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junhuiste · 3 years

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twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?  It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time.   “Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #jake scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon #jake

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awfdawef · 3 years

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On days like this the Wall was beautiful

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queerchoicesblog · 4 years

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Living The Dream

So, folks: as announced, here the first chapter of a new story for the wlw writing project I embarked on. This one is set in the Sixties, the golden age of travel, and our main character is a Pan Am stewardess, one of the era’s most stylish job. I had fun writing this and I can only hope you will have too reading this!

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

__________________________

I like this time of the day. The in-between hours separating one day from another, the slow yet inexorable metamorphosis of night into dawn. Life seems to flow differently during these hours as if our bodies, used to be heavenly asleep when night comes, were forced to adapt to a new rhythm: sometimes it works, sometimes it's simply a poor mimicry of ourselves. The craziest scene happen during night shifts, after all, and I'm sure it's no coincidence. I'm not always lucky to be present to myself in moments like these. Most of the times I'm too busy to pay attention to the wonders of these dreamlike hours. I blow out the smoke of my cigarette: for once, I can. Sitting at a table on the cafe terrace, I look down to the stream of passengers moving beneath me. They wander like in a haze trying to make out the right direction to go. They're tired, jet-lagged: a kid is crying his heart out in the arms of his mother, causing a businessman nearby to sneer and speed up his pace to avoid such nuisance. A man is anxious, out of the blue he starts running probably cursing the little delay that slowed him: will he catch his flight? A group of foreigners is checking and double checking a map, someone is sleeping on a bench and a little girl is looking out into the night sky hypnotised by the tail lights of a plane flying away.

I like airports, their peculiar poetry. It's quite lucky since you could say they're my home. I still struggle to fully convince myself that yes, my dream did come true. Some nights I fear I'd wake up one day and find out it was all just that, a wild feverish dream, not my reality. Luckily, that day never comes. Mom and Dad fry eggs and bacon in a diner not far from Kansas City; my brother and I will always remember how tired they looked when they crawled back home but also how big their smile was when they produced a box of fries or a couple of milkshakes just for us. We both helped during the summer, wearing aprons and serving tables. They let us keep the tips and we spent them all in ice-creams and movies. Now I'm sure no costumer leaves without being told - maybe more than once and with great pride - that their daughter is now a stewardess of the Pan American World Airways. I still remember the day I received the good news: Mom cried tears of joy and even Noah dropped his tough act and pulled me into a tight hug, whispering how happy he was for me. My sweet little brother. Now at my parents' diner a picture is hung at the wall side by side with a framed stellar review by a local newspaper: Noah and I hugging each other and smiling to the camera in our favorite booth by the window. I'm wearing my dashing Pan Am uniform, he's in a brand new US marine attire. He was drafted one week after John F. Kennedy was shot, the picture was taken on our last family reunion around Christmas. Noah wasn't happy to go to war, he was scared. "I wish I could join you to New York and find a job in advertising maybe" he frowned when my parents were sleeping and we sneaked away to the back porch as we used to do as kids. Noah was good at drawing, the creative type. God knows how I would have loved to have him around, to keep me grounded and remind me of the reassuring warmth of sibling affection. To keep him safe. I moved to New York right after I got the job; Noah was still in high school back then, I had to go alone. They all promised to visit as soon as they could when we parted at the airport. And that's when my new life started. I was on my own in the big city, breathing in the wind of change. I wonder if that's how every girl feels when they leave their boring provincial town behind and make it big. I moved into a small flat downtown: not much, but big enough to contain all my hopes and dreams. The training supervisors were particularly strict and took so very seriously their duty to asses whether we were stewardess material or a lost cause. First, a medical evaluation then a grumpy lady would weigh us and fix our girdles: I wondered if I would have been able to breathe normally on a plane and I was not the only one by the look on the other girls' faces. The interminable daily classes on how to strip our face clean of makeup and start from scratch still haunts me just like the day I was told my hair weren't okay, an in-between length that didn't impress the ladies in charge: I had to choose between wearing a chignon or a wig. No way I would have gone for the latter! Our appearance had to conform to a certain code and I soon learned there are so many requirements to meet to be eye candy. But it wasn't all about our exterior, even if we were often reminded that our aim was to look runaway ready. The Pan Am stewardesses must have that savour faire that makes them unique, legendary. So aside from the standard training (what to say on board, what to do in case of emergency, first aid classes) I had to learn how to pour wine with that special twist of the wrist and pop champagne open without it exploding as well as how to cook and elegantly garnish certain menu dishes in no space. And I assure you, the standard for scrambled eggs in first class were so different from everything I had learnt at my parents' diner, even if the time I spent there gave me a head start. Once I completed my training, my career finally began. I was assigned to Us bi-coastal routes for the time being but I felt different already. People looked at me differently, especially when I walked through the Pan Am terminal in white gloves and my uniform designed by Italian stylists. The gleam of admiration and wonder in their eyes set my heart on fire: aside from my parents and Noah, nobody had ever looked at me that way before, not even my best friend. I take a sip of coffee and smile thinking back at my beginnings. Despite the hard work, I was constantly in a dreamy state of mind. A Pan Am stewardess made it to the cover of LIFE that year, I still have a copy of it. The journalist enthusiastically claimed that girls like me were not only icons of beauty and grace but also the peak of the femininity to come. "See these ladies? They're not just stewardesses, they're a whole new breed of women". I must admit that to some extent we are: we're so different from our mothers and the Angels of the hearth of the lady magazines. We wear heels and fine makeup, we speak several languages and see the world. We're emancipated and sophisticated: we are women of the world. My face didn't make it to LIFE but little girls and teens stop me and ask me tips, how can they be as elegant, as put together, what they have to do to land this job. They want to live the same dream. A little girl of five once asked if she could take a picture with me. I had some time left so I squatted down and placed my bowler hat on her head making her flash the brightest smile to the camera her father was holding. Before parting she handed me my hat and looked me right in the eye, whispering in awe "I wanna be like you when I grow up". And then she wrapped her arms around my neck in a grateful hug. I told the cute scene to my mother over the phone: she sounded touched and joked that she didn't know her daughter ended up being a starlet of the silver screen. "Remember us when you're famous, love" Dad added from another room. I missed them, I still do at times. But I would never go back: for the first time in my life I found a place where I truly belong here in New York. I met friends that could understand my hunger for more, to discover the world. I love the parks and lights at night, the buzz of the city that never sleeps. Most importantly, I love my job, even when I'm so busy all I do is hopping on and off planes, going back home, sleeping eating my breakfast and doing it all over again. No matter how hard I need to push myself to meet the Pan Am standards, I've always felt liberated, free here. As if this was what was meant to be, where I was meant to be all along. The day a gorgeous neighbor knocked at my door with a plate of freshly baked cookies and a charming, flirtatious smile on her lips, I had no more doubt. Here is where I was meant to be.

#wlw writing #wlw writing project #original work #wlw miniseries #lgbtq #sixties

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the-overgrowth · 4 years

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Retrospective: “Faybane” #1

This is where it all started, on July 8th, 2016. Although probably a bit earlier than that, but this is the earliest thing I can find that’s actually written down, so that’s what counts. And back in the day I didn’t let ideas marinate the way I do now, I just started writing pretty much as soon as I got the idea.

Anyway, the document was created at this point in time according to Google Docs, and was last modified in October 3rd, 2016. It’s only 3 chapters long, plus one incomplete fourth chapter, and the whole thing is about 17k words.

Which is a lot for 3 chapters. I would say something about how I’m less wordy now, but the latest draft is like 107k words long, so, like, I will always struggle with shutting the fuck up, methinks.

Also, the reason this is called “Faybane” is because that was the working title I used, and the name of this document. I thought it’d be the proper title but like. It’s bad lmao.

Anywhomst, let’s get into it!

Some background info for those who are new or need a refresher: this WIP became a thing after I read and was disappointed by A Court of Thorns and Roses by SJM, as well as The Iron King by Julie Kagawa and some book by Holly Black, was it Tithe?

ACOTAR was the biggest culprit. I feel that this is important to keep in mind as we go through this mess.

We open on Sidra in the forest with a bunch of men she calls a hunting party. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be there, but since she’s the only decent hunter among them and it’s her sister’s wedding today, she has to make the kill to feed the people attending said wedding.

This is, as the kids say, big stupid, and seems like a very ill-prepared celebration? I guess it makes some sense for them to want fresh meat, but this fresh? What if they didn’t find anything? What if they didn’t manage to kill anything? Is the whole thing cancelled? Stupid.

We find out they’ve been hunting a boar and that this dude named Liam, our Gaston replacement, previously wounded the animal but didn’t kill it, causing it to flee and force the hunting party to follow. It’s up to Sidra to make the killing blow, which she does with an arrow straight into its head. This was back when Sidra was still YA Heroine Extraordinaire and the time period was Vaguely Medieval, I guess.

They begin taking their quarry back home and Sidra thinks about how she normally doesn’t hunt this close to the “Faewilds” because animals closer to the border are said to be bigger and more violent. There isn’t an actual border, people just had to rely on intuition and not wander too far into the forest.

She also mentions a girl named Wilda, who disappeared fairly recently and everyone suspects it was the fae. This isn’t relevant now, but Wilda will return in later drafts, I think.

Everybody, especially my family, knew that I was one of the best archers in town, whether I used a bow or a crossbow.

Shut up, Not!Feyre. Nobody likes you.

I should mention that at this point I didn’t bother googling how big wild boars get and just assumed they were the size of like, a thick medium dog. Which is, if you know how big boars are, very incorrect. Four men pulling the animal seems realistic enough, but then Liam just lifts it up on his own? Not buying it.

Sidra laments how much she hates Liam and we find out that he apparently tried to assault her and she stabbed him? And apparently she’s not happy about his marriage to Sinéad but can’t do anything about it because “Father’s word is law” and Sinéad herself laughed it off when Sidra tried to warn her?

Yeah, gonna call bullshit on that one. No idea why this was here or what purpose it serves, the reason Liam doesn’t exist in the latest draft is because I never figured out what his purpose was so I axed him entirely.

Current!Sidra would just kill him the moment he showed an interest in Sinéad, and Current!Sinéad would 100% believe her sister about something like that.

Some bloke named Connor strikes up a conversation with Sidra, seemingly worried about being this far away from human civilization. Liam teases him about it and calls the fae “knife-ears”, because I still had brainrot back then and liked Dragon Age and had zero original ideas in my head.

The men make jokes about having sex with fae women and Sidra seems so disturbed by this that she nocks an arrow. This isn’t the first time she makes references to feeling unsafe around these men, I have no idea why I wrote it this way aside from being edgy, I guess.

My village was mostly populated by men, and even though I wasn’t one of the pretty girls there, I knew these men weren’t picky, even with all their talk about beautiful fae women. I’d heard that fae women would kill their men after sleeping with them. I had no way of know it was true, but a part of me hoped it was and that Liam would some day soon get “lucky” and encounter a female fae, so she could end his misery.

Edgy, dude.

They eventually arrive and Sidra goes inside her house, which is a simple cottage with three rooms. I think her family are all farmers? It’s kind of confusing. She goes into her and Sinéad’s bedroom, where Sinéad is preparing for her wedding. Also, she’s blonde.

“Sid! There you are!” she said cheerily. “Killed a boar, huh? Good on Liam for taking all the credit.”

If you know your man is trash, why are you marrying him?

Apparently Liam seduced Sinéad with sweets and baked goods. I mean ... fair enough. Considering how Sidra complains about being hungry and skinny and going without food if she doesn’t kill the boar because this year’s harvest was minimal, I’m assuming y’all are starving.

We find out Sinéad’s mother doesn’t let her do anything around the house or farm, to preserve her “soft and white” hands and pale complexion so she could be married off easily. This makes zero sense, you’d think these medieval men wouldn’t have the same beauty standards as Victorian England, plus having a mouth to feed that doesn’t even help feeding itself is just nuts.

But remember, this isn’t Sidra, this is Not!Feyre. She needs to be sad and put-upon and a victim. She explains how she was never pretty to begin with and thus nobody considered her to be worthy of marrying off, which then meant she was put to work and became even less attractive because now she was so cool and badass that all the men were intimidated by her.

Yeah, in a village that already doesn’t have a lot of young women? I’m not buying this, lmao. But go off, Not!Feyre.

I’d been the one helping around, instead. Hunting, mostly. Sometimes I’d chop wood or work the farm. Marrying out of the house seemed impossible. Marrying up was practically a dream you forgot upon waking. Had I been pretty from the start there would’ve been a foundation to work from, but I was a lost cause even before my skin became tan and my hands grew veined and calloused. I had freckles which people mistook for mud and dull brown eyes, a long nose that had been broken one time too many and a mouth that made it look like I constantly felt a bad smell no matter what facial expression I made. I’d always been of rather short stature and had brown hair and thick eyebrows, which in combination with everything else made my parents call me their “little goblin”. The scar on my face didn’t help me either: men didn’t like it when their women were more battle-hardened than they were.

Oh god please, don’t go off! We don’t care! Stop going off!

Also what fucking parents call their poor kid a goblin? Yikes.

Sinéad convinces Sidra to get prettied up and Sidra is all “oh I bet all the men will just fall over themselves for my favor now huh” which is just the most annoying fucking thing, prompting Sinéad to respond:

“Well, winter is coming and game is scarce. If they want to survive, marrying the best hunter in the village might be a good bet.”

Yeah! This is correct! I refuse to believe people wouldn’t be into Sidra! Not only does everyone apparently know she’s the best hunter in town, but Sidra herself confirmed the men here outnumber the women and aren’t very picky.

This is fucking stupid. I’m glad I axed it. In my defense, I was very much trying to emulate the YA shit I’d read so far.

Sidra’s grandmother enters the stage. She’s very old in this draft, but otherwise unchanged.

She was a short and wrinkled old lady with extremely bad vision and an even worse grasp on reality. Or maybe an extremely acute grasp on reality, depending on whether you believed her stories or not.

Sidra changes out of the dress again to go out and help her father prepare the boar, all while sulking.

I didn’t envy Sinead, nor any other bride. Despite what most people thought of me, I wasn’t some poor ugly girl longing for the love of a man and the security of marriage. Did I enjoy the idea of having somebody care for me? Sure. But it wasn’t on my list of priorities. I was still trying to figure out what actually was on that list. Not that it mattered. The prospects for a poor village girl were very finite.

Womp womp.

We get some confusing and barely related stuff about Sidra possibly becoming a royal hunter for the king and also about where the village is located in relation to the Faewilds. She speculates that maybe the fae aren’t real, but the way she and everyone else talks about them makes it pretty obvious that they are? This was supposed to build mystery, I guess.

We skip forward to the wedding and Sidra is moping again.

“How are you feeling?” Father asked and squeezed my shoulder.

I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. I assumed it had something to do with the wedding and the fact that despite there being fewer women than men here, I was still not asked to dance. Though this didn’t really bother me, so I just shrugged.

“It doesn’t bother me. Anyway I will continue to mope and feel bitter about this thing that doesn’t bother me.” Hunny ...

At least Current!Sidra has the self-awareness to admit she’s sad and lonely.

[Father’s] marriage to Sinead’s mother was never out of love, more out of necessity. It was easier when you had a big family.

Except for when this “big family” is 3 people who work and 2 people who are just being fed, right? See, I knew back then that having a big family helps when you have a farm, but I also needed to make Sidra Special so Sinéad had to sit on her ass to highlight how pretty and feminine she was or whatnot.

Bleh.

They talk a bit about Sidra’s mother, who passed away five years ago, and Sidra reminisces about how she used to tell amazing stories. It’s all very ... whatever, and serves only to make this point for the hundredth time:

I wasn’t like Mother. I wasn’t full of life and spirit like her. I wasn’t loved and respected by the entire village like her. I was just her disappointing child whose existence they’d rather forget except when they wanted something killed.

Right after this there’s a really abrupt scene transition. Nothing about the wedding coming to an end, nothing about her going to bed, it’s just ... some while later?

Sidra’s father comes back home from ??? and tells Sidra he saw a stag somewhere, but it was hours ago so she better get a move on.

I’m not sure what either of them thinks this will accomplish? Like ... what is she gonna do with it when she kills it ... Carry it home? On her little boney ass? Hmm? I guess I didn’t think of that because I had meta knowledge that she wouldn’t get it home either way, so who cares about logic, right?

Sidra kills two rabbits while stalking the deer, and despite telling us earlier that she doesn’t venture far away from human civilization and the boar hunting being the farthest she’d been and that she wouldn’t go this far alone, she has no issue dwelling very deep into the forest this time.

Like. Henlo? Can we have one logic please and thanks you? Granted, she keeps stopping every now and then to Feel Things Out, but this really goes against how careful she was before and at no point do we get an explanation to her sudden boldness. Plot reasons, I guess.

She nearly stumbles into fae territories and finally decides to head back, except when she starts returning, she sees the stag she’s been tracking. It’s abnormally huge and has a “dark brown” coat that she finds odd, but of course she’s too stupid to connect the dots.

She sneaks up on it and honestly? This chapter ending still slaps.

A scream of pain left the creature and I saw it topple. But though my arrow hit a deer, a man fell to the ground.

DUN DUN DUN.

And yeah, the ACOTAR roots rear their ugly heads again. I liked the idea of the protagonist shooting a fae disguised as an animal, but I decided to cut out the middleman and just have her obliterate Val right in chapter one. Don’t worry, he doesn’t die.

#retrospective #my writing

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sariahsue · 5 years

Text

The Open Line - Chapter 13, Food

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Read Chapter Twelve Here

***

Marinette had spent the whole Sunday in the bakery. The chill in the air seemed to drive people to seek out warm bread, so they had been exceptionally busy today, but it was late afternoon and the rush had died down, and she was going to finally get a break. Which she was going to spend on her phone. Cat Noir hadn't texted her all day, and she'd been meaning to ask if he was okay.

"Marinette," her father asked. "Could you bring these back as you leave? I'll get the rest later." He handed her an enormous mixing bowl overflowing with bread, cookies, muffins, and croissants, too old to sell.

"Sure." Marinette hoisted it onto her hip and walked into the kitchen. It was a shame that they'd have to throw it out. Most of it was still good, just a little stale. As she walked through the doorway, Cat Noir's ringtone began to play.

"Finally!" she whispered. She ran the rest of the way into the kitchen, tossing the bowl onto the counter and pulling her phone from the pocket of her apron. She caught her expression in the reflective surface of the stove, a goofy smile, cheeks dusted with pink and flour. Coupled with just how excited she was to get a message from him, there was really no denying what was happening.

Her heart sank when she read the short message. He was upset, and he needed her. He must have be feeling completely awful if it had kept him from texting her all day. It had better not be his father again. Cat Noir had barely said anything about him, but she already didn't like that man. Marinette didn't need to consider her course of action. She knew immediately what she wanted to do.

Marinette: I'll be at 17 Rue Gotlib in five minutes. Hold on, Kitten!

He'd know where that was. The location of their "date" after fighting Glaciator a few months ago. It might not hold the happiest memories for him, but it was closeby, and even with the five minute timer ticking, she would be able to get there before him and set up, make it look welcoming, be waiting for him when he arrived.

She raced through the house, flinging off her apron, grabbing a basket and her favorite blanket, and rushing back to the kitchen to grab the leftovers and say goodbye to her parents. Picnic basket banging against her leg, she ran down the street to find a good hiding spot. Her eyes raked the skyline to their meeting place and landed upon golden hair and two black ears. She was ahead of schedule, but he had still beaten her there. He must live nearby, she realized.

As soon as her feet touched the roof a few seconds later, Ladybug found herself engulfed in a hug. Cat Noir sank into her, burying his face into her shoulder. She hadn't even retracted her yoyo yet. She wanted to hug him back, wrap him up so nothing could ever hurt him again, but she couldn't, not with one arm strung out to a distant building and the other dragged down by the basket.

"Could you let go for a s-"

Cat Noir leaped away from her like she had screamed at him. As quickly as she could, she set the basket down and grabbed him, squeezing him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly, not letting go until she felt some of the tension leave him. When she finally stepped back, she took a good look at his face. His cheeks were splotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot. She wanted to cry in sympathy.

"Why didn't you text me sooner?" she asked.

He shrank back, though she hadn't said it harshly. "Sorry. I- I probably shouldn't have. I should just g-" He turned away to leave.

"No." She grabbed him, her cheek pressing into his back. "You did the right thing. You need to let me know when you're upset."

He'd probably been marinating in his self-pity all day. Why hadn't he just let her know he needed help?! And what on earth was wrong? Whatever it was, she hated it for hurting her partner. When she finally let him go, her irritation must have seen been displayed across her face, because he shrunk away from her.

When was this boy going to let her help him, instead of flinching away from her? Now was not the time to address it though, so she swallowed her irritation and smoothed out her expression.

"Help me with the blanket?"

Cat Noir looked down and finally saw what she'd brought. "Nice quilt."

It wasn't really. The patterns didn't match and the squares were uneven and the stitches were so bad that the overstuffed batting was poking through in several places, but it was thick and warm and she loved it. "Thanks. I worked hard on it."

"You made this?"

"It was my very first project."

"Oh. Nice."

As he bent to pick up the quilt, Ladybug frowned. He normally would have been jumping up and down to learn something personal about her, which is why she'd shared that detail, but he'd barely sounded interested. Her plan to feed him and spend an hour or two with him would have to be supplemented somehow if she wanted to cheer him up.

"What's in the basket?" He grabbed the blanket and lifted it off the top, revealing the treats underneath.

"Just the necessities," she said, grabbing a corner of the quilt and motioning to a spot against the metal railing for them to sit. "What do you want first? I've got cookies, scones, some bread?"

Cat Noir plopped down onto the blanket and stared at his knees.

"Cat?" Ladybug sat next to him and put the basket at their feet. "Or we could just sit for a few minutes?"

He dropped his head onto her shoulder, his hair tickling her cheek, his breathing shaky. They stayed that way for several minutes, until he couldn't seem to keep himself upright anymore and put his head on her lap, curling the rest of himself up next to her. His tail draped over her legs. Cold October air swirled around them on the roof, kept at bay by the warmth they shared as they cuddled together. She held him for a few minutes, until his breathing evened out and he started to shift restlessly, and she reminded him that she'd brought dinner.

"You didn't need to," he said, straightening.

"I wanted to." Ladybug handed him the biggest cookie and the flakiest croissant she could find. Wind cut through her suit, making her shiver, and she huddled closer to Cat Noir for warmth. He noticed and folded the bottom edge of the blanket up until it covered her feet. Even though he was hurting so deeply, he was taking care of her, and she felt herself fall a little more.

"I know why you're doing all this," he said, wrapping an arm around her.

"I'd have that that was obvious. I want to-"

"Make me fall in love with you. Clearly."

"What?" She jerked away from him, but the arm around her waist and its siren warmth easily drew her back in.

"Easiest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Your wily plans won't work on me, LB. I know your devious tricks." His tone was listless, completely lacking his usual humor.

"More like you can't fall for me harder than you already have," she said.

"Maybe." He smiled very faintly, a shadow of what she was used to, and it sparked an idea.

"I can't tell you what that does to my ego," she said, fanning herself, "having a famous superhero hitting on me all the time." It might be crossing a line, but she already too far, so she added, "A really hot one."

Face red, he grabbed another muffin and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth so he could avoid looking at her. "Are you sure I'm the only person in love here?" he finally asked.

She was sure he was not.

"Because you're the one who asked me out to dinner," he continued.

She glanced at the half-empty basket, panicking. Flirting was one thing, but she didn't want to give him false hope by accidentally asking him out. "That's not what this is."

"Really? Then why did you choose this spot? I think you're trying to win me over."

Ladybug shoved another croissant into his mouth to shut him up. He chuckled around his mouthful of food and drew her closer, until they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to ankle.

Was that really why? Had she chosen this place because she was trying to recreate their first "date"? Was she feeding him because she wanted, subconsciously, to secure his feelings for her? She was still trying to decide how she felt about him! The last thing she needed right now was for him to fall harder for her. But logic could not silence the quiet voice of Yes! Love me! Please love me more!

How was it that so much of their relationship had changed, but it still felt so much the same? They had always talked and laughed together and had their inside jokes. Their bond of trust was forged on day one and had been steadily getting stronger every day for over a year, so that wasn't new.

How was everything the same when it was so wonderfully different?

A gust blew autumn leaves from the street into their faces, and Ladybug giggled to see one stuck in Cat Noir's hair. Well, the giggling and blushing were new, but enjoying his company and wanting to be near him was not.

How?

She plucked the leaf from his hair, then tickled his nose with it, until he twitched and blew it away, his smile still dim, but stronger than it had been all night.

As she tucked herself back into his side, she knew how. Losing her memory hadn't created any new feelings for her partner. It had just let her see them clearly for the first time.

Read Chapter Fourteen Here

***

Author's note: Phew! I wasn't even sure I was going to get this done for tonight. The first draft of this chapter was such a pain and I was super busy the last few days. You'll be getting two or three chapters next week. They'll both/all be short and (now that Marinette's no longer in denial) very mushy.

#ladynoir #marichat #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug

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the-colony-roleplay · 5 years

Photo

The storm starts to dissipate by Monday, January 31st.

The howling winds slow, the white caps soften and begin to recede back into the navy masses of an ocean grown tired of its lengthy growling. The dark clouds overhead have lightened, like they are considering letting up and moving on but have yet to commit to doing so. Rain still falls, but it’s lost its menace for the time being and though the grounds are still soaked, some merchants and trainers venture out under rubber hoods to assess the damage.

By the first day of February, the skies have cleared, and the lockdown is officially lifted. Down at the docks, ships are finally able to set sail to collect resources and make other deliveries, now nearly a week behind schedule. The people of Colony 22 look to the horizon with grumbling stomachs, hoping to see new ships on course this direction, bringing fresh offerings from the trade agreement to help out their depleting shelves.

Hunting chores and fishing do resume, but the Hub remains closed as Merchants take a day to make any necessary repairs and sort through stocks that may have been drowned during the storm. Training also remains cancelled, as the grounds try to recover from the flooding.

The morning of Thursday, February 3rd, the Hub reopens and the training is officially back up and running. This is the day the package arrives.

A ship has docked at the shores of Belvedere Island and a couple of water logged Marine Merchants lug several large wooden crates up the front steps of Colony 22. ‘FRAGILE’ is stamped across each of them in imposing red letters. The Marines bring the crates directly to the Chancellor’s office, to be delivered into his hands only, as per their direct orders. They apologize profusely for the delay; they’d been docked up near the Southern coast of Wales, their last delivery point, unable to take to the water again while the storm had raged on.

Accompanying the crates is a letter, addressed to Chancellor Dervilia, which is pulled from inside the Merchant’s jacket and is the last thing passed Quinn’s way before they take their leave.

The envelope is a little damp, and the slightly thicker drafting stock paper folded in clean lines. The letter simply reads:

Chancellor Dervilia,

Enclosed in this shipment is a specimen that has been engineered in the labs of Colony 1. It has proven to have significant effect on the faculty of the Infection abilities, however it remains temporary, and its side effects are currently too substantial to be of immediate use. We have now distributed this sample to other research labs across the Colony system to expedite progress.

Please put your best scientific personnel on this immediately for further research. The constitution of new veins and varieties of this specimen by way of research and testing is encouraged, and any resulting conclusive progress made should be reported immediately back to you, and then to Reformist Headquarters, respectively.

It is IMPERATIVE that information regarding this specimen be STRICTLY PROHIBITED to NWRF personnel ONLY, exception made only for non-NWRF lab and research specialists. However, all parties must be instructed to keep the existence of this specimen and all research surrounding it STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL, and any breach of this NWRF mandated privacy must be reported to Headquarters immediately and face further government investigation.

Thank you for your cooperation and commitment to the Mandate,

Regards,

NWRF Headquarters

Though the information is reasonably restricted, this delivery sounds like good news to the NWRF aligned. Perhaps a cure is within their reach.

However, it takes less than 24 hours for the truth to become obvious.

In the labs, researchers and technicians have been testing the contaminated flour tied to the spread of the Colony-wide parasite for several weeks. Though they have not come up with any conclusive answers, they know the nature and base structure of it well. It only takes a couple preliminary observational tests, and a peek through a microscope, for it to become obvious that this is the source of such a parasite. This man-made compound has been engineered to manifest the way it does, meaning that just as some anti-NWRF had already feared, the ‘contaminated shipment’ of flour had been no accident. It had been a full scale experiment.

What is most worrying, however, from a Reformist perspective, isn’t the execution of the experiment itself (though some who remember the severity of their own illness may staunchly disagree), but the fact that it’d all been done under the intentional ignorance of the Colony Reformist Reps—even the Chancellor himself had been left in the dark. What does this kind of revelation say about their reigning government? Is this a betrayal of trust for the NWRF Reps or simply necessary means to conduct testing vital to the future of mankind?

As the discovery spreads in shocked whispers and moments of uneasy disquiet throughout the labs, the forthcoming becomes nauseatingly obvious: someone will need to inform the Chancellor, and quickly. But who will carry such a burden, and how should it be handled? And more particularly... how will Quinn react to such news?

Once these decisions are made and the Chancellor is informed, Quinn will in turn be faced with his own quagmire—will he personally inform the rest of the NWRF Reps and agents about this matter? Will he hold a meeting, or pass on the responsibility to his subordinates? Will he confront the NWRF HQ about this betrayal and demand answers, or will he decide to keep his mouth shut? Where do the Colony 22 Reformists go from here?

A/N:

Hey team!!

So, this ~tantalizing~ new plot drop is sort of like a secretive prologue to part three of our Fever State event! But what makes this plot drop so unique from our previous one is that this is largely an OOC reveal. That is to say, we’re letting you, the muns, in on some pieces of the story to which 80% of the characters will remain totally oblivious for now.

However, this is a vital stage of what will come in the next stages of Fever State, and as you can see, directly affects the NWRF characters, (especially the Reps & Elite NWRF) as well as any and all Scientists, Lab Researchers & Techs, etc—even those not specifically aligned with the NWRF.

While plotting and brainstorming the details of the unfolding of these incidents and spreading of information should begin in the NWRF OOC starting now, and will be soon seen hitting the dash in various forms, it is ABSOLUTELY VITAL THAT NO NON-NWRF CHARACTERS (WITH THE EXCEPTION ONLY OF LAB RESEARCHES & TECHS) ARE PERMITTED TO KNOW THIS INFORMATION UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. That is to say, that you may NOT plot to reveal or leak this info to ANY characters outside of the group stated above, even if you have NWRF characters with close relationships with Non-NWRF characters. This is strictly because the future of this plot that Lottie and I have been formulating for the past year, relies on this element remaining under wraps for the time being, but we definitely wanted to give the NWRF characters some interesting new elements to work with!

We highly encourage applicable muns to use this information once their character(s) find out about it, and explore this development in plots with other NWRF, as well as in internal narration, while keeping this huge secret. Keep in mind too, that NWRF characters of various ranks will find out in different ways and at different times—Lab personnel would be first in the know, then most likely the official Reps & Quinn etc. Non-Elite NWRF, who are not directly involved, would likely not know immediately and would have to find out some other way, if at all. (e.g. Felix is NWRF aligned, but he is not of any kind of Elite status, and therefore has no immediate right to the knowledge. His father, however, would be informed relatively swiftly, but is something this confidential the kind of thing he’d tell his petty, self-absorbed and immature son? Probably not.) This kind of plotting should be taken to the NWRF OOC to be immediately accessible to all muns with whom it directly relates.

In the meantime, however, Non-NWRF characters are seeing the end of the storm, and can be focusing on the lift of the lockdown, outdoor resource chores going back to normal, training being back in rotation, Merchants repairing and reopening the Hub, the Catch and Stables being accessible again, and the lingering affects of the flooding of the grounds.

The verse timeline will move forward to the first week of February, but as this is not an event, you have the regular amount of vague flexibility. However, please use the specific dates listed in the post above as official canon reference points, and plan your threads and plots accordingly. Your plots should not extend past the 5th or 6th of February, until the next timeline update.

Other things to think about is that Game season is coming up again, at the end of Feb/beginning of March, so training will likely intensify in the coming weeks. Is your character looking forward to off season being over, or dreading it? We may also have some chore-related changes and plots in the near future for you, which will be a bit of new content for y’all to gnaw on, and chore rotations will be updated on the main this weekend as well.

Finally, with regards to the NWRF skeles, as you know, that task got backburnered with the loss of my grandfather, but once this plot element is safely underway, I hope to start gradually working on this again with Lottie in the coming weeks!

Alright kidlets, you know the drill! If you have any questions or concerns or wonderments, please bring them to the main blog! Preferable the ask box, so we can reply publicly and help out others who may have similar questions!

Love you all so darn much and happy Evil Scheming and Drama-ing!

xxColMods

#col22admin #col22feverstate #post apocalypse rp #literate rp #original rp #timeline

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adonis-koo · 5 years

Note

hI its the same anon who asked about how you plan/outline your stories and to me at least from what you responded with seem like the type of person who knows or has an idea of what they want to write in mind and kinda just lets their fingers go with the flow of what they come up with in their head and has to do a lot of corrections afterwards (does this make sense???) but this is also me!! but i feel like my writings doesn’t come out as good because i didnt outline but outlining is just tedious

It totally makes sense!!! It’s exactly what I do and I COMPLETELY understand, outlining SUCKS ASS but sometimes is necessary.

HOWEVER unpopular opinion but I also think you don’t have to outline to make a good story, you can write exactly how you want and just later edit it, which seems obvious but it makes the WORLD of difference when you give it time to...weird wording but marinate in a way. Drafting and editing is so much easier when you don’t open your docu for a few days.

You give your mind a break from the scene you just wrote down and the longer you let yourself not read the draft the easier it’ll be to start adding more to a sentence and a paragraph then say rereading what you just wrote for a few word changes some typos then throw it up on tumblr. Let me give an example, NERVE the first story I ever wrote on here begins like this:

‘The ringing in your ears was constant, your mind was blurred and you almost felt somewhat confused but too hazed to really comprehend what was going on.’

I have a basic sentence wrote down to describe the state of the MC but we don’t have a lot of detail into what she’s feeling emotionally or what setting she is in. Something I could’ve added was a sensory aspect to the description to help add to the atmosphere, what surface is she laying on? Is it soft? Is it hard? Is she oddly at ease with her confused state? Is she panicked? Rather then just say: she’s confused, going into more depths can help give the reader a more clear picture on what thought process she goes through.

Detail in both sensory and emotional aspect can really help a story come to life, if I had wrote NERVE as of now, it would look a little more like this:

‘The first thing you felt was the hard, cold ground beneath you, even despite the void of your unconscious state the ringing in your ears was enough to make you wince and briefly, you couldn’t help but wonder; where were you? The answer drew short making a drop in your stomach. Where were you? You repeated the question mentally and still found no answer. Panic flooded your veins but your body was numb and slow to a reaction, your mind too hazy to fully comprehend or reaction properly to the question that drew blank’

You get a much better visual in this sentence and a more clear idea of the immediate emotion the MC is put under at her question being drawn blank, the scene is more put together because you find she’s on the ground, it’s cold and unfamiliar and unable to answer the question she’s instantly panicked even in half awake state. Like I said before outlining a story can be necessary at times, especially if you plan to make it a long series that goes past the 12+ chapter mark.

But sometimes it’s unnecessary and all you need to do is really take your time- not writing, but to edit and dissect your story to give it more depth and dimension, more isn’t always better, but I’ve always lacked detail in my story so for my sake more is better. And from there I can take out what can be considered too much. This keep getting longer and longer lmao! I hope this helps a little, it feels redundant and like normal advice but I’ve found really taking your time to edit through a docu can make the world of difference in quality.

It wasn’t until I sat down and started working on 3C and tease that I began to see progress in my writing because I finally broke the habit of instantly posting as soon as I finished a chapter. Anyways like I said before I hope this helps and makes sense! Feel free to hit me up with more questions I could ramble on writing ALL DAY- it probably shows in my paragraph 💀

#missy answers #anon #writing

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rakuyokoyo · 4 years

Text

Romance Dawn Notes: Chapter 13 - Love & Prayer

You can read Romance Dawn I: Bearer of the Silver Flames, Chapter 13 - Love & Prayer here.

—

Where do I even begin with this chapter?

I guess I should start by saying that I was tempted to omit an author’s note altogether (even on Tumblr) to just let the mood sink in. But then I thought that some of you might wander here to find an explanation, so I’m writing this just in case.

To be clear, I’m not fully removing A/N’s on published chapters. It’ll be more or less like Chapter 12, where there’s a short note in the beginning/end, with Tumblr only meant to give a lengthier explanation for those who want more details. I just didn’t want to ruin the mood for Chapter 13.

I actually had to write several drafts for this note alone because it was so emotionally exhausting to write about Amare, and to make sure that I wasn’t spoiling anything major.

God, I miss her already.

There are actually two notes for this chapter. This is just explaining and clearing up what happened (which I don’t usually need to do, but this one’s an exception), and the next one will just be me, ranting about the usual.

—

So, Love & Prayer.

If you haven’t seen Amare’s death being foreshadowed from miles away, I don’t even know what to tell you. It’s probably not the way that you expected her to die, but I’ve built this up from the very start. I don’t normally spoil my own stories by leaving such obvious clues, but I did it for Amare because I really wanted everyone to know that she’s not a character who’s meant to be here for long.

Unfortunately, I can’t say much about who she is or what her intentions were because that will spoil everything, but I’ll talk a bit about how I created her in the second Romance Dawn Notes if anyone’s curious.

—

A quick recap of the chapter, in case you missed anything:

Falco wonders who Amare is, and I think we all have the same question as her. She’s definitely strange (even for me), but she has a weird attachment to Ace and Falco, from the day that the latter joined the crew.

I do apologize if the rescue mission wasn’t as good or as exciting as you expected it to be, especially to those who have been waiting since 2017 (or maybe even earlier). I’m not sure who came first between Carlos and Amare, but she was always destined to die during the rescue.

If the mission was confusing, it was basically supposed to be an infiltration (not a fight). Because Carlos is a relatively new member who became a vice-commander quite quickly, he doesn’t have a tattoo yet. If the Marines knew that he was part of the crew, that’d be grounds for execution (like what happens to Ace). Based on Jozu and Moire’s information, Ace betted that the Marines didn’t know Carlos was actually part of the crew and opted to just sneak in and fight their way out.

Unfortunately, we see that the Marines were several steps ahead. Despite being unknown pirates, the base executed five out of the six from Carlos’ platoon, using torture to extort information and finding out that they were indeed part of the Whitebeard Pirates.

Akainu then sets up a trap not just to defeat the Whitebeard Pirates, but to essentially cage Falco. Instead of heading to Enies Lobby or Marineford to launch a large-scaled battle, he betted that several important figures from the Whitebeard Pirates would come to Base 113, and they would be able to surround them there, where they’d obviously have the upper hand. They waited for the day that the Whitebeard Pirates would come, noticed Jozu and Moire’s infiltration, made it look like the base wasn’t well-guarded (so that the two wouldn’t get suspicious), then made sure that Carlos was kept in a jail with only one exit in order to trap the rescue team.

But Carlos knows this which is why he dreaded seeing Falco’s group and yelled at her to leave. Ace’s plan would’ve worked if it wasn’t for the fact that Akainu was literally ten steps ahead.

Basically, everyone underestimated how cruel the Marines could be.

Ace trusted that Carlos’ platoon would not get tortured or killed because there’s no evidence showing that they’re part of the Whitebeard Pirates. Think about it—why would they go out of their way to execute a small group of (seemingly) rookie pirates?

But what he didn’t consider was the fact that Base 113 is under Akainu’s jurisdiction, and Akainu’s sense of Absolute Justice is to execute the unlawful as fast as possible. By torturing the five, the Marines eventually learn that they’re part of the Whitebeard Pirates, and the trap was set.

—

The infiltration itself isn’t anything interesting. Both pairs run into a young petty officer, who’s actually a spy to check how many pirates are present. I did this because I realized that there are probably no CCTV cameras in the One Piece world, so they’d have no idea as to who’s infiltrated unless someone could check. He reports his findings to the higher-up, and Amare is the first to realize that this is actually a trap once she sees the six battleships head their way.

As for the skirmish, I had to incapacitate Ace/Thatch/Carlos to make sure that they couldn’t fight. Marco and Falco got plot armour, sure, but give me a break QAQ they have to get out somehow, right?

And then shit really hits the fan once Amare shows up.

After realizing that this was all a trap, she makes her way to the viewing room to help the platoon escape. The room is small and cramped so the Marines can’t freely shoot, and she takes the opportunity to open the gates.

Doing this is obviously extremely risky. She knew she would die by doing this, but her love for Ace and Falco didn’t even make her hesitate.

In the moment of chaos, Amare is fatally shot.

I wasn’t sure how graphic I wanted her death to be considering she’s very young, but I didn’t want how she died to be what’s important. The action moves very, very quickly starting from when she gets shot to the end of the chapter, so it won’t be easy to take in and remember every detail. There were only two things I wanted to make sure I could portray:

1. Amare has died for sure (none of this ‘a Marine took her and helped her recover’ bullshit). 2. How much she loved Ace and Falco until the bitter end.

To be honest, there was a brief moment when I considered keeping Amare alive (without Ace and Falco’s knowledge), but that’s such a cop-out and I hate it when that happens in other books or shows. But at the same time, I didn’t want her death to simply be a plot device to make readers sad. Her death is something much more symbolic for Romance Dawn. You can say that this chapter is the ‘true’ beginning of the story.

The last thing Amare sees is Falco’s outstretched hand as Marco sacks her over his shoulder and runs to escape. He makes this decision because he knows that if they don’t get out, her death would have been for naught.

In her last breaths, she thinks of the two vice-commanders who were her roommates, friends, siblings, and parents. A verse from an old lullaby flashes through her mind:

I pray that our love will never waver Even as I fly towards the dark I won’t know what lies ahead But even now, you are my light.

—

The final section is an absolute disaster, so let me try to organize it.

Falco hears four main things: all these voices from both the outside world and her memories, a flatline, some awful screaming, and something that continuously gets shattered. She’s trying to figure out where they’re coming from, but it’s extremely disorienting and she’s in a lot of pain.

The flatline isn’t the sound of Amare’s death, but rather her own heart stopping from being broken.

The awful screaming is coming from her (which she initially doesn’t realize).

The shattering noise is weird because to the readers, it’s supposed to symbolize Amare’s death (as it was foreshadowed last chapter and the start of this one), but Falco believes that it’s her heart. Once she wakes up though, she thinks it’s actually Ace’s after seeing how utterly broken the man is.

The reason why Falco was in this semi-comatose state where she couldn’t wake up was because she let her Devil Fruit ability loose from the shock of Amare dying. Previously, it was just her wings and a few scales that made her look like a dragon. Now she has fangs, larger wings, and hands/legs with talons. That’s why her teeth (and body) were hurting so much.

How they actually escaped will come up next chapter, as well as the series of events that led to her going berserk.

For Falco and Amare who loved the stars, the sky is cloudy by the time they head home. The Marines don’t pursue them further.

—

Writing this note was honestly so emotionally draining. I can’t even begin to describe how much I loved Amare. It’s weird because from the many, many OC’s I’ve created, the most minor little girl that I created solely to die was the one I ended up loving the most.

Her death won’t be in vain though.

Thank you so much for reading the chapter and the note. Thanks for loving the story and most of all, for giving so much attention to Amare. She would’ve relished in the attention, I’m sure.

I will likely be returning in January with a new chapter! Going to spend some time with TBE, fixing inconsistencies in Romance Dawn, sketching, hanging out with family, and travel a bit.

B U T, I did say you guys can request prompts if you want to! There’s a lot of slice-of-life stuff with Ace/Falco/Amare that I didn’t get to show, so if there’s a specific scenario you’d like for me to write, just send it in my ask box and I’ll do it! You guys will probably come up with things better than me anyways. :D

-Koyo

#rd #rdnotes #ace #portgas d. ace #falco #falco d. mihawk #ace x oc #acexoc #fanfic #original character #one piece #pirates #chapter 13 #whitebeard

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ontherockswithsalt · 5 years

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The Fortunate Fall

aka I Don’t Know Why I Wrote This.

A/N: Hey, was a highschool!Joble AU missing from your life? No? Well here’s one anyway lol. This is the first part of a two-part short story (a two-shot?) that I felt like writing.

This one’s in Noble’s POV and I appreciate that his ass needs saving no matter the universe. Language warning applies. Word count: 1,821

“It's just fucking stupid, that's all,” I complain.

Jamie glances up at me from the spiral notebook on his lap as I pace his room.

“What, you think I'm an idiot? You think I'm not gonna graduate just because of some paper?”

“I didn't say that,” he maintains. “Mr. Craig said that.”

“Yeah well Greg Craig can suck my dick,” I mutter, glancing up the tower of Jamie's CDs sitting next to his stereo.

I hear his mumbled “Nice” from the floor behind me. “What do you normally do?” He wonders. “Bullshit your way through your assignments, or do you actually read?”

“There's something to be said for the art of bullshitting,” I argue. “It'll probably get me farther in life than understanding Paradise Lost. You like Radiohead?” I turn and hold up the jewel case for OK Computer.

He lifts his gaze once more. “Yeah.”

I look at him and consider it for a moment. Not what I would have guessed.

Jamie only turns his gaze back down for a second before it self consciously finds mine again. “What?” He exhales a soft laugh.

“Can I put this on?” I propose, feeling the curve of a persuasive smile at the corner of my lips.

His cheek twitches a little before he returns a faint shake of his head. “Sure. And then this draft is back on you, alright? I'm almost done.”

“What do you think so far?” I question as I eject the disc and switch it with my pick. “You're awfully quiet.”

“... A flawed contradiction of a villainous hero,” Jamie recites. “--The Devil glorifies freedom but remains the prisoner of his own ego.”

His voice with my words makes some kind of heat flicker in the pit of my chest that I tell myself to ignore while I concentrate on finding the track I want.

“Did you write that?” He asks. “Or was that Amy?”

“What do you mean was that Amy?”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” He murmurs. “Thought she wrote all your papers for you.”

I swallow hard, reaching up to scratch the back of my head while I turn around. “She's not my girlfriend. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

I shrug. “I wrote it. Is that so hard to believe?”

He lets a moment -- filled only with the mellow hum of the dreamy song -- hang there before he shifts back against the side of his bed. “It's pretty good.”

Breathing out a quiet laugh, I lower my weight to join him on the floor. “Pretty good.”

“I mean compared to some of your horseshit I had to read earlier in the semester.”

My brows pull together, half offended, half amused that Jamie would attempt an insult when we hardly know each other. Outside of forced tutoring sessions at the library, and this particular time, at his house, we run in completely different circles.

I scoff but a smile surfaces on my face anyway. “Look, I know this shit. I just have better things to do.”

“He knows it, but he had better things to do,” Jamie echoes. “Cool, maybe they'll print that on your diploma.” He glances down as he crosses out a line on the notebook, then writes something in the margin. “You know it doesn't make a difference when it comes to your transcript, don't you? Whether you don't understand and can't do the work, or you do know and just choose not to work, either way, you fail. So if you can do the work, why let yourself fail?”

“Believe it or not, not everybody cares about their fucking transcript.”

“Then what's the point, Noble?” He shrugs, tossing my notebook to the floor before he stretches back. “I mean why even show up to school at all? Why are you here wasting my time?”

“Your time?” My eyebrows raise.

“You think I don't have better things to do? You have one AP class, I have six. And varsity track. And I work. And somehow I've been in charge of making sure your ass graduates.”

“It's a heavy burden, huh?” I quip. “What, am I supposed to have sympathy for you?”

“I don't want sympathy.”

“You think any of that matters ten years from now?” I narrow my gaze at him. “AP classes and your transcript and how far up your teachers’ asses you got in high school?”

“I don't know. Look me up in ten years and we'll see.”

Adjusting, I scoot down to rest on my side, propping my head up on my hand and I have to laugh. “I will. I'll call you when I get out of rehab and see how you're doing.”

A reluctant grin grazes his face, pulling at his cheek and it amuses me. He shakes his head. “Good to know you have a plan.”

I study his face for a moment, the way it changes with his smile as he glances away. I reach out for the pen that he dropped and tap the end on the notebook. “So what's the verdict? Good enough?” Then I slide the pen behind my ear.

Jamie glances over at me and tilts his head. “I made some corrections. I think you need to expand on your argument in a couple of the paragraphs.”

“But overall--” Then I blink up at him from where I lay across the floor, my eyebrows jumping with a convincing grin. “Thumbs up?”

Another huff of amusement blows out from him. “You need an A on this paper to bring your grade up.”

“Yeah.”

“It's not there yet.”

A frustrated grunt escapes me and I turn to roll into my back. Reaching over, I undo the top button on my rumpled white uniform shirt that I'm still wearing before I manage to sit up.

“I know you have better things to do,” He reminds me. “But--” Then he picks up the notebook and tosses it in my lap. “Don't just drop it. Because it's good. Get it done, alright?”

With a bored nod, I grasp the notebook and slowly get to my feet. “Awesome.”

Jamie shifts to stand up and without a thought, my arm reaches out. His hand clasps mine and with a flexed tension in my forearm that he matches, I tug him upright. From his own momentum, his chest collides with mine before he works his way a step back.

I swing my hand out to smack the side of his arm but somehow, damn that got my heart all hot.

“Ah… I'm gonna take off,” I announce before I bend over to retrieve the beat up paperback.

We make our way downstairs, through his big, quiet house. His kitchen glows, warm and dim from a single lamp on a far counter and I glance around for signs of anyone else. I know Jamie has a few brothers or sisters or a few of each, I can’t remember. But I know they’re all older and out of the house.

I hear shifting and movement from a room across the way and figure his parents are still up.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah mom.”

“You wanna come in here?”

I glance over at Jamie and point a thumb to the door, shooting him a hopeful look that I can just slip out.

He wordlessly reads it and shakes his head before tipping it toward the adjacent room, giving me a murmured, “Come on.”

Leading me to a study, he stretches into the doorway and I peer in from behind him to see his mom and dad sharing sections from the newspaper between two arm chairs.

“This is Noble Sanfino.” Jamie introduces with a quick gesture over his shoulder.

“Hi, Noble,” his mother smiles.

I see his dad lift his chin over the paper before he folds it closed. “Sanfino,” he echoes with this contemplative note that I definitely don’t miss.

My mouth is suddenly parched and I swallow hard standing just opposite this imposing man who everyone knows is some big deal police captain or Marine or both. I don’t know, but I’ll pass on divulging any more information. Instead I silently summon some kind of will that he isn't able to figure out the joint I smoked on my way over here… And the other one in my pocket.

“Uh, yes,” I confirm. “Noble. Nice to meet you.”

“He's in my English Lit class,” Jamie explains. “We were working on a paper.”

“Is that your Nine-Eleven outside?” His father questions.

I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

Blinking hard, he merely responds with a nod. “Quite a car.”

“What's the paper on?” His mom cuts in.

“Um, Paradise Lost,” Jamie pipes up. “John Milton.”

“Oh boy,” she retorts and reaches out to take the section from Mr. Reagan.

“Felix Culpa,” his father muses.

His wife hums a soft little laugh as she folds the paper. “The fortunate fall, huh?”

The fuck?

Jamie drops a hand hard on my shoulder and starts to turn me out of the room. “Exactly,” he mutters. “It’s pretty brutal. Come on.”

I manage a some semblance of a goodbye before I head to the door in the kitchen. With a simple see ya later, take it easy exchange, Jamie sees me out, closes the door between us and I blow out a heavy breath as my hand dips for my car keys.

Out on the driveway, I tug open my black Porsche and sink inside. There’s a heat along the back of my neck, in my throat that I can’t get to go away. Cops make me tense in general, so it’s no surprise that Jamie’s dad gets me all uptight, just sitting there. But it’s something else.

Something about Jamie’s quiet confidence in class. He has this way of making everybody feel like an asshole. But when I’m alone with him, he elicits some kind of… calming honesty from me and it’s like he doesn’t even try.

I struggle with what that means for a moment. Why I go home and wish I could keep talking to him when up until this year, I’d never bothered. Like maybe there’s some other tie I have to him that I can’t remember.

With a shake of my head, I push my key in the ignition and twist my wrist to start it. But I’m only met with a gritty, unpleasant rattle and I let go. A brief wave of dread dips through me and my brow furrows at the unfamiliar noise. I stretch my fingers and take hold of the key once more, turn it and the engine fails to come alive, stuttering a hopeless scratch once more until I release it.

“Goddammit,” I whisper and sink back against the leather seat.

My gaze flicks over to the book on my passenger seat, then the brick house in front of me. Drawing a deep inhale to my chest, I push open the driver’s side door and sigh, “Quite a fucking car indeed.”

...part 2 for another day...

#jamie x noble #highschool!joble au

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bforbookslut · 6 years

Text

Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings’ Zenith Is a Space Adventure With a Familiar Story and Tropes

I have given Zenith by Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings a ☆☆☆ rating. It is Book 1 of The Androma Saga series. It is Young Adult Science Fiction with some Space Opera and Romance. Harlequin Teen publishes it. It will be published January 16, 2018.

The synopsis reads:

Most know Androma Racella as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary whose reign of terror stretches across the Mirabel Galaxy. To those aboard her glass starship, Marauder, however, she's just Andi, their friend and fearless leader. But when a routine mission goes awry, the Marauder's all-girl crew is tested as they find themselves in a treacherous situation and at the mercy of a sadistic bounty hunter from Andi's past. Meanwhile, across the galaxy, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows of the planet Xen Ptera, biding her time to exact revenge for the destruction of her people. The pieces of her deadly plan are about to fall into place, unleashing a plot that will tear Mirabel in two. Andi and her crew embark on a dangerous, soul-testing journey that could restore order to their shipor just as easily start a war that will devour worlds. As the Marauder hurtles toward the unknown, and Mirabel hangs in the balance, the only certainty is that in a galaxy run on lies and illusion, no one can be trusted.

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I haven’t been this early for a review in a really long time but I was super excited to read Zenith ever since I received it. I’ve always loved space stories because if I wasn’t a writer, I’d love to be an astronaut. Or marine biologist. Or historian. Maybe librarian. You get the gist, I love to be a lot of things.

But, you’re in for a wild ride with Zenith. You either love it or hate it.

I haven’t written a review this long in a while so bear with me.

As always, my reviews may contain spoilers. I say may because what’s a spoiler to you may not be a spoiler for me.

Oh boy, is this a difficult one for me to review. My review process is this: I finish a book, I sit on it for a few days and then head over to Goodreads to get a refresher. Usually, it’s a good thing because it reminds me of things I want to mention but have forgotten. But with Zenith, it opened a massive can of worms I wish I had never seen.

Initially, Zenith was going to be one of my 4-star rating books. It turns out, I’m the perfect audience for it. I love damaged and fucked-up characters falling in love and I love all the drama. I went into Zenith expecting a soap opera/drama and I got it.

But after reading Goodreads and learning all I can about the background of this book, it’s dropped to a 3-stars. I don’t hate it. Zenith is not a bad book but it’s not good either. Did it blow me away? No. But, hell it was entertaining.

So, this review will be different than normal and split into 2 parts: first impressions and after goodreads.

F I R S T I M P R E S S I O N S

I have never read a space opera before. I even had to Google what the genre is all about. And I loved what I found. As you probably know, I am a massive fan of Defy the Stars by Claudia Gray and until another mindblowing book comes along, that’s what I recommend whenever anyone asks me. And I expected Zenith to be something similar but more, for lack of a better term, extra.

And I loved it. I couldn’t put it down. It kept me up late at night and my eyes are probably rotten because I keep reading in the dark. I didn’t even realise it was 500 pages (cause my Kindle app doesn’t tell me so). It was dark and it was sensual, the writing clichés which some people might not like, were lyrical and poetic. The imagery spun was stunning.

Plot-wise, Zenith went in a multitude of directions. There’s the Androma, Dex and the Marauders plotline where the former two have to rescue the king’s prisoner son in the treacherous lands of Lord-I-can’t-remember (I’m not good with names here. I can’t even name you anything in Maas’s books because I never remember), but basically, they’re the bad guys. And then there’s the flashbacks (??!!) which are confusing but I just rolled with it. And then, there’s the evil queen of the bad lands who isn’t all that bad (or at least that’s what they want us to think) who wants revenge on the entire solar system for fucking up her kingdom and her parents’ lives and her life.

The Androma, Dex and Marauders line is resolved and then some. But the others just leave big question marks hanging in the air. But then again, Order of the Firsts, guys. It’s always like this because publishers want you coming back for more cause all they care about is the money.

Plus, they are all told in different POVs which can get confusing but it wasn’t a hard switch. It’s such a way of writing in YA that I’m used to it. I wish we could still get by on one voice only. I miss those damned days.

But to me, the characters make a story and I loved the Bloody Baroness. She’s dramatic and always very weepy and conflicted but oh, she’s so attracted to Dex. Let it just be clear that she’s very much like a copy of Celaena/Aelin but without the latter’s depth. She’s got death following her and her crew of pirates wherever they go and she’s torn up about it. Some people have an issue with the fact that she’s called something so vicious but is just a kicked puppy. But come on, this is a trope we’ve all seen before. Move along, shall we?

But, I did find it a little strange that although she hates killing, she kills everyone left, right and center in the name of protecting herself and her crew. Plus, she’s a fugitive.

Really weird and conflicting but at this point, I’m still rolling with it.

Dex is an arrogant prick. And while it’s my favourite trope when it comes to YA heroes, they usually come with some redeeming qualities. Dex has none. In fact, I’d say that I didn’t like Dex at all. He’s the perfect example of how not to write a YA hero.

And, the romance between Androma and Dex seemed incredibly forced. No chemistry. Just loads of trying-really-hard-to-create-UST.

The rest of the characters in Zenith sort of fade into the background. There are the Marauders which are very Six of Crows-esque, and the evil queen, Nor and there’s Valen, the prince they’re supposed to rescue. And a robot named Alfie that reminds me of Defy the Stars.

While Zenith attempts to fashion a unique space world, it feels too much like Guardians of the Galaxy and that bothered me about the worldbuilding. It didn’t feel utterly unique (unlike Defy the Stars. You can’t stop my love) and the entire time, all I could imagine was Peter Quill’s ship flying across the Guardians of the Galaxy space ala the movies. While there are references to unique “alien” features for example, in the pilot, Lira who has scaly skin that can heat until it burns her clothes off and it’s controlled by her emotions, nothing is taken a step further and explained.

And space opera and science-fiction are known for being detail-oriented.

But I still loved it. In all it’s campy, trying really hard glory. I thought it was a great first attempt and couldn’t wait for me.

A F T E R G O O D R E A D S

And then, I looked at Goodreads.

I was confused by all the awful ratings. And it spiralled from there.

It turns out Sasha Alsberg is a notoriously famous booktuber (I wouldn’t know. I don’t booktube) and people are concerned that this book being published is because of her connections to the higher ups.

But more than that, the editor tied to Zenith is notorious for having published The Black Witch. Which is a plague on the YA community. I don’t understand how….how could anyone have let that racist crap slide.

And it was only after this that I realised what I had thought to be extra, dramatic and campy writing ala soap opera style was just bad writing. In fact, one reason why I loved the writing so much was because it’s the same time of exaggerated and flowery writing that fanfiction writers love (and readers like me eat it up).

Plus, it tried too hard to replicate the success of Throne of Glass and Six of Crows, perhaps in the hope of becoming the next big thing. It’s basically fanfiction set in space, guys. While I am the type of market this book is targeted towards, meaning that I love my tropes, it’s just laughable. There are tons of books out there like TOG and SOC but they’re all unique in their own way. I’ve even managed to reference Defy the Stars more than once!

Not to mention, Androma has red.hair. Who else has fiery red hair? You tell me. Hint, I’ve mentioned the name several times in this review. Not a fan of self-inserts.

Also, I am not a fan of celebrity books and have yet to purchase/read one. While other writers struggle and work their butts off to even get noticed, celebrities get special treatment because they already have a fan base in place.

While I am still looking forward to see where both authors are going to take Zenith, I wait with all these thoughts in my mind. In film classes, we are taught that the author is not separate from his work (and I did a lovely paper on Alfred Hitchcock which I loved) and it’s true in this case.

I’m afraid that Sasha’s reputation has coloured not just my opinion, but the opinion of many other readers out there.

While Zenith is not bad, it’s not great either. I can’t shout about it from the rooftops. For one, it reads too much like fanfiction (and we all know the kind of fanfiction turn book that has hit the market these days) and secondly, it needs a shitload more work before it’s public-worthy. Zenith has great potential. It just needs a lot more polishing, preferably throwing the entire draft away and writing it fresh. And perhaps, Sasha should consider a pen name.

Thank you to Edelweiss and the publisher for providing me with an ARC copy in exchange for an honest review. This review edition may differ from the final edition.

#book review #zenith #sasha alsberg #lindsay cummings #young adult #science fiction #space opera #romance #threestars #2018 publications #arc review

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theouterspaceplace · 5 years

Text

The Tipping Point wip chapter 2 continued

High School was a breeze for me. I had tried out for the football team,the baseball team and even the basketball team. I made none of them but they let me on the Junior Varsity team. My older brother played all three sports his freshman year and started on the Varsity team . The coaches heard the little brother would be a freshman this year and all asked for me to stop by the coaches office. When I did stop by the office the immediate sense of disappointment on the coaches faces were so evident a blind man could of seen them from 50yds away. They were expecting a mini version of my brother. But all they saw was the Mini in me. I was not big then and I am not big now. Smart yes but not big and strong like my Bro. And then in the classroom I got the reverse treatment. When calling the roll in class that first day, the teachers all stopped and if not openly staring at me in amazement as I was not intimidating like my brother but a pleasant little guy with a big smile, I could see the unmistakable signs of relief that they did not have to fear this new Sox. Well thank god for small wonders. I also learned something about my brother that day, My brother was now 6 foot 4 inches m, and about 240 lbs. His shear size was intimidating,especially when you grow uo on either a military bases or embassy,s general quarters and having a Marine Corps Officer as a dad. (he retired as a full colonel but was Captain when I was born a Major a few years later and then the Colonel designation) so there was something in my brother that intimidated others when they met him, and it was not just his size. My brother was an average student in High School. Not many A’s several B’s and always a couple of C’s and those being in science or math, Most people believed that my brother was smart but did not apply himself to higher education. He was planning on playing football and baseball in College and then if not drafted by the NFL or the MLB he would just join the marines. But maybe it was the beating the Secret Police had given him or the Marine influence in him, nobody ever challenged him. His presence alone was enough to make the opposition tremble.

AT lunch that first day some of the Senior football players (mainly the whole front line this year) came and got me at lunch. They walked me around the campus and introduced me to many girls , the hoods or the burners, the latino contingent, but mainly to all the other athletes they could find that day. they made it clear that I was not to be harmed in anyway and if threatened that they should come to my rescue. I don’t know if they did this out of respect for my brother or they did it on their own but I figured my bro put them up to this, So I met the de facto Burner’s leader and learned that this group got there name from the fact that they smoked cigarettes and other things and were generally considered the Bad Boys of the High School. They seemed nice to me, but I was introduced as Little Sox, which immediately got there attention, So much so the Randy “the Rake” Jonstone said to me that if I ever needed anything just to let hin know and he would personally take care of it. He seemed like a decent enough guy and I shook his hand and we moved on to the Scrappers, The scrappers were like a mini Burners group. Smailer more ferret like than the Burners and supposedly did a lot more smoking than the Burners, Maybe that was why there eyes appeared red and shifting all the time. Introduced and little Sox and same thing happened as it did with the Burners a hanshake latter and we were off to the Cheerleaders and finally the Geek squad. Who I liked the most because they were talking about their game cubes and psp and all sorts of other stuff that most of the other groups wouldnt even know what they were talking about. Elecrtronics,, computer codes and fictional weapons desighns were todays topics of choice. The group seemed intimidated by the Football players even though they were friendly and knew most one another thru one class or another. Lunch was ending and JJ one of the sophmores in the GS group heard me tell the others what class I had next , and said follow me, that my class too, He asked me how I got into the class as a freshman, as the class was for Juniors and Seniors, I answered him by saying “probably the same way you got into the class. JJ smiled and we became instant friends from that moment on,

#writeblr draft #writers #creative writing #wip

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adiseaselikeyouspreads · 7 years

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They start meeting just about every day after school, at Regan’s house. The first few times, it’s a lot of demonstrations and a lot of Jason getting knocked on his back. He’s sorer than he’s been since he finished his physical education requirements.

It’s still worth it, though. Both for knowing he’ll have a better chance of defending himself, and for when he successfully gets out of Regan’s grip and feels a swell of pride, earns a big grin.

“You’re a quick learner,” Regan compliments, when Jason manages to successfully counter a grapple. Jason’s top is drenched with sweat and Regan barely looks tired, so that’s still a problem, but Jason can already feel himself getting stronger.

“Or you’re a good teacher,” Jason counters, using his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Let’s go with both, then we can both feel good.”

Jason laughs a little. Over the course of the last week, he’s gotten increasingly comfortable with Regan. It’d been awkward to be around him without his binder on at first, but Regan hadn’t even seemed to note it. And it’s easy to get comfortable with someone who unquestioningly backs off when you call uncle in a sparring match.

“How long did it take you to get good at this?” Jason asks, going to get a sip of water.

“Well, I’ve been in sports on and off since I was pretty young.”

“So I’m as good as you were when you were eight?” He guesses.

“Pff. More like eleven.”

“That’s sooo much better.”

“Hey, if you keep up the good work, you’ll close the gap eventually.”

“Eventually,” Jason sighs. “Guess we should get back to work, then.”

The next day, he feels a bit like his arms are about to fall off. Lugging his backpack around all day is hellish. At least it’s a satisfying sort of burn. The kind he knows means he worked hard.

Still, he can’t help but be relieved that there’s no film club today. He gets picked up and dropped off at home and gets to flop down on the couch and just breathe. It’s a recovery day, so he’s going to do approximately nothing but watch T.V. Maybe study a little, if the news doesn’t stop popping on talking about the Camera Killer’s most recent video.

At least, that’d been the plan. His dad starts to fumble around in the kitchen, walks into the living room, back into the kitchen, then back out, juggling a number of files, floorplans, a thermos, his wallet, and his cellphone.

“You alright there?” Jason asks, watching his dad struggle to sort through a couple papers.

“Yeah, just-” He checks his phone, quickly, then pulls some money out of his wallet and holds it out to Jason. “Some problem came up at the house I’m working on and I need to go check it out. Ask my contractor how it is going to affect the budget. I didn’t get to go grocery shopping, so just run down to the 7/11 and grab something. I’ll bring you late dinner when I get this worked out.”

“I…” Jason stares at the money, then looks up at his dad nervously.

His dad is confused for a second, and then the gears start turning. “Hey,” he says, sympathetically, “it’s only a fifteen minute walk there and back. I’ve got my phone on me, you’ve been doing your self defense stuff. Just make sure to go while it’s still light out.”

“Right…” Even though he takes the money, he doesn’t look too pleased about it.

“I’ll probably be home around eight,” his dad informs him before rushing out.

Jason puts it off for as long as he can, before he actually has to start worrying about the sun going down. Before he steps out the door, he messages Regan.

Jason: walking down to 7/11. let’s hope I don’t have to use my new skillset. :^/

Regan: you got this jj

Jason smiles a little at the nickname, wondering if he could make an equivalent for Regan. R.A.? No. That’s what you call the dorm advisor in college.

Regan: remember if a big guy comes at you, use his weight against him

Jason: what do I do if a small guy comes at me?

Regan: tell him you know dmitri and he’ll have to stop. short guy code

Regan: fr tho momentum is ur friend

Regan: hmm. maybe i should draft dmitri for short guy sparring practice

Jason: I feel like he would bite me.

Regan: he would definitely bite you

Jason: how would I explain that to my parents?

Regan: tell them ur new gf is kinky

Jason: I’m pretty sure that’s how you get grounded.

Talking with him is making this walk a lot less nerve-wracking. Constant communication, focusing on anything but his paranoia.

Regan: wat are you buying?

Jason: chips, probably. or ice cream.

Regan: bro

Jason: what?

Regan: bro youre trashing ur body

Jason: omfg. what healthy thing could i buy from 7/11!!

Regan: multigrain bar or some nuts

Jason: what swamp did your tastebuds crawl out of?

Jason: creature from the black legume.

Regan: dont diss legumes dude

Jason: I’m buying a slushie out of spite.

He walks into the store, hearing the jingle of the bell overhead. He’s got just enough to buy himself a slushie, a bag of chips, and a candy bar.

Jason: mission success- bought junk food without dying.

Regan: 🎉

Jason: now for the encore.

Jason steps out of the 7/11 and starts the short journey home. Drinking from his slushie makes texting a little harder, but he’s so got this.

Jason: so what’re you up to?

Regan: just got home from riley’s

Regan: gonna make myself a salad like a responsible teen

Jason: meanwhile I’ve got chocolate.

Regan: i should make a chocolate vinaigrette

Jason: you cook?

Regan: hell yeah dude

Regan: i dont know how to make a chocolate vinaigrette tho

Regan: that was a joke

Regan: i guess i could look it up

Regan: i make a mean half moon pie i should make some for you sometime

Jason: I don’t know what that is but it has pie in it so I’m in.

He takes another big slurp of his drink and grins around his straw when Regan starts to ramble about how to make this dessert.

Then something is wrapped around his throat. A presence suddenly behind him, a taut rope wrapped around his neck, strong arms pulling back. Everything falls out of his hands when he yelps in surprise.

He wasn’t paying attention.

His mind races. Choking. How to- he tries to tuck his chin, but the rope is under it, that doesn’t help, this isn’t a choke hold.

The rope is digging in and up, any time he tries to get solid footing, another yank almost makes his feet almost leave the ground. He flails, elbows, grabs at the unknown assailant’s face. The more effort he exerts, the more his lungs scream in protest.

Unfortunately, he can’t do the same; his voice coming out rasped and restricted.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. None of Regan’s lessons prepared him for this.

He tries to dig his fingers under the rope, shift his weight to ease the pressure, throw off the attacker’s center of balance, but none of it works. His vision slowly gets dark around the edges. His brain is still on full panic, heart hammering rapidly. But his consciousness goes soft and for the second time in very few days, he blacks out.

Waking up this time isn’t like last time. It isn’t a slow climb out of a muddled state. It’s sharp, disorienting; he was in one place but now he’s in another.

And this place is very dark and this time there’s no Sidney kicking walls or silly harmless clocks.

There’s just frigid cold. Pale light coming in through high windows, casting long shadows. He can barely look around. He’s strapped to a chair. With mild horror, he realises it’s a dentist’s chair. Modified, his legs and arms bound. The bindings are tight. No silly amatuer stuff, no pulling at the right angle to get out. Fear seizes him. His stomach is doing flips.

He’s alone, for quite some time. He doesn’t know how long. The light outside is fading fast. He dropped his cellphone. What if the killer has it? What if he texts his friends, parents? No one will even know he’s missing. Not until tomorrow.

A door creaks from somewhere and he tries to twist and look, but his mobility is a little limited right now. There’s a sound of rolling wheels, along with heavy, booted footsteps.

“Hey,” Jason croaks, before he can even consider if it’s a good idea to speak.

“Mr. Joon-ho, you’re awake,” comes a low southern drawl from somewhere behind him. “I hope you had a nice nap, because we are going to be very busy.” The voice slowly rounds round until Jason can see its owner. It’s deep and rich, the kind of voice that would be soothing, if not for the fact that it is coming from behind what is clearly a mask of cured human skin.

The rest of his clothes look too normal. Jean jacket, plaid shirt...hunting gloves. He’s pushing a cart with what can only be described as an array of sharp tools on it.

That comes to a stop a good five feet away, but the man paces closer.

Jason can see his chapped lips and dark eyes through the rough cuts in the mask, hear his heavy, unfiltered breathing, imagining the humidity inside the mask; he feels nauseous, wants to cry.

“Let me out of here,” he demands, tries to sound insistent, but he knows how scared he sounds. He gets a laugh in return. A short one, a facsimile of politeness, like he’s chuckling at a dear friend’s witty joke.

“Bless your heart,” the killer says, and Jason’s skin itches. “Can’t do that, little buddy. You see, you’re a delicacy.” He plants a hand on Jason’s arm. “Surviving five murder attempts? That’s some kinda record. I’d love to let you marinate for a bit longer. Seen how you’ve been strengthening up. Would taste a lot better with some meat on you.”

His other gloved hand pats Jason’s face and Jason’s brain goes haywire as he realizes who this is. He jerks and tries to curl in on himself, but he can’t. He can’t protect his squishy middle bits from what this fucker is no doubt about to do to them.

“But let’s face it. You’re just a pit stop on my cross country tour. Can’t wait around any longer.” The Cannibal withdraws both his hands and taps his chin. “In fact-” And he’s moving back to that cart.

“Help!” Jason shouts, as loud as he can, jerking against his restraints. The sounds bounce uselessly off the walls.

“Hey now,” the Cannibal says, turning around, walking back towards him with some nondescript item in his hand. Jason can only see the handle. “None of that. There’s no one out here, anyways. And you should save your voice. There will be plenty of time for screaming later.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, throat tight. Before he knows what happens, he feels a burst of pain. The Cannibal just punched him in the face with a meaty fist. His head is spinning.

“Watch your language,” the Cannibal comments, even voice turning acidic for just a second. Jason laughs as he feels the blood flow from his nose, tastes it on his lips. This guy’s about to carve him up like a Christmas ham and he doesn’t want to hear him swear. Incredible.

The object shifts from one of the Cannibal’s hands to the other and Jason can see, now, through skewed glasses, that it’s a potato peeler. Just a run of the mill potato peeler. His stomach sinks.

“Any gourmet worth his salt is always going to sample his ingredients,” the Cannibal jokes as he seems to test the sturdiness of the peeler against his glove.

“Why do you do this?” Jason asks.

The peeler halts. “I already told you you’re a delicacy. A rare treat.”

“No, why do you do this?! This sh- stuff, why do you-”

“Well aren’t you precious?” The Cannibal asks. “You still believe in motives.” He presses the peeler to the side of Jason’s face. When Jason tries to turn his head, the other hand comes to hold him still. “I do it because I want to, and because no one can stop me.”

The peeler doesn’t rake down fast. It digs in, and carves, slicing off a strip on his right cheek in a slow, agonizing pull. It hurts, sears, like the world’s worst rugburn.

He can’t help that it pulls chokes and sobs from him even when he grits his teeth.

The Cannibal releases his face and takes the strip of skin between two fingers. Jason can feel his pulse pounding in his cheek, can feel the fresh blood.

Without preamble, the Cannibal lifts the sliver to the hole in his mask and pops it in his mouth, like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just tear it off of someone. Jason gags.

“Sorry to say, squirt, but I’ve had better,” he jokes, wiping the peeler off on a handkerchief he draws out of his pocket. “I can work with you, though.”

The Cannibal returns to his cart.

“Please don’t do this,” Jason begs.

“I worked up quite an appetite bringing you all the way here,” he answers nonchalantly, while examining knives, like he’s trying to decide which one will do the best job.

There’s a very loud sound from outside the room.

Like the sound of a door being kicked in.

The Cannibal tilts his head, like one would when confused. His hand slides to a particularly large knife and he takes it up, walking towards the door.

“Stay right there, peaches,” he hisses, sounding less like his fake-polite persona and more like an angry serial killer.

He opens the door and peeks his head out. Almost immediately, there’s a gunshot. He hears the Cannibal grunt and stumble back, but not fall.

Another slamming sound, probably someone kicking the door the rest of the way open, then a second gunshot. This time, there is a solid thump as the Cannibal hits the floor. A third gunshot comes anyways, and then there’s quiet. If Jason strains his ears, he can hear the mechanical rasp of the Plague Doctor, breathing heavily.

Jason closes his eyes, tears welling up. He doesn’t want to be relieved. He doesn’t want to be relieved that they’re here, but he is.

“Are you in here?” They ask, after a moment.

“What took you so long?” Jason responds, voice shaking.

“This is a big place.” They walk over, footsteps more hurried than usual. It’s the tall one. When they see him, they stop. Jason wonders if it’s really that bad, or if all the blood is misleading. Instead of commenting, they use their free hand to undo Jason’s bindings. He can’t help but note that they’re holding Christian’s gun. He doesn’t want to think about it.

When he’s free, he rubs his wrists and sits up, slinging his legs off the side of the chair.

“Do you need me to call 911?” Funny. It’s the first time they’ve asked.

“Do I need stitches?” Jason returns.

“Probably.”

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet, despite the tremors in his legs. “Alright.”

The Plague Doctor returns to the body of the Cannibal, crumpled in the corner, and searches him. He doesn’t have a phone of his own on him, but he does have Jason’s. So they hand the phone to him and he gets to dial the number himself.

“911 operator, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s Jason Joon-ho. I was kidnapped by the Cannibal. The Plague Doctor saved me, but I’m hurt. I’m currently in…”

“In Warehouse number fifteen,” the Plague Doctor informs him.

“Warehouse fifteen,” he repeats.

The Plague Doctor turns to go.

“That’s not your gun,” Jason finds himself saying, before he can stop himself. The Plague Doctor looks at Jason, then at their hand.

“Better in my hands than in one of theirs,” they state.

“Better in no one’s. Better if you leave it here.” Jason stays firm.

They test the weight of the gun, like they’re still unfamiliar with it.

“Hopefully we’ll reach the point where I can give it up, soon,” they say, lowering their arm. That gives Jason pause.

“How do you sleep at night, after doing shit like this?” He asks.

“With all my windows locked.” They leave.

The police and paramedics come and his brain sets on autopilot. He barely thinks. Even when his dad gathers him up in a tight hug and apologizes.

Getting home feels weirder than after the previous attacks. He goes to bed without eating. No appetite. And as he lies there, he thinks about how every other time, there’d been some sliver of a chance, some way he could’ve hoped to have gotten out. But this time, he really would’ve died without the Plague Doctor.

#a disease like you spreads #adlys #chapter 6 #gif /#glitch /

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bharatiyamedia-blog · 5 years

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Snakebitten Stanton

http://tinyurl.com/y6jqf5d5 Giancarlo Stanton can’t catch a break. It is doable that he unwittingly walked beneath a ladder or unintentionally broke a mirror in the course of the offseason as a result of he can not seem to keep wholesome proper now. The 29-year-old slugger exited Tuesday’s recreation in opposition to the Blue Jays within the fourth inning with a proper knee bruise. It’s unclear how or when Stanton suffered the damage right now, however it could have occurred on an ungainly headfirst slide into third base within the opening body. It might be unfair and deceptive to characterize Stanton as injury-prone. He’s been extraordinarily sturdy, taking part in no less than 158 of a doable 162 video games in every of the final two seasons. Nevertheless, he’s definitely been tormented by persistent nagging points to date this season. He’s missed time on account of quite a lot of illnesses together with a biceps pressure, shoulder pressure and a calf pressure. Now, he’s coping with a knee problem. Yankees supervisor Aaron Boone informed reporters after the sport that outcomes of checks on Stanton’s knee, which included an MRI, weren’t but accessible. There must be some further readability Wednesday concerning the extent of the damage and whether or not it would lead to any missed time. Clearly, fantasy homeowners will wish to monitor this example carefully within the coming days. Editor’s Word: Keep forward of the competitors from wire to wire with rankings, customizable projections, commerce evaluator, unique columns and extra in our Season Pass. And begin utilizing optimized lineups on Yahoo!, DraftKings and FanDuel with our DFS Toolkit!. Anderson Suffers Sprained Ankle Stanton wasn’t the one fantasy famous person to undergo an damage on the East Coast final evening. White Sox’ dynamic shortstop Tim Anderson exited Tuesday’s recreation in opposition to the Red Sox in Fenway Park after struggling an obvious leg damage. He needed to be helped off the sector and could not put any weight on his proper leg. He was injured whereas making a operating throw behind second base. The moist discipline situations seem to have performed a task on this one as Anderson appeared to roll his proper ankle whereas trying an off-balanced throw. He was in vital ache earlier than being carried off. The 26-year-old burgeoning fantasy famous person was within the midst of a formidable power-speed combo marketing campaign, hitting .317/.342/.491 with 11 homers and 15 stolen bases throughout 281 plate appearances. Anderson was identified with a sprained ankle after x-rays got here again unfavorable and will probably be re-evaluated on Wednesday. It seems that Anderson averted main damage, which is a big aid for fantasy homeowners as properly. He’ll doubtless be headed to the 10-day injured listing, however must be able to return after the All-Star break early subsequent month. Homecoming Half II On the heels of an emotional homecoming for historical slugger Albert Pujols in St. Louis over the weekend, a pair of superstars squarely within the prime of their respective careers, Manny Machado and Gerrit Cole, got here again to hang-out their former organizations on Tuesday evening. Machado reached base safely in three of his 5 plate appearances and clobbered a solo homer in his return to Baltimore, the town he known as house for seven seasons earlier than being traded to the Dodgers in a blockbuster deal final July and signing a 10-year, $300 million free agent contract with the Padres within the offseason. He obtained a standing ovation from the Orioles’ trustworthy within the opening body earlier than placing out wanting in his first at-bat. Sadly, that was just about the one time they managed to maintain him off the bases on this one. He launched a solo homer to left-center discipline off Jimmy Yacabonis, growing the Padres’ result in 5-1 within the third inning. Sarcastically, the titanic tater marked Machado’s 100th profession house run at Camden Yards. He additionally tacked on an RBI single within the fourth and walked within the sixth. In the meantime, Cole wasn’t flawless in his first profession begin in opposition to the group that chosen him with the highest total choice within the 2011 MLB draft, however nonetheless managed to reel off six innings of one-run ball in a win over the Pirates. He struck out three batters and in addition issued a pair of walks. The 28-year-old righty recorded a 3.50 ERA over 127 begins for the Pirates earlier than being the centerpiece of a large commerce with the Astros previous to final season. He’s managed to unlock his true potential and evolve right into a respectable fantasy ace during the last two years. He at present ranks second within the majors, trailing solely Nationals ace Max Scherzer, with 151 strikeouts in 102 2/Three innings this season. Story continues Hicks Headed For Tommy John Fantasy homeowners obtained the official affirmation on Tuesday afternoon that Cardinals nearer Jordan Hicks will endure season-ending Tommy John surgical procedure on Wednesday. The 22-year-old fireballer will doubtless be sidelined till the second half of the 2020 marketing campaign. Previous to the damage, Hicks racked up 14 saves to go together with a 3.14 ERA, 0.94 WHIP and 31/11 Okay/BB ratio in 28 2/Three innings. St. Louis GM John Mozeliak confirmed that Carlos Martinez will function the Cardinals’ nearer shifting ahead. He must be owned in all fantasy codecs. The 27-year-old righty has pitched completely in aid since making his season debut on Might 18, permitting 5 earned runs on 11 hits and 5 walks with 14 strikeouts in 15 innings. Martinez has some rapid job safety, however there’s an opportunity that this might devolve right into a full-blown committee scenario if he struggles, given the presence of circling vultures John Gant and Andrew Miller. The official announcement got here lower than 24 hours after the group revealed that Hicks had a torn ulnar collateral ligament in his proper elbow. The central query for fantasy homeowners to contemplate shifting ahead is whether or not there was a direct correlation between his triple-digit velocity, a dramatic uptick in utilization of his hard-biting slider and this main elbow damage. We’ve witnessed numerous pitchers return from Tommy John surgical procedure at (or near) their earlier degree at exponentially increased charges than a decade in the past. It’s changing into more and more uncommon for a highly-touted prospect to succeed in the large leagues that hasn’t undergone no less than one main surgical procedure. So, it’s not unrealistic to consider that Hicks can come again and return to kind subsequent season, however he’s unlikely to make a major fantasy affect till the 2021 marketing campaign. If there’s one encouraging takeaway, it’s that elbow points are much less worrisome long-term than shoulder issues. Nevertheless, the truth that he throws so exhausting and depends closely on a violent slider as his fundamental secondary providing, needs to be a priority shifting ahead. In line with Baseball Savant’s database, the 22-year-old righty has thrown 206 pitches in extra of 100 mph this season, which is 107 greater than towering Marlins righty Tayron Guerrero, who’s the subsequent closest on that leaderboard. Final yr, Hicks threw 659 100-plus mph pitches. Merely put, Hicks is a little bit of a historic outlier. Exterior of some peak Aroldis Chapman campaigns in Cincinnati earlier this decade, we haven’t actually seen anybody throw this tough, this usually. From a long-term, keeper and dynasty league perspective, this damage doubtless knocks him outdoors the highest 300 total property shifting ahead. There’s merely an excessive amount of long-term threat from a well being and efficiency standpoint to justify stashing him in shallower codecs. AL Fast Hits: Shohei Ohtani (elbow) will throw off a mound on Wednesday for the primary time since present process Tommy John surgical procedure final October. … Indians supervisor Terry Francona confirmed Tuesday that Mike Clevinger is “good to go” for Friday’s begin in opposition to the Orioles in Baltimore. … Max Kepler exited Tuesday’s recreation in opposition to the Rays after being hit by a pitch on the proper elbow. X-rays got here again unfavorable and he’ll endure an MRI on Wednesday. … DJ LeMahieu, Aaron Judge, Gleyber Torres and Edwin Encarnacion launched solo homers because the Yankees’ set a major-league document with 28 straight video games with a house run of their slender victory over the Blue Jays. … Aroldis Chapman notched his 23rd save in that contest. … Brad Hand coughed up 5 runs and did not document an out in an unpleasant blown save in opposition to the Royals. It was his first blown save in 23 alternatives this season. … Hunter Dozier blasted a go-ahead grand slam in that one. … Rafael Devers went 4-for-Four with an RBI and a pair of runs scored within the Pink Sox’ win over the White Sox. … David Price struck out 9 over six innings in that one. … Alex Bregman went 3-for-Four along with his 22nd round-tripper of the season within the Astros’ win over the Pirates. … Daniel Vogelbach launched his 19th lengthy ball of the season within the Mariners’ win over the Brewers. … J.P. Crawford stayed sizzling with a pair of hits and RBI in that one. … Jesse Chavez racked up seven strikeouts over 6 1/Three innings in a win over the Tigers … Eddie Rosario collected 4 hits and a pair of RBI within the Twins’ blowout win over the Rays. … Blake Snell was tagged for seven runs on 11 hits over Three 1/Three frames within the loss. … George Springer went 1-for-Four in his return to the Astros’ lineup … Joey Gallo went 1-for-Four with an RBI double in his return to the Rangers’ lineup in opposition to the Tigers. … Pink Sox reinstated Steven Wright from the restricted listing. … Daniel Mengden will begin for the Athletics in opposition to the Cardinals on Wednesday. … Hunter Pence (hamstring) is unlikely to be activated from the 10-day injured listing when first eligible on Thursday. … Salvador Perez is catching bullpen classes, however he is not but being allowed to throw as he progresses after Tommy John surgical procedure. … Astros activated Collin McHugh from the 10-day injured listing. … Andrelton Simmons (ankle) will resume his minor league rehab project Tuesday with Class A Inland Empire. … Trevor Cahill (elbow) will probably be activated from the injured listing on Wednesday. … Zack Cozart‘s injured left shoulder shouldn’t be therapeutic properly and he would possibly miss the remainder of the season. … Yankees designated Kendrys Morales for project. … Alex Meyer introduced his retirement on Tuesday. NL Fast Hits: Mike Soroka (forearm) might miss his subsequent scheduled begin after feeling some lingering tightness whereas taking part in catch on Tuesday. He’ll throw off of a mound on Wednesday, and relying on how he feels, the Braves will make a dedication on his standing to start out over the weekend. … Rockies positioned Brendan Rodgers on the 10-day disabled listing with a proper shoulder impingement. … Jon Morosi of MLB Community reviews that the Giants and Dodgers aren’t ruling out the opportunity of a commerce that might ship reliever Will Smith to Los Angeles. … Corey Seager (hamstring) took floor balls and was capable of do some mild operating on Monday. … Caleb Smith is slated to make an extra rehab begin earlier than rejoining the Marlins big-league rotation … Lorenzo Cain underwent cryotherapy for his injured proper thumb in California on Tuesday morning. … Bryan Reynolds was scratched from the Pirates’ lineup on Tuesday due to a bruised shin. … Madison Bumgarner struck out a season-high 11 batters over six innings in a win over the Rockies. … Scott Kingery walloped his 10th lengthy ball of the season out of the Phillies’ leadoff spot in opposition to the Mets on Tuesday. … Rhys Hoskins belted his 18th homer in that contest as properly. … Jeff McNeil went 4-for-5 with a run scored within the shedding effort. … Max Scherzer struck out 10 over eight innings of one-run ball in a win over the Marlins. … Trea Turner belted a three-run homer within the Nationals’ victory. … Fernando Tatis Jr. Francisco Mejia and Manuel Margot left the yard within the Padres’ lopsided win over the Orioles. … Logan Allen allowed two runs over six innings to choose up his second win in that one. … Max Fried struck out eight batters over six innings in a win over the Cubs. … Ronald Acuna and Ozzie Albies left the yard in that one. … Adbert Alzolay allowed one run over Four 2/Three innings in a no-decision in opposition to the Braves. … Jack Flaherty was rocked for seven runs on 9 hits over Four 2/Three innings in a loss to the Athletics. … Robbie Ray registered 9 strikeouts over 6 1/Three innings in a loss in opposition to the Dodgers. … Julio Urias fired three scoreless innings to choose up a win in aid, whereas Kenley Jansen recorded his 23rd save of the season in that contest. … Braves activated Sean Newcomb from the 7-day concussion injured listing. … Dinelson Lamet might be a part of the Padres’ rotation after another rehab begin this weekend. … Jordan Lyles (hamstring) will doubtless come off the injured listing to face the Brewers on Saturday … Alex Wood (again) will go to a health care provider after experiencing renewed soreness in his again. … Alex Reyes will miss two or three minor-league begins with a strained pectoral muscle. 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dashfire2-blog · 5 years

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MLBits: Low-Cost Relievers, Best Hitters By Pitch Type, Astudillo, Oracle Park, More

Today is the deadline for arbitration filings, so like Kyle Hendricks’ late-night settlement, you should expect some news throughout the day. Now, we just have to wait to see how many players will actually head to arbitration.

The hopeful answer, of course, is none, because in addition to our desire for strong player-team relationships, the more deals that get worked out, the more cost-certainty the front office will have. If money is as tight as it appears to be, a million saved or earmarked with certainty here or there can go a long way. Apparently.

… to signing a low-tier reliever or something …

Though even those guys have been getting gobbled up lately. Right-hander David Phelps, for example, signed a one-year, $2.5M deal, plus a club option for 2020, with the Blue Jays. There are some escalators in the fine print, but that is a very team-friendly deal for a 32-year-old who posted a 3.40 ERA (3.55 FIP) last season and a 2.28 ERA (2.80 FIP) with 32.4% strikeout rate the year prior. And as a former starter, he seems like a good bet to gobble up a bunch of innings – something the Cubs may soon need desperately. And he’s not the only one.

The Mariners also signed a 32-year-old right-hander, Cory Gearrin, to a cheap one-year deal with some incentives. And like Phelps, Gearrin had a solid 2018 season (3.77 ERA, 4.31 FIP in 57.1 IP), but an even better 2017 (1.99 ERA, 3.89 FIP in 68.0 IP). Neither guy is earning a lot or has a particularly high, realistic ceiling, but they each come with reliable arms and cost next to nothing.

There remain a ton of low-tier relief arms out there, but now that things have opened up and bargains are coming in, I sure hope the Cubs are more proactive about who they want, as opposed to merely picking up whatever’s left. These deals are already about as small as big league contracts get … just go get the guys you want, before someone else scoops them up.

Oh, this is fun: A convincing post on why new Brewers catcher Yasmani Grandal is actually really, really awesome and the contract he just signed with the Brewers is a steal. Fun. FUN. Oh, and here’s even more fun about how good Grandal is and how the Brewers keep managing to find some excellent deals in iced-out offseasons.

Well, this’ll take some getting used to: the San Francisco Giants home, previously known as AT&T Park, is now known as “Oracle Park.” AT&T had the naming rights since 2006, but Oracle has just signed a 20-year-pact. So get used to it, I guess. If you’re unfamiliar with Oracle, the company, that’s not entirely surprising, but you might be interested to learn that their co-founder and CEO, Larry Ellison, is among the ten richest people in the world ($58.5 billion). Company must do something, I guess.

After a grievance was filed against them by Carter Stewart for an apparently insufficient offer in the first round of the 2018 MLB draft, the Atlanta Braves will keep their compensation pick for 2019, and Stewart will have to go back into the draft. More details at MLB.com.

I love interesting breakdowns and player performance rankings this deep into a cold winter, so Matt Kelly’s latest at MLB.com was right up my alley: 2018’s best hitters by pitch type. Of note, Bryce Harper was the fifth best two-seamer/sinker hitter last season and Mike Trout is pretty good at hitting, like, everything. No Cubs make the top 5 of any pitch type, but there’s good stuff in there.

You might remember strikeout-less slugger Willians Astudillo from this wonderfully-pimped Game 5 (Venezuelan League) playoff home run:

But at FanGraphs, Jeff Sullivan looks a little more closely at Astudillo’s actual stats and projections, and how his unique profile might make him one of the most likely players to put together the sort of hitting streak that could rival Joe DiMaggio’s record. Sullivan admits it’s almost definitely not going to happen (ever again, potentially), but there’s still probabilities to consider, and Astudillo might just have the right profile.

This feels a little obvious to Cubs fans who’ve seen Kris Bryant play center, Willson Contreras play left, and about a hundred guys play just about everywhere else, but it’s still important to remember. The game is valuing versatility more than ever:

OMG SIGN ME UP RIGHT NOW ALSO I CALL YOSHI ALSO YOU MUSTA BEEN CHEATING, CAUSE I ALWAYS WIN:

Source: https://www.bleachernation.com/2019/01/11/mlbits-low-cost-relievers-best-hitters-by-pitch-type-astudillo-oracle-park-more/

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usatrendingsports · 6 years

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San Diego Padres 2018 season preview: The long run is not right here but, however it’s vivid

It wasn’t too way back that the San Diego Padres made an ill-advised try and fast repair the roster and contend. Throughout the 2014-15 offseason the Padres added Matt Kemp, Craig Kimbrel, James Shields, Justin Upton, and Wil Myers in an effort to show round a group that went 77-85 in 2014. The membership then went 74-88 in 2015, and GM A.J. Preller began the method of tearing issues down.

Because of this, the Padres now have one of many recreation’s prime farm methods, however the massive league roster is properly in need of postseason caliber. FanGraphs projections peg San Diego as a 73-89 group in 2018. PECOTA additionally has them at 73-89. I might have a tough time arguing they’re higher than a 73-ish win group. The Padres (2006) have baseball’s third longest postseason drought behind the Seattle Mariners (2001) and Miami Marlins (2003), and there is little cause to consider they’re going to attain the playoffs in 2018. Let’s preview the membership’s upcoming season.

The vitals

Possible lineup

Squint your eyes and you’ll see the makings of an above-average offense in San Diego. The Padres nonetheless have a number of too many lineup weak spots, however issues are beginning to search for. Right here is the beginning 9 supervisor Andy Inexperienced figures to run on the market come Opening Day:

CF Manuel Margot

2B Carlos Asuaje

RF Wil Myers

1B Eric Hosmer

3B Chase Headley

LF Jose Pirela

SS Freddy Galvis

C Austin Hedges

Pitcher

Bench: C A.J. Ellis, IF Christian Villanueva, UTIL Cory Spangenberg, OF Matt Szczur

Margot is a stud who appears destined to turn into a dynamic 20-homer, 40-steal, Gold Glove caliber leadoff man. Asuaje has the talents to play on this league for a decade as a excessive on-base center infielder. Hedges is a prime notch defensive catcher with pop, and people guys are exhausting to seek out. Headley and Galvis are stopgaps, not long-term options, however there are some good items right here.

Possible rotation

That is the place issues get a little bit sketchy. The Padres have some younger fascinating arms, however this membership was close to the underside of the league in rotation ERA (four.70) and rotation WAR (+7.5) in 2017, and it is exhausting to see how they’re going to be higher in 2018 with out a number of massive time breakouts. Right here is Inexperienced’s projected Opening Day rotation:

LHP Clayton Richard

RHP Tyson Ross

RHP Bryan Mitchell

RHP Dinelson Lamet

RHP Luis Perdomo

Ross is again with the Padres following arm issues in 2016-17 and an uninspiring displaying with the Texas Rangers final yr. He is in camp as a non-roster participant however is wholesome, and is predicted to land within the rotation. Mitchell, Lamet, and Perdomo are all younger and have good arms, although they’re nonetheless attempting to determine issues out on the MLB stage. Matt Strahm, Robbie Erlin, Jordan Lyles, and Colin Rea are among the many depth starters.

Possible bullpen

In lefty Brad Hand, the Padres have a bona fide shutdown nearer who may very well be a part of a championship caliber bullpen. Past him there are some, properly, let’s name them fascinating arms. They is perhaps extra helpful to the Padres long-term as attainable commerce chips than roster gamers. Right here is the projected bullpen:

Nearer: LHP Brad Hand Setup: RHP Craig Stammen, RHP Kirby Yates Center: LHP Buddy Baumann, HHP Carter Capps, RHP Kazuhisa Makita, RHP Phil Maton Lengthy: RHP Jordan Lyles

Capps is the wild card. He had a powerful 2015 season with the Marlins — Capps struck out 58 in 31 innings with a 1.16 ERA — however he blew out his elbow and wanted Tommy John surgical procedure. The Padres acquired him as a reclamation undertaking within the Andrew Cashner commerce and he hasn’t been practically as dominant since getting back from elbow surgical procedure. If Capps can regain his type as he will get additional away from Tommy John surgical procedure, it’s going to be a pleasant enhance for the Padres.

Among the many bullpen depth choices are Adam Cimber, Kyle McGrath, Colten Brewer, Rowan Wick, and Brad Wieck. Lefty Jose Torres was positioned on the restricted listing lately and is going through home violence costs. He’s not a part of the membership’s bullpen plan at this level.

What are they anticipating from Hosmer?

The Padres predict greater than on-field manufacturing from Eric Hosmer. USATSI

It isn’t typically you see a no-doubt rebuilding group shell out a nine-figure contract for a free agent, however that is precisely what the Padres did with Hosmer a number of weeks in the past. They have been after him all winter — this wasn’t a “nobody noticed the Padres getting concerned” scenario — they usually lastly acquired their man proper earlier than the beginning of Cactus League video games.

Hosmer signed what quantities to a five-year, $104 million contract with a three-year, $39 million insurance coverage coverage. Right here is the annual wage breakdown:

2018: $20 million and a $four million signing bonus

2019: $20 million

2020: $20 million

2021: $20 million

2022: $20 million with an opt-out after the season

2023: $13 million

2024: $13 million

2025: $13 million

Hosmer will flip 33 early within the 2022-23 offseason, and if he is nonetheless productive, he figures to choose out of his contract in search of a bigger payday. If issues aren’t figuring out and his play declines, Hosmer will move on the opt-out and gather that $39 million from 2023-25.

Clearly, the Padres didn’t signal Hosmer just for his bat and glove. There are many first basemen who hit like Hosmer — who hit greater than Hosmer, actually — and whereas his glove is nice, it is not $100 million good. The Padres signed Hosmer as a result of he is a top quality participant and a championship caliber clubhouse man. They need him to be on the middle of their rebuild after they start incorporating younger gamers into the lineup.

Is good method to spend $104 million? Eh, most likely not, however take into account Hosmer’s contract will not trigger the Padres to overlook out on any free brokers sooner or later as a result of the Padres are not often in on massive free brokers. The upside: Hosmer is nice and different free brokers are extra keen to return to San Diego. The draw back: Hosmer is unhealthy and the Padres lose out on a bunch of free brokers who weren’t going to signal with San Diego anyway. That is not so unhealthy.

The Padres aren’t delusional. They know Hosmer will not put them excessive in 2018. He is perhaps a part of the long-term answer although, a participant who helps on the sphere and even moreso in a younger clubhouse in want of leaders. Hosmer is an immediate respect dude. Younger gamers look as much as him and he is the kind of participant a rebuilding group needs mentoring their kids.

Is Hand a long-term piece or commerce bait?

It was stunning when the Padres did not commerce Hand on the deadline final yr and it was much more stunning after they signed him to a three-year contract extension value $19.75 million over the winter. The very last thing a rebuilding group wants is a high-priced nearer. Hand’s worth is as excessive because it’s ever going to get proper now, and fairly than money him in as a commerce chip, the Padres doubled down and gave him an extension.

The query now could be how does he match long-term? Is he right here for the lengthy haul? Or are the Padres nonetheless planning to commerce him in some unspecified time in the future? The contract extension makes him extra useful on the commerce market, in spite of everything. Holding him is kind of dangerous. The Padres are possible a number of years away from rivalry and relievers are each unstable and fragile. Hand will not be a dominant — and even serviceable — reliever by time the group is able to win. Buying and selling him for prospects now could be, in a way, the secure transfer.

There’s something to be mentioned for respectability, and like Hosmer, Hand helps the Padres be respectable. There’s nothing in baseball extra demoralizing than blowing a late-inning lead. Hand is a reputable difference-maker and one of many prime relievers in baseball, and his contract is hardly onerous. As with Hosmer, I am not going to get upset with the Padres spending cash they weren’t in any other case going to spend. It is unclear whether or not Hand is a part of the long run or a commerce chip, and, frankly, each are defensible.

The place does Renfroe match?

The Hosmer signing pushes Myers again into proper discipline, and with Pirela penciled into left discipline — Pirela quietly hit .288/.347/.490 (122 OPS+) with 25 doubles and 10 residence runs in 83 video games final yr — meaning former prime prospect Hunter Renfroe is a person and not using a place. The previous first spherical decide hit .231/.284/.467 (97 OPS+) with 26 homers in 122 video games final yr. The ability is legit. The on-base potential is missing.

As issues stand, Renfroe is probably going ticketed for Triple-A, a stage he has already conquered. The 26-year-old is a profession .326/.357/.597 hitter with 40 homers in 168 Triple-A video games. He has nothing left to show at that stage. Renfroe is on the level the place he must face MLB pitching persistently and be challenged to get higher. Maybe the Padres have determined his on-base potential won’t ever enhance, they usually’re prepared to maneuver on. In that case, a commerce appears possible. Proper now Renfroe’s future in San Diego is up within the air.

Be affected person, a lot of assistance is on the way in which

The assorted scouting publications all agree the Padres have a prime tier farm system. They’ve drafted properly, they’ve traded properly, they usually spent a boatload of cash internationally lately. This is the place these scouting publications rank San Diego’s farm system going into spring coaching:

The Padres are loaded with expertise within the farm system. There is not any doubt about that. The one downside with their farm system — and let me emphasize this is not a Drawback, only a “downside” — is that the majority of their prime prospects are very younger and within the decrease ranges of the minors. MLB.com’s No. 1 prospect, SS Fernando Tatis Jr., is barely 19. No. 2 prospect LHP MacKenzie Gore is 19. No. Three prospect RHP Luis Urias is 20. 4 of the membership’s prime seven prospects are youngsters. Two others are 20.

Now, it’s completely attainable Tatis and Urias will make their MLB debuts in 2018. Each reached Double-A final season they usually’re simply that rattling good. Others like RHP Cal Quantrill (Paul’s son) and LHP Joey Lucchesi might debut this summer season as properly. Usually talking although, San Diego’s greatest prospects are within the low minors and never particularly near the massive leagues. The Padres have gobs of expertise and that is essential. It simply is perhaps a number of years earlier than a lot of that expertise reaches the present.

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