influence. A lot of the picked ones created major mistakes somewhere in the video game, were actually stabbed in the spine through yet another gamer, or even merely simply conformed inappropriate. While today dangers have been greatly reduced and fulfillment is actually high among clients, there have actually been lots of mistakes along the way consisting of unsafe products, doubtful surgical methods, and also inadequate opinion. In this post, I will certainly look at the progress music innovation has created as well as just how it creates songs making much easier. If you may poke fun at yourself and your unsuccessful attempts, you will certainly be able to keep in the favorable energy demanded to make an effort once more or have the following step.Mistakes are actually usually not catastrophic. I am who I am today as a result of the incredible sessions I gained from habits I as soon as called errors." I not see all of them as unfavorable, bad or even crazy. I will certainly describe the major ones to ensure if you are actually performing the task to mount marble floor tiles you have an odds not to create the common errors in the first place. You and your little ones could enjoy this movie without anxiety from unnecessary as well as distressing trash originated in sensationalism for ratings as well as greed.
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Why Does Dog Pee Kill Plants? And What Can We Do About It?
Theories abound about what in dog urine is toxic to plants, a popular one being extremes of pH. People say that acidic urine burns the plants, but the real answer to “Why does dog pee kill plants?” is a lot simpler.
Puppies and senior dogs urinate twice as often as adult dogs. (Photo via Wikimedia Commons)
A 1981 study called Lawn burn from dog urine helped bury the old myth that pH is causing the trouble. The concentration of urea in dog urine is basically too much of a good thing for grass and other plants. Other salt and compounds such as potassium may also contribute, but nitrates are known to be the No. 1 killer.
The main thing that makes dog urine more damaging is volume. Large dogs deposit more urine. Females tend to deposit it all in one location. Male dogs are easier on the grass but hard on trees, where urine sprayed on the trunk can filter down to the roots and in large enough volumes can kill the entire plant.
Just how much dogs contribute to the poor health of some city trees is under debate. But we’ve all seen the grates, bags and other contraptions to try and keep the trees pee-free.
What can you do about dog pee killing plants?
You can use training to modify behavior, getting your dog to pee in certain areas and to use the gutters rather than the grass. But most dog owners draw the line at being quite that prescriptive. So there are a number of other tips to reduce the conflict between pup and gardens.
Designate dog pee areas
Focusing all the dog pee in one spot can help with the problem … if you give up putting any plants in that area. A stake in an out of the way area may attract males to use the area. Likewise, when you are out and about, if your dog will use mulched or graveled areas, this will reduce stress on plants.
Of course, a dog’s gotta go when a dog’s gotta go. But when you have the option, steer Fido to a lamppost rather than a tree and a bark covered area rather than a stressed-looking lawn.
You can spot stressed trees by bark that is discolored or even peeling off around the base. And trees that are under six inches in diameter or have thin bark are at higher risk.
Dilute the dog pee by watering
If you can, watering the peed-on area immediately can help dilute the urine and minimize plant damage. For similar reasons it is a good idea to ensure your dog always has ample access to water. More diluted urine will do less damage. And besides, who wants to have a dehydrated doggie?
Urine burn applications
Various potions are on sale to break down the ammonia even more effectively than water. So if you have an especially cranky neighbor and your dog just really has to go on his property, you might consider carrying a squirt bottle of pee-weakener on your walks to minimize the damage. If your local stores don’t have it, you can order it online in tablet form and make the solution up as needed.
I am not sure how well they work, but at least they show you are making an effort. And when it comes to your more ardently gardening neighbors, I think dogged kindness and consideration is a better approach than engaging in a pitched argument.
Use robust grasses
If you are establishing or replacing a lawn, look into more robust grass species. Most lawns use something like Kentucky bluegrass, which has shallow roots and is easy to transport and establish. But it is also one of the more sensitive varieties and easily damaged by urine. Bermuda or ryegrasses may be more difficult to establish but they are hardier once they settle in.
Dietary supplements
I personally am not in favor of putting anything inside a dog that doesn’t need to be there. But I suppose it is possible that supplements that bind nitrogen are completely safe for dogs. I draw the line just short of this particular solution, but others may wish to look into it.
I would recommend making sure that you know exactly how the additive works and taking veterinary advice about its use with your dog. And I would immediately disregard any products aimed at changing the pH of the dogs urine because, as we have already established, this is not the cause of the problem.
The community balance of dog versus plants tends to become particularly fraught in built-up city areas. I remember once being reprimanded at length by an elderly neighbor just because my dog was peeing in the grass around my apartment building. It is the only building for miles that allows large dogs and as a result contains quite a few of them. The grass, I concede, is less than thriving.
I decided to simply not reply (despite her real fur coat giving me some tempting material for a rebuttal) and a few days later the same woman actually walked up to me and apologized. She just wanted the environment to look nice and knew that I wasn’t doing anything thing deliberately to damage it.
Whether you are more of a dog person or more of a plant person, or a bit of both, it is always a good idea to try and reduce conflict where we can and make the community a great place for both puppies and plants.
Read related stories on Dogster:
I Got Rid of Grass Burn from Dog Pee by Using Dog Rocks
11 Tips for Keeping a Dog-Friendly Garden
Four Ways to Stop Your Puppy from Digging
Poisonous Plants and Foods for Dogs
Dogs and Predators: How to Protect Your Dog from Coyotes and Birds of Prey
About the author: Emily Kane is a New Zealand-born animal behaviorist of the throw-back radical behaviorist type, albeit with a holistic-yuppie-feminist-slacker twist. She spent many years as an animal behavior researcher and is now more of an indoor paper-pushing researcher. Her early dog-related education came from Jess the Afghan Hound and Border Collies Bandit and Tam. It is now being continued by her own dogs and extended dog family and some cats (and her three aquatic snails Gala, Granny, and Pippin — they think of themselves as dog-esque).
The post Why Does Dog Pee Kill Plants? And What Can We Do About It? appeared first on Dogster.
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Text
Why Does Dog Pee Kill Plants? And What Can We Do About It?
Theories abound about what in dog urine is toxic to plants, a popular one being extremes of pH. People say that acidic urine burns the plants, but the real answer to “Why does dog pee kill plants?” is a lot simpler.
Puppies and senior dogs urinate twice as often as adult dogs. (Photo via Wikimedia Commons)
A 1981 study called Lawn burn from dog urine helped bury the old myth that pH is causing the trouble. The concentration of urea in dog urine is basically too much of a good thing for grass and other plants. Other salt and compounds such as potassium may also contribute, but nitrates are known to be the No. 1 killer.
The main thing that makes dog urine more damaging is volume. Large dogs deposit more urine. Females tend to deposit it all in one location. Male dogs are easier on the grass but hard on trees, where urine sprayed on the trunk can filter down to the roots and in large enough volumes can kill the entire plant.
Just how much dogs contribute to the poor health of some city trees is under debate. But we’ve all seen the grates, bags and other contraptions to try and keep the trees pee-free.
What can you do about dog pee killing plants?
You can use training to modify behavior, getting your dog to pee in certain areas and to use the gutters rather than the grass. But most dog owners draw the line at being quite that prescriptive. So there are a number of other tips to reduce the conflict between pup and gardens.
Designate dog pee areas
Focusing all the dog pee in one spot can help with the problem … if you give up putting any plants in that area. A stake in an out of the way area may attract males to use the area. Likewise, when you are out and about, if your dog will use mulched or graveled areas, this will reduce stress on plants.
Of course, a dog’s gotta go when a dog’s gotta go. But when you have the option, steer Fido to a lamppost rather than a tree and a bark covered area rather than a stressed-looking lawn.
You can spot stressed trees by bark that is discolored or even peeling off around the base. And trees that are under six inches in diameter or have thin bark are at higher risk.
Dilute the dog pee by watering
If you can, watering the peed-on area immediately can help dilute the urine and minimize plant damage. For similar reasons it is a good idea to ensure your dog always has ample access to water. More diluted urine will do less damage. And besides, who wants to have a dehydrated doggie?
Urine burn applications
Various potions are on sale to break down the ammonia even more effectively than water. So if you have an especially cranky neighbor and your dog just really has to go on his property, you might consider carrying a squirt bottle of pee-weakener on your walks to minimize the damage. If your local stores don’t have it, you can order it online in tablet form and make the solution up as needed.
I am not sure how well they work, but at least they show you are making an effort. And when it comes to your more ardently gardening neighbors, I think dogged kindness and consideration is a better approach than engaging in a pitched argument.
Use robust grasses
If you are establishing or replacing a lawn, look into more robust grass species. Most lawns use something like Kentucky bluegrass, which has shallow roots and is easy to transport and establish. But it is also one of the more sensitive varieties and easily damaged by urine. Bermuda or ryegrasses may be more difficult to establish but they are hardier once they settle in.
Dietary supplements
I personally am not in favor of putting anything inside a dog that doesn’t need to be there. But I suppose it is possible that supplements that bind nitrogen are completely safe for dogs. I draw the line just short of this particular solution, but others may wish to look into it.
I would recommend making sure that you know exactly how the additive works and taking veterinary advice about its use with your dog. And I would immediately disregard any products aimed at changing the pH of the dogs urine because, as we have already established, this is not the cause of the problem.
The community balance of dog versus plants tends to become particularly fraught in built-up city areas. I remember once being reprimanded at length by an elderly neighbor just because my dog was peeing in the grass around my apartment building. It is the only building for miles that allows large dogs and as a result contains quite a few of them. The grass, I concede, is less than thriving.
I decided to simply not reply (despite her real fur coat giving me some tempting material for a rebuttal) and a few days later the same woman actually walked up to me and apologized. She just wanted the environment to look nice and knew that I wasn’t doing anything thing deliberately to damage it.
Whether you are more of a dog person or more of a plant person, or a bit of both, it is always a good idea to try and reduce conflict where we can and make the community a great place for both puppies and plants.
Read related stories on Dogster:
I Got Rid of Grass Burn from Dog Pee by Using Dog Rocks
11 Tips for Keeping a Dog-Friendly Garden
Four Ways to Stop Your Puppy from Digging
Poisonous Plants and Foods for Dogs
Dogs and Predators: How to Protect Your Dog from Coyotes and Birds of Prey
About the author: Emily Kane is a New Zealand-born animal behaviorist of the throw-back radical behaviorist type, albeit with a holistic-yuppie-feminist-slacker twist. She spent many years as an animal behavior researcher and is now more of an indoor paper-pushing researcher. Her early dog-related education came from Jess the Afghan Hound and Border Collies Bandit and Tam. It is now being continued by her own dogs and extended dog family and some cats (and her three aquatic snails Gala, Granny, and Pippin — they think of themselves as dog-esque).
The post Why Does Dog Pee Kill Plants? And What Can We Do About It? appeared first on Dogster.
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