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siriscrafts · 3 months ago

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(I have posted about this on @official-nature-posts before but asking you specifically. So when I remembered that Japanese indigo is a persicaria, I wondered if my local Persicaria Decipiens would work. I could see some blue hints just crushing it up which is good, best seen in the blurry photo. I plan on doing fresh leaf dyeing first, but I have been reading up about small scale indigo vats which id like to know if you know much about them? I don’t want to have to buy chemicals.I know that they need an alkali (I can wood ash lye or even calcium hydroxide at a pinch by heating up ashes a lot) a reducing agent ( fructose, I saw one blog that was using boiled orange peels and also trying pectin.) and of course the indigo source. Do you know how the reducing agents work. I will wait a while for it to warm up so the plants start growing again because they get knocked about by frost each year. Also hopefully going to grow some Japanese indigo.

Ooh, cool! I've gotten to try indigo dyeing on a course once, and one of my friends there showed how to make an organic dye vat, Michel Garcia's style (you can find his tutorials on youtube too!). Both were made with ready indigo powder, though. Let's check my notes first, then I'll talk about the plants. Prepare for a long read!

Chemical dye process

For reference, the normal chemical process went like this: we used 10% WOF (weight of fibre) sodium hydroxide to get a high (10-11) pH to help extract the dye. Temperature should be 40-50⁰C., and the extraction time was 40 minutes. For the reduction, we used sodium dithionate 60% WOF at 55⁰C (no higher, it wastes some dye), and pH was 8-9. At that step we had to leave the room for 30 minutes because it's toxic to let it settle. A tip for controlling the temperature: use a double boiler. After the 30 minutes, it looked like this:

A pretty metallic sheen on the surface and an "indigo flower" bubble in the middle had formed! Underneath the mixture was a yellowish green.

For dyeing, dip it 1-10 minutes, try not to get air mixed into the dye bath. We used a parsley boiling kettle with its basket to dip the fibers in! Presoaking in water also helps the dye absorb more evenly. Pulling it out is magical, as it oxidized it turns from green to blue! Then rinse with vinegar and water and continue rinsing with water.

Organic vat method

This method can be done in smaller scale! It works like this:

Ingredients:

1 part indigo powder

2 parts calcium hydroxide (pickling lime) for alkaline agent

3 parts food-grade fructose or any other natural reducing agent (henna, oignon, very ripe fruits or an old madder dye vat are some suggestions!)

The indigo powder was dissolved into a bit of water first by putting it into a plastic box with some marbles and shaking it around to form a smooth paste.

For the reducing agent, the fructose was simply dissolved into 7-8 liters of water. If using henna (Lausaunia Inermis), prepare a "decoction" by putting the extract in cold water and boil till the powder remains in the bottom, then filter through a cloth and let cool to 50-70⁰C.

Then the indigo paste was added to the reducing agent. Probably let this sit for 40 minutes too?

For the alkaline agent, also don't breathe or touch with bare hands. Dissolve the calcium hydroxide in warm water and add that mixture into the indigo dye vat, carefully pouring it along the container wall to avoid getting air mixed in. Stir three times, creating a vortex. It should turn green, and look like the picture above with a metallic surface and blue bubbles. Then cover the vat tightly and let sit for 12-24 hours for the indigo to dissolve and reduce. Then carefully stir it and check the pH. Adjust it if needed:

For wool, pH 10 and temp 40-45⁰C.

For silk, pH 11 and no heating necessary.

For celluloce fibers like cotton/linen, pH 12 or higher and no heating necessary.

Dyeing: With presoaked fibers, dip for 30 minutes. Press the fibers against the wall of the container to avoid getting air = oxygen into the dye bath. At this point, it should look green.

Then the dye needs to be oxidized. To do this, remove the fibers from the dye vat, gently wring excess dye out, and push it in and out of cold water, opening any folds as you do. After the colour stabilizes into blue, hang it to dry for 30 minutes.

For best results, repeat this dyeing process two more times. If you want darker, extend the dipping and drying time on the second and third dye round to 1 hour and 1.5 hours.

When using fresh plants, I think you can extract the dye first and then use the extracted and filtered solution (or paste, if you use a lot of leaves and dehydrate it a bit) as a base for the fructose step. More on the extraction later.

Indigo compounds in plants

I'm not familiar with the plant you mention, so I don't know if it's as good as the indigo plant, Persicaria Tinctoria. I think you should still try, as crushing the leaves shows blues thing is very engouraging. I bet you'd at least get nice greens or greenish yellows if not even turquoise or blue!

Indigo is a category of many dye chemicals, and P. Tinctoria contains (among others) indirubin, which is the red indigoid chemical that makes indigo a more dark purple kind of blue. We have another plant, Isatis Tinctoria (common name woad, morsinko in Finnish), growing here, and it's also cultivated for indigo, but it doesn't have indirubin, hence the colour it gives is a bit cooler blue. So be aware that the shades you get might be different from what you're used to seeing as indigo! Also with our I. Tinctoria I remember reading that it's recommended to pick the leaves when they're young and keep them intact for best dyeing results. Though it depends on the method.

Indigo as a compound is not water-soluble, so that's why we need to reduce = remove the oxygen from the dye bath, so that it can turn into its precursor, that is water-soluble. The precursors are sensitive to light and oxygen during the process, so it can be tricky to get it to work. In the dye process the precursor sticks to the fibers, makes it green, and when it oxidizes in the air, it turns to indigo = blue.

Also in some traditions the leaves have been fermented first, and then used in the dye vat – that might be interesting to look into! Fermentation is also a way to reduce a vat, as the yeast and bacteria use up the oxygen in the fermentation process. Here's some reading on the traditional dyeing methods with I. Tinctoria that Outi, a natural dyer from Finland, recommended:

"A treatise on the culture, preparation, history, and analysis of pastel, or woad : the different methods of extracting the coloring matter, and the manner of using it, and indigo, in dyeing" (Lasteyrie, Dearborn 1816)

"The woad plant and its dye" (Hurry 1930)

Extracting from plants

I don't have any personal experience about this, but I'm going off of this finnish blog post on dyeing with I. Tinctoria, that I think should work very similarly. Her reasoning was that high heat and oxygen destroy the precursors of indigo, but high heat breaks the cells of the plants to allow for the dye compounds to dissolve into the water, so she put the plant leaves into boiling water and then put cold water on top soon to drop the temperature to around 50⁰C. (Also with the same reasoning, if you need to rinse the plants, use cold water). The leaves turned yellow in the 20 minutes they brewed, after that her steps were:

Remove the leaves

Add soda ash (50 grams, vat pH now 11)

Whisk for 20 minutes to add oxygen (at this step it should be more blueish, keep whisking until the bubbles turn pale, though hers was green) (I'm not convinced if this step is good)

Add 40 grams of a stain remover that contains sodium dithionate to reduce and leave for an hour

Peel the metallic surface and dye!

Wow, that was long. I find indigo dyeing super fascinating so it was fun to research it again! I hope some of this is useful to you!

#asksiri #ask #natural dyeing #indigo #indigo dyeing #fiber arts #craftsofsiri

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shop-korea · 1 year ago

Video

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self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2 · 2 years ago

Text

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 04x04

Metamorphosis

“I feel bitchy but not as bitchy as this fkn cunt.” (Dean was on the screen for the recap)

“Is this the one where we learn that Sam is drinking demon blood?” “That’s a nice little chain thing” “Fkn digital cameras” “Who is the bigger slut? Sam or Dean? I think it’s clearly Dean, but the demons think it’s Sam” “Is that the best facial expression you can do? A twitchy noise. What a jackass” “So he fkn just exorcises them like Darth Vader? Welcome to the Dark Side, bitch” “That’s exactly what I thought we’d see - Dean noticing Sam is changing” “Jensen’s Ankles” “What the fuck kind of shirt are we wearing now?” “Is that supposed to be some sort of silk shirt? Why wear the undershirt if it’s silk? It doesn’t look silky though” “bitchy” “uh huh” “So we’re focusing on Sam this episode? We haven’t focused on him so much yet” “Ok” “Gross” “Doesn’t he just explode or something?” “Don’t they eat each other or something weird? Or he explodes? Or something funny” “That’s one hell of a tapeworm buddy” “This guy has really fkn black hair. I feel like I’d see him in a Romaine ad” “Pretty sure he eyes her up and eats her” “It’s like his 8th beer or something, and he doesn’t feel drunk?” “What’s up with the high shutter speed? They usually reserve that for action scenes”

“Love the jello meat” “Didn’t we already do a rougarou?” “Why are they talking so quiet? With super close-up shots? It’s so weird” “The filming choices are just excuses to get close-ups of Jensen” “Fuck yeah dude” “That was like a chicken bone sticking out.” 🎶chicken bones🎶 then we rewound the scene to watch it again “look at that little shit. A little turkey bone. Someone went to Buffalo Wild Wings then had a good time” “WAIT. HOLD THE PHONE.” Then we rewound the Dean scene “He blows the torch but you can hear the button click, too. Was he just trying to be cute?” “KY lube is so crappy though”

KY lube really messed up my ph balance so we had to switch to a higher quality lube

Of course Dean has been days-hungry

“Yeah, I recognize the metaphor of the episode” “For a tiny little cut?” “They’re fkn married and they’re having this conversation? I feel like if I explained myself, you’d be ok with it.”

Idk. I’d be pissed to drive myself to the hospital for stitches but I’d be more upset about my Spouse turning into a rougarou

“He didn’t eat her yet?”

“What a bitch” “they can’t have this argument while driving? They gotta get all fkn Man Angry and have a parking lot bitch fit on the side of the road? Where like Sam walks to the other side of the car and get in Dean’s face and shake his fists around. Shouting is all they know. Unless they’re not fighting then they’re whispering” “Yeah, literally” “Oh yeah. Pissing” “Thats a lot of piss” “Just some random ass neighbor chopping trees? If my neighbors were busy doing that, id build a taller fence” “What’s he doing? ISn’t that his woman?” “His Man Burger Helper?” “He’s just camping out in a random apartment complex being all creepy and shit?” laughed at the lady freaking out “we’re here to save you, I guess.” That’s funny, I forgot about that” then we rewound the whole break in sequence 5x

“What is Dean looking at? Look at his eyebrows. Its funny. Then the little “heh”. Why is it so good?” “I want to string together all of Jensen’s face movements in a little video and watch it” “Oh my god. People call it Jessen’s Face Journey??”

“My condolences? What the fuck” “Does he eat the fkn bitch” “HELL YEAH BROTHER. FUCK HIM UP” “Oh he’s going to eat his ass right in front of his wife? Thats hilarious” “mmmmm delicious bacon” “I’m a rougarou bitch” “and they’re right behind him” “sure why not” “they really like trees. Tree ass wall paper and a tree painting on the wallpaper. Tree themed couch. Tree themed chairs. These people are so white” Oof. Concussion natural

“Did anyone ever count up the concussions they get? Or the number of gunshots they lose their hearing over? Or the number of times they get smacked in the face” “they over-stress the “believe me I know” thing way too much” “Is he rougging out?” “They’re quite flammable. The rougarou self-combusted. But I guess they eat a lot so maybe they have higher cholesterol? Maybe that checks out?” “That’s weird” “You don’t have to deal with the shit inside of you alone? Hmm” “Why are we looking at Sam’s reflection?” “weird time to exorcise your agency, I guess”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural #supernatural s4 #supernatural rewatch

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soulkeeper801 · 2 years ago

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One day - Twice’s Im Nayeon

Twice’s Im Nayeon x f!reader

(A/N: I suggest reading Wait For Me so you understand the context of this one).

TL/DR: Nayeon has made the decision to prioritize her career over her love life. Is it worth it?

---

“Your ID?” the man in the door asked before letting you in.

You put your hand in your pocket and realized it wasn’t there.

“Eh,” you stuttered, “I work with the artist that is performing today, I forgot my ID”.

The man looked at you and shook his head. He wasn’t going to let you in, he had instructions.

“Come on, I’m part of the staff, ask anyone inside, they know me!”

He sighed. “You’re not getting in, please leave”.

“She’s with us,” a voice from inside said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss,” he quickly apologized and opened the door for you.

Nayeon offered you her hand before walking in with you, “what happened?”

“I forgot my ID, my backpack and my wallet,” you sighed.

She laughed. “Why?”

“I was supposed to go pick Jihyo up, so if I was coming back with her they would let me in, right? But when I got to her apartment she had already left”.

She couldn’t stop laughing.

“Alright, it’s not that funny,” you said, trying to sound annoyed but secretly giving in.

“You’re so cute,” she said, resting her hand on your cheek.

You stopped walking and held her gaze.

One day.

-----

“I think they may ask about my ideal type in the interview,” Nayeon said, fixing her make-up and looking at you through the mirror.

You were sitting on a couch behind her in her waiting room.

“I think I’m going to say Lee Minho,” she chuckled.

You smiled. “He’s cute,” you stated, gaining a laugh from her.

“I wish I could say it’s you”.

You smiled sadly this time, diverting your gaze to the floor.

“Nayeon-ssi,” a member from the crew asked, “it’s time to start recording”.

She nodded and squeezed your hand when she passed by you.

“Nayeon, you’ve been single for so long, don’t you wish you had someone with you?” the interviewer asked, trying to make her blush and getting cheers from the fans that were attending the recording.

She smiled at the fans. “My ONCEs are enough for me, they take care of me and worry about me all the time”.

Fans went crazy again as the interviewer chuckled at such an expected answer.

“Tell us about your ideal type, Nayeon, how would you describe him?”

She sighed, looking at the back of the crowd where you were standing.

“Well, to be honest, my ideal type…”

Nayeon started to detail the way you would treat her, how you take care of her, the way you smile, the spark in your eyes. She completely described you without mentioning your name.

You smiled at her when her eyes met yours as it was only the two of you at the studio.

One day

---

“Oh, wow, look at that cute dimple of yours,” the girl standing next to you said, startling you a bit with her boldness.

“T-thank you?” you replied when she blocked your way so you would stay and talk to her a bit longer.

“You work with Nayeon unnie, right? I’ve seen you around a few times”.

“Yeah, I work with Twice. I actually should be with them now so I’m afraid I have to leave you”.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the girl insisted. “They’re still on stage and we can keep talking for a bit. Y/N, right?”

You chuckled at her efforts. “Yes. Jennie, right?” you asked with the same tone and she replied with a smile.

“Cute and witty, you got everything, Y/N”.

You smiled back, a little bit flustered by the way she was looking at you.

“Can I have your ph-”

“Y/n!,” Nayeon called from the other side of the hallway. “The staff is asking for you in the waiting room”.

“Come on, unnie,” Jennie said, “don’t take her away from me”.

Nayeon couldn’t help but roll her eyes which surprised the younger girl.

“Sorry, Jennie, I gotta go,” you simply said before leaving her side.

Nayeon glared at you the moment you stepped into her waiting room.

“What?!”

“Ugh,” she groaned, “I know I have no right to be mad, but I can’t help it”.

“Hey,” you said, cupping her cheeks, smiling at the jealousy showing in her face. “You have nothing to worry about. I have eyes only for one girl, remember?”

She nodded, redirecting her gaze to your lips.

“Sorry,” she said for the nth time, “for everything”.

You shook your head. “I know it’ll be worth the wait”.

One day.

#twice x reader #nayeon x reader #twice x f!reader #nayeon x f!reader #soulkeeper801

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maracujatangerine · 2 years ago

Note

If you were interested in learning shorthand teeline is pretty simple to do and unlike some others it doesn’t require a calligraphy pen or super exact lines although it can’t get as fast as others bc it’s a bit more lose you can still with practice get 100+ wpm they teach it to journalists in the US and there’s lots of online workbooks or you could just learn the alphabet

i’ve been using it to take notes for a law lectures bc my teacher would pretty much just talk at us and then random bits would be useful later so i could write pretty much everything he said and then type it up later and have nice notes and since typing is faster than writing for me it saved time

i’ve found for me bc it helped to just have a little journal i carried around and then once i knew the alphabet( just filled like half a page with each letter then page with alphabet) i’d practice random things like ppls names or snippets of something that way i didn’t put the pressure of accurate transcription on until i knew it well enough that i was like ok well it’ll be at least as good as my normal stuff

i wasn’t trying very hard(did no work book stuff just notebook in varying stages of frequency) and after abt a month of it i could write pretty well i would just forget the occasional letter so id start by writing alphabet everytime and then write whatever stupid thing in the margin of my notes or test or whatever i started spelling everything exactly how it is to get used to it then began doing the shorthand shortcuts as well like f instead of ph or remove vowels combine signs and for those again i filled like a page with the short shorthand for the, and, various chemistry phrases(i was taking chem at that point) and then random law phrases and cs phrases bc i knew i was taking those classes and it’d be useful to even just chuck it in sometimes amidst english when a word was really long

sorry for the long ask thing i saw your comment on the dracula shorthand post and now here we are. have a good day

This is so awesome! 😍 I think I love you, Anon! 💖

And I love Tumblr, where else can you unexpectedly and delightfully be gifted a long explanation of a particular kind of shorthand?

Thank you for the suggestion! I will think about it! (Tee line looks awfully difficult to me, but good to hear that it isn’t that hard.) I don’t have as much use of note taking in my everyday life anymore, but it would be fun to know. :)

#thanks for the ask!#thank you

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i-am-a-fan · 2 months ago

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WELL. DO I HAVE A RAMBLE FOR YOU!

I’m studying rn and i’m on “break” while i switch topics and you have just triggered an unskippable cut scene. Welcome to combat!

So there’s multiple ways to purify a protein and it all depends on the protein it self, which depends on the properties of the amino acids found within it, which depends on the functional groups found within that amino acid.

Think of it as how you’d think of food as spicy, savory, sweet or what ever based on the way the food is served, what the main ingredient is, and what seasonings are put to make that main ingredient taste the way it does.

The method then is chosen by those features.

The first one i’ll explain is that of SDS gels because they’re the first thing that comes to mind. Basically, you’ll coat the protein with SDS which gives it a negative charge. That charge is then like a magnet that pulls the protein to the positive side. The larger the protein, the harder it is for it to move through the gel to the other side. there’s a variation of this gel called “native gel” that doesn’t use SDS and so charge is also taken into account when being pulled.

Then there’s also Isoelectric focusing where a tube with a gradient of pH’s is created and different proteins are placed within it. The protein will gain or lose charges depending on the pH it’s in. A charge will pull it into a direction until it reaches a neutral charge/ zero net charge. Think of it as a battery, once it reaches 0, it stops working. If it doesn’t have a charge, it doesn’t move. This is important because that means that specific pH is where that protein’s isoelectric point is. Which is important because of solubility (how easily that protein can dissolve in water).

Now there’s also “Salting out” proteins which rely on said solubility of proteins. The more protein A can dissolve in water the less that protein B can dissolve in water. Basically you’re changing how much salt is in the solution to kick one protein out of its home.

Remember how I said some proteins have different characteristics? Well some are more negatively charged than others and some are more positively charged. This helps in the technique of Ion exchange. (Ions are when a molecule is charged). If the protein is positively charged, we use a bead that’s negatively charged so the two hold hands and don’t escape together. The opposite is true if the protein is negatively charged. All other proteins will run through the tube pretty easily, leaving the one you want still in there. You then can stop the two from holding hands with salt or acid.

(Sorta the same concept for hydrophobic technique with the more water loving proteins will run right through while the hydrophobic (non polar) proteins will HATE it it whole time.)

Gel Filtration uses size and small little holes in the beads that trap the smaller proteins and let the big ones go through.

Affinity chromatography gives little ID markers to specific chemical groups so they get stuck like that of the Ion one. Theres two different attachments that can be added a GST tag or a 6x HIS tag and both require different methods to attach them and to remove them.

From there you keep repeating the purification process until you get the purity percent that you want

the scariest part about being a stem major is starting to get good at being a stem major ™

#speck rambles #long post #being silly with the mutuals #biology #biochemistry #uh. oops #learning with speck

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system76 · 3 years ago

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UYPP: Ben Ruel's Garage Garden

Back in March, we announced the winners for our Unleash Your Potential Program, in which six participants got to configure their own System76 computer to use for their awesome projects. This first awesome project is the Garage Garden, helmed by awesome project-er, engineer, and mighty green thumb Ben Ruel. We sat down with Ben to see how his project has been growing on the Meerkat.

Can you tell us about the Garage Garden project? What's it all about?

I spent a career with the Coast Guard and came up here—my final tour with the Coast Guard was in Juneau. Being in southeast Alaska, we’re constrained with what they call off-the-road systems, and the only way in or out of town is by boat or by plane. So all of our food comes up here by barge for a small nominal fee, or by aircraft for an incredibly large fee.

When I came up to Juneau with my wife and kids 11 years ago, we noticed that by the time our produce gets up here, it’s lived on a barge a week, two weeks out of Seattle, and you have no shelf life left on them. We started trying to grow food within the first year of getting here, and we came to the conclusion pretty quickly that with 300 days plus of rain every year, outdoor growing wasn’t really a viable option. That’s when we started a hobby farm in a garage growing some stuff in soil under fluorescent lights, as odd as that sounds.

Since then, we’ve progressed into hydroponics, but we’ve done it very manually. We go out every other day and take readings by hand, so I’ve been doing some research about building IOT devices that will talk back and automate some of the readings. My dream would be using it to actually control the concentration of nutrient solutions that we use. The overall goal is we’re going to build the hydroponic monitoring network of IOT devices, and use the Meerkat as a control center for the devices and a repository for all the data. We’ve also been doing some investigating behind the scenes into whether or not it could grow enough legs to become a business.

Is there a specific type of produce that you’re starting with?

We’ve been all over the road. Right now we’ve got lettuce. We’ve always got some kind of green leafy vegetables whether it’s any variety of lettuce that will grow hydro, some bok choy and tatsoi, and we’re growing kale like it’s going out of style. We’ve grown cucumbers to the point where I think I’ve harvested 65 pounds of cucumbers off of 4 plants over the last couple of months, but we’re really constrained by our size.

I live in a relatively small 3-bedroom house, and we’re just using a one-and-a-half car garage as our grow area. Right now I’ve got two tents. As funny as it sounds, cannabis is legal in Alaska and has been forever—my wife and I don’t touch the stuff, but because it’s been legalized, the infrastructure and the supplies that we need are freely available. We’re growing tomatoes in a tent that’s designed for marijuana growth. It works really well. It helps to maintain efficient temperature control; you can maintain temperature and humidity, block out extraneous light if you don’t want it, and cycle the lights on and off.

Depending on whether it’s too hot in the summer we’ll run the lights at night, and in the wintertime we’re looking for extra warmth, we can shift the cycle and run the lights during the day. Our big benefit up here is that, because Juneau’s all on hydroelectric power, electricity is really cheap.

What variables are being monitored?

With hydroponics, there’s a good number of parameters that you’ve got to try and keep track of. You’re basically diluting nutrients in a solution of as pure water as you can get. You want to keep track of things—your pH can’t be too acidic or too alkaline, for example.

The other big parameter is the electrical conductivity, or total dissolved solids. You want to make sure you’ve got the right concentration of nutrients, and that your nutrient solution isn’t salting up. As you’re adjusting pH back and forth, it’ll start demineralizing salt, so tracking that data gives you a good indication for when it’s time to dump the reservoir and start over.

We’re doing it manually now. I go out every couple of days and we take samples, and sit down and log it into a spreadsheet. The Meerkat acts as a control center for programming devices, keeping a repository of the programming for the IOT devices that we’re using (Arduinos with the esp8266 chips) as well as running different database programs as Docker containers, so that they can be spun up and knocked down fast enough as we try and figure out what the best way to move forward is. We’ve got a couple of database servers that I’ve been playing around with, trying to break from traditional SQL and looking at NoSQL type of databases.

I’m not an IT guy by trade. I’m more of an electronics guy, so I’m kind of doing it as a study-by-night type of project.

What has your experience been like with the Meerkat so far?

I’m actually completely blown away by the Meerkat’s performance. It’s astounding what that small form factor and footprint is able to do. I’ve used Linux for a number of years, and basically everybody’s heard of System76. I’ve seen Pop!_OS before and never really played with it all that much, but I’ve actually grown to love it. The feel, the ergonomics, the interface, and even down to the color schemes that come bone-stock right out of the box. They just make more sense to me. I’m looking forward to the COSMIC update after researching that to see how the differences in the workflow will affect things.

What software are you using for this project?

Right now we’re writing in Docker containers and running the Tick Stack from Influx. We’re also running Telegraf, Protograph, Capacitor, playing around with the Time Series Database, I’ve got a container running MongoDB I run with SQLite, and there’s a couple different IDEs I’ve got loaded on there as well for programming Arduinos or esp8266 chip flashing.

How was the setup process for the machine?

It was up and running within 10–15 minutes of pulling it out of the box. I actually took it to work, too. We do a lot of work with government agencies, and I’ve been doing a lot of microwave radio repair. I’ve got a pretty small workbench at our shop here in Juneau, so using the Meerkat to drive all of our test equipment to control the radio while logging data coming out of the radio, it was perfect. It had enough horsepower to remotely control the test equipment. I wasn’t pushing it all that hard, but setting it up and going back and forth between having it at home or at work, it was negligible to get it up and running.

Stay tuned for further updates from Ben Ruel’s Garage Garden and cool projects from our other UYPP winners!

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sometimesiwrite · 4 years ago

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Hooked on a Feeling

The Witcher: Modern Academia AU

Essi/Eskel

A/N: Inspired by this lovely art piece and my general ongoing obsession with Lit Prof Eskel, I bring you this—whatever this is. It came about largely because I want to explore Essi more thoroughly through different pairings, various different planes of existence, etc. The best way for me to think about and develop a character is to put them in with other characters and see what happens. This may or may not become a series, this also might stay where it is. I chose a modern AU because I wanted a challenge. I believe characters change with context, and this has been an interesting time spent with Eskel in this context as well. I’m not sure how I feel about him in this universe (aside from the love and affection I will likely always feel for that man); more specifically, I’m not sure I’ve done him justice, but I suppose I’ll let you decide for yourself. Feedback is usually helpful and always welcome. Cheers, friends!

Warnings: bit o’ smut, age gap, academic power structures, dialogue-heavy

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

Strong hands held her steady, warm and luxurious through the cotton-poly-spandex of her skirt as it bunched around the tops of her thighs. A breathless roll of her hips left a spot blooming slippery dark on the red cotton of his boxer briefs, and a hungry moan escaped his throat as he explored the tender flesh and tendons of her neck. Papers crumpled under foot, previously housed on top of the desk, but now relegated to excess carpeting. Roget’s Thesaurus, Crabb’s English Synonyms, Shakespeare’s Lexicon, and other reference materials splayed open helplessly on the office floor as he toed off his shoes and sloughed off his pants.

She clutched him to her, feeling the shift and flex of his torso beneath her hands as she pressed her right cheek to his. She was overwhelmed with the urge to be closer, to know better, dig deeper into the possibilities of what they could mean to each other. But she could also feel the hesitation lingering between his fingers and her skin like a mirage over hot pavement, and the desire to ease and reassure took over. “You’re holding back,” she whispered, pausing their fervor. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Her hot breath against his ear sent a rushing tingle down his spine that made him falter, ever-so-briefly, before he regained his composure. He was breathing heavy against her, hair a mess, glasses askew, every muscle in his body quivering as he stood; caught between following the raw satisfaction of impulse, and listening to the unwelcome logic echoing loudly in his head that this was a bad idea. “No, no, believe me, this is very much what I want. I just—I need to make sure tha-ha-ha-haaaaa,” no one, not even him, got to know the end of that sentence as her palm dragged along the bulge in his briefs.

She blinked at him with certainty, pale cheeks blushing from her own boldness. But she wanted him to know that he was wanted: his mind, his body, his whatever-else-he-chose-to-give-her. Slender fingers nimbly worked the pearly buttons on his dress shirt. “You need to make sure that I don’t feel coerced by the difference in our ages or your institutional status.” She ran her hands over the crisp white cotton of his undershirt and smirked, “or your strength.”

Gods the way she talked sometimes, like her fucking soul belonged somewhere else, the way she just spoke words and meant them like it was the easiest thing in the world to be straightforward. It felt… safe. He could drift in the current of her transparency and never question whether she was holding something back or saying something merely for the sake of placating his insecurity. This woman had no subtext. It was liberating and, if he was perfectly honest, acutely arousing.

“Yes, of course I want to make sure,” he ran a hand through her hair, smelling sea salt and verbena. “And I want to make sure that you…”

She took his face in her hands and washed his honey-hazel eyes in her startling sea-glass-blue, “I want you.”

__________

Not even a third of the way through the semester, and Essi had already given up on the idea of making coffee and having a “pleasant wakeup” at home before class. It took no less time to roll out of bed and walk all the way to the cafeteria, but at least there was always a blueberry danish for her trouble, and the walk ensured she wouldn’t be tempted back into the warm bundle of blankets on her bed. She blinked heavily and shivered a little, her eyes still bleary from not-enough-sleep. She gripped her contigo travel mug and tried to remember the first two chapters of Gadamer that she’d half-read the night before (earlier that morning) as her eyes drifted closed.

...can I get for you?

Good morning… Miss?

The man in front of her gave a wry smile to the cashier, “Almost seems a shame to wake her up.” He gingerly reached out and nudged Essi’s elbow. She startled and her eyes—her two spectacularly blue eyes—blinked open. “Sorry,” the man said with an endeared smile, “You, uh… you alright?”

Essi blinked herself alert as a piece of strawberry blonde hair escaped a silver clip at the back of her head. She brushed the loose piece back behind her ear. “Yes. Sorry, just… uh, house blend in this, please. Double-double. And a blueberry danish.” She paid the cashier and stepped to the side to wait for her order. The man in front of her, she assumed, was also waiting on his. He leaned to the side, still facing forward.

“Long night?” he asked, clearly still mildly amused by the situation.

She conducted a surreptitious survey of her chatty companion, “You could say that. Philosophy reading got away from me this week.” A keycard was clipped to his breast pocket: Dept. English, E. L. Varga, Ph.D. The lack of photo indicated it was at least a year old if not more—photo IDs had only just become mandatory with the rapid growth of the campus and certain programs. She reckoned he was maybe 37-ish, from the way his hazel eye crinkled a little at the corner and the few bright silver streaks in his dark auburn hair. He looked… distinguished, but without the stiffness of someone whose entire adult life had been fully committed to academia. Post-doc? Assistant Professor?

“Full day ahead?” Essi couldn’t help but think the world of radio was missing a key contributor, his voice was so striking—deep and rich, but without being flashy, an unassuming timbre that came from somewhere deep within and carried a vulnerability with it.

“Oh, a little. Philosophy seminar followed by Contemporary Poetry this afternoon.”

“Two on a Friday. That’s a bit unkind.”

“I like them both and the professors are very engaging, it’s just, well…”

“Abrupt end to the week.”

“Yes exactly…” This unexpected morning companion was an excellent conversationalist. So much so that Essi hardly noticed she’d only seen the left half of him the entire time they’d been standing in line. She didn’t have much time to ponder on it, though, as her travel mug appeared at the same time as Dr. Varga’s order (a coffee and a cream cheese bagel). She glanced at the time and hastily lidded her thermos, hoping to get a bit more reading done before class began.

“Oh look, we have the same one!” she said, pointing to the turquoise blue, double-walled, spill-proof (as if) container as she tightened the seal on her own. “Funny coincidence.”

“Or maybe,” he offered suspensefully, tucking his bagel into his shoulder bag and lidding his own, “it’s not.”

Essi offered a sleepy chuckle, “Divine intervention in the form of coffee?”

“You’re the philosopher,” he smiled warmly, and moved to face her fully but stopped himself, instead opting to stare at his hand where it rested on the lid of his thermos. His left eye caught Essi’s inquisitive head tilt as he cleared his throat, “Have a good day.” He pursed his lips in a halfhearted smile and turned away. No doubt he has places to be, she concluded. But a small part of her couldn’t get over his sudden shift. He’d gone from being so open, so warm and charming to being—well, distant.

Essi’s musings about the mysterious E. L. Varga, Ph.D. were quickly dissolved by her professor’s introduction to Hermeneutics followed by a lively discussion about the nature and qualities of knowing. At the halfway point, the class dispersed for a ten minute break as they all stretched their legs and went to the bathroom. Essi gambled that her coffee would have cooled down to a drinkable temperature, and took a sip. What the—?

“Oh, damnit!”

“Hm? What’s the matter?” Julian asked, through a mouthful of pita and hummus.

“This isn’t mine,” she said, half-befuddled, half amused.

“How do you know they didn’t just get the order wrong? You’re telling me you took a stranger's coffee thermos which just happens to be identical to your own?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Essi stated with certainty, staring into the middle distance. “I should find him after class and give it back.”

“Well, unless you can see through walls now, you’ll need to track down his office. Which,” Julian took another sizeable bite of pita, “I doubt you’ll be able to do without knowing his name, so I say just leave it and—“

“E. L. Varga, Ph. D., English department.”

Julian stared at his cousin, “You’re a little scary sometimes, you know that?”

________

Essi combed the halls of the English department after her seminar. Several times, she thought about going to the admin office to ask (it was the logical thing to do), but she felt suddenly shy about looking for him. Perhaps Julian was right, perhaps this was more trouble than it was worth. Her head was spinning with questions about whether she was imposing or perhaps impinging on his boundaries, disrespecting his privacy. Perhaps she should just leave the thermos with the Admin office and trust that it would get to him. She could just buy a new one for herself, no problem there. But then a part of her wanted to see him again, make a good impression. He intrigued her, and the small taste of conversation he’d given her that morning made her want to talk with him more about anything at all, no matter how trivial.

She wasn’t infatuated. Rather he’d made an impression, and something about him—the way he carried himself, presented his thoughts, his general affect—drew her to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Suddenly he mattered, and she was trawling the seemingly-endless network of almost-identical hallways in the hopes of returning what was his, and retrieving what was hers. She finally found the right office, impossibly small, and tucked away at the far end of a cul-de-sac. She knocked quietly.

“Come in?”

E. L. Varga, Ph.D. had his back to the door, ankles crossed on a corner of his desk with a stack of papers in his lap. “Just.. one second,” he finished underlining a scrawled turquoise notation in the margin and spun around to face the door, setting his papers down as he turned. “Yes, what can I do for—” he froze, coming face-to-face with dazzling blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a silver clip. “Ah.”

Essi tried hard to avoid the look of shock that rippled across her face and made her big blue eyes even bigger. Three jagged scars trailed angrily from the corner of his eye and past his mouth, coming to a final stop on the side of his chin. He cleared his throat and gave the same wry smile he’d parted with earlier that morning, adjusting his rectangular, wire-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“I imagine you’ve come for this,” he said, placing Essi’s thermos on the edge of the table.

“I—yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and, well,” she fished his out from her bag, “here.” She handed it to him and he accepted with a lighthearted raise of his eyebrows. She paused for a moment, meeting his eyes intensely. There was a sadness behind them that made her want to stay, made her want to ask questions, find out the source of his pain and eradicate it. Instead she smiled a little more stiffly than she meant to and lingered in the doorway.

E. L. Varga scratched at the lines in his cheek, “Was there, uh… something else?”

Essi shook her head pleasantly, “No. I suppose I’ll go now.”

Another pause, “Alright. Well. Enjoy your weeke—.”

“Why do you mark in blue?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Varga blinked, nonplused.

“When I came in, before you turned around, I saw you leaving a comment on someone’s paper. I assume you were marking?” (he nodded), “You use turquoise. Most professors use red.”

He huffed a small laugh, spinning his marking pen in its cap, “I prefer to use a colour that’s a little less foreboding. It’s still bright and easy to notice, but it doesn’t mean instant panic for those students who, like me, have a Pavlovian panic response to red ink. That and red is my favourite colour, so the last thing I want is to associate it with constructive criticism and a never-ending trail of ‘see me’s.”

“That’s very generous of you. Most professors don’t think about it that hard.”

“The extent to which many professors don’t think is shocking, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m glad for your students. They have a thoughtful instructor.”

Dr. Varga smiled warmly and removed his glasses, “Thank you. Was there something else?”

“You hid from me this morning,” Essi answered calmly, not knowing how else to bring up something like that—clumsily had been the only other option.

He answered slowly, “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

There was a pause as Dr. Varga tried to wrap his head around what exactly was happening. Part of him was feeling exposed and a little too noticed for his own comfort. Another part of him, however, found this straightforwardness refreshing. Most people pretended to ignore the massive scars on the side of his face—which he always thought was a bit ridiculous and usually led to more awkwardness than if they just stared like he knew they wanted to. It wasn’t that she was staring, either, or asking unwelcome questions, but she wasn’t avoiding acknowledging the obvious. He liked that, he decided, even if it did make him feel a bit raw.

“It depends how you define ‘need’, doesn’t it?”

His averted glance was all Essi needed to realize it wasn’t her he had been trying to spare somehow; rather, he was trying to spare himself from her unpredictable reaction at 8:30 in the morning. A wave of sadness crested inside her at the thought of this warm and charismatic man having to strategically orient his face because he didn’t want a pleasant conversation suddenly filled with maneuvering and overcompensation. He’d just wanted a normal moment of small-talk to start his morning.

“I’m sorry,” Essi said. “Navigating others’ reactions must be exhausting. You deserve better.”

E. L. Varga shrugged and steered the subject to something a little less eat-pray-love. “Unexpected things surprise us. Like you, finding my secret gremlin office for the sake of two identical thermoses we could just as easily have dumped out and used as our own.”

“But I would have known it wasn’t mine,” Essi answered with an overly-earnest, wide-eyed expression.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded contemplatively in his lap, ”Would that bother you?”

“Some of the colour has worn off the bottom rim on yours, probably from swirling it on your desk while you think. Whereas mine has a shallow dent in the side from when I dropped it last semester on my way to the library. Yours got the way it did because of you, just like mine did because of me. They both have stories connected to them. I can’t walk around carrying my coffee in someone else’s story. It wouldn’t feel right.”

Dr. Varga tilted his head, considering this shrewd young woman with seemingly no filter and unnecessary depth. It was a coffee thermos, for Christ’s sake. But she was genuine, poetic, and her eyes were the most alluring shade of blue he’d ever seen.

“Well,” he tapped his pen, “thank you for bringing it back to me safe and sound. Yours should still be drinkable if you unscrew the top. I only took one sip, but in case you’re afraid of cooties…”

“Same with yours, I’ll probably just rinse mine or…” she trailed off, realizing that saying ‘leave it’ would sound a bit strange. “So, Dr. E. L. Varga. Was it a coincidence after all?” Essi asked, a small enigmatic smile pulling at her lips.

“Eskel,” He said. “My name is Eskel.”

“Essi Daven. Until next time.”

With a little nod, she closed the door behind her, leaving Eskel to release the half-breath he’d been holding.

_______

The weekend passed all-too quickly. Essi and Julian played a double set at the campus bar—a standing invitation they never missed no matter how busy their schedules were. They both had double lectures on Friday, and nothing quite staved off the risk of burnout like good music and an enthusiastic audience. The rest of the weekend was spent more-or-less curled up in the livingroom with stacks of notebooks, JStor printouts, and dog-eared anthologies as they got to work on their readings for the coming week.

It was Wednesday by the time Essi made it back to the campus cafe, this time a good 45 minutes early and significantly better-rested than she’d been the previous Friday. Still, it didn’t stop her from nearly jumping out of her shoes when…

“Awake this morning, I see.”

She turned abruptly at the familiar voice to find Dr. Eskel L. Varga standing behind her, smiling welcomingly. She grasped the outside of his arm while she caught her breath, “Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. Good morning!”

A rich chuckle came from the professor’s throat as he offered her elbow a brief touch of reassurance. “You know, most people do that after they’ve turned around.”

“You know, I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she answered lightly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It was just—”

“That’s alright, I know what it was,” Essi blinked warmly up at him and Eskel got the distinct feeling she was checking him somehow, the way her eyes hovered and flickered between his own. Satisfied, she turned to the cashier and placed her usual order, stepping aside to wait with Eskel for his bagel.

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the twins today,” he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.

“I think any amount of attention from either of us will be enough to prevent another mishap. But, then again, it’s a shame we won’t have an excuse to distract ourselves with an early afternoon mystery.” Essi thanked the young man behind the counter as she accepted her thermos and blueberry danish.

“Hm, I imagine you’ll be glad not to have to find my office again, though. Cheers,” Eskel held up his own travel mug before taking a sip and lidding it. “I should be off. Busy day today. Good to see you, Essi.”

“I can walk with you if you like.”

Eskel slowed and turned tentatively back to her, “Sure, alright. If it won’t make you late.”

“No, no, I have time. My class doesn’t start until 9:30. That is, if you want company. You might… prefer to walk alone?”

Eskel smiled again, the friendly distanced smile of someone who wanted to avoid any and all misunderstandings. You see, there was something about Essi that set this post-doctorate professor on edge—not because she made him uncomfortable. On the contrary: she made him feel surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable in a way he was not accustomed to feeling around someone he’d only just met, and briefly at that. But even the brief few minutes they’d spent in each others’ company had been enough for Eskel to feel strangely drawn to her. There was an inherent intimacy in the way she interacted with him—with everyone, he assumed; the way her large blue eyes blinked slowly and inquisitively at him, the way they penetrated without piercing and lingered on his without darting away. It only served to enhance the subtle, self-possessed sensuality she exuded, and it made Eskel slightly-less-than-comfortable (insofar as he found it unavoidably appealing).

“I don’t mind a bit of company from time to time,” he offered, having opted for ‘Intriguing Conversation with Interesting Potential Future Student’ as his intention for this and all future encounters. They walked for about a minute in silence, neither quite knowing where to begin. Without the crutch of mistaken coffee-identity, the realm of conversational possibilities seemed a bit daunting. Eskel decided to ease the tension, “So, Essi. You know that I teach in the English department and where my office is. What’s your major? Or are you just doing general studies?”

“Well, I did do general studies my first year of undergrad,” a small piece of Eskel’s uneasiness eased. So she’s a grad student… “Now, I’m finishing off the first half of my Poetry MFA.”

Essi watched as his face immediately opened, eyes lighting up like a kid at DisneyLand, “Really? What’s your focus?” It was unbearably endearing.

“Affect and Poetic Performance. I’m examining the relationship between lyric and melody through the lens of Affect Theory.”

“Affect Theory…”

“It’s a way of talking about our ineffable responses to different environments. It’s all well and good to say, ‘well this or that has a certain vibe,’ or ‘something about that person feels off,’ when we’re speaking colloquially, but how do we talk about it in a broader, more objective way for the purposes of research? It’s a kind of philosophy of sensing if you think about it.”

Essi’s entire demeanor had changed on the turn of a dime. She was effusive, incisive, and talking a mile a minute, her gestures captivatingly eccentric as she spoke—Eskel thought it looked like her thoughts were physical things she was trying to pull out of her so she could arrange them properly. He wanted to see more of this side of her. Not just because he was amused and impressed, but because he was genuinely fascinated by where all this discussion of affect was going.

“And so affect itself is…”

“Affect is the thing that happens before emotion; a gut feeling or an intuition. It’s all those feelings we don’t have words for yet still sense acutely and precisely.” Her footsteps were becoming shorter, as though they were trying to keep pace with her thoughts, and her cheeks were starting to flush a pretty shade of pink beneath her light layer of foundation (or powder or whatever it was that made her shimmer slightly).

“This all sounds very elusive, Essi.”

“Exactly! It is! It’s incredibly elusive! And yet, what is it about a certain song that we can all agree sounds ‘melancholy’? How do we, as artists—poets, actors, sculptors, writers, musicians, gallerists, interior decorators—curate affect in a way that’s consistent and predictable?”

“Hm…” Eskel had forgotten about being charmed by his companion and was now fully invested in the inquiry at hand. He felt confident that he’d pieced it together so far. “So: how do lyrics and melody work together to form a cohesive, wide-reaching atmosphere...”

“—And how does the singer or musician facilitate that? Precisely.”

“It sounds like you’re digging into some interesting corners. Are you enjoying it?”

“I’m finding it invigorating,” the pink of her cheeks only served to intensify the blue of her irises as they flashed brightly up at him.

“I’m happy to hear that. It isn’t always the case,” Eskel stopped, having reached the top of the hallway leading to his office. “I should get to work, but. Thank you for the company. You’re thinking about a lot of interesting things.”

“A roundabout way of saying I’m interesting, perhaps.” There was no flirtation in her voice, no slyness on her face, but Eskel felt his face grow warm all the same. He couldn’t decide what was worse: that she wasn’t flirting but stating the obvious; or that her stating the obvious had the same effect as flirting.

“Yes, well. Duty calls,” he gave Essi a polite wave and turned towards his office.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He stopped. “Sure” he replied stiffly, privately bracing himself for the inevitable question. Fine. Alright. It’s natural to be curious.

“What’s the L stand for?”

Eskel turned back to face her, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Sorry?”

“Eskel L. Varga. What’s the L for?”

“Oh! Sorry I thought…” he scratched gently at his right cheek and Essi’s heart sank. How many callous people had imposed their curiosity on him? A spark of protective anger shot up inside her as she watched his hand and she had an overwhelming urge to reach for him. “It’s, uh, it’s for Llewlyn.”

She swallowed heavily, restraining her hand as it twitched by her side, wanting to touch, to ease, to unburden. “You thought I was going to ask about something else that’s none of my business.”

Eskel rocked on his heels, examining the various dings and dents in the linoleum tiling, “Yes.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“Thank you,” he looked up, his free hand now in his pocket. “Most people don’t… I should go.”

“Have a good week, Eskel.”

“You, too.”

To say that Eskel retreated behind his office door would be a bit of an overstatement. But in the quiet solitude of his own private space, he had a moment to collect himself, to temper the intense vulnerability pressing on his chest. But there was another feeling, too, that felt more… elastic. A buoyancy driven by stimulating conversation and pleasant company; he was impressed, incredibly impressed; and despite his better judgement there was a part of him that hoped he would see her again on Friday morning.

Essi made her way to class with an indelible smile on her face as she struggled to convince herself that it was a professor’s job to listen to eager students and find their research topics interesting. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening. She didn’t know what, just yet, but it was something. Only time would tell.

______

@morethangeraskier @the-space-between-heartbeats @just-a-sad-donut @oxenfurt-archives @thirstyforred @titaniafire @belalugosisdead @lonelygayz @awkward-turtles-world @iloveyouyen @criminaly-supernatural@friendlybelladonna @enkelikauneus @sulkyshengshou

#Essi x Eskel #Essi Daven #Modern AU #Witcher AU #rarepair #Essi/Eskel #Profskel #The witcher #Eskel

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catdotjpeg · 3 years ago

Photo

[Image ID: A Filipino member of GABRIELA holds a placard that reads: “Php4.5 Billion confidential at intel funds ni Duterte. Kagyat na i-realign para sa COVID-19 prevention!” Other members of GABRIELA hold placards behind her. End ID.]

President Rodrigo Duterte and his administration view the COVID-19 response as a “peace and order” issue instead of looking at the pandemic as a public health emergency.

This is how senatorial aspirant and human rights lawyer Neri Colmenares described the problem with the government’s policies on COVID-19 within the past two years.

“The problem with the government is that they always put the burden on the people and the business community… Lockdown is their main solution. For President Duterte, the solution to any problem is black and white. Just like the lockdown, if you follow, we are okay, but if you don’t then you have to be arrested,” Colmenares said in Filipino during a public briefing organized by CURE Covid, Jan. 7.

Colmenares noted how the Inter-Agency Task Force for the Management of Emerging Infectious Diseases (IATF) recorded thousands of arrests related to supposed quarantine violations in the first year of the pandemic.

Recently, Duterte threatened to crackdown on unvaccinated individuals by sending them to jail. A resolution by the Metro Manila Council also restricts the movement of the capital’s unvaccinated population.

In a statement, the Concerned Doctors and Citizens of the Philippines (CDC Ph) said the resolution is unconstitutional and particularly oppressive to the most vulnerable sectors of Philippine society. [...]

“Vaccine rollout is very slow, very low, and very inefficient,” Colmenares said.

While vaccination is seen as an important step in reducing the rate of infections, Colmenares reiterates that free mass testing is vital.

“That is based on science. Free mass testing. There are many countries with no restrictions, unlike us, but they are better off than us,” he said. [...]

Community doctor Josh San Pedro of the Coalition for People’s Right to Health (CPRH) said that there is a low number of tests conducted to detect infections. The Department of Health (DOH) promised up to 100,000 tests a day but only 20,000 to 30,000 tests were carried out in December.

For San Pedro, the demand of the people to seek COVID-19 tests is based on their financial capability to go to laboratories. When the people have no money to go to testing centers, the number of tests can potentially decline.

The CPRH said tests should be free and accessible. While DOH issued a price cap for tests, (P2,800 for public hospitals and P3,360 for private facilities) the cost is still expensive for many Filipinos. PhilHealth also reduced its coverage for tests from P901 to P3,409 to P800 to P2,800 in response to the cap. With PhilHealth failing to ensure that tests are free, San Pedro said that individuals are still going to spend cash if they want to be tested for COVID-19. [...]

With two years of COVID-19 and the discovery of Omicron, CURE Covid spokesperson Dr. Julie Caguiat added in the same forum that the government’s response is falling behind and at times “chaotic.”

Caguiat said the country will not be able to deal with the pandemic as long as the Duterte administration views it not as a public health emergency but a security problem.

-- “Health advocates urge gov’t to view pandemic as a public health emergency” by Tristan James Biglete for Bulatlat, 8 Jan 2022

#philippines #covid #healthcare #metro manila

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daydreambouquet · 3 years ago

Link

Zack never survived the Nibel Reactor and therefore couldn't rescue Cloud from Hojo's clutches. From this single point of divergence, the story unfolds.

Better go get a cup of your favorite goddamn tea to drink while you read.

Preview of Chapter 20 - Rocket Town

Cloud watches Aerith from across the camp at midnight. Her latest exhibition of power leaves him uneasy. Inflicting paralysis without materia is a feat he’s only seen once before, on the cargo ship, when that phantom of Jenova froze him in place. During Barret’s tale of their harrowing escape from the Turks at the Nibel Reactor, Cloud had been the only one not smiling. The trio Barret described are Shinra’s elite, a scalpel when discretion and precision are essential. Nobody should have been able to flee the Turks like that.

Aerith had rescued them, again. Only this time, it was an offensive manifestation, not just healing winds.

He wonders what would happen if she ever turns that power against them. Against him.

Aerith tilts her head and peers in his direction amidst a wall of darkness. He looks away after catching her eyes. They are the only two awake, and it’s very quiet. The team has been taking watch in pairs, given the escalation of pursuit. She resumes her gaze upwards. The long braid sways down her back. It’s a clear night. They are still in the mountains, and paranoia is creeping over Cloud like rust. He opts to take the second and third shifts and keeps his attention honed on Aerith while she sleeps.

The night is uneventful. A few drones fly by overhead, but without a campfire the group remains inconspicuous.

In the morning, they discuss next steps. Bugenhagen had said the ancient temple is on an island, but with Shinra hot on their trail, commercial transit isn’t wise due to ID scans, and it’s unlikely anyone would charter them.

“So we steal a ship,” Yuffie says.

“And who would drive it?” Cloud asks. “You?”

“Steer. You steer a ship. And no, I don’t know how to steer a ship.”

Tifa stretches. “What about an airplane? Maybe we can convince a local to help us?”

Barret shakes his head. “With what? We got no gil, no reputation. And now there’s, what, eight of us? Ha, that’s a lot to transport in secret.”

Cloud agrees. Shinra will no doubt have all airspace locked down. Those hunter-killers are flooding the skies, and the nearest port for any overseas ships is Costa del Sol, which is very far.

“Got any more sudden reveals of vehicles?” he asks Cait Sith.

The cat, sadly, does not.

The mountains break into plains, verdant and endless. Everyone is nervous about the open space. In the distance, a bronze structure juts upwards, outlined by the bright blue sky. It appears to be an old rocket, complete with structural scaffolding, but at an angle that suggests it will never fly.

“Aha, Rocket Town!” Yuffie says.

Cloud’s heard of this. Yes, under Palmer, there was a Shinra space initiative. The funding dried up after launch failure, and the employees working on the project ended up spawning a town of sorts around the centerpiece of their abandoned work. The area has no formal designation, and he can’t remember the project name. It was somewhere in the archives at the Tower.

“No, that’s Shinra territory,” Cloud says. “We can’t go there.”

Even if Palmer is dead, presumably executed by the Turks, and space flight is indefinitely canceled, Shinra still has its claws in any company property.

“But there ain’t nothing else around,” Barret says. “Maybe a few of us sneak in an’ take a look. Grab some supplies. I’m hungry as hell.”

There are general murmurs of approval from all except Vincent, who doesn’t seem to care one way or another.

“Alright,” Cloud agrees. “Vincent and Yuffie should go with me. Barret, Tifa, you both are too high-risk. Scarlet is gunning for us, and your photos likely disseminated fastest in Shinra’s hive. Cait and Nanaki, what do you prefer?”

“I’m stayin’ here!” Cait Sith says. “I do not want to cross paths with Shinra. Sounds like a lot of bad luck.”

“I’ll remain as well. My unusual presence may draw attention,” Nanaki says.

“What about me?” Aerith pipes up.

The group turns to her. She’s standing with hands clasped, smiling sweetly. Cloud wants to keep her close. Keep an eye on her.

“Wanna come with us?” he asks.

She nods.

Vincent doesn’t seem thrilled to be on errand duty, but then again, he doesn’t seem particularly thrilled about anything except finding Hojo. Yuffie, however, is very interested in stealing from Shinra. She keeps talking about the best ways to scope out a target. Vincent, at one point, actually looks annoyed.

Cloud and Aerith don’t speak. He wants to tell her about the Jenova that’s linking them, to divulge his curious fear around her abilities, but he can’t seem to structure the questions in his head. He doesn’t want to push her away. That conversation needs to happen, just not right now.

Rocket Town doesn’t have any official entry or borders. A smattering of homes and shops encircle the dilapidated rocket, which seems an odd centerpiece of exalted decay. Shinra’s banners, though a faded older style, pepper the buildings. Aircraft hangars line the outskirts, and engineers work in the open air. Cloud recognizes several modules they are building as part of the Airbuster units, to be sent to Midgar for assembly.

Vincent comments on the advanced technology and shows surprise that Shinra would ever consider space travel.

“Weren’t biological interests enough?” he says.

The science division was severely defunded when Cloud had awoken. He tries to tell Vincent about Hojo’s complaints of corporate undermining, to which Vincent seems uneasy to hear how closely Cloud worked with Hojo.

“For Hojo. Not with,” Cloud specifies. Vincent says it’s all the same.

Yuffie runs off, excited for a heist which only she has in mind, while Cloud and Aerith count their gil. Vincent remains outside as the two purchase nonperishable food and supplies from a nearby shop. It’s not a lot.

As they exit, Vincent nods towards a middle-aged man with buzzed-short light blonde hair stalking through the center of town. The blonde is talking on the phone.

“That seems to be the de facto leader,” Vincent says. “He was ordering others around. They respect him.”

The man is scowling, furious with whoever is on the other line. Broad shoulders roll with agitation beneath his blue jacket. There’s no Shinra logo on his clothing, but that means nothing when Shinra owns the entire town.

“What do you mean the deadline’s been moved up!?” he shouts over the phone. “Are you fucking serious? I don’t give a shit about a professor who’s-it. There’s no way it can fly in such short notice.”

The man pulls a cigarette from his jacket and lights it. Then he covers his eyes with one hand, smoke trailing between two fingers.

“Those funds should be sent to the Space Program. Not hurried along on whatever grandiose plans you now have for my airship. My airship, which you confiscated!” He shoves a thumb at his chest for emphasis. Then he takes a long drag of his cigarette. “I know, I know,” he says, calming down a little. “Well, the war is over, and so I thought… Right…. Yes, sir…”

He snaps his PHS shut and curses. The new president is a total asshole, he says, and this deadline is idiotic. He shouts and paces and jabs the air with his fist. Apparently, this type of behavior is customary because nobody in town is staring.

Then he spots Cloud and Aerith and Vincent.

“What the hell you three looking at? You from HQ?”

He walks over. Cloud adjusts his footing. Vincent doesn’t budge. Aerith puts a hand on her hip.

“No, we aren’t from HQ,” she says. “We’re passing through. What’re you so upset about?”

The man laughs. “Upset about? Just that newbie, Rufus. Things were bad enough with the old President, and now I’ve got his brat crawlin’ up my ass about deadlines, and what the hell do you care? If you’re passing through, you better just keep on passin’. Ain’t nothing to see here, as you can tell.”

He flicks ash and juts his chin towards the failed rocket.

“So snap whatever photos you’ve come to take and get the hell out.”

Done with the conversation, the man stomps off.

“Wow,” Cloud says, watching him go.

“Not a fan of Shinra,” Aerith remarks.

#fanfiction #ff7 fanfic #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ao3 #zack dies earlier #cid highwind #cloud strife

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sarahwroteathing · 5 years ago

Text

English 284 (1)

Word Count: 1495

Summary: Your proposal to teach a new class combining art and literature is accepted... under one little condition. (College AU)

Warnings: Language

A/N: We’re doing impulsive writing again because it worked well the last two times. Oof. Here we go again, folks. Image is of a painting mentioned in the chapter: “Ophelia” by Sir John Everett Millais. (Source)

Steve’s Perspective .

“Fellas, it’s happening!” you said, shoving the door of the lab open with your hip, laptop balanced precariously in your arms.

“Seriously? I changed the code yesterday! How did you get in here again?” Tony complained, letting his head fall forward onto the table with a dull thunk while Bruce scoffed.

“You changed it to my birthday, smartypants. Besides, my ID is still authorized on the card reader. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy my company.”

You pulled a spare chair over to the table where Tony and Bruce were working, planting your own laptop primly on a stack of battered notebooks. Bruce’s probably. Tony abandoned paper ages ago.

Despite the token protest, Tony was actually your closest friend at work, a pairing that completely baffled your colleagues. The specific brands of eccentricity displayed by English professors and Engineering professors didn’t tend to mix well. But the Dean of Studies, Pepper Potts, had recommended befriending Tony on your first day, and his quick humor and ostentatious confidence had effectively drowned out the imposter syndrome that plagued you during your first semester teaching. You’d met Bruce Banner only a few days later, and sharing lunches in Tony’s lab in the basement of the Engineering building had solidified into sacred tradition by the end of your second week.

“Did you hear back about the new course proposal?” Bruce asked.

“Yes! I got the email notification on my way over here, but I haven’t opened it yet. Tony, tell me your wife isn’t going to break my heart.”

“We don’t talk about work at home. But I read your proposal, and it sounded… Well, I wouldn’t take that class, but it sounded like something Pepper would be into.”

You squirmed anxiously in your seat, logging into your email with a deep breath. You’d worked on this course proposal for the better part of a month, editing and re-editing the syllabus at least a dozen times. You had titled the course “The Painted Word.” A full semester class studying famous myths, plays, poems, and novels and the works of art they inspired.

The idea formed when a picture of Sir John Everett Millais’s “Ophelia” i had sparked a lively debate among the students in your Shakespeare seminar. You’d spent the next week researching artistic representation of iconic characters and stories, and when you’d given a few of your classes the soft pitch of the course, you’d acquired more than enough signatures on the interest form to issue a formal request with the Dean of Studies. Being met with such enthusiasm had lulled you into a sense of security and excitement. In your mind, the course was already set in stone. Which is exactly why the email on your screen landed like a gut punch.

“She said no?” you asked faintly, your eyes scanning and rescanning the first sentence. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm and the care and attention you put into your work, I do not feel that I can approve the course as you’ve submitted it.”

You blinked owlishly but made no move to intervene when Tony snatched your laptop from its place in front of you. Bruce rolled his chair to read over Tony’s shoulder, and they wore twin expressions of puzzled displeasure which would have made you laugh if not for the current state of your professional goals.

“She didn’t say no! It’s conditional approval,” Tony corrected, his expression clearing as he reached to roll your chair closer to him. “Look.”

I’m intrigued by the course description you’ve laid out here, and it certainly has no equivalent in our current course catalogue. I think we would be remiss to limit the course to the English Department and encourage you to consider an interdisciplinary approach with the Art Department. If you’re willing to collaborate with one of their professors so that students can benefit from the expertise of both relevant disciplines and gain credit with either department, I’d be happy to approve the course for the spring semester. I’d recommend getting in touch with Steven G. Rogers. He has taught a number of interdisciplinary courses during his time here, and I believe he would be a helpful resource for you.

“She doesn’t think I can handle this on my own?” you asked, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I have a Ph. D, dammit! I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m sure that’s not what she meant,” Bruce said, reaching around Tony to squeeze your shoulder. “She just wants to open up the class a little more. You know the college has been pushing for more interdisciplinary classes.”

“Who the hell is Steven G. Rogers, and why does she think the sun shines out of his ass,” you muttered grumpily, determined to hold onto your bitterness just a little longer.

“The sun couldn’t possibly shine out of his ass with the stick he keeps up there,” Tony said mildly, shocking a laugh out of you.

“Oh, God, tell me I won’t be stuck teaching with a stuffy old grump for a whole semester.”

“I’ve never had someone ask me to lie to them before. This is a weird feeling. Takes the fun out of it, almost.”

“He’s not that bad,” Bruce protested.

“How do you both know this guy? I’ve never heard of him before in my life. This is - ”

You broke off with a sigh, reclaiming your laptop and searching the faculty directory.

“Why does this stupid website never have any pictures,” you complained, scrolling through his profile.

“Be grateful. It would only make it worse for you,” Tony said with a smirk before smacking your hand away from the keyboard. “Wait, wait, wait! Does that say ‘Gentle Yoga?’ What the hell does that mean?”

“Yoga but in a sweater? On a pile of pillows and he braids your hair after?”

Tony snorted and started to respond, but you clapped your hand over his mouth immediately.

“Shut up. I heard it as soon as I said it. Don’t make it worse.”

“It’s just low impact yoga. Lighter stretches. For people who don’t feel comfortable or able to do standard level yoga. We usually get a few students with sports injuries or disabilities.”

You and Tony both turned to look at Bruce, staring in silent shock for a few moments before speaking.

“...Did you say we? Why did you say we?”

“Bruce, do you have something you’d like to tell me?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, pushing up from his seat and crossing to his bag on the other side of the room, very pointedly ignoring you and Tony who were frantically scooting after him in your rolly chairs.

“Bruce!”

He had pulled out his phone and was typing something, but he pivoted to block your view when you tried to peek.

“I’m texting Steve to see if he has any open spaces in his teaching schedule next semester. You’re welcome.”

“Why do you have his number?”

“Because we take turns teaching gentle yoga, which I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured out at this point, so drop it. And Tony has his number too by the way.”

“What?”

“Judas.”

“I thought you said he had a stick up his ass?”

“Well, the stick is sometimes useful, okay? And he’s not the worst person I’ve met. After a few whiskeys, he even approaches fun.”

You let out an incredulous laugh, abandoning your chair to pace the length of the lab.

“So you’re saying I should give this guy a shot?” you asked, massaging your temples against the stress headache that was starting to creep in.

Bruce’s phone chimed quietly.

“He says he has an open space. Should I put in a good word for you?”

You wandered back towards your laptop, looking wistfully over your syllabus.

“What are the chances this class will still be recognizable after his input?” you asked mournfully.

“You can change your mind and say no if you disagree with him. Find someone else,” Bruce said with a shrug.

“And he’ll pull his weight?”

“He’ll pull all the weight unless you strongarm him out of it,” Tony said with a laugh. “Look, Pep knows what she’s doing. If she thinks you two would work well together, she’s probably right. Her last recommendation turned out alright, didn’t it?”

“You keep trying to lock me out of your lab,” you pointed out half-heartedly, but you gave a nod to Bruce who immediately started typing.

“Yeah, well. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“He said to send him the syllabus and let him know when you can meet to talk about it,” Bruce cut in, tucking his phone back into his bag.

You let out a deep sigh, nerves already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of having to pitch this class to a colleague again.

“What are the chances this turns into a huge disaster?”

“I’d say about 50/50. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”

“Tony!”

“What? She asked!”

---------------------------------------------

Alright guys, what do we think? Are you into it? Excited? How do you think the meeting will go? Do you wanna read more? Let me know! Asks, reblogs, and replies make the world go ‘round!

Part 2

----------------------------------------------

Tags: @aubzylynn @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic

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muilkyu · 4 years ago

Text

That’s Us

Genre: Angst with Fluff, Best Friends, Sick Reader

Member: Jihoon

Word Count: 1.3k Words

Requested by: @stephaniewithan-ph

Groaning I roll around in my bed. My whole body is screaming for me to not get up today. I shouldn't have gone to that party on campus last night. I must have caught someone's cold.

Outstretching my arm I reach for my phone. Squinting as the phone lights up. I look at the time. It's 9 am, I've already missed my first class. I have a bunch of messages from last night. Most of them are from Jihoon, the others my family.

The most recent message is from Jihoon with a simple. 'Where the hell are you?'. I know I should respond, but another hour of sleep won't kill me. Plus the pounding headache I currently have is not making my day any better.

Eventually I end up falling back asleep. When I wake up again it's 6 pm. Forcing myself up from my bed I walk around to the bathroom. I manage to get a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes are puffy and my hair is a hot mess. I'm still looking at my face when my phone dings again. Another text for. Jihoon, 'I'm coming over you missed all your classes'.

I really don't want him over here. While asleep I got all sweaty so I probably smell not to mention I look like I'm on the verge of dying. I quickly shoot back a text of 'If you show up. I'm not letting you in'. With that I start looking for any type of pain killer. Korea is an amazing country, but the pain killers at the pharmacy you swear are nothing but bad tasting candies. Finding the bottle I let out a sigh of relief. Opening it however I'm disappointed to see that the bottle is empty. Great.

Maybe I should ask Jihoon to get me some painkillers. He's already on his way over might as well use it to my advantage. I call him and he picks up immediately.

"Where were you? You missed the information for our study guide for Chemistry." He demands. In the background I can hear the sound of the bus he is probably on.

I was right, he is on his way, "I woke up not feeling well."

"You could have at least told me this morning. I told you not to go to that party last night," he nags.

"Yes dad. Thank you for yelling at me." I tease, voice a pitch higher than usual. Honestly I want to say more, but the sore throat I have tells me otherwise.

"Stop that's weird."

"You started it. Look, stop at the pharmacy and get me some painkillers. The strong ones," I make sure to tell him the right kind.

"Okay. Anything else, your highness?"

"Mhh. I also want ramen, oh and a banana milk please," I tell him.

"I didn't actually mean that, but your wish is my command."

With that Jihoon hangs up. I laugh to myself. I have him wrapped around my finger. Then again that's what friends are for. They have your back when you are feeling down, when you get into an argument and need backing up or even when you just need a shoulder to cry on. Friends have each other's backs. Although Jihoon and I sometimes feel like polar opposites we have a strong friendship.

We met back when I first came to Seoul. It's been 3 years since then. It was my first day in Korea. I knew maybe 5 Korean words. Naver maps was my best friend at the time. I was just trying to find my way to campus and I ended up taking the wrong bus. I ended up somewhere in Hongdae instead of Shinson-dong. On the bus I was having a mental breakdown. That's when Jihoon approached me. He didn't know any English and my Korean was equivalent to a preschooler. We talked through a translator on his phone. He helped me to get to the campus. It was honestly kind of an embarrassing experience, but after he helped me out that day we exchanged Kakao ID's. Then the rest was history.

As we got closer I learned that he was from Busan. He was only in Seoul to meet some friends, but had been thinking about transferring his campus to be in the city. So we talked and talked over Kakao. Eventually we started meeting up to do language exchange which helped me with my Korean on top of my regular language classes. Virtually we had the same personality which was a bonus. I was loud, spoke my mind and fought for what I was feeling. He was the same, maybe a little more shy around strangers, but still friendly. Our friendship was mainly bickering, but purely out of love. Jihoon has become my backbone for the past 3 years.

By the time Jihoon arrives I've at least managed to put on a new pair of leggings and changed into a t-shirt. Which now that I think about it I think is one I stole from Jihoon. He confirms this when he walks into my apartment.

"That's my shirt you thief!"

"It's comfy," I yelled back, "Don't yell at me I'm sick."

"I got you some ibuprofen," he tells you as he reaches in the bag for the pill bottle.

I snatch the bottle from his hand, "Get me some water."

He scowls at me, "Wow thank you my good friend of course this wasn't a hassle at all."

I stop fiddling with the bottle to look up at him, "Get me some water. Please." I add in the please and a sweet smile to top it all off.

A slow smile creeps onto his face, "See now was that so hard."

He then goes off into the kitchen to grab me bottled water. Getting open the medicine bottle I grab 3 pills. It's going to make me sleepy, but at least the headache will be gone.

"Here," Jihoon says, handing me the bottle. I take it as soon as it's opened. I down the medicine not wanting to waste anytime. Jihoon gets comfortable on the couch next to me.

"What did I miss in class?" I question.

"The study guide. I told you that. We have a test in two days."

I sigh, "Did you take notes for me?"

"No I didn't. I was too busy so wondering if you had died or not," he says, nagging again.

"Stop nagging. It's not a big deal. I caught a cold, it happens," I say, leaning my back down onto the back of the couch.

"No it is a big deal. You went out and now you are sick," he sounds serious now.

We don't usually have serious conversations often. When a fight happens, we don't talk for 2 days and then we go get McDonald's. Best friends fight, it's only natural.

"Okay I'll be more careful from now on," I reply. I don't say it with any type of attitude behind it. I really mean it.

"Good. Now you forced me to bring you ramen you should eat." Jihoon says.

I groan, "Uh, I don't feel like eating."

"Too bad," he says then he is up to make me the ramen.

I'm honestly not hungry, but if I keep complaining he is still going to make it anyways. That is what makes us good friends in the most of our bickering I also know he cares about me. If I was in his position right now I would be doing the same exact thing. We take care of each other. When I'm crying about missing home he's right by my side. When I want to randomly watch a movie at 1 in the morning he always picks up the phone. Jihoon is my backbone, but I'm his too. I really have found the one person I know I can depend on for the rest of my life.

Thank you for reading~!

My requests are opened for all including fics!

#treasure #treasuremaker #yg treasure #treasure scenarios #treasure fics #treasure jihoon #jihoon #jihoon scenarios #treasure scenario #kpop #kpopxreader #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions

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crackedoutgiraffe · 5 years ago

Text

To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

A/N: Chapter 17

When you went into work the next monday, you learned that Emily was accepting a job to work for London’s interpol office. She said that that Monday was her last day. Later that week, she moved to London. Garcia and Morgan went on a last minute trip there to help her settle in and to see how she was doing. While they were gone, the team got called to a case in Seattle. That was when you met Emily’s replacement.

“Agent Blake, this is David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid, and Y/N Y/L/N,” Hotch introduced everyone, “Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia are in London.”

The case in Seattle was difficult to say the least. The day after you got back, you and Reid entered the bull pen to see Morgan and Garcia with numerous bags. “Hi! Hey! You guys are back. Hi,” you gave Penelope a hug and then went to give Morgan one as well.

“Oy, mates,” she said in a british accent. “Give me a squeeze.”

“Oh, you guys look great,” you smiled.

“Cheers. How's it going?” Reid asked, returning Garcia’s hug. Morgan held his hand out for a fist bump and Reid shook it. “How's Emily doing?”

“Brilliant and lovely,” Garcia was adamant about using a british accent.

“Her apartment's off the chain,” Morgan added.

“You mean her flat,” She corrected. “You have to take a shaky old lift to get to the top, but the view is brilliant. For my favorite bloke,” Garcia handed a mug to Reid

“Hey, I love it! Thank you!” Reid accepted the gift with a smile.

Garcia handed you a miniature double-decker bus, “Thanks.”

“How was temporary duty?” Reid asked.

“Oh, it was around the clock. I thought I'd get a little more of a vacation, but…” Morgan shrugged.

“Did you watch the Olympics at all? I did see a little track and field, but the queen bee here,” Morgan gestured to Penelope, “she saw everything. Emily is for real hooked up over there.”

“She sends her love. And tea of the month starts next week,” Garcia pointed out.

“Ohh. I miss her,” you frowned.

“Don't even get me started,” Garcia smiled. “Hey, how's the noob? Is she nice?”

“Yeah, she is,” you nodded.

“I'm just asking,” She said in a hushed tone. “Reid, do you know when she was recruited she was 24?”

“I've guest lectured in her forensic linguistics class before,” Reid nodded.

“Of course you have, 'cause she's a professor and an agent, which is so impressive,” she scoffed.

“No, really, she's great,” you insisted.

“And driven, clearly. Berkeley grad, double major, Bureau star of the Unabomber case,” Garcia started to ramble. “And she teaches at Georgetown. When she's not doing that, she's SSAing at the Washington Field Office, and she's a Ph. D. Does that mean I have to call her doctor?” Everyone looked at her weird. “What?! I did some research on her 'cause I couldn't sleep on the plane. And my point is, clearly, she is smart and capable, but is she nice? Oh, dear God, this is happening, where I talk and the person is behind... Me,” Garcia turned around slowly to see the newest Agent standing behind her.

“The origin of ‘nice’ is 12th century middle English, meaning foolish or stupid. I hope you're referring to the modern use of the adjective. You must be Penelope. I'm Alex Blake,” she held her hand out for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you. Really, actually nice in the nicest of ways nice,” Garcia looked mortified.

“I'm Derek Morgan,” He shook the newest Agent’s outstretched hand.

“Welcome back,” she smiled

“How was Seattle?” Morgan asked.

“The unsub made Ridgeway look like a saint,” Blake said with a small laugh. “He even used his own kid to bait the victims.”

“Well, we've seen that before. No doubt we'll see it again,” Morgan smiled.

“Don't unpack,” Rossi said as he entered the bull pen followed by Hotch.

“Garcia, the files,” Hotch directed.

“Yeah. The files. Oh, God,” Garcia mumbled as she walked to her office.

That was everyone’s queue to head to the conference room.

“This week we are going to Mobile, Alabama,” Hotch started. “Four women have been found in dumpsters. They were all drifters, so we have no IDs for any of them.”

You examined the case file in front of you, “They were all missing their toes?” you asked.

“That’s oddly specific,” Blake responded.

“It’s very unusual,” Reid spoke up. “Most of the time unsubs will remove fingers, but not toes.”

The team quickly went through their ideas for the case and got on the plane. The plane ride was like all the others, quiet. Everyone did their own thing. When you arrived in Alabama it was really muggy. Blake was very helpful during the case. You two were the ones to apprehend the unsub. His name was Jacob Barkley. He hated men with foot fetishes, so he took it out on women who had feet. You, Reid, Morgan, and JJ played poker on the way home.

***

The next six months were more of the same. Case after case. Your relationship with Reid progressed to the point where he asked you to move in with him. You did not hesitate to say yes. Morgan came over the next weekend to help you and Reid pack all your stuff. Everyone at the office was very supportive of your relationship. The only problem Hotch and Strauss had was that if either of your performances suffered, one of you would be transferred. You made sure neither of you needed to be transferred.

There was one week without cases, so the whole team hung around the office and did paperwork.

“We should all go on vacation together,” Reid announced.

“That would be fun,” JJ agreed.

“Everyone could bring their families and stuff,” Morgan looked at JJ.

You lifted your head from your desk, “I know a really affordable place in Florida, it’s right on the beach.”

“When would we go?” Blake asked.

“Could we plan for three months from now?” Reid proposed.

A chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘I’m in’ rung through the office. Reid got up and went to Hotch’s office and then to Rossi’s.

“They’re in,” He announced.

“I’m going to need numbers of everyone going,”

“I’m one,” Morgan said as he stood up.

“I’m three,” JJ added.

“I’m one,” Blake said.

Hotch came out of his office. “I’m three.”

“I’m one,” Rossi shouted from his office.

“Garcia is one,” Morgan said as he reentered.

“And then I’m two,” you wrote. “We need… 2 big rooms and 5 smaller rooms.”

“Morgan can I talk to you for a second,” Reid stood up and walked toward the door.

SPENCER’S POV

“What’s up?” Morgan asked as we walked out of the bull pen and down the hall.

“I want to propose to her, and I need your help,” I whispered.

“What do you need?” he smiled.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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annecoulmanross · 4 years ago

Text

Latin Inscription for the Foundation-Stone of Christ’s College in Van Diemen’s Land

Following this brilliant post by @indifferent-century, I was inspired to translate the entirety of the Latin inscription of the Foundation-Stone of Christ’s College in Van Diemen’s Land, November 7th, 1840, as written by – perhaps – Sir John Franklin’s future son-in-law, John Philip Gell, who was appointed as head of the College. Join me for some Janky-Franky shenanigans, this time in Latin!

First of all, here’s a full translation (rearranged to preserve our English word order, generally, rather than the original Latinate style.)

Sir John Franklin, KCH, FLS, FRGS, Governor of the Island of Tasmania, Dedicated to Christ This House of All Humanities and Sciences, and Ordered that It Be Made, according to the Judgement of the Council and from the Funds of the Colony, and Placed this Auspicious Stone in the Fourth Year of the Reign of Queen Victoria, on the seventh day before the Ides of November, 1840.

Respected men from each of the two councils took part: Sir William Henry Elliott, Military Commander; Sir John Lewes Pedder, Chief Justice; William Hutchins, M.A., Archdeacon; Matthew Forster, Colonial Secretary; Adam Turnbull, Colonial Treasurer; Josiah Spode, Chief Police Magistrate; Edward Macdowell, Attorney-General; George Thomas William Blaney Boyes, Accountant; George Henry Barnes, Collector of Customs; Thomas Anstey; Thomas Archer; Charles Swanston; Charles Maclachlan; William Effingham Lawrence; William Page Ashburner; Michael Fenton; with John Philip Gell, M.A., having been placed in charge of educating the youth, and with Alexander Cheyne as the Curator of Public Works.

James Clark Ross and That Companion of His, Francis Crozier, While They Were Preparing to Bring Powerful Science and the Immortal Name of the English People through the Unknown Things of the Northern Ocean, Took Part in this Endeavor under Favorable Auspices and with Enthusiasm.

Next, the original text: this Latin wording comes mainly from this typeset transcription, with some emendations from the handwritten notes of Eleanor Franklin, which you can read here. (Both of these sources were found and linked originally by @indifferent-century – thank you!)

Christo Dicatam Hanc Omnis Humanitatis et Scientiæ Domum Johannes Franklin (1) Eq. PH., (2) Eq. R., (3) LL.D. (4) R.S.S. (5) Insulæ Tasmaniensis (6) Præses [e] Consilii Sententia (7) Impensis Coloniæ (8) Fieri Jussit Lapidem Auspicalem Posuit Anno Victoriæ Quarto vii Id. Nov. MDCCCXL. (9)

Interfuere Viri (10) Spectatissimi Ex Utroque Consilio (11) Gulielmus Henricus Elliott Eq. H. Milit. Præfect. (12) Johannes Lewes Pedder Eq. Aur. Justiciarius Principalis (13) Gulielmus Hutchins M.A. Archidiaconus Matthias Forster Secretarius (14) Adam Turnbull Thesaurarius (14) Josias Spode Irenarches (14) Edvardus Macdowell Procurator Regius (14) Georgius Thomas Gulielmus Blaney Boyes Rationalis (14) Georgius Henricus Barnes Portitoriis Conquirendis Præpositus (14) Thomas Anstey Thomas Archer Carolus Swanston Carolus Maclachlan Gulielmus Effingham Lawrence Gulielmus Page Ashburner Michael Fenton Juventuti Educandæ Præposito Johanne Philippo Gell M.A. Operum Publicorum Curatore Alexandro Cheyne

Jacobus Clark Ross Et Huic Comes Franciscus Crozier Per Ignota Septentrionalis Oceani [Scientiam Efficacem] Anglorum Perenne Nomen Laturi Incepto Bene Auspicato Lubenter Interfuere (15)

And last, as per the previous discussions on this inscription, I also have footnotes.

(1) Yes, "Johannes Franklin” is our Sir John. Yes, this would be a reasonable, etymologically valid version of his name (or his first name, at least) in Latin. Yes, it’s uncomfy. So is “Franciscus Crozier.” As @catilinas said, “utterly terrible.”

(2) Amazingly, the translator (or author-translator) of this inscription has rendered Sir John’s post-nominal letters (indicating his knighthood, and membership in certain societies) into Latin and then abbreviated them back to letters. This cluster, “Eq. PH.,” equates to the English ‘KCH’ or Knight Commander of the Royal Guelphic Order of the House of Hanover, and should probably be lengthened to something like Eq[ues] P[raefectus] H[anoverianus] meaning “Hanoverian Knight Commander.”

(3) Our next letter-cluster is “Eq. R.,” which I’m finding terribly confusing. “Eq.” should, in theory, correspond to another knighthood – it lengthens to “eques,” which is classical Latin for “knight,” a middling elite honorary position, but I don’t know about the “R.” It does seem that Franklin was knighted by King George IV in 1829 before he was made a Knight Commander of the Royal Guelphic Order in 1836, so perhaps we should read this as something like Eq[ues] R[egalis] / R[egius] meaning “Royal Knight” or thereabouts?

(4) Now we’re back to normal post-nominal honors – “LL.D” must correspond to Franklin’s membership in the Linnean Society, normally indicated by the letters “FLS,” or “Fellow of the Linnean Society.” I’m not entirely sure how we get from FLS to LLD, but perhaps LL[inneaniorum] D[ominus] meaning something like or “Master of the Linneans.” (Note that a doubled letter can be used as an abbreviation for a Latin plural genitive like “Linneaniorum,” as one can see in the Latin terminology for Bachelor of Laws, i.e. “Legum Baccalaureus,” or LL.B.)

(5) Similarly, I’m willing to bet that R.S.S. corresponds to Franklin’s other common post-nominal honor, his membership in the Royal Geographical Society, typically abbreviated as FRGS. One might try to expand “R.S.S.” to R[egalis] S[axiologorum] S[ocietas] meaning “Royal Society of Stone-studiers,” perhaps. I really, really wish I knew who translated these abbreviations and what their thought-process was.

(6) Watch Lady Jane sneak in her new name for Van Diemen’s Land here! (For the uninitiated: Lady Jane and James Clark Ross collaborated to have Van Diemen’s Land renamed – or at least re-popularized – as “Tasmania.”)

(7) Fun facts: I can 100% prove that Eleanor Franklin knew some Latin! In her transcription of this text, she places a macron (a little ^ hat) over the final ‘a’ like this: “sententiâ,” which means that she correctly identified that this word (meaning “judgement,” or “opinion”) is in the ablative case, rather than the nominative case. No macron would have appeared in the inscription; it would have been highly unusual for any inscription in Latin from any time period to have a macron, so this is all Eleanor’s doing, but she’s right to do it. Eleanor also adds that slightly unnecessary but not incorrect “e” (meaning “from, out of”) before the word “Consilii” in her transcription.

(8) It’s a little weird to point out that Sir John didn’t directly fund the construction of Christ’s College but rather arranged for the funding to come from the income of the colony itself. This would look really out of place in a commemorative inscription from the classical period.

(9) This date does in fact convert to November 7th, 1840, but it’s not as simple as the Roman numerals VII (=7) make it look. To get this date, we actually have to count backwards from the Ides of November, which fall on November 13th, but the Romans count inclusively, so thirteen less seven actually equals seven, rather than six. I know. I hate math too.

(10) Eleanor Franklin writes this word (“viri”) twice, once at the end of one line, and again at the beginning of the next. As for the translation of this word as “men,” yes, it’s exclusively male-gendered in the Latin.

(11) I think “from each of the two councils” refers to the Legislative Council and the Executive Council, the two governing bodies of Van Diemen’s Land before the establishment of the Tasmanian House of Assembly in 1856. Take that with a BIG grain of salt. It’s also particularly interesting to note that many of the men here named became embroiled in the huge political mess that resulted in the ignominious end of Sir John’s term as governor – this list represents both the pro-Franklin and anti-Franklin sides of the conflict.

(12) The title “Milit. Præfect.” or (something like) Milit[aris] Præfect[us] reflects Sir William Henry Elliott’s military role as the Lieutenant-Colonel of Van Diemen’s Land, while “Eq. H.” is most probably Eq[ues] H[anoverianus] or a way of denoting Elliot’s knighthood in the same Hanoverian order as Sir John, though in a different capacity – Knight / KH to Sir John’s Knight Commander / KCH.

(13) The title “Justiciarius Principalis” is a clear Latin translation of Johannes Lewes Pedder’s legal role the first Chief Justice of Van Diemen’s Land, and “Eq. Aur.” seems to allude to a knighthood conferred via the Commonwealth nation of Australia, perhaps?

(14) Some of these titles are deeply weird ways of rendering colonial government positions into Latin: “Portitoriis Conquirendis Præpositus” for “Customs Collector” is A Lot – the literal translation would be something like “President for the Things Connected with Import or Export Dues that Must be Collected.” Confession: I took most of the English titles directly from the relevant entries in the Australian Dictionary of Biography, all of which are linked above, in the translation.

(15) For more on this Ross & Crozier section, see this post. Also, note the major stylistic change in these last four verses: lots of intertextual references, and more poetic language – much of it Augustan (aka mainly from Ovid and Vergil) as @kaserl pointed out! It’s a conspiracy theory, but I think we may be looking at a different author altogether: Lady Jane prefiguring her role as ghost-writer of “Thy bees are frozen, and thy crook’s a name,” we might imagine?

Thank you for joining me on this very weird Victorian neo-Latin journey!

#ross & crozier antarctiana #sir james clark ross #francis crozier #sir john franklin #eleanor franklin #john philip gell #lady jane franklin #terrorposting #long post #very long post oops

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