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thewhitefluffyhat · 2 years

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Day One

[This is the second part of a collected liveblog/analysis of Nona the Ninth! See here for the other parts.]

In this section, I do a ton of speculation (obviously, it’s the start of the book) and feel increasingly confident in the theory that Nona is Alecto, and Alecto is the Resurrection Beast of Earth.

Initial Impressions

-I notice we don’t have a skull on the side of the book - I’d thought it was going to be a gas mask, but instead it seems to be a depiction of the chained rock in front of the Locked Tomb. Interesting. Is the rock just for Nona, or will it be for Alecto too?

Perhaps where Gideon and Harrow got a pair of contrasting Ninth skulls, Nona and Alecto get a pair of Tombs, locked and unlocked.

-The Tomb - both opened and unopened - appears amid the rest of the House skulls in the paper at the front of the book. These patterns also include the slashed/broken skulls from the chapter beginnings in HtN. I only have the paperback versions of the other books, so I don’t know if this is significant or comparable to the previous hardcover editions.

-I see we’re still stylizing it as Nona the Ninth inside the cover, even though the outside cover does not have the strikethrough. I don’t really have thoughts on that, aside from Nona having lost her memories, therefore no longer being “the Ninth” - in any of Gideon/Harrow/Alecto’s senses of it.

-I’ve already seen both the Guest List and poems, so not much to say on those either. I agree with the analysis that the new poem is John speaking to Alecto, though.

John 20:8

-I recognize that the numbering format here is evocative of Biblical passages. And John is one of the names used when citing passages, I believe? But given that I’ve never actually read the full Bible, I can’t even begin to speculate on what this might be referencing beyond that.

-It was pretty easy to assume that John went to a normal university. But I’m surprised that we get the specific one. That being said, given that we do get that level of specific detail, I’m very much not surprised it’s in New Zealand!

-p13 “You were so sick.” If John is talking here as he would to Alecto, this is very much supporting the theory of Alecto = RB of Earth.

-p13: A- and M- and C-. Augustine, Mercymorn. But did they have more normal names before the Resurrection? And is C- Cytherea or Cristabel? Likely the latter, Cyth was Seventh-born and not pre-Resurrection. Could also be Cassiopeia.

-p14 Lent them G-. G1deon? Was G1deon pre-Ressurection?

-This is all very clearly describing mass evacuation of Earth in face of likely climate(+nuclear?) catastrophe.

Earth “was running out of oxygen” is a weird angle though… what did humanity DO to cause that problem? Kill off all the algae in the oceans and deforestation, maybe?

-The trillionaires are going to leave the rest of humanity to die. Not an uncommon plot - the film Don’t Look Up springs to mind. Rats will flee a sinking ship.

-Another thing I also knew going in was that John was talking to “Harrowhark.” Even in the pre-release, it seemed quite clear he’s conflating her and Alecto. But I’m curious if any of Harrow’s consciousness is actually party to this, or if it’s purely John’s dream construct with no real ghosts being dragged in.

I also wonder if we’ll get any more of these dreams, or if this is just the opening.

Chapter 1

-p17 - “Five Days until the tomb opens” …but it’s already open? Unless we’re opening it again / opening Harrow’s (River?) tomb.

-p19 - So Nona drew (had someone else draw based on descriptions?) a picture of the girl in her dream and Cam locked it in the safe. Why? Was the girl dangerously recognizable? Could be either Gideon or Harrow then, though my guess is Gideon, and Nona’s dream is bleedthrough of Alecto’s time spent in Harrow’s head.

-Also, a video recorder! I was wondering if video tech was still around.

-p20 “worm with problems” - and now I can’t help but think “Nona on a string.” Hehe.

-p20-21 Nona gets claustrophobic and loves when Cam touches her. Already setting up contrasts between her and Harrow, possibly even Gideon.

-p22 Cam calls it a “clockwork” rather than “watch” - is that what all watches are called in the Houses? Or just a specific type of analogue watch? (IIRC, someone referred to a normal “watch” at the start of GtN - maybe that was digital or even necromancy-powered?)

[Later me: It was Gideon with the watch, it was “mechanical,” and she also does call it a clockwork in GtN! So yes, that appears to be the term for watches throughout the Nine Houses.]

-Another thing I knew was that Nona had food weirdness. Though this seems a different type than Harrow’s - not taste but temperature. Does Nona run hot like Harrow might? Or even hotter, given Muir’s interview comments about burning through a brain?

p26 yeah Nona likes the hot (spicy) sauce, very un-Harrow.

-p23-26 As has been analyzed by many already, it seems Nona’s caretakers are keeping a tally of what she likes to determine if she’s Harrow or Gideon, and Gideon is winning on the basis of butt jokes. (Gideon would probably be pleased.)

-p28 Pal and Pyrrha discussing tactics, seems intentionally written to be hard to understand. Pal wants to save everyone (including the besieged Cohort), Pyrrha is more practical. Seems they have a BOE cell on their side, but it’s tentative.

-p30 - Ah, and here’s the population numbers. 7th+8th houses < 9 million. (Was this different in the pre-release?) 8th is tiny, surprising that 7th is too, I would have thought Venus would be easier to terraform and live on than a gas giant (maybe it’s all that hereditary cancer that’s the issue…).

The low numbers are also surprising given that the HtN BOE extras suggest the Empire has a vast numbers advantage in the war. I’m guessing the Empire conscripts people from shepherded worlds to make it work? That’s a common imperialist tactic.

-Wakers and Hopers and all kinds of factions in the BOE, huh. Wakers for those people who know of Wake coming back as a revenant? (By the by, what happened to Gideon’s possessed sword?)

-p31 Oh, interesting! I never would have guessed G1deon also had thoughts of deserting the Empire! He was John’s most loyal Hand!

Chapter 2

-p34 Ah, so Nona is derived from “No, no.” I’m surprised that Pal didn’t consider it leading, given “Nona”gesimus.

-The beginning of ch2 makes it blatantly obvious Nona has Gideon’s eyes in Harrow’s body. I very much agree with the pre-release analysis that it’s sweet how Nona seems to like this particular body more than Harrow ever did!

-p35 Useful explanation of Lyctor eyes vs temporary possession. Also confirming that CamPal is indeed a full Lyctor? [Later me: Hahaha...]

-p36 - So at first Nona couldn’t talk either. Between that and her (Alecto-style?) tantrums, she must have been a handful! (Wonder how her caretakers rescued her?)

-p37 “forbidden bone tricks” keeps making me giggle XD

-p38 More Alecto-like “does not understand how to human” behavior from Nona. Also holding hands with Cam, how ~lewd~!

-p38 Huh! Nona can speak any language so long as she can see face/eyes/lips is probably the biggest Alecto sign so far! If Cam and Pal - from the knowledge house! - can only speak one language, there’s no way Gideon, Harrow, or even the dead 200 would know more. But an RB composed of people speaking every language on Earth could probably do this…

As usual, this is of course ignoring the language drift that should have happened over the 10,000 years, but you always have to suspend disbelief for that in this series.

I wonder which languages Pyrrha speaks?

-p39 So the Empire’s language seems to be galaxy-standard for business transactions? I imagine this is similar to, say, ancient Rome. Or French in some time periods in Europe. Or modern English, for that matter.

-p40 Dang, Nona hasn’t even lived a year, just six months. babby.

Chapter 3

-The image of a tree in the chapter heading is new, isn’t it?

-The descriptions of Nona not being what anyone had wanted really make me wonder what an AU where her caretakers got Gideon or Harrow would look like. Or it would, if I hadn’t read plenty of amazing fic along those lines already!

-p42 Harrow’s 18-19 year old body once again is able to pass as a 14/15 year old teenager. Apparently it’s not just Mercy being bad at judging her age, she really is that scrawny!

-p42 We continue to characterize Cam as not wanting anything to do with sex/romance(?). I’m happy and quite amazed to see my aroace headcanons not just still afloat but supported!

-pff of course Pyrrha would be a flirt. Also I was initially surprised at her people skills, but it actually makes sense with what we knew of her!

-p44 She’d “heard it all before and forgotten it” - again seems like Nona is Alecto, with all the knowledge of humanity somewhere inside her.

-p45 Ah, so here is Hot Sauce, of CythereaxHot Sauce fame.

-The way that Hot Sauce is proud of her burn scars and uses them to intimidate other kids is a fascinating touch that feels very real and childish, yet so outside of the norm for our real society. I really like it.

-The names of the kids are interesting - something I’d thought in the guest list. Born in the Morning and Honesty seem like BOE names. (And once again, I’m reminded that BOE names remind me of nothing so much as Puritan names…) Is Hot Sauce also a BOE name, but a more meme/silly one? Or just a nickname?

p47 And immediately confirmed, those are not nicknames!

-p46. And here I’d been guessing The Angel was going to be the Resurrection Beast’s consciousness communicating to Nona. Nope! They’re just a science teacher!

-p48 - Not much to say, but this book really goes hard on conveying the small joys of and stubbornness of life even in a war zone.

-p50 I wonder, with Hot Sauce knowing about necromancers - was her family killed by them, or is she potentially one too? (Would be VERY unlikely on the latter, though…)

-51 - The kids call the RB Varun the Eater? Very interesting. Does BOE have its own names for the RBs?

Also hang on, if an RB is this close, then there really shouldn’t be necros left, given the madness inducing nature of RBs. How is Pal even surviving?

Chapter 4

-p53 Camilla Hect, being gay, doing crimes.

-p54 The cages? Last chapter mentioned a necro dying on fire in a cage. Are they simply jail cells, or for necros specifically I wonder?

-p56. Hee. Even Pal respects Hot Sauce.

-Apropos of nothing, I’m enjoying how even the BOE kids don’t fall into gender stereotypes. The quiet but intimidating leader is a girl, Kevin the boy plays with dolls. I’m not even sure what gender Beautiful Ruby and Born in the Morning are yet!

-p57 o.O Pyrrha drinks bleach!? Pyrrha, no! D:

-p58 Once again, Nona seems to be burning up from the inside. Even Harrow’s powered-by-200-souls body can’t handle a Nona in it. Wonder if said body will last, or if it will get destroyed when Nona realizes who/what she is?

-p62 Huh, surprised that Nona doesn’t like eating fruit either! (Does she just eat cold human corpses?? That’s what John was eating in the dream earlier, wasn’t it?)

-Interesting how short Pal is around for - fanfic often has him and Cam switch out for entire days. But here it’s just a few minutes as far as I can tell. Perhaps the RB’s presence?

Ahhh, so it is, as explained p64. Also very interesting that if Pal stuck around too long, Cam’s body would start reacting like a necromancer. Seems like necromancy is a product of both body and soul.

-p64 Discussing if Nona has the wrong body or wrong soul so as not to be harmed by the RB… hm. Her soul doesn’t appear to be a necro. But it could also be that because Harrow’s necromancy was artificially induced, Harrow’s body doesn’t react as a normal necromancer’s would either…

-p65 Nona is sad that Pal can do necromancy. Furthers the suggestions - like Ianthe being a necro after almost getting strangled in the womb, like Harrow’s necromancy deriving from a massacre - that being a necromancer means there is something damaged about your soul. Or it might be another hint about something being wrong with the River.

Chapter 6

-p67 Nona likes baths, unlike Harrow yet again!

-p70 - Ah, and here’s the story of Nona and Pyrrha’s retrieval.

Okay, so they were actually found by the Nine Houses side, but there was an attack? (By BOE?)

[Later me: Or by John and Ianthe?? Similar to BOE finding the Canaan House survivors between books, this is another incredibly key event that happens entirely offscreen, and is one of the rare places where I find the narrative genuinely frustrating to try to understand.]

Presumably Gideon’s sword/Wake was the precious thing that got lost in the River...?

And it seems like the Sixth already had a deal with BOE in some way.

Sixth House evacuated already, wow. But hey! I was actually half-expecting they’d have been fried in John’s murder in HtN.

Ah, so the sixteen mentioned earlier are literally sixteen people, sixteen Sixth House citizens who Pal chose to talk to BOE.

And then the RB appeared, and BOE went back on their deal to protect the group.

You know, I’ve read several fanfics that extrapolate from As Yet Unsent and have a plotline involving the Sixth House eventually siding with BOE. So I find it really funny that this book jumps straight past that subplot and already into BOE’s betrayal of the Sixth instead!

-p71 I continue to be amused every time G1deon is referred to as Pyrrha’s “best friend.” It reads like the straight version of “gal pals,” even though I do believe they were indeed just good friends.

-p71 Oh? Sounds like part of BOE reneging involved the Sixth House refugees getting lost somewhere.

John 5:20

-So we are getting more John interludes then…

-John calls Harrow/Alecto “Beloved” - interesting that Harrow hit upon the same nickname for the Body! Or if Alecto/Nona is the one dreaming, then perhaps she’s conflating John and Harrow here?

[Later me: The dream interludes very obviously are placed whenever Nona falls unconscious, but I’m still very unsure when they take place in a linear timeline and even who is doing the dreaming…]

-Ah, so C- had N-. C- must be Cassiopeia and… Nigella? I believe her cav was called.

Yes, I could go grab my copy of HtN and look it up right now but pshhh… that would be cheating. I only read these books on hard mode! No looking up words or information/events from previous books until later!

[Later me: In all seriousness, though - people love to talk about how impossible these books are to understand, but… they’re really not that bad? I wish that was less of a common take, I suspect it makes the series come across as intimidating and offputting, when they’re nothing of the sort.]

-Hm, pre-Resurrection humanity was already building stations and bases on Mars, the Kuiper belt, and Uranus? Did those projects become the Second, the Fifth, and the Eighth? Or are my planet-to-House theories off, and the Third or Fourth is one of those?

-p76. Okay now THAT is wild. So John invented necromancy (or rather, manifested his weird God powers) before the world ended rather than as a result of it. Cool. Also: super creepy!

And that’s it for Day One! Next part will be up tomorrow!

Day Two >>

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #tlt analysis #my ramblings #my tlt stuff #read more #thoughts on ntn

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

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YOUR MATING BOND IS SHOWING: Some underrated Nessian scenes pre-ACOFAS

alternatively titled: how did no one in the Inner Circle accidentally tell Nesta?

I didn't include the big moments (the Cauldron, the Bone Carver, Next Time, Emissary, I'll Come Say Hello, CASSIAN, and Hybern) because they are longer scenes, but these are some small and medium sized moments.

When Cassian can't stop staring at Human Nesta:

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

...

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely.

Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe … only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead.

...

Rhys gave me a warning look. I gripped Nesta’s arm, drawing her attention to me. “Can we just … start over?”

I could almost taste her pride roiling in her veins, barking to not back down.

Cassian, damn him, gave her a taunting grin.

But Nesta merely hissed, “Fine.” And went back to eating.

Cassian watched every bite she took, every bob of her throat as she swallowed.

...

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his relentless attention from Nesta long enough to nod his agreement.

When Nesta gives Cassian the finger:

He’d given Nesta a mocking bow, and she’d given him a vulgar gesture I hadn’t realized she knew how to make.

Cassian had merely laughed, his eyes snaking over Nesta’s ice-blue gown with a predatory intent that, given her hiss of rage, he knew would set her spitting. Then he was gone, leaving my sister on the broad doorstep, her brown-gold hair ruffled by the chill wind stirred by his mighty wings.

When Cassian comes back from Wings & Embers:

I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

When Cassian declares he'll defend the humans (ACOMAF version)

His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.”

I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch.

When Feyre notices the mating bond:

When I looked ahead, I found Cassian staring back at Nesta as well.

I wondered why no one had yet mentioned what now shone in Cassian’s eyes as he gazed at my sister.

The sorrow. And the longing.

When Cassian tells Nesta exactly what is going to happen to Briallyn:

“You come between a male and his mate, Nesta Archeron, and you’re going to learn about the consequences the hard way.”

When Cassian speaks of his own intentions:

I blew out a breath. “Who else thinks it’s a terrible idea to leave the three of them up at the House of Wind?”

Cassian raised his hand as Rhys and Mor chuckled. The High Lord’s general said, “I give him an hour before he tries to see her.”

...

Cassian’s hazel eyes shuttered as he crossed a booted ankle over another, stretching his muscled legs before him. “I go up there every other day. It’s good exercise for my wings.” Those wings shifted in emphasis. Not a scratch marred them.

When Cassian wants revenge:

Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was trying her best not to say anything. Azriel was trying his best to shoot a warning stare at Mor to remind her to indeed keep her mouth shut. As if they’d already discussed this. Many times.

“I don’t blame her,” Cassian said, shrugging despite his words. “She was—violated. Her body stopped belonging wholly to her.” His jaw clenched. Even Amren didn’t dare say anything. “And I am going to peel the King of Hybern’s skin off his bones the next time I see him.”

His Siphons flickered in answer.

Rhys said casually, “I’m sure the king will thoroughly enjoy the experience.”

Cassian glowered. “I mean it.”

When Cassian realizes how beautiful his mate is:

Yes, devastating was a good word for how lovely she’d become as High Fae. And in a long-sleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves before falling gracefully to the ground in a spill of fabric …

Cassian looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

When Cassian got out of an uncomfortable situation:

Mor blinked, but confided to me with a wince, “I think we’re going to need a lot more wine.”

Nesta’s spine stiffened. But she said nothing.

“I’ll raid the collection,” Cassian offered, disappearing through the inner hall doors too quickly to be casual.

Nesta stiffened a bit more.

When Nesta wants revenge

“Were they made immortal?” This question went to Azriel.

Azriel’s Siphons smoldered. “Reports have been murky and inconsistent. Some say yes, others say no.”

Nesta examined her wineglass.

Cassian braced his forearms on the table. “Why?”

Nesta’s eyes shot right to his face. She spoke quietly to me, to all of us, even as she held Cassian’s gaze as if he were the only one in the room. “By the end of this war, I want them dead. The king, the queens—all of them. Promise me you’ll kill them all, and I’ll help you patch up the wall. I’ll train with her”—a jerk of her chin to Amren—“I’ll go to the Hewn City or whatever it is … I’ll do it. But only if you promise me that.”

When Cassian is mad at Feyre and lies:

I studied him, the wings tucked in tight, the shoulder-length dark hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He stalked past me to the ring.

“Is it Nesta?”

“Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”

I kept my mouth shut on that front.

When Nesta shows up to training:

Something drew Cassian’s attention behind me. And even as his body remained casual, a predatory gleam flickered in his eyes.

I didn’t need to turn to know who was standing there.

“Care to join?” Cassian purred.

Nesta said, “It doesn’t look like you’re exercising anything other than your mouths.”

I looked over my shoulder. My sister was in a dress of pale blue that turned her skin golden, her hair swept up, her back a stiff column. I scrambled to say something, to apologize, but … not in front of him. She wouldn’t want this conversation in front of Cassian.

Cassian extended a wrapped hand, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Scared?”

I wisely kept my mouth shut as Nesta stepped from the open doorway into the blinding light of the courtyard. “Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

...

Cassian was saying to Nesta, “Seems like you’re a little on edge, Nesta. And you left so abruptly last night … Any way I can help ease that tension?”

When Cassian has manners: (and realizes his mate may never fly)

Mercifully, or perhaps not, Nesta’s retching filled the silence. Cassian gaped at Rhys. “What did you do?”

“I asked him the same thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “He said he ‘went fast.’ ”

Nesta vomited again—then silence.

Cassian sighed at the ceiling. “She’ll never fly again.”

The doorknob twisted, and we tried—or at least Cassian and I did—not to seem like we’d been listening to her. Nesta’s face was still greenish-pale, but … Her eyes burned.

When Cassian helps her calm down:

There was no way of describing that burning—and even painting it might have failed.

Her eyes remained the same blue-gray as my own. And yet … Molten ore was all I could think of. Quicksilver set aflame.

She advanced a step toward us. All her attention fixed on Rhys.

Cassian casually stepped in her path, wings folded in tight. Feet braced apart on the carpet. A fighting stance—casual, but … his Siphons glimmered.

“Do you know,” Cassian drawled to her, “that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?”

Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him, still outraged—but hinted with incredulity.

He just went on, “It was Amren’s fault, of course, but no one believed me. And no one dared banish her.”

She blinked slowly.

But the burning, molten gaze became mortal. Or as mortal as one of us could be.

When he calls her "Nes" for the first time:

Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket. “Morning, Nesta,” he said around a mouth of blueberry-lemon. “Elain.”

---

Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn Nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. “Ready for some flying, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

When she flies with him for the first time:

My sister’s face was wind-flushed as Cassian gently set her down. Then she strode for the glass doors without a single look back.

“You’re welcome,” Cassian called after her, more than a bite to his voice. His hands clenched and slackened at his sides—as if he were trying to loosen the feel of her from his palms.

When he rescues her and can't hide his disappointment the she didn't hug him:

He said nothing as Nesta launched herself toward him, her dress filthy and disheveled, her arms stretching for him. He opened his own for her, unable to stop his approach, his reaching— She gripped his leathers instead.

...

Cassian only stretched out an arm for her. As if in a trance, she walked right to his side. His arms tightened around both of us, Siphons flaring, gilding the darkness with bloodred light.

When Nesta is recovering from the library attack and he's an attentive mate:

Nesta looked like she was going to be sick. Cassian wordlessly refilled her glass.

When he's protective and we find out about their height difference

Cassian was staring at Nesta—hard enough that my sister at last twisted toward him. Met his gaze. His head tilted—slightly. A silent order.

Nesta, to my shock, obeyed. Drifted over to Cassian’s side as Amren replied to Rhys, “No.”

...

Cassian casually slid Nesta behind him, his fingers snagging in the skirts of her black gown. As if to reassure himself that she wasn’t in Amren’s direct path. Nesta only rose onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

When Cassian still isn't back from Adriata:

Nesta was waiting at the breakfast table the next morning. Not for me, I realized as her gaze slipped over me as if I were no more than a servant. But for someone else. I kept my mouth shut, not bothering to tell her Cassian was still up at the war-camps. If she wouldn’t ask … I wasn’t getting in the middle of it.

When Cassian is proud of Nesta:

“I would.” Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but … avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval—more. “It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means … telling them what happened.”

When Nesta defends Cassian for the first time:

Beron only sneered. “I don’t take orders from the bastards of lesser fae whores.”

...

“That bastard,” Nesta said with utter coolness, though her eyes began to burn, “may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people.”

She didn’t so much as look at Cassian as she said it. But he stared at her—as if he’d never seen her before.

When Feyre dismissed Nesta but Cassian doesn't:

The door opened, and Cassian stalked in, face grave. The sight of the wings, the Illyrian armor in this opulent, pink-filled room planted itself in my mind, the painting already taking form, as he said, “What’s wrong.”

He studied every inch of her. As if there were nothing and no one else here, anywhere.

But I said, “She senses something is off—says we need to leave right away.”

I waited for the dismissal, but Cassian angled his head. “What, precisely, feels wrong?”

When the Cauldron made Nesta barf and Cassian is an attentive mate

“What’s wrong?” Mor demanded, holding my sister upright as her face contorted in what looked to be—pain. Confusion and pain.

Sweat beaded on Nesta’s brow, though her face went deathly pale. “Something …” The word was cut off by a low groan. She sagged, and Mor caught her fully, scanning Nesta’s face. Cassian was instantly there, his hand at her back, teeth bared at the invisible threat.

“Nesta,” I said, reaching for her.

Nesta seized—then twisted past Cassian to empty her stomach into the reflection pool.

When he touches her forehead:

Cassian stepped in Nesta’s path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. “Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,” he breathed, “and you kill them.”

He wouldn’t be coming—no, he’d be mustering the full might of the Illyrian legions. Azriel would be joining us, though.

Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. “A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard—mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don’t forget that you’re stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,” he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. “And if someone gets you into a hold …” My sister said nothing as Cassian showed her the sensitive areas on a man. Not just the groin, but the inside of the foot, pinching the thigh, using her elbow like a weapon. When he finished, he stepped back, his hazel eyes churning with some emotion I couldn’t place.

When Nesta watches Cassian in Battle:

Only Nesta strode toward the edge of the tents to watch the battle on the valley floor below. Mor joined her, then me.

Nesta did not flinch at the clash and din of battle. She only stared toward one black-armored figure, leading the lines, his occasional order to push or to hold that flank barking across the battle

...

Cassian was trying. Azriel had lunged into the fray, nothing more than shadows edged in blue light, battling his way toward where Cassian fought, utterly surrounded.

“Mother above,” Nesta said softly. Not in awe. No—no, that was dread in her voice.

...

By the time I strode away, Nesta had already faced the battle once more, rain plastering her hair to her head. Resuming her unending vigil of the general battling on the valley floor below.

When she wraps up his wrist (and when he's an idiot and focuses on Mor)

But Nesta had jolted to her feet, staring at Cassian....But she surveyed his seven Siphons, the dim red stones. And then she said, “You’re hurt.”

Cassian’s face was grim—his eyes glassy. “It’s fine.” Even the words were laced with exhaustion.

But she reached for his arm—his shield arm.

Cassian seemed to hesitate, but offered it to her, tapping the Siphon atop his palm. The armor slid back a fraction over his forearm, revealing—

“You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhys said a bit tensely.

“I was busy,” Cassian said, not taking his focus off Nesta as she studied the swollen wrist. How she’d detected it through the armor … She must have read it in his eyes, his stance.

I hadn’t realized she’d been observing the Illyrian general enough to notice his tells.

“And it’ll be fixed by morning,” Cassian added, daring Rhys to say otherwise.

But Nesta’s pale fingers gently probed his golden-brown skin, and he hissed through his teeth.

“How do I fix it?” she asked ...

Cassian slowly sat on the log where she’d been perched a moment before, groaning softly—as if even that movement taxed him. “Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself—”

She reached for the basket of bandages she’d been preparing, then for the pitcher at her feet.

I was too tired to do anything other than watch as she washed his wrist, his hand, her own fingers gentle... Cassian seemed too weary to speak as well while she wrapped bandages around his wrist, only grunting to confirm if it was too tight or too loose, if it helped at all. But he watched her—didn’t take his eyes off her face, the brows bunched and lips pursed in concentration.

And when she’d tied it neatly, his wrist wrapped in white, when Nesta made to pull back, Cassian gripped her fingers in his good hand. She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Nesta did not yank her hand away. Did not open her mouth for some barbed retort.

She only stared and stared at him, at the breadth of his shoulders, even more powerful in that beautiful black armor, at the strong column of his tan neck above it, his wings. And then at his hazel eyes, still riveted to her face.

Cassian brushed a thumb down the back of her hand. Nesta opened her mouth at last, and I braced myself—

“You’re hurt?”

At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted toward Mor with a lazy smile. “Nothing for you to cry over, don’t worry.”

Nesta dragged her stare from his face—down to her now-empty hand, her fingers still curled as if his palm lay there. Cassian didn’t look at Nesta as she rose, snatching up the pitcher, and muttered something about getting more water from inside the tent.

Cassian and Mor fell into their banter, laughing and taunting each other about the battle and the ones ahead.

Nesta didn’t come back out again for some time.

When Cassian almost dies, and she's worried sick, and then she looks him over to make sure he's okay:

Nesta stood by the nearest tent, an empty water bucket between her feet. Her hair a damp mess atop her mud-flecked head. Watching us emerge, grim-faced—

“He’s fine. Healed and awake,” I said quickly.

Nesta’s shoulders sagged a bit.

...

Still coated in mud up to her shins, my sister paused on the other side—away from where Cassian now sat. Looked him over. Her face revealed nothing, yet her hands … I could have sworn a faint tremor rippled through her fingers before she balled them into fists and faced Amren. Cassian watched her for a moment longer before turning his head toward Amren as well.

...

Your sister came immediately when I explained what we needed, Rhys said. I think seeing Cassian hurt convinced her not to pick a fight today.

Or convinced my sister to pick a fight with someone else entirely.

When Nesta Scries: No harm no harm no harm

Nesta still didn’t move. She could not use the bathtub, she’d told me. Because the memories it dragged up—

Cassian said to her, “Nothing can harm you here.” He sucked in a breath, groaning softly, and rose to his feet. Azriel tried to stop him, but Cassian brushed him off and strode for my sister’s side. He braced a hand on the desk when he at last stopped. “Nothing can harm you,” he repeated.

Nesta was still looking at him when she finally shut her eyes. I shifted, and the angle allowed me to see what I hadn’t detected before.

Nesta stood before the map, a fist of bones and stones clenched over it. Cassian remained at her side—his other hand on her lower back.

...

With a gasp, Nesta’s fingers splayed wide, scattering stones and bones over the map. Cassian caught her with an arm around the waist as she swayed. He hissed in pain at the movement. “What the hell—”

When Cassian makes an offer most women would not refuse:

“Eat or bed?” Cassian had asked Nesta, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he’d meant it as some invitation. I debated telling him he was in no shape.

Nesta only said, “Bed.” And there was certainly no invitation in the exhausted reply.

When Elain is taken:

“We’ll get her back,” Cassian rasped from where he perched on the rolled arm of the chaise longue across the small sitting area, watching her carefully...

Nesta lowered her hands, lifting her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips thin. “No, you will not.” She pointed to the map on the table. “I saw that army. Its size, who is in it. I saw it, and there is no chance of any of you getting into its heart. Even you,” she added when Cassian opened his mouth again. “Especially not when you’re injured.”

When Cassian declares he'll defend the humans, pt. 2 (ACOWAR)

“Good,” Cassian said, glancing at Nesta. “If I end my life defending those who need it most, then I will consider it a death well spent.

When Cassian was going to say something before the last battle:

Rhys only asked, “How long do you think we have?”

Cassian clenched his jaw, glancing at my sisters. Nesta was watching him keenly; Elain monitored the army from our minor elevation, face white with dread....

Cassian took a step away, but looked back at Nesta. Her face was hard as granite. He opened his mouth, but seemed to decide against whatever he was about to say. My sister said nothing as Cassian shot into the sky with a powerful thrust of his wings. Yet she tracked his flight until he was hardly more than a dark speck.

When they decide to lure away Hybern:

Nesta stared toward that armada, toward our father fighting in it. “Use me. As bait.”

I blinked at the same moment Cassian said, “No.”

...

“He will kill you,” Cassian snarled.

Her hand clenched on his arm. “That’s—that’s where you come in.”

To guard her. Protect her. To lay a trap for the king.

...

Cassian said steadily, “It’s the only shot we have of a diversion. Luring him away from that Cauldron.” His hands tightened on Nesta.

...

But Cassian asked Nesta, “Do you have what you need?”

Nesta nodded. “Amren showed me enough. What to do to rally the power to me.”

And if Amren and I could control the Cauldron between us … That distraction they’d offer …

Nesta looked down to Elain—our sister monitoring the bloodbath ahead. Then to me. She said quietly, “Tell Father—thank you.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around Cassian, those gray-blue eyes bright, then they were gone.

#ACOWAR was FULL of ACOSF crumbs #nesta and cassian examining eachother for injuries is huge #how did the busybodies not say anything about them being mates for TWO YEARS #I love these two #Nessian #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #kp analysis #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar series #mtp

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wedreamedlove · 3 years

Text

[FIC] tu es mon âme sœur

Rating: T Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 4753

Tags: Established Relationship. Fluff.

A/N: Can you believe it's already been another year? Happy birthday to the 32 year old!

Summary: Every smile, every glance, every breath is known down to the soul. You aren't sure whether you want this prank to succeed or fail, but the result ends up being unforgettable.

You stared at the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. "This is a bad idea."

"You promised to attend my party," your friend, an old university classmate, reminded you as she sat in front of another dresser mirror beside you, getting finishing touches done on her by a professional makeup artist.

"I promised to attend your pre-wedding party, which I did, not this."

"Don't tell me you're not even the slightest bit curious about if Li Zeyan will fall for it?"

"......"

Much to your shame, she had you there. A little devil on your shoulder whispered that this was going to be a hilarious prank.

Sighing, you carefully propped your chin in your hand and recalled the whole series of events that led you to this moment of waiting for your friend to finish getting ready and join you and the rest of the bridesmaids and high-class escort women in the room.

It all started several months ago when you received a wedding invitation from this classmate. You were delighted to attend as her bridesmaid and, during the process of organizing everything, when she found out you would be in the country in January she decided to hold a pre-wedding party. Unfortunately, the only date that was convenient for everyone was January 12.

To be honest, it cut a little too close to Li Zeyan's birthday, January 13, for your liking but your friend promised to release you and Li Zeyan at the stroke of midnight and, since you and he had decided beforehand to have a low-key celebration this year, you ended up agreeing.

So, you and Li Zeyan attended what you thought would just be a pre-wedding dinner for your friend and her fiancé, except the dinner ended earlier than you expected and then you were dragged away by your friend to her bachelorette party while Li Zeyan had to go with the fiancé to his bachelor party.

That still would have been normal... until you found out that the bachelorette party was to sneak into the bachelor party as "escorts" under the guise of them being a present sent by the bride. In the words of your friend, this would be the last time her fiancé was allowed to freely eye another woman before he became hers.

But your friend thought it would be hilarious if she and the bridesmaids went in undercover with the real escorts. There was no fear of anything outrageous happening as the high-class escorts were only there for conversation and light flirting.

You weren't of the same mind as your friend though. You didn't even need to think for a second as to what Li Zeyan's expression would be once he saw the escorts. However, your friend pointed out how much fun it would be to pull one over Li Zeyan. Then, once he realized his mistake in treating you coldly, he would have to make it up to you.

This was what spurred on the little devil on your shoulder.

"Alright, ladies, are we ready?" Your friend clapped her hands when she finished admiring her disguise and thanked the makeup artist.

You glanced at the mirror again, still a bit startled to see the unfamiliar face that looked back at you. Your eyes were narrower with eyeliner, but they were framed with eyelashes thickened by delicately applied mascara and smoky eyeshadow. Contour brought out your cheekbones and lipstick made it look as if you had a heart-shaped pout. All of this combined with an intricate hairdo that exposed the line of your neck and a cocktail dress lent to you that likely costed 6 figures made you look like one of the women on the arms of the men at the business parties Li Zeyan attended.

As everyone started to head out, your friend reminded, "Don't forget, whoever can last the longest without being recognized will get a prize."

A staff member of the five star restaurant where the bachelor party was being held brought you, the bride, and the rest of the women to the private suite where the men were. The quality of the establishment showed when you couldn't hear any noise from behind the door even though you were just a few steps away.

Your friend gave one last mischievous look to everyone as the staff knocked on the door and received permission to enter.

"Gentlemen, a present from the bachelorette party."

The women streamed in despite the fiancé spluttering and attempting to refuse this service. Each bridesmaid was between two real escorts to reduce their chances of being discovered and you were no different, entering the room as the sixth person.

The first thing you noticed upon walking in was the number of empty wine bottles on the table. It was clear the men had been drinking for a while now and maybe their tipsy state would make it harder for them to recognize you and the bridesmaids.

The second thing you noticed was how everyone's position in the room seemed to be angled towards a certain point. The place where Li Zeyan sat on a sofa.

It was almost as if he was holding court in this room and, even when he sat there in silence and simply swirled the wine glass in his hand with a languid air, his presence drew the eye and commanded everyone's attention. In fact, this was shown when the fiancé—failing to extract himself from two escorts who seated themselves beside him to convince him to let them stay—looked towards Li Zeyan hesitantly.

"CEO Li, um..." He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to anger his bride by rejecting her present but he also didn't want to anger Li Zeyan, one of the most powerful and influential men in the business world.

Li Zeyan, who didn't even spare a glance at the women when they came in and had been looking at his wine glass, raised his eyes.

You held your breath and fought against the urge to scoot behind another woman because any movement now would just stand out. Instead, you pasted on a nonchalant look that seemed to work since his eyes swept over you without pause.

Li Zeyan looked back at the fiancé. "Today is for you and your bride."

The fiancé's shoulders slumped with relief at the implied permission before he turned to accept the women and let them mingle with everyone else in the room. Soon, the party was back in full swing with some men and women going off to play billiards in the room, some forming groups to chat, and others still sat around drinking and discussing business.

Before arriving, your friend decided that everyone would first sit beside someone they didn't know to keep from being busted right at the beginning. Then, as the night wore on, people could increase their challenge by seeing how close they could get to someone who knew them.

So, at present, you sat beside a groomsman you were unfamiliar with in one of the chatting groups and maintained light conversation while splitting your attention to observe Li Zeyan's side.

He was discussing business with a smaller group of people, which included the fiancé. Or more like it was the rest of them talking and he would occasionally nod or say something in a few words.

Polite but indifferent.

This was what came to mind as you watched him. You were honest enough to admit to feeling a little jealous and possessive when you saw an escort make a beeline for Li Zeyan; however, he completely ignored her attempts to catch his attention. Rather, as time dragged on, you started to feel sympathetic for her and the sub-zero temperature and atmospheric pressure she must be experiencing.

But then your eyes widened when you saw her lean over, clearly intending to place a hand on Li Zeyan's thigh, to top off his wine glass. His eyes cut over to her the moment she shifted though and you saw the escort flinch back, nearly spilling the bottle. Li Zeyan's lips moved as he said something to her that made her face pale before she quickly got up to leave. Curiosity nibbled at you and you decided to take this opportunity to excuse yourself from your group to cross the room, heading for the empty space beside Li Zeyan.

Your friend caught your eye when you started moving and raised her eyebrows, impressed at the risk you were already taking. She seemed to take your actions as a challenge and also got up to make her way to her fiancé's side.

When you arrived at Li Zeyan's seat, he glanced at you before returning his gaze back to the others in conversation. He looked neither welcoming nor disapproving when you sat down which left you wondering if he recognized you or not. You weren't sure how you felt about that. Disappointed? Relieved?

You listened to the men talk and it was only during a lull in their conversation that Li Zeyan moved his eyes over to you again.

"You're much quieter than the other woman."

Those were his first words to you in your disguise. Did he scare off the previous escort by calling her noisy and showing his displeasure? You amused yourself with these thoughts before replying in a demure voice, "CEO Li seems to appreciate silence."

"Oh?" Interest flickered through his eyes. "What other impression do you have of me?"

You stilled when he subtly turned towards you and the force of his attention landed on you. He was reclined against the back of the sofa, one arm resting on its back while his left hand elegantly held his wine glass. But the relaxed appearance of his body couldn't disperse the cold sharpness in his eyes. It was like he was measuring your reaction and you had never seen Li Zeyan look at you with such impersonal eyes before, as if you were nothing but a trifling amusement.

"Go on, I won't be angry." He seemed to take your lack of response for a fear of reprisal.

You hedged, unsure still if you wanted him to recognize you or not, "... You don't speak much but, when you do, it's direct and to the point, so you seem to value words and efficacy. You're also very knowledgeable about business, but perhaps that's to be expected of the CEO of Huarui."

"Hm."

He didn't confirm or disagree with any of your words. Instead, you could see that he was about to return to conversing with the other men and, for some reason not wanting his attention to leave, you blurted out, "And me?"

Li Zeyan paused and raised an eyebrow.

"What impression do you have of me?"

"You wish to know?" He asked.

"It's only fair after I told you mine, right?"

The weight of his gaze was heavy and you wondered if this was going to be what busted you. Did that sound too much like something you would say? You searched his eyes for any sign of recognition but you couldn't read anything from them.

Suddenly, he raised his glass and tilted his head back, draining all the wine in one go. You watched on as the expanse of his throat was revealed before your eyes, Adam's apple bobbing, before he lowered the empty glass and tilted it in your direction, a silent demand for you to fill it up. Because he drank all the wine at once, remnants of the liquid clung to his mouth and you had to rip your eyes off of those moist lips.

Lowering your head, you grabbed a wine bottle from the table to fill his glass but, just as you started to pour, you heard movement beside you and then a hot breath landed on your ear.

"I find you to be inexplicable."

Your hand jerked and you would have spilled the wine if Li Zeyan hadn't reached out and caught your wrist, seeming to have predicted your reaction. The heat of his palm scorched your skin and you had no idea when he even sat up straight and leaned over to whisper to you.

When you remained frozen in his hold, he finished topping off his own glass before he released you and turned his attention back to the other men, as if nothing had happened. When the others saw that Li Zeyan was finished with you, they enthusiastically engaged him in business talks again.

You didn't know what to feel. Did he do that because he recognized you? But that didn't seem to be the case. If he knew it was you then would he have turned away so quickly? But if he didn't know it was you, then...

You looked at a clock on the wall. There was still an hour to go before midnight.

Conversations ebbed and flowed around you and yet, as you sat there, you were abruptly struck by a sense of loneliness. You couldn't bring yourself to be interested in anything that was being discussed and, even though you were beside Li Zeyan like normal, it couldn't be any more different.

Your mood dropped.

The times you attended business parties with him, no matter how boring the conversation was, you could always find something to do. Sometimes, you would hold onto his hand underneath a table and play with his fingers. Sometimes, he would lean over to supplement what was being talked about or he would tell you what he heard about the people in attendance, knowing you enjoyed those things. He always had a way of partaking in business while being attentive to you.

But that wasn't the case here.

Worse, as you watched Li Zeyan and the men talk, you noticed he would occasionally furrow his brows. It was extremely subtle but, knowing him as you did, you could see the fatigue settling on him. Guilt welled up in you. What began with him accompanying you to your classmate's pre-wedding party ended up with him being separated from you and having to be polite to the bridegroom when he had no relationship with him. Everyone in this room treated him like a benefit they had to win over.

The bride's prank and this whole situation lost all of its appeal for you. You just wanted to head home with Li Zeyan and relax. But you couldn't grab him and drag him out of here without revealing your identity if he didn't recognize you. However, if you revealed your identity then it would ruin your classmate's bachelorette party.

Standing up amidst the turmoil of your emotions, you didn't know what excuse you used before you walked through the suite to the attached balcony that was out of sight of the main room.

The fresh air of the night swept away the smothering atmosphere of the room behind you and you placed your bare forearms on the metal balcony railing, letting the chill seep into your body and shock you into soberness.

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts, staring out at the lights of the city, because the next thing you knew you felt the heavy weight of a jacket being draped on you. Just as you startled, a familiar scent of sandalwood enveloped you and a warm body pressed against your back, wrapping its arm around your waist.

"Idiot, you'll catch a cold if you stand out here like this."

"Idiots don't catch colds," you retorted automatically, only to hear an exasperated sigh.

But then your brain caught up to your mouth and you whirl around in the loose embrace, looking up to see Li Zeyan watching you.

"Zeyan!? Wait, you recognize me?"

"How could I not?"

"When?!"

"From the start," he answered dryly.

"But if you recognized me, then how come you acted like... like that?" You made a vague hand gesture to the room behind him to encompass everything.

His breaths stirred your hair. "You didn't reveal yourself, so I assumed it was some sort of ridiculous game either you or your classmate came up with."

Okay, you couldn't blame him for including you since you did get convinced at the start. What amazed you was how willing he was to play along. But, thinking about it more, maybe it wasn't amazing because his consideration for you always appeared in these small ways.

You burrowed yourself into his chest, hugging him and feeling his arms come up around you in return. "Thank you."

Soaking in his warmth and the sound of his steady heartbeat, you were content to simply enjoy his silent presence. But then a thought occurred to you and you shifted to prop your chin against his chest, looking up at the bottom of his jaw.

"How did you recognize me?"

"I have eyes."

You glared at him and drew back to poke him in the waist, "Not an answer! Give me details."

"Behave," Li Zeyan said lowly as he grabbed your mischievous hand and laced his fingers with yours to prevent you from using it. He sighed underneath your expectant eyes though and answered, "Only you would demand me to answer your questions. Like now."

So you did give yourself away when you asked him for his impression of you. Or more like that confirmed his suspicions.

"Your perfume gave you away as well."

"My perfume?" You echoed, only to remember you had put on a rose fragrance which Li Zeyan had gifted you. "When did you... oh."

You stopped yourself from asking the obvious question of when he smelled your perfume. It was clearly when he asked you to fill up his wine and leaned over to whisper to you. So, he was definitely bullying you there!

As if he saw the beginning of an angry pout on your face, Li Zeyan moved the topic past that. "You were also looking at the clock."

"I only looked once or twice. How did you see that when you weren't paying attention to me?"

He gave you a look you had long ago deciphered to mean that your intelligence was dropping drastically right now in his eyes.

"Okay, okay, nothing escapes your attention. And? What else?"

Li Zeyan raised an eyebrow, amused. "What makes you think there's more?"

"Hmph, just like you know me, I know you too!"

"Dummy, is this something to be that proud of?" Even though his voice was exasperated, there was a shadow of a smile on his lips and his hands were extremely gentle when he raised them to cup your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheekbones, right below your eyes. "And... you're the only one who has these eyes. You look at me as if I'm someone who can tire and get hurt."

"Because you can," you protested quietly.

You didn't know when the distance between you two shrank, but you could feel his breaths on your face and the city lights behind you shone in his eyes, making it look as if someone spilled stars into a grey-blue sea. Unlike before, when you couldn't read anything from him, his eyes seemed to glimmer with tenderness now. You were close enough to see yourself reflected and you knew, with absolute certainty, that in this moment he was seeing nothing but you.

His voice was low. "Also... your eyes are clear. You don't want anything from me."

"Not true," you managed to say through a mouth that had gone dry.

"Oh?"

The darkness may have hid the redness of your cheeks from his eyes, but he probably felt your rising temperature beneath his hands. "I want... a kiss."

You thought you heard a murmured "idiot" carried in a huff of laughter but you couldn't be sure because it was soon drowned out by the sound of a distant bell tower ringing in midnight and your pounding heart when his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was gentle. Infinitely gentle.

His hands held your face more firmly, angling your head so he could feel you that much deeper with his mouth.

He kissed you again and again.

You were breathless by the time he drew back. He swiped his thumb against your lower lip, a frown momentarily surfacing on his face. "Don't wear so much lipstick next time. It's not good to ingest this amount."

Before you could point out with a laugh that Li Zeyan had some on his lips too, he pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket on you and wiped the thumb he used before scrubbing at your lips. You grabbed his hand, scrunching up your nose at his actions. "Hurts."

He stopped immediately at your words but, after seeing the playful look in your eyes, he rolled his eyes. However, he still bent down and kissed you.

When he drew back, you grabbed the handkerchief from him and wiped his lips for him. He startled at first but quickly realized what you were doing and kept his head lowered to let you reach him easier. You heard the distant sound of the bell tower again as you did this and, this time, you had enough presence of mind to realize what it meant.

"Happy birthday, Zeyan!"

"Mm."

Li Zeyan caught you as you dove into his chest again to hug him. The earlier gloom you had been feeling at the party was completely gone now and you were just filled with contentment in this moment. But the thought of the party suddenly reminded you of something.

"Ah!"

"What is it now?" He asked, exasperated.

"It's midnight, meaning we can go home!"

There didn't seem to be a change in his mood or tone at your words. Instead, he asked, "Is that what you want to do?"

You nodded in reply. Your classmate had more than enough fun tonight and she already promised you beforehand to let you and Li Zeyan go at midnight, so you didn't feel like staying here any longer.

His arms tensed around you for a minute, as if reluctant to release you, before he nodded and escorted you back into the room.

Li Zeyan kept you on his arm when the two of you returned, disregarding everyone's astonished eyes, and walked directly over to the bridegroom to give his congratulations and farewells. You exchanged looks with your classmate, who was beside her fiancé, to let her know you were going now. However, just as you and Li Zeyan were prepared to leave, the fiancé stopped you both.

"CEO Li, wait! I-I'm afraid you can't go just y-yet..." the bridegroom repeatedly threw glances at you and stuttered as Li Zeyan's eyes grew colder, "I-I should let my fiancée know you're leaving early. S-she would want to thank you for your attendance..."

The man hemmed and hawed and, for a second, you were utterly confused as to why he was insistent on stopping Li Zeyan from leaving until you realized he was under the impression that Li Zeyan was heading home with an escort woman.

Li Zeyan seemed to realize this at the same time you did and his eyes warmed a fraction at the courage and decency of the other man. "CEO Kang, rest assured, I am leaving with the right woman. In regard to your business proposal, you can submit it to Huarui's relevant departments and I will consider it. However, I would recommend you get your eyes examined if you cannot even recognize your own bride beside you."

Before the bridegroom could react with anything more than a stunned silence, Li Zeyan left the room with you.

You were still laughing when you and Li Zeyan were outside the restaurant, waiting for the parking valet to bring his car around. There was a soft smile on the corner of his lips as he watched you laugh against him.

"Was it that funny?"

Your intermittent giggles were his answer but then you asked, "Do I really look different?"

Li Zeyan accepted his keys from the valet, when they arrived, and unlocked the doors to his car before he glanced at you. "No."

"Not even a little prettier?" Now you just felt bad for the professional makeup artist who spent so long on your disguise.

He withdrew his arm out of your hand to pull open and hold the door for you. "I prefer you to look and wear whatever makes you most comfortable."

Inwardly, you blessed the night again for hiding the faint heat on your cheeks. You were just about to get into the car when a thought occurred and you glanced up at him, lips twitching. "I just had this thought, but what if a reporter gets a picture of you taking home an unknown woman? What a scandal."

Li Zeyan leaned down, supporting himself with a hand on the roof of the car while the other continued to hold the door, trapping you between him and the car. His voice was filled with arrogance, "Who dares?"

"Okay, okay, Big Bad CEO, take me home," you giggled and pecked him on the lips before getting into the car.

You were dragged out of your sleep the next morning by your phone vibrating like crazy on the side table. Squirming around the bare arm draped loosely across your waist, you blindly reached out and felt around the table before finally grabbing a hold of your phone and bringing it to your bleary eyes.

The culprit that was blowing up your phone was a group chat. You tapped in and saw there were messages of some friends trying to comfort you, some vowing to avenge you, some insulting Li Zeyan, and some calling for everyone to remain calm and not jump to conclusions.

You stared, bemused, until you finally tapped out a question.

"?"

There was a pause in the scrolling chat before it exploded even more violently. Finally, someone had the mind to link an article to you, all the while urging you to keep calm and stating there must be a reasonable explanation behind this.

You opened the article, read the headline, and looked at the picture.

Then you laughed. Hard.

The arm around your waist pulled you back into a bare chest and Li Zeyan kissed your ear lazily. His husky voice rumbled against your back, "What are you so noisy for in the morning?"

Still shaking with your laughs, you turned around and splayed your hand on his chest, widening your eyes for exaggeration. "Tsk, CEO Li, you sure have some guts to have a dalliance outside and then come home at night to climb into our bed."

The beat of his heart remained steady underneath your hand and his body was relaxed, but you could see the beginnings of a confused furrow appearing between his brows and so you handed him your phone.

His eyes, which had been soft with drowsiness, sharpened as he took in the article that was displayed. The stony look on his face only increased as he backed out of that page and saw the messages in your group chat. Even the pressure around him seemed to drop by two degrees. Finally, he opened your contacts and dialed his assistant, Wei Qian.

"Hello?" Wei Qian clearly sounded confused to receive a call from you in the morning.

"Wei Qian," you heard Wei Qian snap to attention upon hearing his boss' low and deadly voice, "I expect the PR and Legal Department to deal with everything before I arrive at the office today."

He ended the call like that and returned your phone to you before pinching the bridge of his nose. You put your phone back on the side table and laughed some more until he pulled you on top of him and squeezed you against him.

"Think that's funny, do you?" He growled before giving you a punishing kiss.

"Who was it who said no one would dare write a scandal about you?" You breathlessly reminded him after he released you.

Li Zeyan exhaled long and hard before he shifted you off of him and sat up. "I'll see you at Souvenir tonight."

Despite his grumpy words and mood, he kissed you lightly on the lips, lingering, and then got out of bed to head to the bathroom to get ready. You flopped back onto the pillows and sheets that smelled of him and snickered at the memory of the article that had mistaken you last night as another woman that Li Zeyan was having an affair with.

#love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic

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jungkookiebus · 3 years

Text

The Greenhouse Effect | ksj

♦️ Genre: smut x fluff x established relationship ♦️ Rating: 18+ ♦️ Word Count: 2.3k ♦️ Pairing: exoticflorist!jin x reader (who is a soft dom) ♦️ Warnings: cunnilingus, masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism (kinda) ♦️ Summary: The greenhouses he lovingly tends are an escape to you; soothing your anxious mind with its humid atmosphere and floral fragrances. But today, you’re traversing its green pathways looking for the creator of your escape. There’s something just a little extra that you need. ♦️ Author’s Note: I’ll admit that this isn’t my finest work, but this is me dragging my ass out of a depressive episode to bring you guys a little something. Yes, I know the title has nothing to do with the actual story, I just liked the play on words :)

The world around you was an explosion of color. The air was wet and sticky, but not in a way that displeased you. It almost felt healing to be in the greenhouse when the timed sprinklers came on. You knew its schedule and on days that your mind felt the most addled, you sulked over to the clear, glass building and welcomed the heat against your skin. A large Banrai Red Curcuma sat to your right and you ran your finger over its waxy leaves and almost as smooth petals. Of course, you didn’t know anything about these flowers; you only knew because of the clearly labeled sign complete with a picture. These exotic flowers were not a passion of yours, but someone else’s. You appreciated them for how delicate they were and the outward beauty that only nature could create.

Soft gravel crunched beneath your feet as you traversed the overgrown path. He didn’t cut anything back. Most customers liked having the full foliage of the plant they were buying and that’s why his nursery was one of the more popular in the region. The soft mist of water still fell around you. You could practically feel your hair growing with the differing humidity you stepped into. Stopping for a second you closed your eyes, face towards the ceiling, and concentrated on the feeling of the soft water against your skin. The system gave off a soft, familiar hum that lulled your thoughts to a standstill. The quiet whisper of water leaving the pipes soothed the painful spot in your chest. Then you heard the telltale click as the system was about to shut off. All at once you were blanketed in silence as the water shut off. You were left with the quiet fall of the remaining water as it drifted almost silently down and landed amongst the mostly green foliage with its splashes of pink, red, and gold. Water dripped quietly in soft puddles. You took another deep breath before opening your eyes again. The anxious feeling in your chest was gone.

You walked further inside. There was a door you were trying to reach. Your clothes were already wet, so you didn’t bother to avoid the falling water droplets as they slid from overhanging leaves and flowers. The next greenhouse would have a much different setting than this one. This one also had a keypad to get inside.

You keyed the code in without looking. You looked over your shoulder as you always did just in case. Not that anyone would be around right now. The door lock clicked up and you pushed it inwards.

This was not the greenhouse you wandered through when you wanted to relax. You mostly avoided this one, not that you were afraid, you just didn’t want to accidentally mess with any of his things. This was his private collection.

“Poisonous plants?” you had asked when he brought it up.

“What? It’ll be fun.” His smile had been so wide that day that you couldn’t argue.

Three years later and his greenhouse of deadly foliage was packed with so many different kinds. The rosary pea was on either side of the entrance door, its beautiful seeds begging you pick them off. A single seed could kill an adult human. Wolfsbane, with even a touch, could leave your skin tingling and numb. His Devils and Angels plant looked whimsical, as if it should be inside of Willy Wonka’s factory, but you knew that every part could trigger an allergic reaction that included skin, mouth, and throat irritation.

He had to be here somewhere. You wandered the narrow pathways in the expansive greenhouse, passing a planter box that was at least five feet long, filled with deadly nightshade.

You saw his back first. You could spot those shoulders from some distance. He looked to be tending his odollam tree.

“Jin?” you called out, weaving in and out of plants even though you could see him clearly straight ahead.

He turned and a smile spread across his face as he saw you. He gestured towards you as you approached as if he wanted to hug you but clearly couldn’t. You reached for his gloved hand and he quickly drew it back.

“Nope. I just came from messing with some marsh marigold and you might get blisters.”

“Then take them off,” you said evenly.

You saw his mood shift. He stood a little straighter as his hands fell to his sides.

“Here?” The question had nothing to do with the gloves. You knew what he meant, though.

One corner of your mouth quirked upwards. He swallowed hard and slowly, carefully pulled the gloves off, using a cloth to pull off the second. He laid them, one atop the other, on a small shelf that held several mister bottles. You heard the whir of the sprinkler system in the adjacent greenhouse as it came to life again. Other parts of you were drenched besides your shirt and pants. The moment he had turned around, you could only think of his lips.

You heard his shuddering breath as his hands fell to his sides once more.

“Anything else on you poisonous?” you asked as you twirled your finger at his long apron.

He seemed to have forgotten as he quickly untied it and laid it close to the gloves. The heavy, humid air hung between the two of you. He swallowed thickly.

Your hand was still extended from your previous gesture, so you stuck your pointer finger straight out, making a fist with the rest. You saw his eyes move to your finger and then you pointed straight down. He knew what you meant as he grabbed the hem of the apron he had just tossed and laid it, bunched up, in the gravel at your feet. He dropped to his knees onto the soft fabric. You didn’t need to say anything as his fingers slowly undid the button on your pants and he pulled the zipper down. You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly as he as he slid the denim down your hips. He licked his lips as he exposed the thin lace of your panties. His large hands smoothed their way back up your hips as he looked up at you. His eyes shone in the hazy light that came in through the opaque glass of the greenhouse walls. You ran your thumb over his nose and then down his lips before you pressed your thumb into his mouth. He moaned as you pushed against his tongue. He wrapped his lips around your thumb and sucked lightly. He seemed to bristle with joy at your sharp intake of breath. Quickly, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and wiped the spit down his chin.

“Take it out,” you demanded.

He seemed stunned for a moment, processing the order. You cocked your eyebrow as you waited and you watched as something clicked in his expression. He sat up a little on his knees and began undoing his own pants until he had his cock free.

“Don’t come,” you smiled. He would know exactly what you meant. Scenarios like this had happened before.

Your fingers were back in his hair as his large hand gripped his cock, the other grabbing the front of your panties and pulled them downwards. Ever so lightly, you pushed at the back of his head and he took it the rest of the way. His tongue was out before he got close, ready to lick up your center as soon as he could. You moaned as the warmth of his mouth closed in on you. His tongue met with the wet slick already between your lips. He groaned when you pressed a little harder to the back of his head. Looking down, you moved your head to the side to see that his cock was already rock hard in his hand.

“Give me your hand.”

His lips parted from you momentarily, shining brighter than they had before and just as red as the petals on his fire lilies. Dipping your head, you spit into his open palm.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking you in the eye. His hand was back on his cock, using your spit and pre-cum as lube.

His tongue was between your folds again, flicking upwards against your clit. He was wetly stroking his own cock and moaning, vibrating against you. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you pushed him a little harder against you. His head fell back a little while he buried his face a little further to suckle gently on your clit. Your stomach muscles clenched as you involuntarily shuddered. He rubbed a little faster on his cock, but he knew better than to come yet. He’d slow down his strokes as soon as his moans would start to pitch. It was red and leaking now as he ate you out with a little more ardor. You began to move your hips, almost holding his head in place as you began to fuck yourself on his mouth. He kept his head back, tongue out but also simultaneously delivering as much stimulation to your clit that he could. Wet, sucking sounds filled the hot air around you, only to be swallowed up by the thick leaves on his beloved plants. His hand pumped furiously over his cock as you rocked even harder into his face, his tongue slipping every now again into your entrance before moving back over your clit.

Sweat beaded on your forehead. The heat rolled over your skin and the thick, humid air seemed to fill your lungs. Your breaths became shorter and shorter. Jin was probably conserving as much air as he could as you fucked yourself harder and harder against his face. He kept his moans low and persistent, making sure that you felt every one of them up into your stomach.

Your breathing hitched and you felt as if you were suffocating in the dense atmosphere. But it just seemed to heighten the feeling between your legs as you stood on your toes, fingers tight in Jin’s hair as you cried out, coming all over his face. He dropped his cock to purposely grab your hips, ensuring that you couldn’t escape him as he continued to eat you out. Your body shook and convulsed with your orgasm and with the slightest bit of stimulation, which he was giving to you tenfold now. Tears slipped out of your eyes as they closed.

“S-stop,” you muttered. You pulled at the roots of his hair and he finally allowed you to pull him away.

His lips looked as if they were dripping and his eyes were clouded over. His cock sat heavy against his stomach. His pants pushed painfully against it but he didn’t seem to notice as he ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. He groaned as he savored the taste. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears like rushing water in a river. Your breathing was loud, and your body still seemed to shudder with aftershocks.

You suddenly wanted all of him. You wanted to fill every bit of him against your body.

“Push them down more,” you panted.

With sluggish movements, he did as he was told, barely moving as he pushed his pants down his thighs and sat back on his heels. You stepped out of yours as you moved on wobbly legs. Slowly, you lowered yourself to the ground with Jin. Moving on your knees you straddled him where he sat. His hands draped lightly on your hips as you gripped his cock and sat down slowly. Now were you face to face with the expanse of his neck as his head fell back in pleasure. You leaned forward, placing your hot mouth against his skin. You felt the shiver that went through his body as you began to move. You threw your arm around his shoulders as you used him to pull yourself upwards on each bounce.

“Don’t. Come,” you punctuated breathlessly.

The gravel crunched beneath the crumbled apron. You’d probably have to nurse Jin’s poor knees after this.

You captured his lips with yours and his grip on your hips tightened. You slipped your tongue between his lips and tasted the salty sweetness of yourself on his soft skin. Your mind felt as if it were melting out of your ears as you rode him harder and harder, clinging to him as if your life depended on him alone. Pleasure, different from the first time, sent sharp shooting pleasure to your already stiff limbs. Your body wanted to rest, but you worked on sheer will alone as you felt the burning hot fire of your impending orgasm. Jin’s thighs shook as he kept himself from coming too soon. He sucked at your bottom lip as you pushed your chest against his, grinding your hips into his as you felt the first wave of your orgasm rising.

“Come with me,” you said quickly as you felt the crescendo of what was going to be an explosive second orgasm and you wanted to be filled to the brim when it happened.

You kept moving your hips the best you could as it rolled over you. You moved somewhat erratically as you cried out. Jin moaned loudly as he spilled inside of you. Something about it always doubled your pleasure, sharing something so intimate. You moved until you couldn’t stand it any longer and you suddenly seemed to feel every muscle in your body, and they were all screaming for you to stop moving. Slowly, you stopped, panting hard as you still clung to his shoulders. Both of you were covered in a sticky layer of sweat and you couldn’t wait to step out of the greenhouse and take a deep breath of fresh air.

“Shit,” Jin finally whispered as he gained back his breath.

You wiped your sweaty face against his already wet shirt before leaning back. Jin moved the damp hair that clung to your cheeks before holding your face lovingly. His eyes moved over your face and he brought you in closer, lips a hairsbreadth way from yours as he whispered.

“Out of all the flowers in the world, you are the rarest.”

#jinfest2020 #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #jin smut #bts smut #jin fluff #sub!jin #dom!reader #jin x reader #reader insert #established relationship #nonidol!au #florist!jin

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jamielea81 · 5 years

Text

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.” She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

Tag list: @southerngracela @chrisevansforever @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob@patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @jennmurawski13

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #keanu reeves #actor fic #Chris Evans Fan Fiction #just a simple lie #Chris Evans x Reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

My article “Why is Everything Liberal?” has gotten a great deal of attention. See in particular thoughtful commentary from Bryan Caplan and Robby Soave at Reason.

This post is a followup, with two main goals. First, I’ve discovered additional evidence that liberals care more about politics, which I will just add on to what already was an extremely strong case.

Second, some people criticized the piece for not addressing what has changed recently. I think I’ve found the answer to that too, which is that the mobilization gap increased precipitously in 2016. It is at that time that we see Democrats overtake Republicans in fundraising, liberals overtake conservatives in signing petitions, and the left’s already sizable lead in protesting become much larger. While it seems that liberals have always cared more about politics if we are looking at the tail end of the distribution–i.e., those who become activists, journalists, or academics–it is only in 2016 that we see more noticeable and significant gaps open up in the next level down in the pyramid.

Since 2016, liberals have achieved true mass mobilization in a way conservatives never have in the modern era.

…

In 2016, fewer than 1% of conservatives had been to a protest in the last year, compared to 15% of extreme liberals, 10% of regular liberals, and 5% of the slightly liberal. Even moderates, at 2.4%, protested more than conservatives. Remember, this was before the Women’s March and the peak of BLM! The estimates for protest size used in the original post were pretty crude, but it’s nice to see self-reported data match what we see in the real world. Petitions tell the same story, but the differences are not as extreme: 61% of very liberal individuals had signed one in the last year, compared to just 26% of the very conservative.

…

Liberals already tended to protest more in the years leading up to 2012. But conservatives used to at least hold their own. This matches what we know from the real world, as this was the height of the Tea Party. Glenn Beck’s largely forgotten “Restoring Honor Rally” in summer 2010, for example, drew a lot of people, though nobody really knows how many. Wikipedia says “a scientific estimate placed the crowd size around 87,000, while media reports varied wildly from tens of thousands to 500,000.” This was also the time of Occupy Wall Street, so liberals weren’t exactly sitting on their hands, but conservatives at least made a showing. By 2016, conservative protesting had collapsed to practically nothing, while liberal protesting stayed at similar levels or, more likely, increased (hard to know for sure because of the time frame of the 2012 question being different).

…

In 2012, liberals were more likely to sign petitions than conservatives, but the gap was pretty small and there were many more conservatives in the country, which meant the right actually had more total people signing petitions. By 2016, more Americans than before were calling themselves liberals, and liberals were more mobilized, giving the left a substantial advantage.

Another thing we can do to see how relative mobilization has changed over time is to look at campaign donations. In the previous essay, I went all the way back to 2012, and showed that for every recent presidential election cycle Democrats brought in more money. I didn’t go back to 2008, as I was sure Obama outraised McCain, and I was of course right.

However, if you expand the analysis to midterm elections and all federal candidates, we see the Democrat advantage does not open up until 2016. Here are numbers I’ve gathered from Open Secrets for every election from 1990, as far back as data go.

…

In response to my piece, Ezra Klein argued that liberal domination of institutions was better explained by age and education polarization than liberals caring more. This is an argument I’ve seen him make elsewhere before (see also this and this from Josh Barro on Woke Capital).

…

Romney won college educated whites by somewhere between around 5% and 15%, while according to CNN’s 2020 exit polls, Biden won the same demographic by 12%. CNN actually has Trump barely winning college educated whites in 2016 (48%-45%). Education polarization is real, and the fact that college educated whites vote something like 15-30% more Democrat than they did in 2012 should be having some effects on board rooms and the larger mobilization gap. Yet educational differences do not seem nearly massive enough to explain the total liberal domination of institutions, as Republicans hold their own well enough with degree holders.

As far as the age gap, it can cut both ways. When I was growing up in the 1990s, the stereotype was that retirees had a lot of time on their hands and were therefore politically powerful, while young people were largely indifferent. Old people certainly have more money, and so you’d expect age polarization to actually give Republicans an advantage in donations. Yet since 2016 the trend has been the opposite. As parties have polarized more by age, Democrats have started winning the competition over fundraising. Maybe young people are inherently more likely to protest, but wouldn’t you expect old people to be just as capable of signing petitions? Thus, I’m pretty confident that age and education gaps are less important than the simple fact that liberals care more about politics.

…

The left has always had an advantage in committed activists. Yet, no matter whether you look at donations, protests, or signing petitions, the mobilization gap increased in 2016. Liberals had always protested more, but in 2016 the ratio was absolutely massive, being around 3.7x larger than it was around the time of the invasion of Iraq. This was before an upsurge of liberal protest activity that has included BLM, March for Our Lives, and most importantly, the Women’s March. Finally, the parties raised about an equal amount of money from 1990 until 2016, when Democrats took a lead that has now lasted three straight election cycles (2008 was an exception to the rule of parity in the pre-2016 era, when Democrats ran a fresh faced Barack Obama against John McCain, who seemed good at exciting Republican elites and MSNBC pro-war centrist types but not actual voters).

So what about “Woke Capital”? In many ways, business was the last domino to fall. Yes, liberals have always had more noisy activists, and corporations tended to bow to them on some issues when they got really agitated, like MLK day. But big business is more directly answerable to a wider swath of the population than are schools or non-profits, and so held out the longest. Coca-Cola and Walmart care more about what the median citizen thinks than does Harvard, The New York Times, or the ACLU. Yet after 2016, when the mobilization gap exploded, almost nothing in society could remain neutral, and pressure has come from both within and outside corporations for them to take a stand on almost all hot button issues.

Why was 2016 the year everything changed? Take a wild guess.

…

Just as the previous post raised further questions, this one does too. The most interesting thing to me is not simply protests and donations, but why one side has for over half a century now drawn more idealistic people who want to dedicate their lives to changing the world. The journalist-academic-activist complex is ultimately where power lies, and it has grown much stronger in the last 5 years because it has started to engage many more people at the intermediate level in the mobilization pyramid, among those who give money, sign petitions, and go to protests, and who find themselves between true elites on top and the mass of the largely indifferent voting public at the bottom.

If the rise of Trumpism explains the last five years, why did the left begin with such a strong built-in advantage? I hope to explore this question soon.

…

Moreover, right-wing protest culture has collapsed since the time of the Tea Party. It’s hard to know for sure, but other forms of conservative activism may have fallen off too. So even the degree to which Trump has actually mobilized the right must come with a caveat: he has turned out more Republican voters and gotten more people to donate small amounts of money, but few seem to want to make more substantial sacrifices, even compared to 2012.

Overall, the Trump era has provided mixed electoral results for Republicans. They won unified control of government in 2016, lost the House but kept the Senate in 2018, and came extremely close to winning again in 2020. Yet it has been an awful 4 years for conservatives who care about controlling institutions, or at least keeping them neutral, although even here it hasn’t been a complete loss. After all, the Trump era has given conservatives a comfortable majority on the Supreme Court, probably the most important single institution of all.

Federal court appointments last until death, while the widening of the mobilization gap is relatively new. Best case scenario for Republicans is that Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh live for a very long time, while the Trump era ends up being an anomaly in mobilizing the left to an unusual degree, with things going back to something resembling the pre-2016 historical norm. Worst case scenario is that things continue as they have for the last 4 years, with anti-Trump hysteria combining with the Great Awokening having created a class permanently mobilized for confronting racism and other evils, plus Republicans not even getting the mobilization on their own side that Trump gave them. A generation shaped by the experience of Trump and a party currently led by such uninspiring figures as Kevin McCarthy and Liz Cheney may end up giving conservatives the worst of all worlds.

#richard hanania #substack #data

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 4 years

Photo

How Turning Jim Into A Troll Disempowered Jim As A Character

or, Why Some Of The Audience Found That Sequence Distasteful And Are Still Bitter

(Screenshots are sourced and abridged from the springhole.net article ‘On Writing Empowered & Empowering Characters’ - this website offers advice for structuring and analyzing narratives, characterization, setting, and themes, and also a bunch of fun generators for those things.)

Jim did not consent to being turning part-troll. Consent gained through coercion is not consent, and “everyone you care about will probably die horribly if you don’t do as I say” is coercive.

Jim gets a strength and agility boost from being shape-shifted, which, yes, did give him an advantage when fighting Gunmar in single combat, but

fighting Gunmar in single combat went against the show’s ongoing theme about how Jim’s capacity for teamwork gave him an advantage that past Trollhunters did not have, and

in a coordinated group attack, either Claire’s teleportation or Toby’s flying hammer could have let them get Jim into a position to land the kill strike against Gunmar without Jim needing to change species.

Jim lost his abilities to

eat food of the sort to which he is accustomed,

be in sunlight, and

be in human-occupied spaces without a disguise, unless the humans are either already aware of and cool with trolls or believe he is in costume.

His freedom of movement and who he can interact with socially and under what circumstances has thus been severely curtailed. Furthermore, the loss of familiar things, such as any old favourite comfort foods, is not good for emotional health.

Jim has to adjust to completely new instincts and a completely new body. I have commented in the past that, logically, the changes to his height, weight, limb length, center of gravity, and reflex speed, could have added up to Jim being completely uncoordinated and needing to relearn how to fight from scratch after his transformation, defeating the stated purpose of said transformation as a means to defeat Gunmar quickly.

Jim’s personality has also been changed by his transformation. In his sparring match with AAARRRGGHH and Claire, he was more confident and playful, and in the final battle he demonstrated more aggression than he usually does.

Neither of those developments are bad, but having those changes come about abruptly, as a side-effect of a magical transformation, is unpalatable compared to a gradual shift in personality over time. It feels like a cop-out from writing character development.

Furthermore, if Jim notices his personality is different post-transformation, this will exacerbate the identity crisis that he still hasn’t finished resolving.

+=+

Jim being turned into a troll has been speculated about since the first season, and I think the fan theories about it may also have influenced the negative reaction from some sections of the audience. The fan theories and related fanfics posited three broad categories of ways Jim might become a troll:

1) Troll Magic Overexposure. Jim’s transformation would occur by accident, akin to Blinky’s transformation into a human, probably due to exposure to some trollish artifact or potion, or possibly as a cumulative response to all the trollish magic Jim has been exposed to over the series.

2) Changeling Heritage. Jim’s transformation was something he was always hypothetically capable of, or a natural part of his puberty, due to trollish ancestry of which Jim had been unaware prior to that point; usually James Lake Senior being a Changeling. This could and often did cross over with the first idea, with troll magic being the catalyst which activated Jim’s troll genes.

3) Enemy Action. Jim’s transformation would be forced on him by an enemy, usually crossing over with one or both of the previous theories. I believe I recall a couple of stories where Gunmar’s attempted use of the Decimaar Blade on Jim was the catalyst to activate Jim’s previously-unknown Changeling genes.

Because expectations existed, there is a natural inclination to try and make the data fit that pattern.

Considering Merlin’s treatment of Jim in the episode in question, it is easy to file Jim’s canonical transformation under the ‘Enemy Action’ theory. The fact it was done by a supposed ally clashes with the theory’s premise, encouraging anyone who considers this theory canon to emphasize Merlin’s cruel and abusive behaviour towards Jim in the pre-transformation scenes, and to consider other instances of Merlin’s callousness towards various characters as evidence Merlin was an antagonist masquerading as an ally all along.

The majority of pre-Season Three Troll!Jim stories also had the transformation reverse, wear off, or (in the Changeling!Jim stories) Jim’s human and troll forms become shapes he could shift between, so having a supposedly permanent transformation occur drew backlash from those invested in this possibility.

+=+

Having Jim transform only three episodes before the end of the series was a poor decision on the writers’ part. The audience was not given enough time to bond with Troll!Jim before he entered the Big Final Battle that the audience had spent three seasons anticipating finding out how Human!Jim was going to win.

Just as Jim fighting Gunmar alone went against the series’ emphasis on the importance of teamwork, Jim becoming a troll to fight Gunmar went against the series’ emphasis on how Jim being human - physically human, with the squishiness and ability to survive in sunlight that this implies - could give him an advantage against troll opponents, who aren’t used to fighting humans who have sufficient armour, weaponry, and training to not be immediately overrun.

Jim’s strategic thinking and the different culture of his upbringing still allows him to come up with strategies that a troll raised among trolls wouldn’t think of, but the physical advantages and disadvantages of being a human fighting a troll have been cast aside, and now he’s just a smaller troll fighting a bigger troll.

This can still result in cool fight scenes, but when opponents start out with extreme differences in size, strength, and fighting style, reducing the contrast between them makes their fights less visually and narratively interesting than they could have been if the original extreme contrast was left alone.

+=+

In case it is not visible, the clipped article from Springhole in the screenshots above reads as follows.

[begin screenshot 1 of 2, medium-blue text on pale blue background]

What can undermine a character’s perceived empowerment:

These are some tropes and traits that can potentially undermine this character being perceived as empowered or empowering by audiences. Some issues to watch out for include:

The “empowering” traits come from something that happened without the character’s consent.

For example, by being forced to undergo experimentation or training that gives the character new powers or skills. It’s important to note that this isn’t always bad, especially if the character uses these traits to gain freedom. However, it can still leave a bad taste in some people’s mouths, especially if what happened to the character was especially brutal or torturous, or if the character isn’t actually responsible for getting free.

[end screenshot 1 of 2] [begin screenshot 2 of 2, same colour scheme, medium-blue text on pale blue background]

The “empowering” traits are not actually within the character’s control, or they even cause the character to lose agency.

For example, if the character’s powers only manifest under high stress whether the character likes it or not, or only manifest at random or at the whim of another*, or if they force the character into a mindless berserker-like state**, or are just generally too unstable to have proper control over.

The empowering traits come packed along with significantly disempowering ones.

For example, a procedure that gave a character awesome powers also caused such severe mental damage that near-constant supervision is required to prevent the character from doing something disastrous, or the character’s powers often end up causing severe weakness or a loss of consciousness.

[end screenshot 2 of 2]

*The Amulet of Daylight and Merlin’s ability to manipulate it also come to mind. Although Jim does develop skill in controlling the Amulet after its erratic behaviour in the early episodes, the way that Merlin wrested control away from Jim was similar in tone to the moment in various superhero shows where a character’s power suit is ‘hacked’.

** This is why Strickler dosing Jim with Grave Sand wasn’t an empowering scene. (To my knowledge, no one’s been arguing that it was; I’m just giving an example.) Jim had little control of the situation even before he was drugged, and less afterwards. This was presented in the show as a bad thing, so having Merlin later do something similar and trying to present it as a good thing is jarring.

+=+

On a tangentially related note, I noted in Jim’s one appearance in 3Below Season Two that he’s still wearing the Eclipse Armour, even though Gunmar is dead and Jim doesn’t need the Triumbric Stones anymore.

Palette swaps are one of the cheapest ways to change an animation model, so unless the studio was already over-budget, this suggests there was a narrative reason why Daylight wasn’t in use instead.

I posit that Jim has decided to keep using the ‘for the doom of Gunmar’ incantation because he doesn’t really feel like saying ‘for the glory of Merlin’ anymore.

Or he still hasn’t managed to get the armour off since the Eternal Night, but I like this other idea better.

(Queued/posted before Wizards aired and potentially confirmed or refuted this.)

+=+=+

If I recall correctly, and if this information is still accurate, tumblr only shows Original Posts on the main page of the first five tags listed, to prevent people from tag-spamming to get on as many pages as possible.

As such, I have put the #Troll Jim tag low in the list, so it will still be searchable on my blog - I file reblogs of content both for and against Jim’s transformation under that tag - but this post should not be hassling the pro-Troll!Jim contingent by showing up in the main tag.

Let me know if I need to rearrange things, or take that tag off long enough to let this post get off the tag’s first page.

#Controversial #commentary #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Merlin needs to be Rule Number 3'd #shapeshifting #consent through fear is not consent #Jim Lake Jr #Troll Jim #3Below #toaWizards #Amulet of Daylight #Grave Sand #long post

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joel-furniss-blog · 4 years

Text

Heather Benning

After completing my previous research topic on destroying art I realised I had omitted a very pertanent artist whose artistic fervour is both grand in scale and fierce in its ultimate execution.

Heather Benning is a Canadian site artist and farmer whose work has seen her studying the importance of rural landscapes and settlements through motifs such as permanence, reuse, size and documentation. Benning herself comes from a small farming town in rural Canada where she lives, farms and generates work directly based from her surroundings which travels through solo and group shows amongst her country’s provinces Nova Scotia, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Ontario, but despite the work’s relatively exclusive geographical relevance she has also seen international acclaim, displaying her work in the US, Spain, Germany, UK, and France.

As stated Benning’s works capture a subtle sense of her rural Canadian heritage and identity, focusing on the historic relevance of the surrounding prairie politics, issues on the importance of family roles, gender politics, and tight-knit traditionalism. Allusions to these can be seen in Benning’s sculptural works such as A Prairie Gothic a series of somewhat disturbing figurative sculptural works recounting tales of reverence, rage, and death through the quaint, folk art-esque statues and dioramas. However, where Benning’s ambition and artistic prowess becomes relevant to my interest is through her large scale, spite specific installation pieces, specifically her years-long project The Dollhouse.

The Dollhouse began as a disused farmhouse built in the 1968 near the small Canadian community Sinclair, before Benning acquired it in 2005 and began working to restore the house to how it would have looked in its era. The renovations on the house took two years to complete and included removing the furniture, reshingling, plastering, reinforcing walls, painting the interior, and replacing the furniture with relevant, period-accurate furniture. However, the most impressive aspect is the north side of the house, where each wall has been removed and replaced with plexiglass, meaning when looking in from the outside the viewer can see all five rooms entirely, lending it the image of a full-scale dollhouse. Despite the life-size scale the house cannot be entered but merely observed, much like a regular dollhouse it acts as not only a monument to classical western antiquity but also as a window into that antiquity and its eventual fate into sloven decline, a tomb-like monolith wondering what went wrong.

While the work is certainly technically ambitious and lovingly sentimental, what drew me to the house is its ending. The house stood for eight years in a frozen field off Highway #2 before beginning to show more extreme signs of disrepair and compromise, which ultimately led to its condemnation. The monument to decline in prairie lifestyle was ironically too far gone to maintain, but instead of a simple demolition of the installation, Benning chose to award her project with a bombastic send-off. In March 2013, Benning lit a match in the home’s interior and set her work ablaze, the fires slowly engulfing the walls, doors, ceilings, windows, and roof until the house collapsed into a pile of blackened, burned rubble, a skeleton of itself in the snow.

The house and its subsequent burning was documented in a short film titled the same as the piece. The film shows excerpts and stills from the house pre-burning, detailing the craft and care taken into construction and decorating before giving way to the massive destructive spectacle of the fire and the house’s eventual collapse into itself. The film was also soundtracked by Canadian experimental music collective Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

I must say that Banning’s overall catalogue of work doesn’t reach me wholly, I find its antique focus on a very specific, sentimental value to the artist and sites she inhabit to be quaint and charming, but ultimately it does little to engage me. The fire on the other hand does nothing but engage me. I’ve already spoken about my appreciation for an artist destroying their own work, reclaiming it through force or violence or extending its life into ashes, and the story and conclusion of Benning’s work captures the personal connection, sacrifice, spectacle, and emotionality of such an act.

The past is not a peaceful landscape lying there behind me, a country in which I can stroll wherever I please; and which will gradually show me all its secret hills and dales. As I was moving forward, so it was crumbling. Most of the wreckage that can still be seen is distorted, frozen … here and there, I see occasional pieces whose melancholy beauty enchants me.

#studiopractice4 #contextualresearch

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closetofanxiety · 5 years

Text

Let’s Get Ready to (Review the Royal) Rumble!!

I watched all 11 hours of this thing, so I might as well jot down some thoughts

Rusev w/Lana vs. Shinsuke Nakamura

This was the first WWE pre-show I’ve watched in a long time. Lots of banter from the panel, which included Shawn Michaels. I’m not sure how often I will watch the pre-shows going forward. This match existed, and it concluded with a title change. Nakamura is your new United States champion. Lana took a bump and hurt her ankle in storyline. “Lana, get up!” Rusev yelled at his prone wife after she was knocked off the apron. Show a little more concern there, Rusev. Later in the show this would turn out to be a momentous ankle injury

Hideo Itami vs. Buddy Murhpy vs. Kalisto vs. Akira Tozawa

I haven’t watched 205 Live in forever, but I hear Mike Kanellis is there now. This match was not as sensational as I had expected, but it had some good spots. No reason for these guys to go full-tilt, I guess. They’re wrestling as the crowd files in to Chase Field, and when it’s done they go back to 205 Live. Kalisto should have won by default, as he is the only member of this quartet who weighs 205 pounds or less. He did not win, though, and Buddy Murphy remains your cruiserweight champion. In a year, perhaps this match will feature Kushida, Trevor Lee, Sonjay Dutt, and Kalisto. Always Kalisto. Poor, lost Kalisto.

Asuka vs. Becky Lynch

Although it would later become clear why this went on first, it was still a little surprising. And, to be honest, I did not love this match. It finished up very well, but until the last five minutes or so it was a lot slower and more tentative than I would have expected from these two. It ended on something of a surprise note, with Becky tapping and Asuka retaining. They’ve succeeded in bringing Asuka back from the foggy post-Wrestlemania wasteland in which they stranded her. What happens to her now? Another feud with Charlotte? They should bring up Io Shirai and Kairi Sane and form a new version of Triple Tails. They will not do this.

The Bar vs. Shane McMahon and The Miz

Mark and I watched this entire match barely 12 hours ago, and now all I can remember is Shane McMahon doing a credible Shooting Star Press. Few things in pro wrestling are more boring, in 2019, than the state of the Smackdown tag team title picture. And now there are new champs. Perhaps this is the beginning of splitting up The Bar. They’ve been a tag team since September 2016. They’re both terrific wrestlers and have had many good matches, but there’s nothing about them that really sticks with me. It doesn’t help that they have one of the worst tag team names in the history of pro wrestling.

Ronda Rousey vs. Sasha Banks

I was surprised to see this match was almost 14 minutes long. It felt like it went by quickly. This was the best Sasha Banks match I’ve seen in a looooong time, and maybe Rousey’s best WWE match to date. She looked really good. The work with Gulak is paying off. Sasha also looked like the relentless competitor we remember from her NXT days. I enjoyed this match a lot. Based on what happened the last time I mentioned Ronda Rousey, I now expect to get several anonymous messages calling me a fucking imbecile. That’s OK. It’s true, I am a fucking imbecile, but Ronda Rousey is still good in a wrestling ring. After the match, Sasha held up the Horsemen/women sign. If Rousey is finishing up at Wrestlemania, I’m not sure they’re going to have time for the epochal Clash of the Horsewomen. Hey! One good thing about this match in particular is that Rousey didn’t win with her armbar. That’s good storytelling; it establishes her as a multi-tool threat.

Royal Rumble (women)

The last 5-10 minutes of this were an absolute blast, with Lana being unable to walk out because of her ankle, and Belfast’s Fit Finaly giving the green light to Dublin’s Becky Lynch to enter the match in Lana’s place. Cue a recording of the Wolfe Tones’ “We’re On the One Road.” When the field narrowed down to Becky, Charlotte, and Nia, it was a great moment. I am not a big Nia Jax advocate, but based on the crowd reaction, she is the top heel in the women’s division. Becky winning was a legitimately cathartic moment, and kudos to leathery madman Vince for making the right call. Unfortunately, the rest of the match was kind of a slog. The surprise entrants were great, and I was particularly pleased to see Io Shirai, Kairi Sane, and Candice LeRae. I once saw Candice LeRae wrestle in a tiny performance space that normally hosted noise bands and avant-garde literature readings. People on Twitter were complaining there weren’t enough “Legends” among the surprise entrants, but come on. The pool is not nearly as deep for the women as it is for the men. The biggest women stars of the Attitude Era tended to not be wrestlers, which actually was kind of true of the WWE women’s division even after the Attitude Era. They’ve already had Trish and Lita at the previous Rumble and the Evolution PPV; at some point, it’s not a surprise anymore. It’s also good to build up the future than to be like “Remember Kelly Kelly?? Well, here she is for three minutes of listless punching!” Maria Kanellis counts as a legend by that math, and she was in the Rumble. That was kind of a surprise. I had no idea what she and Alicia Fox were doing. It seemed like challenging absurdist theater, like they spontaneously decided to act out a scene from an Ionesco play. Talk about going into business for yourself. Swoggle also appeared and chased Zelina Vega around with a lascivious look on his face, which was, uh, unexpected.

Daniel Bryan vs. AJ Styles

First, let’s consider how great it is that a WWE championship match featuring two of the most popular wrestlers on the roster is in the cool-down spot after a women’s match. That genuinely rules. That would have been unthinkable as recently as two years ago. As the women get more and more popular, those Saudi shows are going to get harder to pull off. Hurry up with those reforms, Prince MBS! Haha, just kidding, they’re not going to reform their brutal autocracy. Oh, right; this match. This was a chore to watch. It was so boring. It was not helped by its spot on the card, but this listless, will-this-do performance wouldn’t have been good in any spot. These are two of the best wrestlers of the last 30 years, but sometimes it just doesn’t click. It did not click here. I was relieved when Erick Rowan made his mysterious (re)appearance because I knew it signaled the match was almost over. It seems they’re going to make Rowan some kind of eco-brute, helping Daniel Bryan advance his monstrous agenda of caring about the planet. Fine. At least he’s not dressed like a second-tier TMNT villain anymore.

Brock Lesnar w/Paul Heyman vs. Finn Balor

By contrast, this was a hoot. They knew they had to recapture the crowd, and they went at it full-tilt for eight minutes. The story here was great: Brock was surprised to find himself being pushed to his limits by this lithe little Irishman, and so after he won, he lashed out like a petulant, over-the-hill bully. An example of how you can tell a great story in an eight-minute match. Not every big match has to be 25 minutes. Especially not that dogshit Daniel Bryan-AJ Styles match. It would have been great to see Finn win, but the Irish have to content themselves with Becky’s Rumble win tonight.

Royal Rumble (men)

This moved along at a quicker clip than the women’s rumble, perhaps because it was nearly 11 p.m. EST when it started. Damn and heck, this was a long show. It was lots of fun to see Jarrett come out in his ridiculous 1990s gear. HUGE missed opportunity by not having Honky Tonk Man come out, but you can’t have everything. Johnny Gargano looked great, Andrade looked great, Kurt Angle looked very, very old. The best moment was when Mustafa Ali eliminated his current antagonist, Samoa Joe. The incomprehension and fury on Joe’s face were magnificent grace notes. Joe is such a great addition to the roster. It’s crazy that it didn’t happen sooner. No Way Jose was essentially used as a quick punchline. Boy, that guy’s main roster tenure has not been pretty. The big surprise I guess was an enraged Nia Jax coming out and entering herself in the Rumble and then taking four guys’ finishers. CUE: CONTROVERSY. WWE’s been dipping its toes in intergender wrestling for a bit, but it’s hard to see them going whole hog. Nia is one thing, but imagine the response if it was Alexa Bliss being ethered by Randall Keith Orton. Seth Rollins was the odds-on favorite to win (although I picked Drew McIntyre, going with my heart rather than my head) so it feels a little anti-climactic that he actually won, but whatever. Afterwards, he pointed to the Wrestlemania “sign,” which was a computer graphic visible only to people watching on the network, so to those in attendance it looked like he was pointing out the place where he spotted a UFO.

#Royal Rumble #Royal Rumble 2019 #show reviews

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theliberaltony · 5 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

We’re still months away from the first nominating contest in Iowa, but I’m still regularly checking in with early-state Democratic Party activists to see what the party’s most engaged members think about the pre-primary race so far. In this installment, more activists are saying they have chosen a candidate to support, and some are now considering candidates who were previously flying under the radar. We’re also getting a better sense of some of the divisions within the party by asking activists who they won’t support.

As part of my ongoing book research, I’ve been in touch with roughly 60 Democratic activists in New Hampshire, Iowa, South Carolina, Nevada and Washington, D.C.,1 asking them about their preferences for the 2020 Democratic presidential nomination. About 35 people from the respondent pool participated in each wave of interviews. I’m interested in learning about whether these activists are committed to a candidate or whom they’re considering if they still haven’t made up their mind.

This time around, I also asked respondents who they didn’t want as the nominee. After all, when a party is deciding between candidates, it needs to decide not only who is broadly liked, but also who is considered unacceptable by many factions within the party. I’m trying to get a sense of which candidates look like traditional party nominees (broadly, if not enthusiastically, accepted by most wings of the party) and which look like factional candidates (the enthusiastic choice of some segments of the party but highly problematic for others).

At this stage, most of the activists I spoke to are considering at least a few candidates, but I did see a modest increase in the number committed to just one candidate: the total who’d made up their mind jumped from nine in February to 11 in April. (Since each wave of interviews has gotten responses from a different subset of respondents, it’s important to keep in mind that some of these shifts may reflect changes in the respondent pool rather than changes in opinion.) Among the group of activists who’ve decided on one candidate, Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders was tied for the lead, with four activists backing him, essentially unchanged from the previous round of interviews.2 New Jersey Sen. Cory Booker, who now shares the lead, went from one declared supporter in February to four in April. And still-undeclared candidate former Vice President Joe Biden actually lost at least one supporter.3 A woman who had been backing Biden told me that her concerns over his unwanted touching of women caused her to re-evaluate her decision. While she said that she is still considering Biden, she is now considering other candidates too.

I also asked the 23 interviewees who were not committed to a single candidate to tell me which candidates they’re considering supporting.4 In the table below, I combined the number of respondents considering each candidate with the number committed to each candidate to show their total support.

California Sen. Kamala Harris continues to lead the pack even though no one in this group of activists has committed to her yet.

Which candidates early-state activists are considering

Share of respondents who said they were considering a candidate or had already committed to support a candidate in the 2020 Democratic presidential primary

activists considering supporting Candidate Dec. 2018 Feb. 2019 April Harris 61%

–

54%

–

53%

–

Booker 45

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Warren 24

–

Buttigieg —

–

Klobuchar 34

–

Gillibrand 21

–

Sanders 29

–

Biden 39

–

McAuliffe 5

–

Castro —

–

O’Rourke 34

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Hickenlooper 21

–

Bennet —

–

—

–

Inslee —

–

—

–

Gabbard —

–

Yang —

–

—

–

Delaney 16

–

Source: Seth Masket, “Learning from Loss: The Democrats, 2016-2020”

And while the top tier of candidates looks similar to how it looked in February, there’s a notable new addition — South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg. He has nearly doubled his support among the activists I interviewed — 17 percent of respondents (six people) were thinking about him two months ago, but now 29 percent (10 people) have him on their list of candidates they’re considering. This is evidence that the national boomlet for the mayor may be more than a media phenomenon — at least some influential activists who come in close contact with the candidates themselves are taking him seriously.

The activists I’ve been speaking to seem to have different candidate preferences than Democratic voters more broadly, at least according to recent polling results. The activists, for example, rank Biden and Sanders as middle-tier candidates, with only around a quarter of those I interviewed considering them, whereas wider polls have those candidates leading the field. Conversely, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, who is not getting overwhelming support in recent polls, is among the top three candidate choices among the activists I’ve interviewed. These differences show how these party activists — a small, self-selected group, but one that is influential in determining who makes it to these nominating contests — diverge in their preferences from primary voters as a whole. We won’t know for some time whether activists’ power over the election process is enough to sway voters toward activists’ preferred candidates.

As I mentioned earlier, I also asked respondents one new question in April’s survey: Which candidates did they not want to see become the nominee?5 Perhaps unsurprisingly, given her many controversial stances, like her defense of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and her past social conservatism on issues like abortion and same-sex marriage, Rep. Tulsi Gabbard is at the top of the list. But Sanders was a close second, with half of respondents saying they do not want to see him become the nominee. Remember, Sanders also has one of the largest numbers of committed supporters, so his candidacy looks to be pretty factional within the party, suggesting that his potential for growth may be limited.

But although a few candidates drew strong opposition, many supporters of the top-tier candidates were comfortable with the possibility of other top-tier candidates getting the nomination. About one-fifth of people who were at least considering Booker, for example, would have a problem with Warren or Sen. Amy Klobuchar as the nominee. Sanders, however, is deeply unpopular among supporters of just about all the other top-tier candidates — about half to three-quarters of activists who supported one of the eight candidates who were ranked the highest in the first table would not want to see Sanders win the nomination. Biden, too, is unpopular among supporters of Booker, Warren and Sanders, again garnering around 50 percent opposition. Most Sanders supporters, meanwhile, were opposed to Klobuchar, Biden and Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand.

Again, it’s good to not get ahead of ourselves — we’re still more than nine months away from any actual voting in this contest. My June survey will come out shortly before the first primary debates and should provide a sense of how these activists and others like them have helped shape the field prior to its most visible event yet.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Seth Masket

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 6 years

Text

Resource Management, pt20

Word Count: 2441 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

“John Garrett.” I broke my self-imposed silence with Phil after a day because I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

“Great agent. Is this supposed to be a free association game?” Phil’s response was quick.

“He’s the one who called me Dominatrix Librarian Barbie.” I pointed out. It had been bugging me since he’d left my office the previous afternoon.

“He’s not the most evolved about women. You didn’t find him charming? Most women love Garrett.”

“He seemed a little slippery.” I just wanted Phil to reassure me.

“We trained together under Fury. He’s a good guy. Specialists don’t tend to have the best people skills, but he would take a bullet for any of us.”

“If you say he’s okay, I trust you.”

“He’s okay.” Two words and I felt better. Garrett rubbed me the wrong way, and I don’t think I’d want to spend my free time with him, but if Phil trusted him, how could I not? I sat back and took a deep breath to clear the clouds of doubt that had been hanging over me. There was a knock on my doorjamb. Erin was waiting with a file folder.

“I’ve got about a third left from the pile you gave me. These new helicarrier positions have a bunch of pre-vetting coded into them, it makes assigning to successful candidate a crapshoot,” she complained as she walked in. She flopped into the chair across from me and dropped the file folder on the desk.

“I know. I’ve had to review at least half of the ones I’ve worked on as well,” I grumbled. Every time I thought I had the right employee chosen, I would key their info into the position and hold my breath to see if it would be accepted. There must have been an orientation or course that was required to qualify for the Insight positions.

“Do you have a minute?” Erin looked nervous.

“Sure,” I nodded. She went to shut the door and sat back down.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been acting like a total ass,” she began. I quirked an eyebrow and tried to bite back my surprise.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to argue with you,” I agreed.

“I don’t expect you to. I panicked when Fury sent out that memo about the training. It set me on edge. And I,” she paused for a long while, “I just, you’re my best friend, and everything seems to be going so perfectly for you. I got jealous and angry.”

“Oh, Erin.” I didn’t know what else to say. Her face had gone splotchy and red, and she looked like she was going to cry. I shoved the box of tissue toward her, and she pulled a couple pieces out, crumpling them in her hand, and then smoothing them. She laid them on her knee, almost as though she were putting them at the ready, and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I was eating dinner with Matt last night and he asked why I was so angry at you, and I couldn’t think of a single reason. I don’t know why I am so angry. And I’m so sorry it’s been directed at you,” she blurted, picking up the tissues and blotting her eyes.

“Dinner with Matt?” I couldn’t help it, I was intrigued. And crying and confessions, and emotions had always made me uncomfortable. I wanted to smoothly change the topic before I wound up in tears as well.

“Yeah. Fucking Sunday morning rugby led to Tuesday afternoon sushi, and one thing led to another. I think we’re dating.” She blew her nose and retrieved a few more tissues.

“That’s kind of awesome, Erin,” I offered.

“Annie, please. I know you want to make a joke and make the drama go away. But I need to know if you and I are going to be okay. I’ve been an ass, and you are my best friend. I don’t know what to do to make it right.” The look on her face was all I needed to see. We’d been in new employee orientation together. She was my first friend at SHIELD, and I knew her better than I knew myself some days.

“Some best friend I would be if I didn’t forgive you,” I pointed out. Her smile was watery, and she dabbed her nose. Lucky bitch didn’t ugly cry, she looked beautiful.

“So we’re good?” She asked.

“I do have one concern,” I admitted. “Agent Garrett didn’t know that he would need to file a P440A for access to personnel files. He made it seem as though you’d always just handed info over.”

Erin let out a short bark of laughter.

“John is a great agent, but he’s old school, Annie. I doubt he even knows how to check his email. I always just fill the form in for him, and get him to put his password in. He’d never get anything done otherwise,” she rolled her eyes. I was mollified by the answer and nodded.

“You trust him?”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore,” she admitted, “except you.”

Once Erin and I had settled our differences, the routine in the office started to feel more natural. I was able to include her in some of the transition details, and we decided to play to one another’s strengths in a different arena as well: training. Erin was a significantly better marksman than I was. And she sucked at hand-to-hand. We started slipping out of the office an hour early every afternoon to work on one or the other. By the end of the week, my shooting was consistently improved. I still needed time to focus, which Barton had said I needed to eliminate, but my targeting was so much improved that I didn’t feel like a complete failure anymore. Erin’s hand-to-hand was coming along slowly. She was tentative and scared she might hurt me. No matter how often I reassured her that I would be fine, she hesitated over the simplest moves.

“What if I hurt you?” She complained after one session. It was a bad session. I was feeling edgy, and she was unwilling to engage. I’d eventually lost my temper; swearing and yelling that she needed to just fucking hit me already. Even that hadn’t helped her to find her nerve.

“So what if you do?” I shot back.

“I don’t want –“

“Erin, you can’t look at me and see me. You have to look at me and see an attacker, and forget who I am. I need to know, Fury needs to know that you’re improving and able to defend yourself for at least a little while,” I explained.

“I’d rather just pull my gun,” she wisecracked and the tension broke.

“I’d prefer you had that as your option too, but you need this in case it isn’t an option. In case someone takes you by surprise and disarms you,” I admitted. She nodded.

“Okay, let’s do this one more time. I’ll try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

“Thank you, Yoda,” she rolled her eyes. I moved into attack position and came at her quickly. She hesitated for a moment and then blocked my punch. She attempted to sweep my legs from under me, and lost her balance, but as she went down, she very carefully and very firmly punched me in the kidney. I dropped like a ton of bricks.

“Good,” I groaned.

“Oh god, Annie, I swear –“

“No, it was good. I might pee blood for a few days, but it was good.” I held my hand out to her, and she leaned down to pull me to my feet. I pulled her down, and using my feet, flipped her over my shoulders onto the mat behind me. I came up onto my feet and dropped my knee into her back.

“No pity, Erin,” I reminded her before letting her up. She nodded enough that I let go, and pulled her to her feet.

“Is it five yet?” She asked as she reached for her water bottle.

“Almost. Hot date?”

“Matt wants to go out to celebrate his new position,” she nodded.

“He got one of those Insight positions, didn’t he?”

“Ugh. Yes,” she started, “some sort of computer tech position. He’s going to be gone for months at a time.”

I realized suddenly that Erin was actually really into him, and broke into a broad smile. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

“Shut up, Anna.” She threw her towel at me and headed to the change room. I grabbed my things and followed, despite not being in any real hurry to get home to absolutely nothing. Phil must have been super busy because I hadn’t had so much as a text since my inquiry about Garrett earlier in the week.

I wound up at the bar down the street from my place, nursing a beer and a plate of chicken wings. It had been a long few weeks, and I just didn’t feel like going home to my TV on a Friday night. There was a hockey game on the TV behind the bar, and I was lost in my own world. The Caps were playing the Canucks, so I was keeping quiet, but I had my eye on the game with the quiet resignation of a Canucks’ fan. I could tell just from the way they were skating that the game was already over, and the Caps had it in the bag, but I still couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face when Kesler scored. Saul, the bartender, noticed.

“They’re gonna lose, Annie,” he taunted.

“Seems like they always do, Saul. Doesn’t make them any less my boys,” I laughed.

“Well, don’t say it too loud. Those guys in the back booth are pretty rowdy and have money on the Caps,” he warned me.

“I can take care of myself,” I assured him. He touched his finger to his nose and nodded.

“Just watch them. They don’t treat the ladies too good,” he reiterated. I nodded and went back to the game, and my food. Saul filled a pint glass and put it in front of me, trading it for my empty. I smiled and took a drink. I hadn’t been into McGinty’s since all the changes at work started, and I had forgotten how much I missed tuning out my week with wings, a beer and some hockey. I could feel my soul relaxing, if that was even possible. One of the big guys from the back booth bellied up to the bar to order another pitcher. He glanced at me, taking in my work clothes. I still had my blazer on, to conceal the shoulder holster, but I was in a tailored slate grey pantsuit. It was the favourite of my work clothes because it fit so perfectly. The drawback was that it fit so perfectly that it drew attention from unwanted quarters at times. This was one of them. The guy stepped over to me and smiled. He was already half-cut, and his eyes were hooded as he sized me up.

“This seat taken, honey?” He asked, gesturing at the stool beside me.

“Doesn’t appear to be.” I couldn’t see the point of getting worked up about him when I knew I could handle him if needed. He sat down with his pitcher and gestured at Saul for a glass.

“What are you drinking?”

“Keith’s.”

“Never heard of it.” He was dismissive.

“It’s an export,” Saul offered. The guy looked at me and curled his lip.

“Something against Bud?” He sneered.

“Not at all.” I looked down at my plate and at my beer and weighed the value of sticking around and finishing while stuck with the Cro-Magnon beside me, or just leaving. Thanks in no small part to sparring with Erin, the food and beer won. I was probably going to regret that. The guy fell silent beside me, likely fuming over my choice of beers. I glanced up at the TV in time to see the Canucks score on a breakaway, and didn’t quite manage to bite back my cheer of pleasure.

“The fuck is wrong with you? Drinking an import, cheering for the visiting team? You not from around here?” He raised his voice, and drew the attention of his buddies. I glanced at Saul apologetically, and he shrugged in response. My gaze flicked over to the other cavemen and to the door. I sighed heavily and took a final pull from my beer.

“Dude, I just want to finish my dinner,” I began, “without causing a scene.”

“Well, I wanted to get to know a pretty girl, but now I think maybe –“

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Pilot was late,” Stark’s arm slid around my shoulder and he kissed my cheek. It was all I could do to not shriek and shove him away.

“I,” I scrambled, “was not expecting you until much later?” I played along, but was not expecting him at all. I slipped my arm around his waist and smiled benignly up at him. He leaned across me to the Cro-Magnon.

“Hi, Tony Stark. You are?” He offered his hand.

“Jerry Samson,” he shook Tony’s hand, “and she’s yours?”

Stark’s jaw ticked, just a little, and he forced a smile.

“I find ownership an offensive construct where it relates to women,” he responded, and squeezed my shoulder, “but we are quite fond of one another.” I forced an awkward smile. Stark picked up my beer and took a swallow before brushing his lips across my forehead. I grabbed my glass and finished it, lest he try to steal another drink. He nodded at Saul and held out his credit card.

“Cover my girl’s dinner please? And a couple more rounds for the bar?” Saul nodded and took the card. “We’re running late. We should get going.”

“Right.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I felt so incredibly uncomfortable. I collected my purse and waited near the door as Stark squared the last of the bill away. He shook Jerry-the-Cro-Magnon’s hand again and made his way back to me, lacing his fingers in mine as he came up beside me.

“Just a couple seconds more, and you can hit me,” he promised. I laughed and shook my head.

“As awful as I found that whole exchange, I’m just wishing it was Phil and not you that swooped in to rescue me,” I admitted.

“Let’s go find some bad guys. Then you’ll have a reason to track Phil down.”

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC #Phil Coulson x OFC

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