#but also if you lower the values for detection enough you can reach the point where the net covers just about everyone who isn't

[boredomstrides]

Hi, so, I read both of these posts. It seems like your first source regarding Prediabetes came from a Lancet article back in 2012. Not necessarily saying this automatically disproves what you're talking about, but the fact of the matter is that 2012 was still a point in time when doctors and the general public were in agreement that the fault of Type 2 could at least relatively easily be put on the shoulders of - if nice, the food industry and how much everything around us has added sugars, and if not, the people who have Type 2 on account of bad dieting.

I'm not entirely certain this post is saying that "if you have impaired glucose tolerance you're kind of fucked ¯\_(ツ)_/¯," but it seems more on the lines of "don't guilt yourself into an eating disorder, if your doctor's not a piece of shit they'll walk you through what's going on."

I'm saying this from experience, I got told I had a high insulin resistance and high glucose levels, and I'm on some medicine right now to try and get my body to go down to safer levels before this causes me any major problems. My doctor recommended I try and aim for a low carb diet to help with the medicine, something I've been trying to do, but I've decided to relax on at least slightly after the first week where it ended with me blacking out from eating so little.

My being at risk has been known since I was a child, but all of my doctors back then, and my parents today, have tried to imply or directly tell me it is my fault and if I don't lose weight I'll have type-2 diabetes. Years I have been at risk. Years I've dealt with hypoglycemia without even knowing the name of it. Years my doctors saw all the signs, but never bothered to try and check my blood. Years my own parents insisted I must have narcolepsy, even though they also suffered signs of hypoglycemia.

It has only been this year that a doctor decided to actually check my blood levels to see what was happening instead of assuming they already knew. Posts like these with articles containing multiple sources are actually really important. Had I seen this when I was first given the medicine, I might not have malnourished myself, and I might not have been so angry with the world around me, and myself, for that first week.

I saw a comment on your blog that says 'the way you eat does not cause diabetes'...are you able to expand on that or provide a source I could read? I've been told by doctors that my pre-diabetes was due to weight gain because I get more hungry on my anti psychotics and I'd like to fact check what they've told me! Thank you so much!

Pre-diabetes was rejected as a diagnosis by the World Health Organization (although it is used by the US and UK) - the correct term for the condition is impaired glucose tolerance. Approximately 2% of people with "pre-diabetes" go on to develop diabetes per year. You heard that right - TWO PERCENT. Most diabetics actually skip the pre-diabetic phase.

There are currently no treatments for pre-diabetes besides intentional weight loss. (Hmm, that's convenient, right?) There has yet to be evidence that losing weight prevents progression from pre-diabetes to T2DM beyond a year. Interestingly, drug companies are trying to persuade the medical world to start treating patients earlier and earlier. They are using the term “pre-diabetes” to sell their drugs (including Wegovy, a weight-loss drug). Surgeons are using it to sell weight loss surgery. Everyone’s a winner, right? Not patients. Especially fat patients.

Check out these articles:

Prediabetes: The epidemic that never was, and shouldn’t be

The war on ‘prediabetes' could be a boon for pharma—but is it good medicine?

Also - I love what Dr. Asher Larmie @fatdoctorUK has to say about T2DM and insulin resistance, so here's one of their threads I pulled from Twitter:

1️⃣ You can't prevent insulin resistance. It's coded in your DNA. It may be impacted by your environment. Studies have shown it has nothing to do with your BMI.

2️⃣ The term "pre-diabetes" is a PR stunt. The correct term is impaired glucose tolerance (or impaired fasting glucose) which is sometimes referred to as intermittent hyperglycemia. It does not predict T2DM. It is best ignored and tested for every 3-5yrs.

3️⃣ there is no evidence that losing weight prevents diabetes. That's because you can't reverse insulin resistance. You can possibly postpone it by 2yrs? Furthermore there is evidence that those who are fat at the time of diagnosis fair much better than those who are thin.

4️⃣ Weight loss does not reverse diabetes in the VAST majority of people. Those that do reverse it are usually thinner with recent onset T2DM and a low A1c. Only a tiny minority can sustain that over 2yrs. Weight loss does not improve A1c levels beyond 2 yrs either.

5️⃣ Weight loss in T2DM does not improve macrovascular or microvascular health outcomes beyond 2 years. In fact, weight loss in diabetics is associated with increased mortality and morbidity (although it is not clear why). Weight cycling is known to impacts A1c levels.

6️⃣ Weight GAIN does NOT increase the risk of cardiovascular OR all causes mortality in diabetics. In fact, one might even go so far as to say that it's better to be fat and diabetic than to be thin and diabetic.

Dr. Larmie cites 18 peer reviewed journal articles (most from the last decade) that are included in their webinar on the subject, linked below.

[dark9896]

Spilled Tea [Blurb Cannon]

Requested by Anonymous 🔥

No one was expecting the lights to go out. Even more worrisome when a sniper laser began tracking through the living room. Klaus had been quick to put himself between danger and everyone within arms reach, following your instructions to duck into a narrow passage. Trusting you when you said it lead to a secret bunker. Given everything they thought they knew had long since gone up in smoke over the past 24 hours, it wasn't difficult to think you still had tricks up your sleeve.

What they didn't know, what you had to explain after the fact, was how you had planned the chaos. Using the cover of dark to wreck your own apartment with a slingshot while Detective Law pointed a high-power laser pointer to mimic a sniper. You had packed everything of value while others were fruitlessly interrogating the man you'd managed to capture. Explaining you planned to throw the place away with the end of the lease agreement happening the day after. Needless to say, it left everyone shocked for a couple days, with you stashing the "second-life kit" in your actual apartment.

.

Klaus

"L-Liebling," Klaus didn't like prying, nor did he want to tell you what to do... and yet, "Are you certain all that secrecy was necessary?"

Your raised eyebrow had Klaus doubting himself, "It's just that... You do know you can tell me when something feels off. I'd hate to hear second-hand that you were hurt or targetted or-"

"Klaus, it was never an issue of trust or feeling secure." You sighed, setting the teacup down on its saucer, "I just wanted to make sure I had a fail-safe for those... extra dangerous targets."

Scratching the back of his head, Klaus stopped mid-breath as you went on, "I mean, what are we supposed to do with targets like that? Risk taking them to HQ? Bring them here? Or to Steven's place? Or anyone else's for that matter? Having a place like that apartment in my back pocket just... it just..."

Klaus reached across the small garden table, gently squeezing your hand. He could tell you were at a breaking point, that explaining yourself and your feelings was still quite a difficult undertaking. But he also knew that simply reminding you it was okay to vent fully was the right thing to do. Klaus would always be there to listen, and to remind you it was all going to be okay.

"It just," You exhaled deeply, "It makes things just a bit easier for me to deal with knowing that I am prepared for every situation. Cause frankly, sometimes just carrying a f&^king tomahawk on my hip isn't enough."

You didn't want to admit to the bright pink rising on your cheeks as Klaus chuckled at your... non-joke. But for now, the matter was dropped. For now at least.

.

Steven

Finger's idly tapping on his mouse, Steven sighed. He had been mulling over that incident for the past two weeks. And none of it made much sense.

Sure, he could understand a few secrets here or there. A weapon stash, an arcane lock system. Even your preference for older 'junk' cars was perfectly normal to Steven. But a whole separate apartment? That felt like a little too much.

Unable to handle the weight of all these questions without answers, Steven picked up his phone. You mentioned needing to look for a new backup place, and he wasn't entirely sure about waiting for a face-to-face talk.

"Hello?"

"[Name], are you busy?"

"Not particularly, just signing paperwork. Why?"

"Can you talk?" Steven's eyes lowered from the monitor to the keyboard, "About the last place I mean."

"Not right now." That uneven tone meant you were trying to make this sound normal, civil. More secrets to blank-faced strangers who would never guess that the new neighbor was really a... "Could I call you back? Maybe an hour from now? Or I could just pop over for a visit if that's easier."

"An hour?" Steven's fingers drummed the desk impatiently, "Meet me at Broskette in an hour. We can get coffee before we get to my apartment."

"Oh, so you're still at work then?"

"Yeah. But there's not much left to do. Schedule's pretty clear and all."

"Alright, yeah. I'll see you then."

The talk over coffee hadn't gone nearly as smoothly as Steven had hoped. Resulting in quite the spat between the two of you, arguing over keeping secrets. Deep down, Steven knew he was just as bad, if not worse about keeping secrets. He couldn't truly have an open communication relationship, not when his secrets would get people hurt.

But you weren't backing down. It shouldn't matter how many secrets either of you kept, you would die on that hill. You couldn't help but feel like Steven was ignoring what you were saying. That you just wanted to be ready for situations like that, how it felt like he couldn't trust you to know what's good.

Storming out of his apartment with bitter tears clinging to your lashes was the worst feeling in the world. And as much as Steven instantly regretted letting you leave, he wasn't quite fast enough to catch you before you sped off. Tonight would need something a little stronger than wine to cope with himself. And tomorrow would come with a lot of explaining...

.

Leo

This whole thing was a little too much for Leo. He knew you were prepared for basically every situation, but for whatever reason, this felt like a step too far. But Leo couldn't put his finger on why.

Why did this bother him so much?

"Leo?" You nudged his arm from across the table, "Everything okay?"

"Huh?"

You tilted your head, "You're stuck in your own head again, aren't you?"

"It's just..." He scratched the side of his face, "The whole thing with the second apartment. The second life stuff."

"What does that matter? It's just a thing to fall back on."

That rubbed Leo just slightly the wrong way. He couldn't pin down why, but hearing you be so nonchalant was just a little too much.

"I mean, it's f&^ked sure. No one should really need a backup apartment. But then you get a job like this and..." You sipped your drink to avoid coughing, "Well, with a past of not being able to trust a whole lot of people. You can see why I didn't think to tell anyone. Even you."

That made things a little better, but Leo still didn't like how you could so easily dismiss it. This isn't exactly something he could forget about any time soon. Maybe this time it won't bug him so much, he already knows that you will have a second apartment. Maybe...

.

Zapp

"So, you and that other apartment... uh..." Zapp didn't know how to start this conversation, he wasn't the kind to talk. Especially not about this but, "Any other uh... things you wanna fess up to or...?"

"I don't have any other romantic partners if that's what you're asking." You were a little preoccupied with your game to really dive into this right now, "But I did find a decent little chuckle-f^ck neighborhood. Just gotta fill out the lease tomorrow and--"

"C*CK-S#^KING A$$ HOLE! MOVE OUT MY G*D D^MNED WAY SO HELP ME!"

Zapp leaned over your shoulder. For such a chill-looking game, it was full of fuzzy animals for f^cks sake, you always seemed to cuss at it like you were dying to a boss or something. Then again, if the same little f^cker was in Zapp's way and constantly talking... he could understand it at least.

"B^tch." You muttered under your breath, "Anyways, yeah. Everything'll be settled and sorted by tomorrow."

"M'kay, not exactly what I was getting at Steven 2.0."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean 'then what?'!" Zapp frowned, "You're basically domestic Rambo... or is it Metro Rambo?"

"I think the term you're looking for is prepared."

"It most certainly is NOT the word I'm looking for you walking armory! You're a mini Chief with Steven's disposition!"

You looked at Zapp, "If I didn't have that apartment, we wouldn't have gotten the answers we needed, right?"

"Well... I mean, I guess."

"So I'm not Rambo, I'm just prepared."

"Yeah right." Zapp scoffed, "You carry at least three blades on you at all times, even in the shower!"

"I do not!"

"You so do! I've seen them! You were pulling them out of your hair!"

"Those were bobby pins you demented orangutang."

Zapp was not about to back down from this. He knew you always had weapons on your person. This was going to be a long night...

.

Zed

It felt like Zed had brought this same topic up at least once a day, but he never was able to get a straight answer. As much as he didn't want to constantly pry, he did need some form of closure over this matter. In one day he went from believing he knew his partner to thinking they were a complete stranger again. It was the kind of mental whiplash that made his head hurt.

But he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

"[Name], I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but..." Zed sat up a little on his side of the couch, "You never have given me a decent answer about that apartment. Why you had it in the first place and why you feel you need another."

Letting out a deep sigh, "It isn't strictly to keep secrets or anything. I just... I feel better if I have something like in my back pocket, ya know?"

"No, I really don't. That's why I'm asking you." He shifted to face you a little better, "I don't understand what would drive a person to having a second apartment, even if does help with one's job."

You stopped. Normally Zed did get things like this, without the need for you to explain in detail. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you liked fessing up to, since it would make it seem like you just didn't trust him. And that couldn't be further from the truth, you just never knew when the right time was to bring up a literal safe house to your partners.

But you couldn't very well keep stalling, Zed did deserve an answer at least... even if it was a difficult one.

"So, I've always struggled with being able to trust other people." YOu started, "And not knowing when to bring things up until it's absolutely necessary. That said..."

Zed's jaw hung limp. He wasn't expecting you to have that kind of a past. It had him feeling a little guilty about pushing so hard for answers. Then again, if he'd gone through the same kind of situation, he would likely want to be as prepared as you were at all times.

Suddenly your "obsession" with weapons made a whole lot more sense.

[hanazou]

So um .. I just recently found your blog and even though you haven't written that much but you really have a unique writing style and I'm in love 🥺💞 .

So may I please request fyodor and/or sigma headcanons or scenario (whatever you're feeling comfortable with ) being on a date with their s/o and getting lost somewhere trying to find their way back home ? I mean it's just so adorable and been on my mind for a while.

And thank you 💚

𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.

— how did you end up here? getting lost wasn't on the agenda.

Book : Fyodor | Sigma

Genre : Fluff with romance or implied romance

Category: Scenario

Word count : 0.8K | 1K

Bookshelves : Leatherbound

Note : I love this request! Thank you so, SO much for requesting Fyodor and Sigma! Truthfully these are far from being my best works, but I hope you enjoy this, love! It took me a while since I had to make sure these are in-character :") Thank you for the patience!

I hope you enjoy these! 💛

“This is quite the view,” Fyodor smiles to himself, fingers treading around his chin like creeping vines. “Yokohama has a sophistication to it after all.”

“Fyodor,” His name from your mouth rolls out slower compared to the cars on the road near you both to give the impression that your patience is unscathed. “We’re lost.”

Yokohama isn’t too huge of a prefecture for you and Fyodor to get lost in while exploring for the sake of the upcoming Cannibalism scheme, but since you both insist to check out even the smallest of details because one can never be too perfect, exploring took the whole day. Outlining the landmarks on a map would have sufficed, but you and Fyodor agreed that travelling in first-person is more helpful in discovering things that can trick the enemies, and that agreement led you travelling together.

It wasn’t hard for someone to get drunk in this cozy atmosphere and forget why they were here, especially if they’re with someone they trust and are fond of. For you, that person happens to be this pale and sickly genius.

The foreign building structures, the bustling unfamiliar crowd, the compact scent from street food vendors you've never tasted, and the crunch of dry leaves under your feet, they are all different from home, but the striking allure and exoticness are undeniable. Hence, you and Fyodor lost track of time and direction. Not to mention his needy eye for aesthetic slows down the pace.

You don’t want to say this aloud, but this atmosphere and mood, doesn’t it feel like going on a date?

Never mind that—you both were having too much fun brainstorming for ideas, too many alleys to check out, too many manholes to note, too many dead ends to utilize for you to recognize both of you have strayed off the planned route. On the bright side is, Fyodor found the ideal, secluded, dead-end alley for him to station his sniper to attack a certain detective, but the bad side is, while chatting with him about how and where to allocate your pawns, you and Fyodor didn’t pay attention to where you’re going.

Where in Yokohama are you now?

Neither of you planned to walk this far around the prefecture, so you can’t pinpoint your position on the map inside your pocket.

“I have great confidence in my memory,” Fyodor gazes around. “I can find our way back.”

“Then why are we still here after—” you look at your watch. “—half an hour?”

“I thought that while having the opportunity, we should take our time to know this area better. There’s artistry in any form of structure even in those we will decimate soon.” He pivots his head to you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He sounds like he’s beating around the bush. He won’t admit he got both of you lost.

You hum. “You still don’t know where we are,” You bring the focus back to your point. “Let me take my turn navigating our way back home,” You reach for the minimap in your pocket. “You’ve had your share of getting us lost.”

You wonder how in the world a prodigy like Fyodor affords to get lost. You consider the possibility of him being distracted by this little trip (that feels like a date) itself since you caught yourself doing that, but you shake off that thought. You ought to stop being delusional.

“As you wish,” He smiles at your proposal. “But only because you insist.”

You make wild guesses of your current position by observing the buildings and shops, try to figure out where you are on the map, and take the lead in guiding yourself and Fyodor back. He follows your headship without any protests, taking the same turn as you elegantly. 

You catch Fyodor also observing the map with you while he matches his legs in coordination with yours. His eyes turn to you and his raised dark brows ask you why you’re staring at him.

“Is it because you’re not confident I can take us back that you’re watching the map with such focus?” You bait, half smiling.

You want him to admit that he trusts you. It’s a pleasant feeling, hearing someone like him value your judgement.

He made a soft chortle from his chest. “Impossible, my dear,”  Fyodor says.

He stops in his tracks.

The sudden halt makes you pause too, and you lower the map to look at his whole face.

You jolt when he takes your hand with his icy pale fingers, guiding your palm to rest on his chest. His coolness mixing with your warmth creates a perfect state of equilibrium that mirrors both your difference yet similarity with him.

“I simply enjoy our mundane little detour.” His voice's vibration from his chest rumbles your hand. His smile is like cotton, but the sharp violet in his eyes holds power over you. “Allow my heartbeat to be the witness of honesty in my words.”

His heartbeat thumps in an orderly calming pattern, his chilly skin still sheathing your hand to press it against his chest.

Ah.

So maybe getting lost isn’t so bad after all.

Your eyebrows quirk when you notice the same scenery outside the car window, forehead matted against the cold glass. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

Sigma’s lips tense down, still staring at the road ahead. “Uhm, yes?” His eyes dart at you for one second.

The two of you, Sigma and yourself, are on your way to visit the last potential location for Sky Casino to expand its branch down below. He demonstrated more than enough faith in your judgement when he invited you to travel to the cities under the sky, offering you a ride in his lavish car. If it were with another person, you wouldn’t see too much into this situation. But with Sigma, it’s a whole different story.

It was the having a luncheon together in a prestigious restaurant of a five star resort with him ordering the best dish for you with a warm smile when he described your order to the waiter. Another being his gentlemanly mannerism, he made a shallow bow when allowing you into his car and opened the door for you, also holding your hand as you got in. The hospitality and elegance from his demeanour excites your heartbeat.

In Sky Casino, he may be your employer and you his employee, but with just the two of you, he makes you feel like the most treasured royalty.

Sigma clears his throat, his fist in front of his mouth while the other around the steering wheel. “I’m certain I’ve memorized every route for the casino’s potential branches.” He glances at the note on the dashboard where the addresses are.

You raise your eyebrows seeing a tower ahead. “And I’m certain we’ve passed that tower in front of us at least twice.”

The expression Sigma makes is made of mild surprise, frustration, and gloom.

"Let's face it," You slouch down your seat. "We're lost."

Sigma repeatedly looks from the scribbled map on the dashboard to the road back and forth, fingers squeezing the wheel in uneasiness. “I could’ve sworn we took the right turn this time…”

Your shoulders deflate at the expression Sigma makes. You feel bad for putting it bluntly. “How about I drive while asking for directions from the locals? You must be tired since we’ve been travelling for hours.”

His head turns swiftly at you, long dual-coloured hair whishing. “You know where we are?” He asks before quickly turning his sight back to the road, stealing glances.

“Not exactly, but I’m familiar with the local dialect and I can ask for directions easily.”

The hesitation and disappointment are still evident on Sigma’s face. You purse your lips, hesitant in how to phrase your next words. “Employers employ people to be assisted with the workload and to have someone to share concerns with. I’m not here just for you to treat me like royalty, I’m also here to assist you.”

Sigma huffs a smile, taking chances to look at your face now and then. “Do you mind the treatment for a royalty?”

“No.” You deny a little too fast. You clear your throat, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Absolutely not,” You speak slower. “But even royalties have to give back, right?”

He fails to hide his laughter. He sounds so free, unrestrained, and possibly the most relaxed that day, making your cheeks swell with a prideful smile. As long as he gets to laugh, you don't mind sounding silly. “By asking for directions while talking using a local dialect?” He asks.

Sigma lightly giggles. “Alright, you win.” He slows down the car, eyeing the rear mirror to make a quick stop at the side of the road. “I’m afraid to crash us from feeling exhausted anyways.”

He makes a parallel park and the car comes to a full stop, engine still smoothly running and vibrating the interior.

You ruffle his silky dual-coloured hair as smooth as the leather seat. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” You say, tinting his cheeks pink. “Allow me to treat you like royalty from now on.”

When you retract your hand, Sigma’s head automatically follows with the yearning to get more touch.

Your eyes enlarge and so does his. He whirls away, hands hiding his face. Loud and uncontrolled laughter erupts from your belly despite you covering your mouth to tone it down. You want to stop—but your chest keeps heaving out the joy, raising your shoulders to your ears.

Sigma shrinks in embarrassment, his long hair curtaining his face as he buries his head to his knees. He looks like a tulip in that driver’s seat. With his fair pale skin, even from your distance you can see the red on his face. “Please don’t tell anyone about it…” His voice can be barely distinguished from your untamed laugh.

“The secret’s safe with me.” You wipe a tear as your laughter slows down. You exhale a wide smile, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Alright, let’s switch now before the sun sets.”

“Wait!” Sigma springs out from his position and hurries his hand to land on yours before you open your door. You tilt your head, and he responds with “Don’t open the door yet.”

He dashes out and jogs to get to your side of the car. He opens your door and stands on the side with a shallow bow, his empty hand offered to you. You stifle a giggle when you accept his hand that gently helps you up until you fully stand outside.

You grin for the umpteenth time at Sigma’s chivalry that reminds you of the demonstration of romance during the regency era. It’s simple things like this that boosts your confidence and comfort around him. You can definitely get used to this.

That is until Sigma’s bow deepens so his lips kiss your hand.

You tense. You expected a normal escort when stepping out. The unforeseen princely kiss and his smile send you on haywire—why are you even there? Why did you go all this way into an unfamiliar city? Just to get kissed? To have him act like your Prince? Why is he even kissing you?

“Even without disembarking a journey I still get lost in your touch and laughter.” He straightens his body, elevating your hand to stay on his lips and chin. You feel his breath on your skin. “Thank you for giving me the honour of getting lost with you.”

Then you remember.

You're there to be with him.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[fandom-necromancer]

Let your Warmth melt my Ice

You all know I like emotional destruction, right? Well strap in, because this post by the amazing @nock-and-bolt hit me right in the feels. Had to write a short to it. Also tagging @janjan-the-ninth because they said so XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Temporary character death, grief, misunderstanding)

[Warning: Critical damage detected. Shutdown imminent.]

Nines was already on the ground by the time he had realised those bullets had indeed hit him and that there had been more enemies than anticipated as he had rushed in. He still heard the gunshots around him, the people shouting, barking orders and screaming in pain. His systems were still busy locating each position and making tactical calculations based on this information. Still prompting him to continue, to shield his friends and protect them. Apparently, his systems hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was minutes from death. True death. This body wasn’t able to function anymore and the loss of Thirium meant his hardware would run hot and eventually melt. There was no way for him to survive this.

His fingers started to spasm from wires shortcutting. His vision glitched and his analysis program darted from one detail to the next. Was there still gunfire? It was hard to concentrate, to filter sensory information and not get lost in a confusing mess of signalling. He felt how some non-vital systems began to shut off and left his mind a little less crowded, a little less confusing. Gavin, his thoughts managed to form conscious words again. Where was he? Was he safe? He tried saying the name, forming it with his voicebox but never hearing it as his auditory systems malfunctioned briefly. Next were his legs and torso, but he never regained feeling there. He was about to try again, as a face appeared in his vision.

‘Nines? Nines!’ Those words were like balm on his soul. Those special sounds only the human could speak like that, this special melody they used to create meaning. This name he had been given by the same person that meant so much to him. ‘Nines! Can you hear me? Nines?’ The android registered he was lifted up by Gavin and propped against a wall. He could see the human touch his wounds and press his hands on them as if that would help in any way. ‘Nines! Phcking asshole, say something!’ Nines tried once again to say his name, but his voicebox was already damaged, only static making it out of the small speaker. If anything, it made the human even more anxious. ‘Nines. Nines, phck!’

[Warning: Commencing Shutdown. Begin upload?]

Upload. Right. Nines knew it was likely for nothing. He was the only model ever produced and therefore unique. But still, an upload of his memories and personality matrix was something to continue living with. If what they did was living and if their programming was a soul like most humans were proclaiming, then maybe the upload could safe him. Keep him alive, even if there was no immediate body to switch to. Maybe someone valued him enough to rebuild or design anew.

Gavin certainly would.

Gavin.

[Upload started… 1%]

‘Nines, what’s going on? Your LED flickers! What- No.’ Nines managed to lift his eyes to the human’s face. He was kneeling next to him, holding him upright against the wall and trying frantically to stop the blood flow. If he had been human, it might have worked. ‘No, no, no, you are not dying! You are not!’ His face showed despair, shock, pain. All for him. All Nines had ever wanted for him was to be happy. Now he was the reason he wasn’t.

[Upload at 26%]

Nines didn’t want to see him like this. Nines wanted to see his smile again. Those green eyes sparkling in the light of the sun when they spent their break outside on the bench. He wanted to hold his human and comfort him. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to make sure he was safe on future missions. He wanted to reach the day when he could finally tell him what he was sure Gavin never wanted to hear. He wanted to… do so many things. ‘Nines! Please. Tell me what to do! Cyberlife’s contacted, Jericho too. Help’s on the way. Hold on. Stay with me.’ There were tears on the man’s face as he swallowed and looked at him in panic. Don’t panic, Nines wanted to say. You will live, he thought. I protected you. But those words were never spoken.

[Upload at 63%]

Nines felt more and more systems shut down due to overheating and misfiring of vital sensors. It wasn’t long now, and he needed his last moments to remember. His eyes had never left Gavin’s, but now the android tried to form a smile on his face that he hoped to express everything it needed to. Hoping that it would calm down the human and be how he remembered him. As long as he still could, Nines lifted his arm and hated how it jerked back and forth and never reached its goal. His motor control was malfunctioning and the servo itself too damaged to work at full capacity. Nines’ arm hovered over his chest, reaching for Gavin’s face. Thankfully the human got the message and took his arm to help him direct it so his hand cupped his cheek.

Warm. Nines had been fascinated from the start how warm humans could be. Like they were constantly overheating and radiating their energy into the world. Those creatures couldn’t be described better in his eyes. Exhaling love with every breath and being compassionate beings always looking out for the wellbeing of others, even when the person was described as an asshole, like Gavin. Gavin cared. He was just hurt one too many times and now Nines would add to it.

[Upload at 82%]

‘Nines! Nines, stay with me.’ Nines followed a tear that was rolling down from Gavin’s cheek and stopped as it hid his hand. His robotic hand. He hadn’t realised his skin had retracted, but he was showing off his white plastic hull on his entire body by now. When had that process shut down? ‘You bastard! Stay with me! Don’t you dare phcking dying on me!’ The android felt how he lost power over his body and sacked down, but Gavin was reacting fast, catching him and holding him in his arms. The man grabbed his arm and pulled it over Nines’ chest. ‘Nines! I swear, if you die on me, I will kill you!’ Could he still do that, Nines would have laughed. Only Gavin would curse at him, threaten him in his dying seconds.

[Upload at 96% Shutdown imminent]

Nine’s vision was getting hazy, static filling it and only leaving him his area of focus: Gavin’s panicked face. He couldn’t feel the warmth of Gavin’s touch anymore, could only see and hear. ‘Nines, please. Please, I need you, you plastic prick! Don’t you dare do this to me!’

[Upload finished. Shutting down…]

Gavin lifted him to his chest and buried his face in Nines’ drenched clothes. ‘You can’t leave me, you phcking asshole! Because I… I love you.’

Nines hadn’t had any more time to process this.

[Shutdown]

-

Gavin’s day had been completely normal. It was surprising how normal his days had been lately. People around him were chatting, laughing at each other’s jokes and discussing the new shop around the corner. He was driving through a city that continued life as usual whenever he got to work or back home. Crime scenes were coming up and vanishing, cases came and went. Reports were written and evidence filed. But the chair in front of Gavin stayed empty. The terminal remained switched off.

All the little trinkets Nines had gathered on his desk and considered skilful decoration gathered dust. No one had the heart to put them away. Just as no one had thought to hire a new person. Not when there still was a chance that Nines could come back. Gavin looked down on his hands that mindlessly fidgeted with a small ring. Normally shining blue, yellow or lastly red, it was now just a dark circle in white plastic. But it was something to cling to, something to remember. Just in case. Just in case Nines didn’t come-

No. No, he had to. The android had uploaded his personality to Cyberlife as a failsafe. And although there was no body for him, Jericho had bullied the company to build a new one. With the blow Cyberlife had to take to their image, it hadn’t taken much. Gavin had hope they could make it. Maybe it was all he had. In any scenario, he had never thought for the android to die first. Almost completely bullet proof, the chance of him dying… Well, Gavin had considered it zero at this point. That was about the only reason he hadn’t said what he told the dying android long ago. Thinking they had time…

He sighed deeply, looking over to his mug and tilting it a bit to look inside. Empty. Of course. He groaned. He really didn’t want to get out of his chair. He had no motivation for anything anymore and even a trip to the breakroom could as well had been a journey around the earth. The more surprised he was as a new mug was placed next to his. Steaming and filled to the rim. Gavin looked at it, brain lagging behind. The hand that was holding the handle lingered for just a second, then retracted. Gavin’s eyes followed the movement and were directed to a white uniform. Black details at the opening and the pockets, a ridiculously high collar and then… That stupidly beautiful face.

Gavin’s throat went dry. ‘Nines?’, he croaked disbelievingly. ‘Are you… phck, are you Nines?’ The android in front of him lowered his head a bit, then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s me. Cyberlife rebuild my body and I thought to return to work as soon as possible. I left you long enough with both our-‘ He couldn’t finish, as Gavin stood up and grabbed him by the jacket to push him against the glass separating the desk from the hallway. ‘You asshole died in my arm and all you can think about is work?’ He let go of the android, swallowing his emotions. Damn, the android had just returned from the dead, he should be happy. ‘I… I’m sorry for the trauma I’ve caused you. I’m fine again. I just thought we could get back to normal?’

Gavin looked at the android and swallowed for real this time. Hell, how would dying feel like? All Gavin wanted to do is shake Nines and tell him how relieved he was and how good it was to see him again and how bad he managed living on without him and also ask how he felt about what Gavin had asked him in the very end. Because he was ready to make up excuses for that, if the android didn’t feel that way and oh would it help him if Nines felt the same…

But exactly how Gavin managed trauma like that – with his thoughts running at hundred miles an hour and his only reaction anger and brashness – Nines might need the exact opposite: Calmness and time to think and reset. He was an android after all. Maybe all that programming and logic had some use after all. Gavin nodded and instead hugged Nines’ middle. ‘It’s good to have you back, tin-can.’ The android didn’t move to return the hug but stood there rather awkwardly. ‘Thanks…’ Gavin stepped back and let go of the man. ‘Err… yeah, sure. Let’s… let’s get back to work, shall we? And if you… want to talk about what happened or… what that makes you feel… I’m right here.’ ‘Thank you’, Nines smiled and that smile almost made everything alright again.

The android moved over to his terminal, switched it on and interfaced with it, while dusting off his belongings with the other hand. Gavin too returned to his work. As if it was just another day.

-

Nines was thankful to be back. He remembered not believing it might work, but Cyberlife had harboured his soul in their servers and Jericho had actually managed to move them to build a new body for him. It felt like he had never been gone, as he stepped foot back into the precinct. He had of course been the centre of attention then, but he still managed to surprise Gavin and that was all he had needed to feel that warmth again. As the human had hugged him… It had been heaven on earth. Metaphorically. From his own experience if android heaven was a dusted Cyberlife server, then this was much better.

He had enjoyed the unexpected contact far too much, his systems overwhelmed by the sudden motions that he had actually frozen for a few moments. He was actually surprised Gavin had taken it so well. From his last memories before his deactivation, he had expected there to be more tears… more emotions. But then again, maybe Gavin had already grieved for him. It had been two weeks after all. Maybe he had just been relieved he was back and now was eager to get back to normality. Or he suppressed his emotions as usual until they weren’t too intense to handle. Either way, Nines wouldn’t start a conversation with him, not unless he initiated one first. He had caused the human his pain after all. Gavin would have to chose when was the right time.

Unfortunately, even the next day, nothing changed. Gavin had no interest in opening the talk and even seemed to avoid him. If anything, he was growing more distant, seemingly wanting to tell him something when he left for his home, but never actually speaking up. It hurt. It hurt somewhere deep inside Nines. The android was feeling so much, even looking at the human caused him software instability. But he didn’t dare to tell the man. Gavin hadn’t said something when he was in emotional turmoil because of his impending death. Surely, he would have done that if he felt something. And with how he always pulled a face at seeing publicly displayed affection, maybe he didn’t want to hear it either.

Nines loved the human. He wanted to deepen their relationship. He had died to protect Gavin and he would do so again and again, if he had to. But with how Gavin kept to himself and didn’t even acknowledge him some days, Nines really doubted that was what the human wanted.

-

Gavin was beyond disappointed. He would have been angry hadn’t that felt too much of a defeat. The android had had the audacity to die in his arms catching multiple bullets for him and then ghost him like that? Gavin had confessed his love to the plastic prick in a moment of vulnerability and now the damn android just pretended nothing had happened? “Detective”-d him at any given moment and displayed no more emotion than before their mission? Hell, if he wasn’t interested, Nines could have just said so. This was just an asshole move. And two could play that game of ignorance. It didn’t matter to Gavin that his soul was bleeding with every stumbled ‘Oh. Okay.’ from the android whenever Gavin shoved him away further. He was far too angry for it. And it only got worse during the week.

Friday finally was the day, that promised Gavin refuge. He wouldn’t have to see the android on the weekend and have time to come to terms with his contradicting feelings. Then, on Monday, he would just tell the android and be done with it. No more dancing around each other, trying to find out how the other felt and watch out for the other’s wellbeing. He decided to leave early and switched off his computer grabbing his jacket as he stood up. ‘Gavin?’ Oh hell no. If the android continued to speak with him, he would resort to violence at this point. He was hurt and confused and done, so, so done with it all. So, he just turned around and left. Only once he left the building and heard the door fall into the lock behind him, he sighed and took a deep breath of the grounding cold February air.

He shouldn’t have stopped. ‘Gavin!’ The door behind him opened and Nines stumbled out of it, coming to a halt everything but gracefully. His LED was a dark red and Gavin didn’t want to think of what that reminded him of. ‘What do you want?’, Gavin spat. ‘I want to talk with you. About what happened. I held myself back until now because I know this might have been traumatic for you and-‘ ‘Phck off! You died in my arms! You know, you are right, that might have been traumatic for me, phckhead!’ ‘I apologize for that, but-‘ ‘Oh, you apologize?’ Gavin turned around and walked right into the android’s personal space. ‘You apologize? For what exactly? Dying? Ignoring me? Disregarding that I laid out my heart in front of you and you decided to step on it?’

Nines took a step back and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What- What do I mean?’, Gavin wheezed in disbelief. ‘Ex-phcking-cuse me? I mean that I told you I love you! You died in my arms and I thought if this was your last moment and you died for me, I could as well tell you that! Maybe made it a bit easier for you. Less hurtful. Phck, what have I been thinking? You are just a damn machine, you don’t phcking feel. Or at least not in that way. Because hell, I tell you that, let you into my heart and when you come back, you hand me a coffee and go straight back to work?’

‘Wait’, Nines said, holding up his hand. ‘Wait, Gavin. Your last words to me were: “Don’t you dare do this to me!”’ He blinked. ‘Or were they?’ Gavin clenched his jaws. ‘No, asshole they weren’t! My last words to you were that I loved you!’ ‘When was that? Right before I shut down? Was my LED still flickering?’ ‘How the hell should I know?’, Gavin asked, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You were dying in my arms; I don’t think I had more important things on my mind than your stupid mood light!’ ‘Gavin, this is important’, Nines said, stepping forwards and holding the man by the shoulders. ‘Was it less than two seconds before my body went rigid?’ Gavin shrugged. ‘Yeah, could be. Why?’

Nines let go of him and had to sit down on the stairs in front of the station. ‘Gavin, I uploaded my memory to Cyberlife as soon as I knew I would die. It recorded everything up to two seconds before my death, because it takes a bit of time to end the Upload and shut down the body. I… I might have heard it and understood it as I was dying, but I… the backup of me that I am now has no memory of you telling me that.’

Gavin stared at the android and processed what he just heard. Then he sat down next to Nines on the stairs and stared blankly ahead. ‘Phck.’ ‘Fuck indeed.’ ‘And all the time I thought you were just a work-centred prick ignoring me.’ ‘I wouldn’t have ignored it had I known it, Gavin, I’m sorry.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. Phck, he just wanted this day to be over.

But Nines didn’t let him end it just yet. He cleared his throat and looked over at the human that had nearly folded in on himself. ‘Err… Do you… Do you really love me?’ Gavin lifted his head up, his fingers resting on his mouth. He looked at Nines from the corner of his eyes, only then letting his hands slap on his knees. ‘Yes, I guess’, he sighed. ‘No, yeah I do. I was so angry at you all phcking week it won’t be a heartfelt confession now, but I do love you. The way you’re just… Always there for me and care so much. Most would just pretend not to have seen me and move on. You sought me out. You are actually funny and intelligent and competent. And you are phcking hot, okay? I feel so much for you and seeing you die… I couldn’t handle it. I think the hope you would come back to me kept me going.’ There was a brief moment of silence.

‘I love you too, Gavin’, Nines answered in a whisper. ‘I can’t understand how I am the one lucky enough to got to know you when so many others had their chance before me, but I am happy fate chose me. I… I can’t express how I feel as I shouldn’t be feeling at all as an android. But I do and I wanted to tell you for so long. I just always thought you didn’t want to hear something like that…’ ‘Nines?’, the human spoke up and turned towards him. Nines followed his movement and his eyes naturally found their way to Gavin’s, who smiled. ‘Nines, this was the only thing I ever needed to hear.’

Nines blinked, but didn’t have the time to answer, as Gavin laid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Once again, Nines froze up, but Gavin’s warmth quickly made him melt into the touch. Soon enough, he would have to think about all of this to process what he just heard, but for now…

For now, he enjoyed this.

[toflyandfall]

I just saw a photo of "What persona. Dick Grayson isn't a mask. Not like Bruce Wayne is" from Detective Comics #725 and I find it interesting that Dick and the rest of the bats, with the exception of Bruce, don't wear "masks" per se. They are who they are with or without the domino mask/helmet. The only time I can really think of Dick faking things is when he pretended to be an incompetent BPD cop. How was he able to avoid creating and living, half the time, through a "persona" like "Brucie"?

Oooh, this is a lovely, meaty question.  There’s a lot more analysis of Bruce than I planned because let’s be real, it’s kinda weirder for a guy to run around with half a dozen personas than for someone else to run around as himself.  I hope you still find it interesting, but if you want to skip straight to the more Dick-centric stuff, head under the readmore.

A simple but significant factor is that Dick thrives on the company of people in a way that Bruce does not.  I suspect if you talk honestly to many introverts, you will find they too have an extroverted ‘mask’ they put on to the larger world, though probably not quite so extreme.

Another factor is that the civilian social circles Dick and Bruce travel in are vastly different.  Though they each have a reason for being in those circles, that difference itself enables Dick to escape much of the scrutiny that Bruce’s public identity undergoes, because he doesn’t frequently associate with the much more media-hounded elite.

An interesting thing here is that the large difference in social circles between their civilian lives is actually caused by their own personal similarities: they are 100% committed work-a-holics.  It’s just that they have differing civilian approaches to their goals.

I want to start with Bruce because as you point out, his use of persona is distinct among the bats and his reasons for using them in part explain why Dick and the other bats do not.

Bruce is a child of privilege, he has always lived a lifestyle of privilege, regardless of the tragedies that have occurred during it, and his default view of the world, through no fault of his own, is natively that of the extreme upper class.  This drastically influences his perspective and approach to change, and changing the world is his perpetual goal, the reason he put on the suit in the first place.

Bruce works a top-down society approach toward systemic change, and he works it all the time.  This is actually my favorite but woefully under-emphasized part of him: he is not just someone who punches people on the street ‘for justice’, he uses his company, his money, and his social position toward substantial systemic change. This post does a wonderful job covering the ways he does this through his corporations and personal wealth, as does this one.  I cannot recommend either enough because I constantly want to push even the most casual Batman fans to understand: Bruce Wayne is not just a violent punchy puncher man.  He is a traumatized person genuinely trying to use all his resources including himself to make the world safer.

Detective Comics #725

Bruce has many personas he maintains, and he uses all of them according to what suits his need--Batman for places the law can’t go, Bruce Wayne the CEO pushing for systemic changes, Matches Malone for street information, and Brucie the society high roller for society information and social influencing.  He is rarely ever not in a persona and simply ‘Bruce’.

His top-down perspective of enacting change are what dictated the usage and necessity of these personas. He has the means and capacity to basically disappear from society if he so chose--he in fact does so to train during his younger years so successfully they don’t even know how long he was actually gone. 

The Batman Files

So he doesn’t need the personas.  Not Bruce Wayne, CEO, or Brucie, or any of them really, to protect his identity.  That tells us that Brucie is a deliberate choice he made at some point.  He could have been a recluse billionaire Batman indefinitely.  Even though he fully has the status and means to not maintain a job or a persona or, let’s be frank, a life outside the mask at all, it’s his own work-a-holicness that led to the creation of his public personas.  He’s an obsessive strategist, so if Brucie is a choice, that leads us to why?

Bruce does many philanthropic things with his money, but he isn’t the only rich person around, especially not in a city as old and corrupt as Gotham.   But he’s one of the very few ones doing good with it.

The comic you mentioned has a very beautiful moment where Bruce touches on that, and in full context you can feel how consumed he is by this goal of creating the Gotham his parents would have wanted.  Batman mentions he never sees himself in that place, and the morbid interpretation is that the city kills him before he reaches it, but the hopeful interpretation is that in that shining city, Bruce Wayne and Batman and Brucie and all his masks will no longer be needed.

Detective Comics #725

Back in the old days they’d call it noblesse oblige: the inferred responsibility of privileged people to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged. Thomas and Martha Wayne ingrained this feeling of responsibility into Bruce by example, and as all things related to them, he obsesses over it.  It urges him to fulfill expectations within segments of society he finds onorous for the betterment of society as a whole in order to carry out their unfinished works.

Enter Brucie.

Brucie serves a two-fold purpose.  Since Bruce has chosen to maintain personas among society, it becomes a false face to justify any oddities Batman might bring into the life of Bruce Wayne by setting himself up as a eccentric, popular social scion.  But that persona itself also allows him to manipulate the upper crust of society.

I have some insider perspective on the kind of society events Brucie attends.  They’re all about the who’s who of making connections, name-dropping and networking, and unspoken class-based elitism.  Charity events among the upper class have these things at the forefront and the cause is the background.  You don’t get your hands dirty, you don’t go out and make change yourself, you pay money to be socially seen and sometimes it happens to go towards a philanthropic cause.  If you want to raise money from the rich and keep people with deep pockets coming in the door, you have to have social currency yourself. This is where, and why, Brucie comes in.  I believe Brucie ws crafted to maintain Batman’s cover but still attempt to carry on his parents’ legacy to grease the wheels of the rich in the directions he chooses: one of generosity towards those less privileged. 

Superman/Batman #51

The inevitable flaw of Bruce’s approach to his personas and their philanthropy is that in a city rife with corruption, money distributed from the top has many opportunities to disappear well before it reaches the bottom.  As in many of ways they are complements to each other, Dick’s approach balances that out, because his approach to helping his fellow man starts out at the street level...literally.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Dick, we know, does not come from privilege.  His mother was from a middle class family before she joined the circus, and despite being world famous athletes, most circus workers are lower to middle class.  The people he grew up with, was comfortable with, were all working folk who expected everyone to pull their weight right alongside each other.  He enacts this everyone-together approach in almost all aspects and phases of his life. 

Batman #615

Even once he had settled into being Robin and adapted to living at the manor, he didn’t feel belonging to a culture of privilege, materialism, or high society. He preferred shotgun in the limo to chat with the driver to riding fancy in the back.  Once he was able to start making his own decisions about where and how he lived, despite having both Bruce’s money and then later inheriting a substantial amount of his own, he chose mostly lower-class communal places.

Batman Black and White #6

Dick also doesn’t see the value of throwing money at a problem when there is an option to fix it with his own hands.  We see this frequently, from building his own car instead of buying a finished one or outsourcing the work, to deciding the best way to clean out the BPD was to start at the bottom and work his way up (literally), to quitting college because his classes never got prioritized over crimesolving.  Most of his day jobs ended for similar reasons. 

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Despite the showmanship training, he gravitates away from spotlight on the rich and wealthy, who are notoriously the kind of people who do not get their hands dirty or go out and take care of things themselves, and prefers to find or build communities around the kind of people who do.

Finally, Dick is an extrovert.  He doesn’t need to act extroverted as Brucie does because he is extroverted.  He likes people and likes being around people.  Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to put himself in situations where he is surrounded by people in nearly all aspects of his life.  He chooses apartment buildings whose occupants frequently pass each other on the stairs; jobs that involve interacting with many co-workers, patrons, or students; and collects superhero teammates like Boy Scout badges.  And all of these behaviors come very naturally to him.  

He doesn��t need a mask or a role or a persona for those kind of interactions; his mask is pre-supplied as “neighbor” or “co-worker” or “teacher” by the situations he puts himself in.  It helps make him an exemplary leader, because just by acting authentically to himself, he automatically builds up little communities around him any time he arrives somewhere.

Bruce, on the other hand, is an introvert.  For him, interacting with people isn’t easy, automatic, or comfortable unless it has a purpose, but as a strategist, he knows the necessity of human interaction as a catalyst to achieving dynamic change. So he adapts personas to suit people’s expectations.  Extroverts have more social currency; the life of the party can generate more resources than a brooding wallflower.  

So, it boils down to just a few elements: Dick believes in living and interacting at the street level to accomplish the things that he wants to, and he is extroverted enough that the level of social interaction that entails is not a burden to him.  He surrounds himself with the types of people he is more familiar or perhaps more comfortable with, which happens to keep him further out from the media’s eye than associating with the upper crust does. The lower profile is more incidental than intentional, but it lessens his need to have a cover story for every single bruise and lets him get away with even less of a ‘persona’.

Bruce, on the other hand, is introverted and follows a more classist view that systemic change needs to be effected from the top down.   His personas are more of a self-assumed duty than a necessity, as a way of trying to carry out his parents’ legacy.  Any of his children could have chosen to follow his path in business or the high society limelight, but the sense of obligation toward it is something personal to him that most of them don’t share.

[yzkhr]

Part two of Receiving Gifts!

(This is seriously way longer than it should be)

-

They were fifteen, when Ran received her third sentimental gift from him.

It was a single red rose.

School dances were never her thing. They were loud, crowded, and a little awkward. But of course, having the Suzuki Sonoko as your bestfriend also meant going to hoards of parties and events and a 'no' is unacceptable. It was also a school requirement that made Ran ultimately agree.

She wished she didn't.

Literally everyone was dancing on the dancefloor, leaving her and a couple of other people on the side, glancing at each pair with a tinge of jealousy. Even Sonoko was enjoying herself swaying back and forth with a handsome stranger!

Ran was by no means confident about her looks but being told that you're pretty growing up made her at least believe that she wasn't unattractive.

She also wasn't dense nor blind not too see boys walking towards her but stopping midway. She could be the one to adjust and meet them but something in the suggestion didn't feel right.

So, instead of dwelling over her lack of companion and dance partner, Ran decided to content herself with the event's buffet table and swallow the bitter taste in her throat with food.

That was her supposed plan, until a red rose appeared right in front of her. Slowly backing away, Ran met the brave stranger, in the form of her other bestfriend.

"Shinichi?" astonished, she blinked hard to make sure he wasn't a figment of her envious imagination. Opening them again and seeing him wearing a black suit that, suits him very well, she was convinced.

Finally getting her grip, she asked, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be working on a case right now?"

He grinned proudly and sported a dreamy look, Ran already guessing what he was about to say.

"Finished early, what can I say? I'm highschool detective Kudo Shinichi, saviour of the police force." she rolled her eyes, as if they were swayed by his cockiness filling the atmosphere.

"Okay, highschool detective Kudo Shinichi," Ran teased, quoting his name in the air, "you didn't answer the question. Why are you here? You don't like stuff like this, right?"

One of the things they had in common would be their dislike at events that requires too much unecessary energy to expend. Shinichi, of all people, never liked wasting energy unless it's soccer or mystery. Seeing him attend a school event just to dance was a ridiculous notion.

The high school detectives' grin faltered, sharp eyes avoiding hers. A beat passed until he finally answered.

"I got nothing else to do. I'd rather attend the school dance than actually make the project anyways." Ran silently agreed. Going to the event would be a lot more tolerable than the substitute project.

"And besides, like I'd let anyone here dance with you..." due to the new music starting, she was unable to hear his words.

"Sorry, the music was too loud, what did you say?" Shinichi smiled rather falsely, before slightly waving the red rose around.

"I said, do you wanna dance? Since you looked a bit too lonely back there." he jested, earning him a glare. Nonetheless, Ran accepted both the rose and his hand, feeling a little conscious how it perfectly fit hers.

Upon reaching the dancefloor, she immediately tried to touch him, gripping his well toned shoulders rather tightly. He winced.

"Ease up, we're going to dance, not do karate." he tried to lighten the air, only to receive another tight grab, this time, the hurt was intentional.

"Shut up," Tentatively easing her hold, she complained, "I'm new to this."

Fingers quivering ever so slightly, Ran figured she had to calm down. Breathing with a pattern and sighing heavily seemed to do the job, with the hands resting on his shoulders loosening, gentle unlike the first time. The fifteen year old made sure to keep her eyes stuck at the ground, afraid to get lost in her companion's dangerous eyes.

As Ran found her spot, it was Shinichi's turn to have a hard time. His hands stayed at his sides, fidgeting and sweating in panic along with confusion where to hold. His gaze went to her slim waist, but restrained himself from moving. Thankfully, her voice broke him out of his dumbfounded reverie.

"Shinichi? What are you doing?" she looked up, impatient and getting a little awkward. This is why she hate school dances!

"O-oh, right." Cautious and unsure, the young detective softly held both sides of her waist, making Ran internally gasped at the electricity she felt. Sensing her hands tensed on his shoulders, he waited. But there was no punching or kicking that transpired, making Shinichi more confident and firmed his grasp.

Then, as the new music played, both teenagers swayed slowly, trying. She noticed that his head was pointed upwards while hers was glued at their shoes. It was honestly a bad position, eventually having one of his foot hit her own.

"Ow," she quietly yelped, resounding with his "Oh, sorry!" making her perk up while his head bobbed down, causing deep blue and light violet to finally clash. Time stopped as both couldn't move, too busy staring at each others' colors, drowning.

Until, Ran laughed.

Shinichi, still dazed and not getting what was funny, raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She giggled, amused at his skeptical expression. "I mean, you're supposed to be the great Kudo Shinichi who knows everything. But," knowing her next line would annoy him, she flashed a smirked, " who knew you can't even dance?"

Sure enough, the great detectives' face warped from bafflement to offended in span of a few seconds.

"I'll have you know I dance very well," he scoffed, voice lowering and confidence wavering the next. "I just need adjusting, that's all."

Ran shook her head for his lame excuse, giving him a challenging stare and a teasing smile. "Show me then."

Never the one to back out from anything, he tightened his hold on her waist and answered her with a smirk as a sign of acceptance. "Then show you, I shall."

The ice finally broke.

And that was how her night turned out. Both bickering and arguing dumbly while swaying back and forth, the dance absolutely messy and sloppy. But, it didn't change how their smiles were wide and fond as they gaze upon each others' orbs, how their steps were light and sweet making others glance in envy, and how the color of their faces were comparable to the single flower Ran was holding the entire time.

Compared to the other two, the rose was a simple gift. But for Ran, it was more than that. It held value no other material can have. It was her witness. Witness to her first dance, with her first love. And for Ran, no other flower or any amount of roses could ever replace that.

-

The memories of his unforgettable gifts come back to her like they just happened yesterday.

Now, they are currently seventeen when Ran receives yet another special gift.

There, he stands on the stairway of the Detective Office they both had so many memories with, bringing her another present.

No, he isn't carrying another stuff animal that alleviates her loneliness, he didn't tame a cat just because she wanted to adopt it, and there is not a single rose or flower he can possibly offer her.

He holds nothing. Not even a piece of jewelry or a handwritten letter. Instead, he wears a dirtied jacket, a shirt brimming with red blood, and an entire body covered in bruises, cuts, and gashes.

He looks tired and worn out, but he still manages to smile so victoriously, making her heart flutter once more.

She hugs—no, pummels him to the ground, not caring if anyone sees. She tugs and cries on his shirt, but tenderly touches and caresses his wounds. He encircles his arms around her small frame after recovering from the shock her action brought. Then, bringing his teared lips to her ears, he whispered.

"I'm here now."

She smiles, knowing that finally, finally, he means it.

"Welcome home."

Despite the lack of an object or animal or plant, tonight, Ran receives the best gift she could ever ask for.

Him coming back to her, permanently.

[nuttystrawberrysalad]

The Science of LED Grow Lights for Your Indoor Garden

Indoor Gardening isn’t exactly a new thing, but LED’s are changing the way we light our indoor gardens.  LED lights are more efficient than traditional fluorescent and incandescent lights.  That’s because LED lights convert nearly all of their energy (95%) into light, while other lights turn a significant amount of energy into heat.  But, there’s another very important reason that LED’s are more efficient when it comes to growing plants.  With LED lights, we have the rather unique ability to customize the type of light that is emitted, and that means we’re not wasting energy to create light that doesn’t help our plants grow.  At the end of this article, you’ll understand the science behind why spyder grow light series come in many different colors, as well as why some LED grow lights cost so much more than others.

Plants Only Use the Visible Light Spectrum for Photosynthesis

It’s important to know that plants only use visible light (the colors of light that we see every day) for photosynthesis. However, as the chart below demonstrates, the complete spectrum of light is far greater than just the visible light spectrum.  On the outer edge of the visible light spectrum is Ultraviolet (UV) light and Infrared Radiation (IR).  UV light is the invisible light emitted by the sun and other sources that will cause sunburns when we don’t wear sunblock.  IR light can only be seen with special equipment, like night-vision goggles.  Even further out from the visible light spectrum are light waves that we don’t traditionally think of as light.  These include X rays, Microwaves and even Radio Waves.

One of the most important things to understand is that scientists have demonstrated over and over again that plants only absorb visible light for photosynthesis.  Plants do react to other forms of light like UV, but that reaction is typically negative.  I’m told that marijuana growers actually use UV light to induce the production of psychoactive chemicals like THC, which seem to be produced in part as a defense mechanism against the damaging effects of UV light to the plant.

What is PAR?

PAR stands for “photosynthetically available radiation.”  PAR is made up only of visible light, because this is the only light that plants use for photosynthesis.

For decades, many indoor growers have used Lumens to measure a grow light’s efficacy, but the industry is getting smarter and turning to PAR.  Lumens are used to measure the brightness of a lamp to the human eye.  But plants and people see light differently.  Humans see yellow and green more brightly than other colors.  Therefore, yellow and green lamps may have higher Lumen values than red and blue lights that put out just as much actual light, and which plants are likely to respond better to.

PAR measures all light from the visible light spectrum equally, and does not measure light outside of the visible light spectrum, which does not help the plant photosynthesis.  So, for plants, the PAR value of a light is currently the best basic measurement of a grow light’s brightness.  Accurate PAR meters are quite expensive and generally cost $500 or more.  Inaccurate PAR meters can be purchased for much less, but there’s really no point to owning an inaccurate PAR meter.

The best way to get PAR values for your 400W LED grow light, assuming you don’t want to purchase your own PAR meter, is to check with your reputable grow light manufacturer or provider for the PAR rating of their lights.

How Much PAR do My Plants Need to Grow?

The amount of PAR your plants require depends on what you are growing, as well as how far away from your plants the light is.  Generally speaking, leafy greens like lettuce only need a PAR value of ~200, whereas tomatoes and other plants that flower and produce fruit require 400-500 or more PAR.  Unless you place your 600W LED grow light right on top of your produce, you will need an even higher PAR rating from your grow light, to take into account the distance between your plant and the light source.

In the example below, you can see a very powerful grow light that puts out nearly 1,900 PAR (measured in umol) 8 inches from the source.  Very few lights put out this much PAR, and they are typically quite expensive.  This light will emit 1,900 umol every second.  But at 23 inches from the source, the strength of the light is reduced to 890 umol.  The PAR value is reduced further and further as you get further from the light source.  When we get to 6 feet away from the light source, our PAR value is down to ~100umol, which means we would have trouble growing even lettuce well.  So, always make sure you understand not just the PAR emitted from the light, but that every 8 inches or so away from your light, the PAR value will be reduced by ½ or more.

There are many inexpensive grow lights on the market that make big claims, but they will ultimately leave their owners disappointed.  This issue is especially rampant on the internet.  Remember to check the PAR value of any light you purchase.  Also, remember to take into account how far your light will be from your plant to ensure there is enough photosynthetically available radiation (PAR) for your plant to flourish.

Leafy Greens require 200 PAR for proper growth

Tomatoes, cucumbers and other flowering/fruiting vegetables require 400-500 PAR

Fruiting Trees should be given 600 PAR or more

What is the Temperature of Light I Should Use?

Interestingly, ‘Kelvin temperature’ is the metric used to describe the visual color that a light emits.  As you can see in the chart below, ‘warmer’ light temperatures that have a red color have a lower Kelvin rating.  On the other end of the spectrum are ‘cooler’ temperature lights which have a blue color and higher Kelvin rating.

Different temperatures of light have different impacts on plants.  Generally, higher temperatures (blue) light encourages photosynthesis which leads to bushy plants that don’t feel inclined to elongate and reach for more light.  This is great if you want to grow in a compact space.  Lower temperature (red) light reduces photosynthesis and signals to plants that that it’s time to flower and produce fruit.  Plants put under a red light will also be more inclined to stretch and grow taller, as opposed to growing bushier and more compact.

IGWorks focusses on providing full spectrum lights with a natural color temperature of between 4500K-6500K as these are most pleasing to the eye.  They also allow plants to grow bushy and compact, without hindering the ability of plants to flower and fruit.

What Color of Light Should I Use?

LED lights can come in almost any color.  Plants respond most to red and blue light.  Interestingly, plants generally respond less well to green light.  In fact, the reason that plants appear to be green is that they tend to reflect green light, while they absorb other parts of the light spectrum more readily.  This is why a large scale or industrial grower of plants will often use a combination of red and blue lights to photosynthesize their plants.  They don’t want to waste electricity producing green and even yellow light, which plants use less effectively.

However, for those of us growing produce in our living spaces, it’s probably worth the extra pennies it costs to produce a nice full-spectrum color that will be more natural and pleasing to the eyes.  Full-spectrum grow lights will often come with a chart, which shows the distribution of blue, green, yellow and red light that is emitted.  See the example below

Choosing the right grow light spectrum for your commercial operation can be a challenge. Many 800W LED grow light suppliers have conflicting information on the topic due to bad marketing or simply a lack of knowledge in plant and light research.

In this article, our light spectrum experts break down what light spectrum is, how plants respond to light, and how light spectrum influences plant growth.

What is Grow Light Spectrum?

Light spectrum is the range of wavelengths produced by a light source. When discussing light spectrum, the term ‘light’ refers to the visible wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum that humans can see from 380–740 nanometers (nm). Ultraviolet (100–400 nm), far-red (700–850 nm), and infra-red (700–106 nm) wavelengths are referred to as radiation.

As growers, we’re most interested in the wavelengths that are relevant to plants.  Plants detect wavelengths that include ultraviolet radiation (260–380 nm) and the visible portion of the spectrum (380–740 nm) which includes PAR (400–700 nm), and far-red radiation (700–850 nm).

When considering light spectrum for horticultural applications, greenhouse and indoor environments will differ.  With indoor environments your grow light’s spectrum will account for the total light spectrum that your crop receives.  Whereas in a greenhouse you must consider that your plants are receiving a combination of folding grow light series and solar spectrum.

Either way, the amount of each waveband that your crop receives will have significant effects on growth.  Let’s learn more about how this works.

Plants use light for photosynthesis and photomorphogenesis. Photosynthesis is the process by which plants and other organisms convert light energy into chemical energy. Photomorphogenesis refers to how plants modify their growth in response to light spectrum.

One example of photomorphogenesis is a plant bending toward a light source. Light also affects plants’ developmental stages, such as germination and flowering.

The light that plants predominately use for photosynthesis ranges from 400–700 nm. This range is referred to as Photosynthetically Active Radiation (PAR) and includes red, blue and green wavebands.

Photomorphogenesis occurs in a wider range from approximately 260–780 nm and includes UV and far-red radiation.

Although results are dependent on other factors, there are general rules of thumb that you can follow when using light spectrum to elicit different plant responses.

Outlined below is an overview of how each waveband is used for horticultural purposes so that you can trial light spectrum strategies in your own growth environment and with your chosen crop varieties.

Blue light has distinct effects on plant growth and flowering. In general, blue light can increase overall plant quality in many leafy green and ornamental crops.

A minimal amount of blue light is required to sustain normal plant development.  In terms of adjustable spectrum lighting strategies, if we were to equate red light to the engine of your car, then blue light would be the steering wheel.

When combined with other light spectrum wavebands, blue light promotes plant compactness, root development, and the production of secondary metabolites.   Blue light can be utilized  as a growth regulator, which can reduce your need for chemical plant growth regulators (PGRs). Blue light can also increase chlorophyll accumulation and stomatal opening (facilitating gas exchange), which can improve overall plant health.

One example of blue light influencing secondary plant metabolite production is how blue wavebands promote anthocyanin development in leaves and flowers. Increased anthocyanin levels result in more pronounced color.

Blue light also promotes other secondary metabolic compounds associated with improved flavor, aroma and taste. For example, blue light treatments have been shown to improve terpene retention in some varieties of cannabis.

Higher intensities of blue light (>30 μmol·m-2·s-1) can inhibit or promote flowering in daylength-sensitive crops. Blue light does not regulate flowering at low light intensities (<30 μmol·m-2·s-1), so is safe to be applied at night to influence the other plant characteristics listed above

Since chlorophyll does not absorb green light as readily as other wavelengths, many have written off the green waveband as being less important to plant growth. This lower chlorophyll absorption rate, compared to blue and red light, is what makes most plants appear green. Depending on the plant, leaves generally reflect 10-50% of green waveband photons.

In contrast to assumptions, studies of green light in crop production have concluded that green light is important to photosynthesis, and especially in a plant’s lower leaves. Around 80% of green light transmits through chloroplasts, whereas leaves absorb approximately 90% and transmit less than 1% of red and blue light.

So what does this all mean? When light is plentiful, chlorophyll reaches a saturation point and can no longer absorb red and blue light. Yet, green light can still excite electrons within chlorophyll molecules located deep within a leaf, or within chloroplasts lower in the plant’s canopy. And so, green light enhances photosynthetic efficiency—potentially increasing crop yields, during bright light conditions.

Additionally, the ratio of green to blue and red wavelengths signals to the plant a leaf’s canopy position. This can induce morphological changes to maximize light absorption. Green light also plays a role in regulating stomatal aperture (opening and closing of plant pores that make gas exchange possible).

Greenhouse applications require less supplemental green light since plants receive adequate green light from solar radiation.  Indoor environments may benefit more from supplemental green light since no sunlight is present.

[therealmadblonde]

October 22

A chihuahua?” The Thing in the Circle suggested. “Just for laughs?”

“Nope,” I answered. “Language barrier.”

“Come on!” it said. “I’m almost strong enough to break out of here on my own now. It won’t go well with you if you keep me till I do.”

“‘Almost,’” I said, “isn’t good enough.”

It growled. I growled back. It flinched. I was still in control.

The Thing in the Steamer Trunk had become a lot more active, too, glaring at me through its aperture. And we had to install a sliding bar on the wardrobe in the attic, as the Thing there succeeded in breaking the latch. But I drove it back again. I was still in control there, too.

I went outside then, checking for foci of interference. Finding nothing untoward, I walked over to Larry’s place, intending to bring him up to date on everything and to see what news he might have. I halted as it came into sight, though. The Enderby coach was parked out front, the heavy man beside it. Had I let this go on too long? What might the Great Detective find so fascinating here that it warranted a return visit? Nothing I could do now, of course.

I turned and walked back.

When I reached the neighborhood I found Graymalk waiting in my yard.

“Snuff,” she said, “have you been calculating?”

“Only in my head,” I replied. “I think it might be easier to work this one out from a vantage.”

“What vantage?”

“Dog’s Nest,” I said. “If you’re interested, come on.”

She fell into step beside me. The air was damp, the sky gray. A wind gusted out of the northeast.

We passed Owen’s place and Cheeter chattered at us from a branch: “Odd couple! Odd couple!” he called. “Opener, closer! Opener, closer!” We did not respond. Let the divinators have their day.

“It is an odd curse you are under,” Graymalk remarked after a long while.

“Say rather that we are the keepers of a curse. Perhaps more than one. If you live long enough, these things have a way of accumulating. How do you know of it?”

“Jack said something of it to the mistress.”

“How strange. It is not usually a thing we speak of.”

“There must be a reason.”

“Of course.”

“So you have been present at more than one. You have played the Game — many times?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he might be trying to persuade her to change — orientation?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder what it would be like?”

We passed Rastov’s place but did not stop. On the road, later, MacCab went by, a stick in his hand. He raised it as we neared, and I snarled at him. He lowered it and muttered a curse. I am used to curses, and no one can tell when I smile.

We continued into the countryside, coming at length to my hill. There we climbed to the place of fallen and standing stones. Southward of us, the black clouds rumbled and glared above the Good Doctor’s house. The winds were stronger at this height, and as I paced the circle a small rain began to descend. Graymalk crouched on the dry side of a block of stone, watching me as I took my sightings.

Out of the southwest, I took my line from the distant graveyard, extending it to all of the other points of residence in view or in mind. Then, from the place where lay the Count’s remains, I did it again. In my mind, I beheld the new design. This pulled the center away from the manse, downward, southward, passing us, coming to rest ahead, slightly to the left. I stood stock-still, the rain forgotten, as I worked it out, repeating the process line by line, seeing that center shift, positing where it had to fall…

Again, the same area. But there was nothing there, no outstanding feature. Just a hillside, a few trees and rocks upon it. No structures at all nearby.

“Something’s wrong,” I muttered.

“What is it?” Graymalk said.

“I don’t know. It’s just not right. In the past, they’ve always at least been interesting, acceptable candidates. But this is — nothing. Just a dull stretch of field to the south and a little to the west.”

“All of the other candidates have also been wrong,” she said, coming over, “no matter how interesting.” She mounted a nearby stone. “Where is it?”

“Over there,” I said, pointing with my head. “To the right of those five or six trees clustered on that hillside.”

She stared.

“You’re right,” she said. “It doesn’t look particularly promising. You sure you calculated correctly?”

“Double-checked,” I answered.

She returned to her shelter again, as the rain suddenly grew more forceful. I followed her.

“I suppose we must visit it,” she said a little later. “After this lets up, of course.” She began licking herself. She hesitated.

“I just thought of something,” she said. “The Count’s skeleton. Was that big ring he wore still upon his finger?”

“No,” I said. “Whoever did him in doubtless collected it.”

“Then someone’s probably doubly endowed.”

“Probably.”

“That would make him stronger, wouldn’t it?”

“Only in technical prowess. It might make him more vulnerable, too.”

“Well, the technical end of things counts for something.”

“It does.”

“Do the Games always get confusing at some point? Do they mess up the players’ thinking, ideas, values?”

“Always. Especially as events begin to cascade and accelerate near the end. We create a kind of vortex about us just by being here and doing certain things. Your confusion may trip you up. Somebody else’s confusion may save you.”

“You’re saying that it gets weird, but it all cancels out?”

“Pretty much, I think. Till the end, of course.”

There came a flash of light from nearby, followed by an instant crack of thunder. The Good Doctor’s storm was spreading. Abruptly, the wind shifted, and we were drenched by the sudden pelting.

We bounded across the way immediately, into the shelter of a much larger stone.

Sitting there, miserable in the special way that wetness brings, my gaze was suddenly fixed upon the side of the stone. There, brought out perhaps by the moisture, a series of scratchings and irregularities now appeared to be somewhat more than that.

“Well, I hope the whole gang of them appreciates all this trouble,” she said, “Nyarlathotep, Chthulu, and all the rest of the unpronounceables. Makes me wish I had a nice simple job catching mice for some farmer’s wife — ”

Yes, they were characters in some alphabet I did not know, incised there, worn faint, emphasized suddenly as the trickling water darkened the stone in some places, bringing out contrasts. Even as I watched, they seemed to be growing clearer.

Then I drew back, for they began to glow with a faint red light. They continued to brighten.

“Snuff,” she said then, “why’re you standing in the rain?” Then her gaze moved to follow my own, and she added, “Uh-oh! Think they heard me?”

Now they were ablaze, those letters, and they began to flow as if reading themselves. Excess light formed itself into a high rectangular perimeter about them.

“I was only joking, you know,” she said softly.

The interior of the rectangle took on a milky light. A part of me wanted to bolt and run, but another part stood fascinated by the process. Unfortunately, it was the latter part that seemed to be in control. Graymalk stood like a shadowy statue, staring.

Deep within it then came a roiling, and I suppose it must be called a premonition, for suddenly that other part of me was in control again. I sprang forward, seized Graymalk by the nape of her neck with my teeth and sprang away to the right. Just as I did, a flare of lightning sprang from the rectangle and fell upon the area we had occupied but moments before. I stumbled, feeling a small shock, feeling my hair rise. Graymalk wailed, and the air smelled of ozone.

“I guess they’re kind of touchy,” I said, rising to my feet and falling again.

Then I felt the wind swirling about us, ten times stronger than it had been earlier. I tried again to get to my feet and was again knocked down. I glanced back at the stone, saw that the roiling had subsided, that another lightning bolt might not be imminent. Instead, a faint outline hung there, of a silver key. I crawled nearer to Graymalk. The wind increased in intensity. Somewhere, a voice came chanting, “Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Wood with a Thousand Young!”

“What’s happening?” she wailed.

“Someone opened a gate to provide means for expressing disapproval of your remark,” I suggested. “That’s done now, but the door hasn’t swung shut yet. That’s what I think.”

She leaned against me, back arched, ears flat, fur risen. The wind, stronger still, was pushing against us now, near to the point of irresistibility. I began to slide across the ground in the direction of the gate, dragging her with me.

“I’ve a feeling it’ll close too late!” she cried. “We’re going through!”

She turned then and leaped upon me, clinging with all four paws to my neck. Her claws were very sharp.

“We mustn’t separate!” she said.

“Agreed!” I choked, as I began sliding faster.

I was able to gather my feet beneath me as we moved. Rather than being pushed through, willy-nilly, some measure of grace might provide a survival edge.

It was easy to stop thinking of it as a rock wall that we were approaching, for there were obvious depths to it, though no clear features presented, and the image of the key had already faded. What lay beyond, I’d no idea; that we were going to go through, I’d no doubt. Better a little dignity then…

Straightening my legs, I leaped forward. Into the breach. Into the mist…

…Into the silence. Immediately, as we passed through, the sounds of wind and rainfall ceased. We did not come to rest upon a hard surface, or any other surface. We were suspended in a place of pearl gray light — or, if we fell, there was no sensation of falling. My legs were still extended — forward and back, as if I were leaping a fence — and while misty eddies and currents, faint as high clouds, played about us, my sense of motion was paradoxical; that is, by turning my head in any direction, I could create the feeling of pursuing a different vector.

I did turn my head to the rear in time to see the rectangle fade behind us, paling stones and grass within it. Dotted about the place where it had been, as well as about ourselves, droplets of rain and a few leaves and strands of grass hung in the air. Or perhaps we were all falling together, or rising, depending on —

Graymalk gave a little wail, then looked about. I felt her relax after that, then she said, “It is important that we not be parted here.”

“You know where we are?” I asked.

“Yes. I’m sure I will land on my feet, but I don’t know about you. Let me move around onto your back. We’ll both be more comfortable that way.”

She worked her way about my neck then, finally settling into a position behind my shoulders. She did retract her claws as she settled.

“Where,” I said, “are we?”

“I see now that something tried to help me as we were being swept forward,” she said. “This is not of a piece with the lightning stroke. But the way was opened and he seized it as a means of rescue. Possibly there is even more to it than that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” I told her.

“We are between our place and the Dreamworld now,” she said. “You have been here before?”

“Yes, but not right here recently.”

“It feels as if we could drift here forever.”

“I suppose that we could.”

“So how do we go ahead — or go back?”

“My memories of this part are all scattered. If we do not like where we find ourselves, we withdraw and try again. I will try it now. Call to me if anything too unnatural occurs.”

With that, she grew silent, and while I waited for whatever sequel was to ensue I thought back over the events which had brought us to this place. It struck me as odd that her mere disparaging mention of the Elders had not only been heard, but that whichever had taken umbrage thereby had been strong enough to do something about it. True, the power was rising in this, a most powerful time, but I wondered at such profligacy with it when there must have been multitudes of better uses to which it might be put — unless it were simply another instance of that famous inscrutability which I sometimes think is to be better understood as childishness. Then a possibility struck sparks deep within my mind, but I had to let it go, unexamined, as alterations began about me.

There came a brightening from overhead — nothing as patent as a single light source, but an increasing contrast to the darker area below my feet. I said nothing about it to Graymalk, for I had resolved not to address her — barring emergencies — until she spoke. But I studied that light. There was something familiar about it, from driftings off and awakenings perhaps…

Then I realized it to be an outline, as on a map, of a continent or island — perhaps two or more — hanging there, as in a skiey distance, overhead. This did peculiar things to my orientation, and I struggled to alter my physical relationship to it. I moved my legs and twisted, trying to turn my body so as to look downward rather than up at it.

It was almost too easy, for there followed an immediate turning. The view became clearer, the land masses larger, as we seemed to drift nearer, topographical features resolving themselves against a field of blue, wispy swirls of cloud hung above prominences, along coasts, a pair of large islands surmounted by great peaks between the two greater masses — to the west, if what seemed upward along the vertical axes were indeed north. No reason that it should be, of course, nor, for that matter, that it shouldn’t.

Graymalk began to mutter then, in a flat, affectless tone, “.    To the west of the

Southern Sea lie the Basalt Pillars, beyond them the city of Cathuria. East, the coast is green and home to fishers’ towns. South, from the black towers of Dylath-Leen is the land of white fungi where the houses are brown and have no windows; beneath the waters there, on still days, one can see the avenue of crippled sphinxes leading to the dome of the great sunken temple. To the north again, one may behold the charnel gardens of Zura, place of unattained pleasures, the templed terraces of Zak, the double headlands of crystal at the harbor of Sona-Nyl, the spires of Thalarion…”

As she spoke we came even nearer, and my attention was taken from spot to spot along the coasts of that sea, those features somehow magnified across the distances, so that I beheld things with the vision of dreaming; though a part of me was baffled by this arcane phenomenon, yet another accepted with a feeling more of memory than discovery.

“…Dylath-Leen,” she mused, “where the wide-mouthed traders with the strange turbans come for their slaves and gold, anchoring black galleys whose stench only the smoking of thagweed can kill, paying with rubies, departing with the powerful oar strokes of invisible rowers. Southwest then to Thran of the sloping alabaster walls, unjoined, and its cloud-catching towers all white and gold, there by the River Shai, wharves all of marble…

“And there lies the granite-walled city of Hlanith, on the shores of the Cerenerian Sea. Its wharves are of oak, its houses peaked and gabled…

“There, the perfumed jungle of Kled,” she went on, “where lost, ivory palaces sleep undisturbed, once home to monarchs of a forgotten kingdom.

“…And up the Oukranos River from the Cerenerian Sea slope the jasper terraces of Kiran, where the king of Ilek-Vad comes once a year in a golden palanquin, to pray to the god of the river in the seven-towered temple whence music drifts whenever moonlight falls upon it.”

We moved steadily closer as she spoke, drifting now over vast regions — brown, yellow, green…

“…Baharna is eleven days sailing from Dylath-Leen, most important port on the island of Oriab, the great lighthouses Thon and Thal at its harbor’s gate, quays all of porphyry. There is its canal to Lake Yath, of the ruined city. It flows through a tunnel with granite doors. The hill-people ride zebras…Westward lies the Valley of Pnoth, amid the peaks of Throk. There the slimy dholes burrow among the mountains of bones, cast refuse of ghouls from centuries of their feasting…That peak to the south is Ngranek, two days’ ride on zebraback from Baharna, if one would brave the nightgaunts. Those who dare Ngranek’s slopes will come at last to a vast face carved there, with long-lobed ears and pointed nose and chin. It does not appear to be happy.

“…And back to the northern land, fine Ulthar lies near the River Shai, beyond a great

stone bridge in whose arch a living man was sealed when it was built, thirteen hundred years ago. It is a city of neat cottages and cobbled streets where wander cats without number, for the enlightened legislators of long ago laid down laws for our protection. A good, kind village, where travelers take their ease and pet the cats, making much of them, which is as it should be.

“…And there is Urg of the low domes, a stop on the way to Inquanok, frequented by onyx miners…

“…And Inquanok itself, terrible place near the waste of Leng, its houses like palaces with pointed domes and minarets, pyramids, gold walls black with scrolls and swirling with inlays of gold, fluted, arched, capped with gold. Its streets are of onyx, and when the great bell sounds it is answered by the music of horns and viols and chanting voices. High up its central hill lies the massive temple of the Elder Ones, surrounded by its seven-gated garden of pillars, fountains, pools wherein luminous fish sport themselves and reflections of tripods from the temple balcony shimmer and dance. The temple itself bears a great belfry atop its flattened dome, and when the bell sounds masked and hooded priests emerge, bearing steaming bowls to lodges beneath the ground. The Veiled King’s palace rises on a nearby hill. He rides forth through bronze gates in a yak-drawn chariot. Beware the father of Shantak-birds who dwells in the temple’s dome. Stare too long and he sends you nightmares. Avoid fair Inquanok. No cat may dwell there, for many of its shadows are poison to our kind.

“..And there is Sarkomand, beyond the Leng Plateau. One mounts salt-covered steps to its basalt walls and docks, temples and squares, column-lined streets, to the place where the sphinx-mounted gates open to its central plaza and two monumental winged lions guard the top of the stairwell leading to the Great Abyss.”

We drifted even lower now, and it was as if I could hear the winds that blow between the worlds as she continued her litany of Dreamworld geography.

“…On the way to Kadath we cross the terrible wasteland of Leng, where, in the great windowless monastery surrounded by monoliths, dwells the High Priest of Dreamworld, his face hidden by a yellow silk mask. His building is older than history, bearing frescoes of the story of Leng; barely human creatures dance amid gone cities, the war with the purple spiders, the landing of the black galleys from the moon…

“…And we pass Kadath itself, enormous city of ice and mystery, capital of this land…

“…Coming at last to fair Celephais in the land of Ooth-Nargai on the shores of the Cerenerian Sea. ”

Now we swooped very low, above a snowcapped peak.

“…Mount Aran,” she intoned, and I saw ginkgo trees upon its lower reaches; then, in the distance, marble walls, minarets, bronze statues. “The Naraxa River joins the sea here. There in the distance lie the Tanarian peaks. That turquoise temple down the Street of Pillars is where the high priest worships Nath-Horthoth. And so we find our way to the place where I have been summoned.”

We dropped steadily then, to touch the bright-cut onyx-stone of the street. Immediately, there were sounds about us once again other than the wind, breezes that I could feel.

Graymalk leaped from my back, alighting beside me, shook herself, and stared.

“You wander these lands in dreams of catnappery?” I said.

“Sometimes,” she replied, “and sometimes elsewhere. And yourself?”

“I think that sometimes I might have.”

She turned in a complete circle, paused, then began walking. I followed. We walked for a long while; none among the merchants and camel drivers or orchid- wreathed priests disturbed our passing.

“There is no time here,” she remarked.

“I believe you,” I answered, and sailors passed us from the pink-vapored harbor and sunlight sparkled upon the streets, the minarets. I saw no other dogs about, smelled none.

In the distance, a blinding spectacle came into view and we made our way toward it. “The rose-crystal Palace of the Seventy Delights,” she said, “whence he has called.”

And so we walked toward it, and it was as if a part of me normally awake were sleeping and part of me normally asleep were awake, a reversal which led to easy acceptance of wonder, to easy forgetting of daylong movements and concerns these past several weeks.

The crystal palace grew before us, gleaming like a piece of pink ice, so that I looked past it rather than directly at it. Our way became more quiet as we approached, and the sun was warm.

When we came into its precincts, I beheld a small, gray form — the only other living thing in sight — sunning itself on the terrace before the palace, head upraised, regarding us. Graymalk led us that way. It proved to be an ancient cat, lying on a square of black onyx.

Drawing near and prostrating herself, she said, “Hail, High Purring One.”

“Graymalk, daughter,” he answered. “Hello. Rise, please.”

She did, saying, “I believe that I felt your presence at the time of an Elder One’s wrath. Thank you.”

“Yes. I have been watching for all of your month,” he said. “You know why.”

“I do.”

He turned his head, antique yellow eyes meeting my own. I lowered my head out of respect for his venerability, and because Graymalk obviously regarded him as someone of great importance.

“You come in the company of a dog.”

“Snuff is my friend,” she said. “He pulled me out of a well, cast me back from the Elder One’s lightning.”

“Yes, I saw him move you when it fell, right before I decided to call you here. He is welcome. Hello, Snuff.”

“Hello — sir,” I answered.

Slowly, the old cat rose to his feet, arched his back, stretched low, righted himself.

“Times,” he said, “are complicated just now. You have entered an unusual design. Come walk with me, daughter, that I may impart a small wisdom concerning the final day. For some things seem too small for the Great Ones’ regard, and a cat may know that which the Elder Gods do not.”

She glanced at me, and since few can tell when I am smiling, I nodded my head.

They strolled along into the temple itself, and I wondered whether, somewhere, an ancient wolf in a high, craggy place were watching us, always alert, his only message, “Keep watching, Snuff, always.” I could almost hear his timeless growl from the places beneath thought.

I sniffed about, waiting. It was hard to tell how long they were gone in a place without time. But it followed that it should not seem to take long. Nor did it.

When I saw them emerge, I wondered again at the strangeness which had paired me in friendship with an opener. And a cat, at that.

Coming up to me, I saw that Graymalk was almost disturbed, or at least puzzled, by the way she raised her right paw and regarded it.

“This way now,” the old one stated, and he looked at me as he said it, so I knew that I was included in the invitation.

He led us up an alleyway beside the Palace of Seventy Delights, where fluted dustbins of umber, aquamarine, and russet, their sides inscribed with delicate traceries of black and silver, handles of malachite, jade, porphyry, and chrysoberyl stood, holding forgotten mysteries of the temple. Purple rats fled our approach, and a single lid shivered, emitting a bell-like tone which echoed from the rose-crystal wall.

“In here,” he told us, and we followed him into a darkened recess which held a temple postern. Beside it, a less substantial door quivered upon the crystal wall — a churning milkiness beginning within its suddenly apparent rectangle there as we approached.

When we came up before it, he turned to me.

“As you have been a friend of one of my own,” he said, “I would give you a boon of knowledge. Ask me anything.”

“What does tomorrow hold for me?” I said. He blinked once.

Then, “Blood,” he said. “Seas and messes of it all around you. And you will lose a friend. Go now through the gate.”

Graymalk stepped into the rectangle, was gone. “Thanks, I guess,” I said.

“Carpe baculum!” he added as I followed, somehow knowing that I recalled a bit of my Latin, and doubtless getting some obscure cat-laugh out of telling me to fetch a stick in a classical language. You get used to little digs from cats about being a dog, though I’d thought their boss might be above that sort of thing. Still, he is a cat, and he probably hadn’t seen a dog in a long time and just couldn’t resist.

“Et cum spiritu tuo,” I replied, moving forward and entering.

“Benedicte,” I heard his distant response as I drifted again in that place between worlds.

“What was all that business at the end?” Graymalk called back to me.

“He gave me a quick quiz on my Virgil.”

“Why?”

“Damned if I know. He’s inscrutable, remember?”

Suddenly, she wavered within another rectangle. It was odd, watching her go two- dimensional and ripple that way. Then she turned into a horizontal line, and its ends collapsed upon its middle and she was gone. When my turn came it didn’t feel that complicated, though. I joined her atop Dog’s Nest before the block of stone, which was again just a stone with some scratches on it. The sun was far into the west, but the storm was over.

I turned in a circle. No one was sneaking up from any direction.

“There’s still enough light to check out that spot you located,” she said.

“Let’s save it for tomorrow. I’m late making my rounds,” I told her.

“All right.”

We headed homeward. I thought about the old cat’s boon, but that wasn’t till tomorrow.

“Dognappery’s a lot less lush than Celephais,” I said, as we walked.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

“I’m back in a primal wood with an old wolf named Growler. He teaches me things.”

“If there are any Zoogs about,” she said, “we passed over your wood to the west of the River Shai. It’s below the Gate of Deeper Slumber.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking of the small brown creatures who lived in the oaks and fed on the fungi, except when there were people about. Growler laughed at them as he did at most things.

The clouds purpled in the west and our paws grew damp from the grasses. Blood and messes…Perhaps I could use a review.

Tonight Growler and I would ramble, till we fought and I was beat.

[randomfandomimagine]

The Mysterious Case Of Y/N (Brooklyn Nine-Nine Imagine)

Character: None

Fandom: Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Categories: Reader Insert, GenderNeutral!Reader, Holt!Reader, Cozner!Reader, Adopted!Reader

Title: The Mysterious Case Of Y/N

  Requested by anon:

could you do a b99 imagine where reader is holt and kevin’s adoptive child since reader was a baby and they’re a teenager when the squad finds out and jakes all “you never told us you had a kid!” and holts just like “you never asked”???? just lots of family fluff !! thank you :)

  “Hello, everyone!” I greeted them as I walked into the bullpen. “I brought coffee!”

“Did you bring chicken wings?” Asked Scully, quickly turning around to me.

“Um… no…” I lifted the coffees a little bit to show it was all that I brought.

“Then we’re not interested” Said Hitchcock, turning back to his desk like his friend did.

“Hey, Y/N” Terry greeted me with a friendly smile.

“Good morning, Sergent Jeffords!” I reciprocated the gesture and also gave him the coffee labeled ‘Terry’. “How are your little girls and your lovely wife?”

“Thank you!” He said, taking the coffee. “And they’re doing great!” 

“Good! I am glad to hear that!”

“Well, well, well” Jake sounded behind me. “Who do we have here?”

“Hello, Jacob!” I picked up his coffee and offered it to him. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I don’t want any of your dirty bribing” Despite it all, he did take it. “I want answers!”

“Not again…” Said Rosa from her desk, rolling her eyes.

“Spit it out, Y/N” Amy backed her boyfriend up.

“Yes, where were you last morning?!” Jake insisted, punching the desk even if he did grimace, but he was staring at me.

“Um… I was here” I tilted my head, not losing the smile even if I did wonder what they were on about. “Giving you coffee like I am today”

“And brought pie too” Boyle added with a thumbs up.

“Aha!” Jake exclaimed as I absently gave Rosa and Boyle their coffees. “You made your first mistake”

“Why is that?”

“Because!” He paused, for dramatic purposes, I assumed. “We realized, no one here knows who you actually are”

“What is Jake saying?” Hitchcock asked whoever would answer.

“The mysterious case of Y/N” Rosa tiredly replied.

“The mysterious case of Y/N indeed!” Jake repeated, this time with more pizzazz.

Entertained by him, I leaned on his desk and nodded, letting him know I was listening.

“No one here knows where you came from” Amy squinted her eyes at me. “One day you just started showing up”

“The important question is why?” Her boyfriend continued. “Why do you come here almost every day, and why do you bring us food and coffee?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up one finger to shush me. I grinned as I looked around me and realized Boyle and Terry were intently listening, even if Rosa and Gina were in no way interested in Jake’s silly ‘case’.

“We have been observing your every move” His voice suddenly deepened, and I knew the detective enough to realize he was trying to sound like a cool tough epic movie protagonist like John McClane or something along those lines. “You do the same thing every day, first-“

Gina suddenly approached, snooping around and hence interrupting Jake’s ‘epic’ speech.

“Gina, are you here to find out who Y/N is?” He asked her, surprised.

“Nah, I just heard there’s free coffee so…” She looked for the cup labeled ‘Gina’, took it and calmly returned to her desk like nothing had happened.

“As I was saying…” Jake continued, taking a moment to get back into character and deepening his voice once more. “Same thing every day: first you greet everyone and give us whatever thing it is that you brought that day”

“Then you chat with someone, depending on who’s busy” Amy added.

“You spend from ten to twenty five minutes chatting before you go into Captain Holt’s office”

“We never know what you talk about because we value his privacy, but you’re not there for long”

“That is because I only say hello-“ I tried to clear up the… misunderstanding? But they wouldn’t let me, they were so into their ‘investigation’ that they cut me off.

“We’ll be asking the questions here” Jake interrupted me.

“I believe that wasn’t a question”

��You have the right to remain silent, Y/N!”

“After you speak with the Captain” Amy insisted. “You say goodbye and leave, that is your routine”

“Why do you bring us food, Y/N?” Jake stepped closer to me, as though I could be intimidated by him, especially with that quite goofy expression he was showcasing. “Are you trying to condition us to eat it, to earn our trust so one day we’ll all die when you bring us poisoned cake?”

“Jake…” Terry tiredly said, but the detective swatted him off.

“Ever since summer started, you appeared and have been coming here at the same time every day” Jake had to stop to clear his throat, that deep voice was probably hurting him a little. “So what it’ll be?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, locking eyes with him even if he seemed bothered that I was unfazed.

“Are you gonna talk?” He moved the adjustable lamp on his desk so it would shine the light in my face. “Or do we have to do this the hard way?”

“I was trying to explain myself” I shrunk away from the bright light until he lowered it. “You’re not giving me a chance to”

In spite of it all, Jake smiled a little at my calmness. I knew that was all playful and in good fun but that underneath it all they were genuinely curious about me.

Just then, I noticed the Captain standing up from his chair inside his office and heading outside.

“Then talk, dammit, I-“ Jake kept up the goofy act, but I felt the need to intervene.

“Detective Peralta?” I politely interrupted him, unable to erase a smile from my face.

“What?” He exclaimed in outrage.

“I would venture to think you will find some answers soon enough” I pointed a finger towards the Captain as he approached us.

“What is taking Y/N so long?” He stared down to his wristwatch.

“That would be me, sir” Jake replied. “I was interrogating Y/N for the safety of the entire precinct”

“Is Peralta bothering you?”

“No, it is fine”

“Did you bring me something today?”

“Yes, coffee!” I reached out to the only coffee left in the plastic rack and handed it to him.

“Thank you, child” The Captain smiled at me, ever so slightly, and rested a fond hand over my shoulder.

“You are welcome, dad” I then turned to Jake, just in time to see the shock reflected in his features.

“Wow, wait a minute…” Amy was the first one to say something. “Did Y/N call you ‘dad’, Captain?”

“Yes” The Captain replied, quite puzzled. “Y/N is my child”

“You have a kid?!” Rosa got interested again.

“Yes, Kevin and I are quite proud” Indeed, the paternal pride and fondness was reflected in his glance as he looked at me and lightly squeezed my shoulder.

“You never told us you have a kid!!!” Jake exclaimed, gawking at him.

“You never asked” The Captain simply replied.

“But… you always call him Captain too” Terry pointed out.

“He is the Captain, after all, despite being my father” I shrugged a little. “I am only being respectful”

“H-How?” Charles wondered aloud. “How did it happen? When?!”

“Kevin and I decided to adopt a baby, and so we did” Dad motioned over to me. “Y/N has been in our lives for quite some while now”

“Uh…. Captain?” Jake bore a playful expression. “You do know Y/N is standing right here, don’t you?”

“Of course we told Y/N” Dad briefly explained. “We had a conversation concerning the subject many years ago”

“That’s adorable” Charles smiled at me. “And believe me, Y/N, we love adoptive children just as much as biological ones”

“I know, Detective Boyle” I smiled back at him. “I know how much you love Nikolaj”

“He is right” In a rare affectionate gesture, dad patted my head. “Y/N is our biggest accomplishment in life”

There was a low murmur of aws around us, causing me to be slightly flustered by his affection. My parents were never ones to show their fondness openly, but that did not mean I was unaware of their paternal love for me.

“How did we not know this?!” Jake was certainly making the discovery of his career. “This is so cute! And case solved!”

“I do not know, Jacob. We never meant to keep it a secret, I came here only to visit my father on the summer holidays and perhaps bring him some coffee” I honestly replied. “It is just that I ended befriending all of you too, as I soon found you are all lovely people”

“Aw” Amy cooed, kindly squeezing my arm. “That’s sweet!”

“I should have known” Jake absently muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “You always call me ‘Jacob’ and you talk just like the Captain!”

I grinned at his findings, slightly startled when he suddenly gasped next to me.

“But that means we can be like siblings!” He placed an arm over my shoulders and hugged me. “And you can tell me embarrassing stories about Captain Holt!!”

Dad and I exchanged a quick glance as Jake went on and on about it. Nonetheless, the smile lingered in my lips.

Tagging: @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader, @xionroxas, @qtmeryr  

[fantroll-purgatory]

@theshieldswordandcrown

I’d like it if you guys could look over my tea man for me! (Art by my friend lythaeriahomestucks. I haven’t made him a sprite yet.

Oofadoofa it’s been a while. Hi I hope your roleplay group is fun!

World: Alternia, but the draft is a lot further off than in canon, because none of my group is interested in roleplaying interstellar space battles or politics, especially considering the amount of setup that would have to go into making deep space believable. Though I think Friendsim’s stated they’re dragged off planet at 9 sweeps, so he’d still have a little time before getting dragged underground anyway.

Name: Oolong Matcha. Yes, they’re both types of tea. It started off as a quick joke, but I’ve grown to love it. Not only is matcha green, like his blood, but he’s a gardener, and really enjoys tea.

Mmmmm I mean joke trolls are famously canon in Homestuck. See: SWIFER EGGMOP or the salt and pepper shaker troll BUTTT mmmm. I feel like naming a character based at least partially on Japanese monks Oolong would deserve some side-eye. But I like the matcha bit! So let’s see…I like him being a gardener since monastic gardens were very much A Thing, and one of the famous still-extant ones is at Rievaulx abbey, so maybe we give him RIVULX, which sounds sufficiently trollish and is obvious enough for someone to get the reference.

Age: 9.69 Sweeps, or 21 Earth years.

Theme/Story: He’s partially themed after monks, specifically Irish and Japanese, which was originally an excuse for his bald head, but ended up influencing his clothing, calm demeanor, and lusus. I was also, oddly, thinking of 4chan – not maniacs like /pol/, but just average people who don’t get out enough, like to chatter about anime or cooking, and generally act like a bit of a dipshit. Fatherhood is definitely a theme with him as well – he’s already a father figure to two other trolls.

Hmmm. I like the broad concept, but I think we can tighten up a little on the “monk” theme by expanding it. Review Goals: General overview, classpecting advice, filling in missing details like fetch modus or lunar sway, etc.

Strife Specibus: He greatly prefers to snipe threats before they reach him, but if he’s forced into melee, he’ll grab a pipe and go berserker nuts. He takes satisfaction in neutralizing threats, especially if he’s protecting someone or something. He’s not averse to talking things out, but dislikes putting others on the line.

Hmm. None of that is a strife specibus, though I suppose you’re going for riflekind and pipekind. Generally void players use fistkind since it’s the absence of a weapon, but if you want to give him another option besides hand-to-hand melee may I suggest poisonkind? He could use something from his garden, like monkshood :3c. Or if you want to give him a melee weapon he could use the sansetsukon per the 36th Chamber of Shaolin, which would double as a symbol reminder since he could arrange the segments in a backwards s. Fetch Modus: ;;3;; I have absolutely no idea.

What about a clue modus where the items are obscured but contain details describing them? With the caveat that some of them will have similar color/taste/textures listed. I think this might be fun because there are actually *two* famous detectives with the last name Monk, Adrian Monk and William Monk.

Blood Color: Jade.

That works great, especially with Friendsim’s reveal that many jades are indeed monastic/cloistered.

Lunar Sway: Not sure.

Given that he’s a monk and you have painted him as someone unlikely to cause conflict or rebel against the system, I think he’d be a Prospit dreamer.

Title: Knight of Void, someone who exploits what little secrecy and irrelevance he has for all it’s worth. He was first conceived as a Bard, to fit into a fansession, but I eventually decided it didn’t fit what the character had developed to be. 

Symbol and Meaning: I made it up, and it doesn’t have a name. It’s an infinity symbol, broken in the center - like this, but flipped 90 degrees clockwise. I guess it could tie into his aspect by…destroying infinity, I guess, but I really haven’t put that much thought into it.

If we’re going by the EZ, he would be Virittanius, the Deliberate. Which I think fits him quite well! It also looks like a further corruption of the sign you gave him, so I may toy with that a little in the redesign. Handle: I feel like I might have given him a serious handle at one point, but if I did, I forgot it, so for now, it’s oolongMatcha. Just his name. Considering his classpect and desire for secrecy, this makes about as much sense as a rain barrel made out of crackers, but I’m not sure what to give him.

Since his new initials are RM, maybe revenantMyiopsitta. Revenant, of course, to hint at the fact that he’s part of the blood caste most commonly associated with rebirth after death, and Myiopsitta being the genus for two types of parakeet: the cliff parakeet and the monk parakeet. So we have his true identity as well as the unusual nature of his hive, both concealed in plain sight. Quirk: he types in all lower case and likes putting his horns in his emoticons! ’:)  Maybe doing it like (:; would make more sense, as it’s his right (our left) horn that’s busted.

I like it! Depending on his redesign you may also want him to uƨe backwardƨ ƨ’ƨ to mimic hiƨ ƨymbol.

Special Abilities: Supreme Dadliness. Jokes aside, he’s a crack shot, even with his impeded vision, and has been successfully flying under the radar his whole life.

If you still want him to be a crack shot even with the changes I suggested above, maybe he uses blowdarts to poison his enemies from afar?

Lusus: His father is a MASSIVE white snake; I was thinking some kind of constrictor. Personality-wise, he’s close to a prototypical 50s dad. He’s a safe haven for his son and those his baby cares about, and is exceedingly patient, to the point of letting a small child fingerpaint on him. He’s also willing to carry Oolong in emergencies, though I’m not really certain that would work in real life, movement-wise.

I feel like the snake can be a little overplayed as a lusus. If we want to give him something similar to a mother grub as a jadeblood, why not a massive butterfly based on the monk/dusky friar? It also gives you the mechanics for how his dadderfly would carry him around in emergencies.

Interests: He used to spend a lot of time alone on the internet - I originally conceptualized him as a very lonely NEET, to the point he had to find his wallet to remember his own name - but has become more adventurous and friendly, spending more time with his girlfriend and friends (and he has friends now!) He’s very proud of his garden and fruit trees, some of which are rare, difficult to grow properly, and/or dangerous (offering more security).

Huh! You don’t explain *how* he goes from isolated to friendly, but I’d hope that gardening is a way for him to reach out to others since it’s a hobby you can commit to on your own but bond with other hobbyists.

Hive: He lives out in the woods by himself, though not so far from other trolls that he can’t take the day to go shopping or see his mate. His hive is surrounded by his garden on all sides, and has a very visible path down the center (making it easy for him to see anyone approaching, and shoot if they’re a threat). Trees surround it, and dangerous plants are strategically placed to make going through his garden unpleasant at best (it also makes weeding a pain, but he thinks it’s worth it). His hive is especially unusual in that the porch is raised up to the second floor with large poles, and you have to use a ladder to get up to it (unless you’re snakedad, in which case you go up the poles). He has a remote so he can let it down from the ground, as well as access to it on the platform, so he can let people up himself. I don’t think the ground level has a door. I’d be happy to submit pictures, if you want.

Feel free to show us pictures, but I like the concept a lot!

Appearance: Tall and rail-thin, excepting his oddly curvy hips. (I figured due to jades being majority female, developing jade males might be exposed to more than the usual amount of estrogen and androgens. Also I’m way more used to drawing women than men and his initial outline was a gal for like ten minutes.) He shaves his head bald. (This is because A) I didn’t want to bother trying to figure out men’s hair - I almost never draw dudes - and B) he’s partially themed after monks, who often shave their heads. I don’t remember why he says he does it.)

…man, I’m gonna take issue with the way you phrased this description. There’s a lot of gender essentialism going on in your explanation there, and given that a number of us mods are trans and nonbinary I feel obligated to point out a few things:

1) Trolls are bugs. They’re not even mammals. They aren’t exposed to androgen or estrogen or any hormone to give them a certain body shape. It is quite heavily implied that when the mother grub gives birth it is to a bunch of larvae.

2) I know that Homestuck lore has given us largely jade girls and one jade trans guy but that’s no reason to assume that jade men are broadly more “feminine” by default in *any* dimension

3) Even if trolls *did* work like humans, it rubs me the wrong way to see someone talking about a man’s “oddly” curvy hips like I’ve got guy friends both trans and cis with wide hips and the only reason to remark on it at all is because We Live In A Society that forcibly genders people in relation to physical characteristics.

…So I am otherwise taking your description at face value. ______ Matcha is tall, rail thin, with curvy hips and a bald head. I will probably add some little fangs, per the Alternian fashion guide.

He wears leggings (unless it’s very hot) and long tunics or robes, usually tan, with his symbol emblazoned on the breast. He goes barefoot if he can. His right (our left) horn is broken, due to an accident in his youth (I think he fell onto something?), amusingly improving his vision, since his unbroken left horn points in front of his left eye, obscuring it somewhat.  His face could almost be described as delicate, and his default expression is calm.

I don’t knooooow that tan is a color trolls wear all that often in Alternia, so I will see how I can rework that in the redesign. I get him being barefoot, but I may give it a shot spriting him monk shoes for if he wants to go on an outing. :3c For his broken horn…hm. When we see trolls with physical damage, it is almost always something more significant than just “childhood accident” (see: every troll in Homestuck except Equius who somehow had like 3 simultaneous accidents?). I have an idea for his horns that I will get to in the redesign, and I will probably add a hook to his front horn, both because it’s a jadeblood trait and because it seems suitably horrifying to constantly have a sharp implement millimeters from your eye.

Personality: Oolong is a nice, fatherly young man, well regarded by most he meets. He really really likes tea. He has a beautiful, dangerous mafiosa matesprite in a rustblood named Andora Ingenu, and they adore each other. He’s also taken on the substitute dad role for an adorable young fuschia who lives in the swamp near his forest, Lillie Waters, teaching her how to cook (and keep her tools clean) and rescuing her from other fuschias. He’s very protective of his and his loved ones’ privacy and safety, and spends a LOT of his time in the massive gardens around his hive, of which he’s deservedly proud. He is very good at being sneaky, and sometimes takes the time to run around seeing what he can get away with, especially in the realm of snatching seeds up for his garden. He sells whatever plants he can grow for money, especially fruits and vegetables, but he doesn’t really enjoy sales. He doesn’t put a lot of stock in blood superiority, but doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s oddly well adjusted for someone who spent most of his life alone.

I like this description! Also looking at his close compatriots, it looks like I can swap the tan in his design for rust or fuchsia. We already see jadebloods wearing a fair amount in the red/burgundy/purple spectrum, so it should fit right in with the others.

Land: I don’t remember if I’ve come up with one. If I did, I feel like it may have heavily wooded areas, dark and tangled and difficult to navigate.

Hmmm. What about Land of Rough and Reflection (LORAR)? Covered in rough terrain, with pools to contemplate oneself. Unbeknownst to your troll, there are switches at the bottom of each lake (deeper than he could ever hope to dive and hold his breath) that must be flipped to drain the lakes and free the consorts from the underwater caves in which they’ve been trapped for generations. His land would initially seem completely empty and without guidance, and it neatly parallels his own situation before he began to socialize.

I hope you like him! :) I’d love to see what you guys think of him.

He’s certainly an interesting troll, and I hope I’ve helped by way of sharpening up on his theme! Let’s move on to the redesign.

Top to bottom as usual!

Hair - I gave him some stubble courtesy of fan-troll (I have never managed a post without plugging fan-troll/tajazzled’s sprite sheet and I’m not gonna stop now)

Horns - I wanted to make his other horn sort of…curve away from his head so it looks like his symbol from above?

Eyes and brows - they didn’t change but big ups to fan-troll for giving me bases to modify!

Mouth - this is a modification of Sollux’s mouth but I gave him lil fangs and a little lower lip definition

Robes - I just modified some of Kanaya’s robes, appropriately enough! I decided to go for a red/pink shade that was between rust and fuchsia so he could fit in while subtly broadcasting his allegiance

Shoes - they’re John’s but with buckles! :B monk shoes

Aaaand that’s about it for my critique! I hope this helped!

-TR

[rorykillmore]

okay and this ended up being more of a new years present than a christmas present, but regardless! my final gift fic for @xivuuarath !    they requested more of our “villanelle and ravage go on assassin missions together” au complete with ravage interacting with konstantin. note that i was originally going to do something crazy and fun for this but... then i got the idea to set it post-killing eve season 2 and it kind of took a more weighted and painful turn. this is an inevitability no matter what dynamic storm and i write together, so,

storm i hope you have (/had) a wonderful holiday!!! i know this year has been very difficult with caretaking and family stuff but i still think... it’s showcased an incredible amount of progress, and i’m always so happy for you and proud of you when i hear that you’re managing to write more or do more confidently in school. i know we also haven’t talked as frequently this past year, but you are still a friend who i love and value and have been through so much with, and that remains as important to me as ever <33 good luck with everything you do in 2020!!!

For better or for worse - whether it’s a weakness or a precious remnant of a more righteous cause that he ought to sink his claws into and never, ever let go of - Ravage has a habit of doing the right thing when he can afford to.

Patience might not be considered a virtue when it makes you a methodical, effective killer, but Ravage has rarely ever lacked it when it counts either way.

But these human spies the Decepticons have temporarily aligned themselves with -- they test him, sometimes. He detests most of the higher ranking members of the Twelve, frankly. They all reek of greed and wealth and apathy, and if there comes a day when Soundwave decides it might be beneficial to get rid of them, Ravage certainly does not plan on grieving.

Thankfully, the contacts he works most closely with - the assassin and her handler - are not quite so insufferable. Or at least, Villanelle is insufferable in a different way, and Konstantin... well, he’s the only human in this entire operation who Ravage can sometimes detect a whiff of decency from. Ravage occasionally halfway respects him, when he’s not seeking secret entertainment in wringing exasperation from him.

It is not like Konstantin to be late.

Ravage has waited for nearly an hour past their agreed meeting time, lurking in the shadows outside a Roman cathedral, his deflectors keeping him invisible to passing eyes. 

Something’s gone wrong. Too much time has passed. Ravage would have given up and left, except that this operation is too important. He cannot report back until he knows for certain that Aaron Peel’s weapon has fallen into the correct hands.

He is debating throwing caution to the winds and going to sniff out Konstantin himself, though, when the man finally appears.

“You took your time,” Ravage growls, flickering into visibility and making no secret of his impatience. “I hope you at least have good news for me.”

“The best,” Konstantin assures him, but his smile does not quite reach his eyes. “Aaron Peel is dead, and we have successfully confiscated his weapon before he could sell it off. Sorry it took me so long, I was -- held up.”

And despite his outwardly calm, amicable air, Ravage instantly smells something jarring and distinct. Guilt. It is an emotion ill-suited to Konstantin, and Ravage can’t imagine what might have caused it. Unless --

“Where is Villanelle?” he asks slowly, and he knows his guess is correct the moment Konstantin’s expression falters. 

“Ah. She is... gone. We have parted ways, for the time being.”

Well. It’s not dead, at least, but Ravage can also tell it’s not the whole story. But instead of calling Konstantin out, he merely stands there in silence, his optics glowing with the silent indignity of the transparent lie by omission.

And whatever actually happened must be itching under Konstantin’s skin, because it doesn’t take him long at all to crumple. “...We perhaps withheld certain details about our part of the plan.”  Sensing Ravage’s incredulity, he quickly and defensively adds, “It had nothing to do with the Decepticons. Just -- our people. Our business.” 

“Evidently, she was supposed to be my partner. You don’t think that makes it my business?”

Konstantin is quiet for a while. Then he comes out with it, plain and simple,  “Carolyn Martens wanted her dead.”

Ravage processes that silently.

“The plan was that she would kill Aaron Peel, and then one of the Twelve’s other operatives would get rid of her. I tried to provide her with an escape, of course, but she... was not happy with me.”

“Shocking,” Ravage says disdainfully, and that’s when he places the emotion churning in his spark -- shock.  There had been many an occasion, amidst his and Villanelle’s endless banter, when they had compared handlers - Ravage being elusive when it came to details of his own, of course - but while Konstantin could certainly never hold a candle to Soundwave in Ravage’s opinion, he hadn’t anticipated... this. The strained, complicated love between Konstantin and Villanelle had been something, at least, perhaps enough to blind Ravage a little to the brutal way these things often go.

These people have no loyalty to each other after all, he thinks in disgust.

“Where is she now?” he hears himself ask without even fully knowing why.

“Gone.”   Konstantin’s eyes look sad, and Ravage, of course, can tell that he means it. “I told her to get out, but she would not leave Eve Polastri, and so...”

It would be unbefitting to let Konstantin have a read on him now, so Ravage suppresses the hiss of frustration he wants to let out. Always Eve Polastri. Ravage cannot understand Villanelle’s reckless obsession, her willingness to compromise everything else, for the supposed agent of the enemy who once nearly killed her.  It is irrationality almost unparalleled to everything else he has seen in his millions of years. For that, he might have sardonically congratulated her, had the stakes been different. “They’ll get themselves killed.”

“Or one of them will kill the other,” Konstantin suggests grimly. His eyes are lost, and he still stinks of regret.  “I think... Villanelle is misreading the situation.”

That wouldn’t be anything new, but Ravage bites back the retort and stews silently until Konstantin asks,  “What will you do now, Ravage?”

Ravage resents him for asking, and resents even more that his answer is less immediate than it should be. “Stick to the plan and report back,” he says finally, prowling towards the mouth of the alley. He wants to add something more biting, maybe tell Konstantin that he will be requesting to work with someone else in the future, but that would be -- overly sentimental. So he doesn’t.

“Ravage,” Konstantin calls after him.  “I did not want it to be this way.  But orders are orders. You know this as well as anyone.”

He does, of course. And it’s an excuse he’s starting to get sick of hearing.

---

Once he has briefed Soundwave, Ravage finds himself... disconcertingly conflicted. Soundwave tells him to lay low for the time being - until the ripples caused by Peel’s death die down - which is easy enough. But it also leaves him with too much free time. Ravage would like to feel efficient. He would not like to be left alone with his thoughts. It might end with him doing something embarrassingly reckless.

Like tracking down Villanelle. Which he inevitably does.

On one hand, he rationalizes, she is a loose end, a rogue agent formerly associated with an organization allied with the Decepticons, and thus at the very least worth checking up on. But Ravage has tried never to make a habit to lie to himself, and he knows it’s not only that.

For better or for worse - whether it’s a weakness or a precious remnant of a more righteous cause that he ought to sink his claws into and never, ever let go of - Ravage has a habit of doing the right thing when he can afford to. Not that war affords him the luxury very often any more, but perhaps that only means it’s all the more important to try when he can.

And so. Here he is. 

He knocks down a vase that looks like it might be the most expensive fixture in this hotel room to announce his presence, taking momentary satisfaction in the way it hits the ground and shatters into several pieces.  And of course, it has the effect he intended:  Villanelle is up off the bed and alert within a second’s reaction time, weapon in hand, scanning the room in search of the source of the noise.

Before he reveals himself, Ravage takes a moment to observe her. She looks... tired. A little more disheveled than she usually does.  Both of these things, he notes, are oddities, and when he tries to get a read on her emotional state he finds her even more difficult than usual. It’s a difficult thing to explain, but Villanelle’s emotions do not have quite the same scent as most sentient beings’. Like she gets different flavors of sad, or angry, or elated, than everyone else does. Ravage has been around her long enough that he can sometimes puzzle her out anyway, but today he finds her irritatingly contradictory.

“I thought you’d be used to me breaking your things by now,” he growls smoothly, uncloaking.

Villanelle narrows her eyes in recognition, and after a moment, she lowers the gun.  But it takes her a while to say anything, and when she does, it’s not a sharp, cheery quip like usual.  “What do you want?”

“Your employers didn’t send me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  Ravage pauses. “Konstantin said you’d left.”

“Yup.”  Villanelle pops the ‘p’ and sits down on the edge of the bed, already making a point of looking disinterested in the conversation.  “So what? Haven’t you ever thought about leaving your people? It must get boring, after thousands of years.”

“Millions,” Ravage corrects her not for the first time, pausing.  “And no.”

He thinks of Megatron with a quiet ache in his spark.

“Why not?”

“My handler has never once conspired to leave me for dead, for one thing.”

Villanelle huffs in exaggerated disbelief.  “I guess he really was better after all.” But the joke feels almost inappropriately hollow, and Ravage doesn’t deign to comment on it. It’s a moment before Villanelle continues,  “He says he did it to protect his family. Can you believe that?  With that little gremlin daughter of his shaving years off his life.” 

Konstantin hadn’t mentioned that part. Ravage’s optics glow faintly in the dim light. He can admit to himself, easily, that he would have done the same for Soundwave and the cassettes.

And yet... he’d had the impression that Konstantin and Villanelle were whatever passed for human family.

He watches her lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, her expression blank, devoid of anger or grief. But there is something uncharacteristically somber and still about her now, nonetheless. Ravage almost finds it disconcerting.

“He also said you left with the MI-6 agent,” he continues after a moment.  “Where is she?”  Because he can’t catch Eve’s scent anywhere in the hotel room -- as far as he can discern, Villanelle is alone.

And this time, her reaction is noticeable. Her arms wrap around herself, and her nails dig pointedly into her side. Ravage doesn’t know much about human flesh, but he figures that has to be painful. Abruptly, Villanelle turns over on her stomach, facing him, her legs dangling limply behind her.  “Ravage?”

He’s going to take that as a  ‘he’s not going to get much information out of her just now’.  “What?”

“Can you tell me what love feels like?”

Ravage briefly forgets to hide his surprise.  It’s an odd, straightforward, vulnerable question, coming from her of all people.  He hesitates, considering for a long while.  “No.”  Villanelle’s eyes dim slightly, and he continues,  “It’s not something you explain. It’s just something you know, when you feel it.”

Perhaps 25 years - or whatever ridiculously young age she is; Ravage can scarcely keep track - is too short a time to feel anything as powerful and complicated as love. Perhaps humans have to spend their whole lives trying.

Villanelle shifts, another question bubbling up.  “Then can you tell me what...  regret feels like?”

Ravage is silent for another moment.   “What’s happened, Villanelle?”

Villanelle stares at him. Then she sighs and rolls over again, spread out, eternally dramatic.  “You are noooot being very helpful. Why did you even come here to find me, if you are not going to kill me, and you are not going to answer any of my questions?”

“Because I don’t think you’d understand, if I told you why I was really here.”  Ravage flicks his tail behind him once, and then settles into a careful crouch, still watching her. Debating. “...Regret is not always the all-consuming force of nature people like to make it out to be.”

To show she’s paying attention, Villanelle sits up a little.

“Sometimes it’s small, and feeble. Sometimes you don’t even realize it’s there. And sometimes you do, but you know it won’t change anything, so you push it down and away where it can’t be a bother.”  Again -- Ravage will not lie to himself, will not say he has not known regret after regret in millennia of brutality. But there’s no shame in that. Not when he hasn’t allowed himself to falter, either.   Unbidden, Megatron comes to his mind again. “...But even when you do, it doesn’t mean it can’t eat away with you. Slowly, over time. I’ve seen it hollow people out with empty spaces.”

Villanelle breathes out slowly.  “I am already all empty spaces. Maybe that’s why I can’t feel it.”

Ravage takes a long time choosing the words to respond to that.  “I think you don’t know very much about yourself.”

Villanelle doesn’t agree, and she doesn’t object.  She just keeps staring at the ceiling, and they share their silence, and that feels empty, too.  “Will you stay?” she asks after stretch of this.

“For a little while,” Ravage agrees, because he’s already made up his mind.

Villanelle doesn’t ask him why, and he doesn’t tell her, and perhaps it’s easier for both of them that way.

[walkerismychoice]

For Law and Love - Chapter 12

Book: Desire and Decorum - Modern day AU

Paring: Ernest Sinclaire X MC

Raiting: PG-13

A/N: This is sort of shorter transitional chapter. but I felt it was best to get this stuff out of the way and cut it off here

Summary: Anna and Ernest deal with the fallout of the incident with Professor Richards

Word Count: 1457

Law and Love Master List  - Catch up here

The last week had been a whirlwind of giving statement after statement to police, lawyers, and school officials. Anna was thankful to have come out mostly unscathed, but as word spread of her ordeal, one by one more victims came forward, and not all were as lucky as her. Some had been afraid to say no, and gave into Professor Richards demands out of fear of the alternative, other’s had refused and failed out of law school, or worse. Things that could have happened to Anna had she not put up a fight, and she didn’t even want to think about just how lucky she was. The school set her up with a therapist which was helpful even after the first visit, but saw the value in continuing on because she realized she could have been benefiting from therapy all along.

Professor Richards was put on immediate suspension and class was cancelled for a week pending the investigation. By some miracle, professor Richards’s attorney must have convinced him not to press charges against Ernest given all the serious accusations against him, but Ernest wasn't in the clear yet. He still had go before the Dean and the rest of the law school's administrative board to determine what, if any, action would be taken against him.

~~~~~

Ernest bit at his nails as he sat in front of the board nervously awaiting the start of the hearing. In his opinion Professor Richards deserved a whole lot more than a punch to the face, but he also understood the threat of immediate danger to Anna had passed and that they could easily find him in violation of the school's code of conduct. He didn't know what type of punishment to expect, but he could handle just about anything short of being expelled.

“Mr. Sinclaire,” Dean Henning began as the other board members watched on attentively. “As you know, we are here today to discuss your incident with Professor Richards. You are aware that we have a zero tolerance policy for violence, correct?”

“Yes, Sir.” Ernest answered, lowering his eyes to the floor.

“Based on my own knowledge and interviews with others in the school that know you, this type of behavior is out of character for you. I imagine you wouldn’t have resorted to assaulting Professor Richards without just cause. Am I correct in assuming you acted as you did out of concern for Ms. Edgewater’s safety?” The dean questioned.

If he Ernest was being completely honest, Anna was already physically out of harm’s way by the time he got there. “Well,...”

“Mr. Sinclaire, I do already have statements from Mr. Harper and Mr. Prince confirming you were acting in defense of Ms. Edgewater. If you say no more, I will accept that as your agreement, and we can put this to rest. I’m guessing Professor Richards will be too busy with his other battles to put up a fight on this front.” Ernest couldn’t be certain, but he thought he detected a hint of a smile on the dean’s lips. He glanced at the other board members and noticed a couple of them smirking as well. Maybe Professor Richards nasty reputation extended beyond just the students

Ernest let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Very well then.” Dean Henning very clearly smiled this time. “We do have another matter to discuss.”

“Okay...” Ernest’s heart started beating faster again, not knowing what else he could have done wrong.

“No need to worry. It’s nothing bad,” Dean Henning reassured him. “Although Professor Richard’s future remains uncertain, he is suspended indefinitely. This is a concern because there is still a month left in the semester, and we need someone to head up teaching Business Law. The department has talked it over and we believe you are the best person for the job.”

“What?” Was Ernest hearing this right? Moments ago he was worried about being kicked out of law school, and now they were asking him to head up the course. “But I’m just a law student. Why me over anyone else?”

“To be honest, if there were another professor who knew the material and had availability, that would be our top choice, but at this point, you are by far the most qualified. It is not unprecedented for graduate students to instruct undergraduate courses and we are confident you know the material. Mr. Harper and Mr. Prince are good students as well, but you are at the top of your class. They will continue to act as your teaching assistants and you will present the material to the class. We are aware that Professor Richards was relying heavily on the three of you, so the workload shouldn’t be that much more for you. What do you say?” The dean asked expectantly.

His mind was still reeling from the sudden turn of events, but he knew he needed to do it. “Yes, I’ll do.”

“Excellent.” Dean Henning reached across the table to shake Ernest’s hand. “Just one more thing. I do not need to know the details of your personal life, but I feel it may be necessary spell out that professor/student relationships are forbidden. Although you lack the technical title, you are acting in the role, and we will need you to abide by this rule, at least until the semester ends and final grades are submitted.”

Ernest’s heart sunk upon the realization. “Understood.” It was only a month. He an Anna could handle a month apart, couldn’t they? 

~~~~~

Ernest had texted Anna immediately after the hearing to meet her at his office with no further details. He was seated at his desk when she arrived. She grabbed the handle to shut the door, but he stopped her. “You can leave that open.” 

There was a formality in his tone she wasn’t used to and Anna started to worry. She sat down in the chair opposite his at the desk. “How did the hearing go? Are you okay?”

Ernest smiled wearily. “It went very well, actually. Apparently I have some very good friends willing to vouch for me, and professor Richards has enough enemies that there will be no action taken against me. In fact, you are looking at the new stand-in professor for the rest of the semester.”

“Seriously? That’s great news!” Anna jumped up and ran around the desk to give Ernest a hug but he held a hand up to keep her back. 

“Unfortunately, that means we cannot continue our relationship for the remainder of the semester. I’m sorry, Anna.”

His actions now made sense and Anna feared the worst. “So are we breaking up?”

Ernest looked out into the hallway and then spoke softly. “No, not at all. It’s just that with everything that’s happened, neither of us can afford to take any chances here. We can’t risk being seen in any inappropriate situations. I’m still all yours if you can wait. 

A month was such an insignificant amount of time, yet a month without touching, kissing, or holding Ernest seemed like an eternity. However, given the alternatives, it wasn’t the worst thing she could have to endure. “Hmm. A month is a long time, and I do have a lot of other prospects...kidding, kidding. Of course I can wait. I’d even wait two months for you.”

Ernest shook his head and laughed. “We’ll see how things go, but for now I’ll only be able to see you in class. Unless...There would be nothing stopping you from volunteering at the legal aid clinic on Saturdays when I do. They can always use extra help filling and filing paperwork. You don’t need any special training and it would look good on your law school application.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Strictly to help me with Law School, and not because there might some hot law school students there.” Anna smirked. 

“I would tell you that you better be talking about me, but that would be inappropriate, so I’ll just say I hope the opportunity is everything you are looking for. I do have to have to run to another class now, but maybe I’ll see you at the clinic tomorrow.” As they stood to leave, Ernest peered out into the hallway, and then pulled Anna behind the door and out of view. He wrapped his arms around her and brought his lips down on hers, kissing her like he needed it to be enough to last. 

Anna kissed him back with equal eagerness and longing before the finally broke apart. “I know you aren’t going anywhere, but I miss you already.”

Ernest hugged her tightly to his chest. “This will be over in no time. We’ll make it work. I know we will.”     

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[elsewhereuniversity]

Elsie

Elsie is not a particularly threatening name all things considered, nor one tinged with any sense of nobility, or power. It is not what one would expect. After all the name is common place enough in many realms, a standard name, plain. Yet in EU it thrums with strange energy, the handful of new students that unknowingly take it up as their own quickly slipping it for something sweeter, milder. The rush of silence overwhelming, filling a vacuum the fools thought already full of the stuff. The violent prickling under your skin only felt when facing a foe at its most dangerous, when its cornered. That is what these unknowing “Elsie’s’” face each time they dare introduce themselves as such. The sole, undivided attention of every Fae on campus, and many off as well. As soon as they drop the name they are swiftly forgotten, they are not The Elsie. They are not a threat.

None but the Fae know why this name is so feared, it remains as much a mystery to the most gifted witches and the most cunning tricksters. Not even the librarians could successfully barter for such knowledge. The more daring students joke that Elsie is the Fae’s Bogeyman, and are often punished justly for such an offence, presumably by the Man himself. The more curious students ponder upon whether the name is mere title, possibly even an abbreviation of Elsewhere. A theory ridiculous enough that the Fair folk do not even dignify with ominous stares. One student, too exceptionally bright for their own good, suggested there might be some kind of prophesy, that it would explain such unfounded fear of a name. They of course were Taken, and none could return them.

A strange quirk to be sure but apparently not strange enough to single it out amongst the ocean of quirks the University called its own. Not even enough to make the monthly Top 100 List Of Strange Quirks published by the University’s Journalism Society (article discontinued early on due to ‘finger theft’, some things are best not drawn attention to).

All in all, for the students and faculty of EU that were not Of the Fae, Elsie was little more than a mild inconvenience. One of a long list of words and phrases best not thrown around. Until she wasn’t. Until she came to EU, fresh faced, surrounded by her peers, and ready for her first year at University. Her chosen name was Phonics, not Elsie, as few names self-selected speak of true power. To most Phonics was decidedly unremarkable, pleasant enough, perhaps too often making use of obscure phrases and terminology to be reliably coherent, but that is only to be expected of a Linguistics Major. Even her roommate, a warlock of varied abilities could not detect anything of note.

The Gentry however knew who she was the moment she stepped over the threshold. As one they heard her first breath in Their domain and they shuddered. Initially she was known to all as Phonics and nothing else, The Fair Folk knowing better than most that belief can be a dangerous thing, can manifest reality so very easily.

 Despite this, as weeks, months, years passed the name Elsie spread throughout the Fae, as did her exponentially growing list of inexplicable talents, gifts and knowledge. The unremarkable girl became decidedly remarkable and remarkably terrifying to the Gentry. One of the few students to never need any form of defence; no salt lining her windows and no iron marking her person.  It was well known that a friendship with her was a valuable asset, it promised almost unrivalled protection. Her year broke records for the fewest number of disappearances, the changelings actively avoided even being in the same building as her. Most of the student body regarded her as a lucky charm. There was the few perhaps wiser and more experienced that questioned what exactly could fill the hearts of the Fae with such dread, whether someone of something like that should not be more of a concern. But as her student life continued without incident most simply accepted her as just another aspect of student life at Elsewhere.

Not for us though, not for The Gentry. It wasn’t until her final year at Elsewhere that I took those treacherous steps towards the dim fluorescent light filtering out of her dorm room window. Through some fluke she had managed to attain a room for herself, one that she did not have to share with a roommate. Unfortunate, she seemed less threatening when with her human peers. I tried not to shake as I removed every last scrap of glamour from my form and even forced myself to let out a glow, so I could very clearly be seen through the eve’s shadows. Queens forbid I even slightly startle her. I raised a fist to gently tap on her window, even as one of the Fae, manners had never before been so important as they were in that moment. She was typing up an essay with fingers improbably quick, hair falling out of a perfectly messy bun to frame her face- each curly strand curving with the signature grace of one of Us. I couldn’t quite bring myself to knock, she was clearly busy, how might she react if I interrupted her? I stood frozen in my indecisive terror until to my horror her voice swirled through the glass and into the night.

 “Well are you going to knock or what? As lovely a statue I’m sure you make I worry that you would threaten the equilibrium of my oeuvre.” She did not stop typing, or even spare a glance in my direction as she spoke. I couldn’t be sure her lips moved, was it even her voice I’d heard? She sighed, hit a final button and stalked towards the window, opening it wide.

“Fine dearie don’t knock, I’m tired of such formalities anyway- just come in, I assume you’re here to make the usual deal?” Managing to shake myself out of my haze I nodded and ever so gently manoeuvred my many long limbs though the small opening, crouching so my horns didn’t scrape the ceiling’s paintwork. She in contrast practically threw herself into her desk chair, yawning and elegantly slumping back.

“So, you wish to also have that same slim chance at controlling my immeasurable power that I have given others of the Fae? Two letters of my true name?” That beautiful combination of fear and excitement flowed through my entire being. I licked my lips and nodded once more.

“What would you give me in return then? What do you have to offer?” Her eyes felt harshly analytical as I reached to my head and scraped off three long, twirling shavings from my horn and presented them in an open palm towards her. I tried not to flinch as she took them from me.

“Huh, yeah I guess I’m running a little low.” She casually pulled open a draw and my ears drew back in disgust at the grisly contents. At least a dozen little boxes and jars, filled with assorted remains of my people; hair, blood, claws… even what looked like a heart. She dropped my precious shavings in a jar and closed the draw once more.

“I’m afraid those are only worth one letter at this point. Basic economics, their scarcity value has clearly plummeted-” when I did not respond she rolled her eyes and continued, “- so in fair trade I give you the letter ‘L’. Now if that will be all…” she turned back to her laptop.

“No!” I wheezed out, unable to stop myself. I needed the other letter too, I needed the same chance as the other Gentry, no matter how small.

“So, you do talk, I was beginning to wonder. What else does a lower Fae such as yourself have to barter?”

“The Sight; True Sight.” I cursed myself even as I uttered those words, but I was so desperate. She looked at me almost pityingly, and with endearment.

“That has not been a skill I lacked for a long time now.”

The most valuable gift I had to offer, and It wasn’t enough.

She inhaled deeply, “Perhaps instead I could suggest an option, your scent is one of my favourites I’ve come across, even for one of the Fair Folk. Would you be willing to part with it?”

A Fae’s scent is often a key factor in luring hapless humans, mine being no exception, but of course I agreed. She requested it in a bottle, which she placed next to two others that sat on her vanity.

“In fair trade I give you the letter ‘C’, and now I expect you know how to refer to me.”

L & C, LC…Elsie. Of course, the answer had always been there.

“I thank you for these trades Elsie.” I began to take my leave but found myself pausing. She noticed and shook her head;

“I will not trade you any more letters, you get two, same as the rest.”

“I do not ask for letters, I wish to know- I wish for information for curiosity’s sake, not out of greed or self-preservation.”

“Interesting, unusual even. What information would you ask of me?” Her eyes narrowed but a hint of a smile touched her lips.

“What is the great power you possess that renders you such a threat? How did you gain it? Are you even truly human? What makes you different to the other students that roam this campus?” The questions spilled out in a stream as I realised I certainly had no way of paying for such a bounty of information.

She let out a peal of laughter, nauseatingly melodic, “You wish to be told my story, I admit it is one I am rather fond of. You will be the only one to have heard it and perhaps for that reason I will trade it for practically nothing, a pretty stone for each day I reside here and a promise not to repeat a word of what you learn. Are these terms acceptable?”

For such a generous offer I nodded enthusiastically. And so, she began.

She told me of how on her first day she knew nothing of who she was, the role she was to play. She came to Elsewhere due to natural intrigue in a people so clever with words, and at first she was like any other student. She took the salt packets and iron pins from the RA, heeded the warnings about true names and dealings with the Fair Folk. However, it wasn’t long before she realised that They were far too interested in her, that none of her peers were gaining anywhere near as much of their attention. After maybe the twentieth Fae approached her, attempting to trick her into giving away her True name whilst she was still young and naïve, she finally agreed, to an extent. Carefully selecting her words as to best circumvent any possible loopholes she made a deal, for each of her questions the fae answered fully and to the best of their ability she would give them one letter of her True name.

“Why are so many of the Fae desperate to trade for my True name over all my peers?”

And she learned of The Prophesy, as old of the university it spoke of her arrival, of a human impossibly powerful. She learnt that the Fae all wished to be the one to control that power, and by extension her.

For this she gave the letter ‘L’.

“What is the exact wording of this prophesy?”

And she learnt of the promise of one by the name Elsie, who would come to Elsewhere and possess power that would grow to outstrip all but the highest queens. That Elsie could one day destroy the Fae if they do not manage to stop her.

For this she gave the letter ‘C’.

That fae became the first to know to refer to her as Elsie, not Phonics. Coveting what little chance at her True name they had they refused to bargain with any other fae for the letters they had gained.

After that night she found the Fair Folk even more eager for even just the scrap of her True name she had given the first. Even the highest queens jealously bargained away whatever they must so that the others would not have this advantage over them. Elsie found she could gain any talent, any gift, any knowledge she wished. Trades were made to give her beauty and charisma, talent and grace, skills and knowledge, protections and power. She traded with the Fae for that which she could trade with her peers, with Witches and Mages and Librarians- she gained comforts and luxuries and further obscure power.

She told me this and smiled obscenely, teeth too white, lips too red and corners too pointy. She spoke the truth I’d already begun to unravel and confirmed my fears.

“The thing is that when I came here I had no power, nothing but a way with words and slight talent for being cunning. It was the Gentry that gave me the power you all so fear, so lust for. It was your envy and greed, your need to hold my supposed power over each other. I have made trades with countless Fae for the promise of an infinitesimal chance at gaining the power they themselves are giving me, and I will continue to do so until there is no one left to make the arrogant gamble.”

I left with shame and disgust heavy in my heart. As promised every day until her graduation I left a pretty rock by her window and saw that sickening smile on the face of the monster of our own making. I’ve tried to warn the Fae who hadn’t yet made their trade not to give her yet more power but was unsuccessful. It would seem she had long since made a deal to prevent others taking advantage of any loopholes in her phrasing. I found myself unable to compromise the sentiment of the promise I made, unable to share her story.

After Graduation she left Elsewhere University and hasn’t been back since, I fear she is roaming other realms and gaining yet more power. I fear one day she with return and destroy the fae like the prophesy warned as when I left her room the night of our trade she spoke one final curse before she closed the window;

“There isn’t a single prophesy that isn’t self-fulfilling.”

x

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT Rewatch 4x12 - Darkness on the Edge of Town

I hope my knowlEDGE on this episode will make for an engaging review! XD

...Yeah, this was a hard one to make a pun for. I miss the ice puns already.

Anyway, as I said, just below the cut, there’s an honestly fairly short review by my regular standards. If you feel like checking it out, go below the cut!

So, if you’re at all familiar with my reviews, by now you know that I usually post my main takeaways here, but this time, I don’t really have them and what I do have to say is small enough to not need a ton of elaboration. So instead, we’re gonna skip it this time and just go right to the Stream of Consciousness! With that being said...

Stream of Consciousness

-”Tried to impregnate.” Not even one minute in and we get a hentai joke!!! XD I love this series!

-You know, the music that play in the Storybrooke owner sounds like a somewhat harsher version of what is later the happy endings montage in Season 6, as if to say a lot is right, but not everything.

-I would honestly love more Snow and Bird interactions! XD

-Wait, so is Granny’s just closed, or is she babysitting WHILE running a popular diner! This woman is a freakin’ superhero! Also, where’s David?

-I love how Belle actually thinks to reach out to people outside the fairy tale world.

-”How could I have been so weak?” MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY.  

-”You -- you should’ve been stronger, but you weren’t, and well...neither was I.” No. I love Killian, Belle, but there was a difference between Killian being sort of manipulated (sort of -- the present segment of “The Apprentice” just sucks) and being straight up lied to.

-”I just hope he’s found whatever it is he’s looking for.” Umm, considering when you last saw him, he was looking to kill people and take over the world, you probably shouldn’t hope that! XD

-I repeat what I asked in the last episode: WHY are all of these fairytale creatures living in New York! I love my home state, but it is EXPENSIVE!

-You know, I just feel really bad for Ursula. We don’t see enough of what she did as a villain to hate her in any way and in this world, apparently all she can afford to eat is RAMEN! That is so fucking sad! This woman does not deserve this!

-”What you do is complain.” And what you do is mooch, Rumple! Don’t bitch at the person who is hosting you, especially when she’s pissed! See, the one thing about being a coward (And I am a big fucking coward) is that we’re not confrontative when we don’t have the power! XD

-I love the implication that Cruella just went around our land AND landed a rich husband with the name “Cruella.” XD

-You know, CAN Cruella kill in a land without magic? Because no one else’s magic works, so maybe she’s been free all along! ...But then again, she probably would’ve killed her husband, so I guess it’s more of a reverse Weaver situation. Actually, to serve my point, at the end of the scene, Cruella drives down and like by all means, should’ve killed this guy but instead gets flung back into a bush! The universe is conspiring against her!

-”Aren’t you tired of feeling ordinary?” Please, even in this world, Cruella’s far from ordinary! Besides, for the wham line that this is, Cruella’s problem wasn’t that she was ordinary -- it’s that she couldn’t kill!

-Okay, so apparently Regina has a weakness for root beer! I hate the stuff, but good to know!

-I love how Killian smiles at Belle as she tells them that she did it! He’s so proud!

-Cruella’s power is so fucking cool! She can not only control animals, BUT she can have her commands spread from one animal to another. Like, how did this woman not at the very least take over a whole town with an army of rhinos?

-How come Mal’s staff absorbed the fire instead of just...Mal? She’s a fire breathing dragon! Give her some extra fire!

-Or...CAN Cruella kill? Because Rumple knows she can’t kill, but is still afraid?

-I know that Blue and Regina are far from friends, but it’s weird how much focus is put on their dynamic in this episode. There’s a lot of hesitation whenever they interact and given how little they interact on a regular basis, it’s odd.

-Why wouldn’t Blue not know or even not think about the possibility of the Author working for The Sorcerer, or vice versa?

-When did Isaac have the time to leave these “hidden clues?” And how come neither Merlin nor The Apprentice had anything to say about them if they were rumors?

-”This isn’t our first monster bash.” I honestly love how freakin’ well oiled this town is at times!

-I’m honestly curious what a 4B where the Queens of Darkness do decide to leave Rumple behind would look like. Because Cruella would’ve at least considered it, let’s be honest. I’m not saying I’d have preferred that, but I would totally read a fic of that universe.

-You know, I like the subtle costume details of just how destitute Rumple’s life has become. Everything from his phone to his cane are of poorer quality and his coat looks like he got it out of Goodwill. It a really good instance of costuming telling a story.

-”The sea bitch.” To my knowledge, you and Ursula have never met! Why are you calling her a bitch?

-”Swallows the heart with the darkest potential.” I’m trying to think about this in regards to Emma, the character we’re supposed to believe fulfills that role. I mean, sort of. I can see her intelligence, ability to detect lies, and connection to her family and friends to have potential to be abused to the detriment of others. It’s an interesting concept. And given how life in Storybrooke, while rewarding in a lot of senses, has made her life complicated as all hell, I can see her having a lot of baggage about it.

-David, welcome to the fucking episode! Seriously, was Josh just sick this week or something?

-”What made you choose yellow?” I love how Regina asks this as a means of not freaking the fuck out that a Chernabog is chasing her! It’s a very Regina thing to comment on and it’s hysterical because of it!

-I like how Emma points out the hypocrisy at play with her parents not trusting these two lower tier villains.

-”Not as horrible as I once was. And if I deserve a second chance, so do they. How can I sit here looking for my happiness and deny two others a chance at theirs?” This is a FANTASTIC Regina speech. It really shows how Regina’s grown to be more self aware and better equipped to help redeem other villains.

-I kind of wish Rumple had more of a scared reaction to the possibility of not being let into Storybrooke. Like, the rest of his life depends on this.

-”Make friends, build relationships.” And NONE of this ever happens! XD

Favorite Dynamic

The Queens of Darkness and Rumple - These guys are the main dynamic and they really do provide the most entertainment value. First, I want to point out how cool it is that Rumple is the one with power (both actual and figurative) in the past segment while the queens are in the present. That’s just interesting storytelling. Second, what I love about them in the present is that they get just as exasperated as we do about how frustratingly vague Rumple often is and that they use their power in the situation to get him to fucking stop to some degree. Their frustration slowly but noticeably builds up in the episode as Rumple continues not really saying anything and finally explodes and that is honestly really cathartic to watch. For as much as I love Rumple for how cryptic he can be, its a quality of his character that can easily be overdone and in a meta-sense, this was pointed out in-universe and almost prevents him from losing his own plan of revenge.

Writer

Adam and Eddy start up our half season with a solid start. Again, there’s not a lot to say here because while these two episodes have stories, they’re not so much rooted in something like theme which can be analyzed. The characters are all in solid form, and Regina’s in particularly great form. I will say though, there is a clunkiness to a lot of the lines. Sometimes, it’s a matter of people giving weird exposition or explaining things in a way that characters shouldn’t be able to understand (Ex. The entire middle of Killian and Belle’s discussion, Rumple telling Ursula and Cruella about being the Oxford professor).

Rating

10/10. I feel like there’s a singular word to describe this episode: Utilitarian. It’s all setup and a bit of tying loose ends up with a really basic ‘working together is good’ storyline in the past and sort of present. That’s not to say that it’s bad -- far from it. It just means that there’s not a lot of story to comment on. But this is a good version of setting up a story and biting off a loose end of two. There’s a lot of fun and interesting dynamics, it’s great to see all of our main heroes working together, and the queens get to show off the bulk of their charisma and intrigue.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Captain Swan - I love the bits of domesticity we get with Emma and Killian here. You can see that they’re really gotten the most out of these six weeks and have integrated themselves into each others lives. Like, the sequence at the beginning of the episode implies that this is a normal morning for the people of Storybrooke and Emma and Killian are literally part of each others routines! That shit is just too fucking cute!!! I’mma also plug my fic “Hero,” which is based around this episode. It’s one of my better work in my humble opinion and deals directly with Killian’s doubts in his own heroism that he displays in the hallway scene. Speaking of which, I do like the hallway scene. While I don’t like Emma giving Killian a total free pass, I do think that with the fairies, it’s warranted and deserved given how he very clearly didn’t want to go through with it.

-----

Thank you all for reading this pretty relaxed review. Sorry for all the delays lately, but I’m hoping I can pick up the pace from here.

Also, shoutout to @watchingfairytales and @daensarah. See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (105/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (30/50) Andrew Chambliss: (14/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (14/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

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[please-just-f-blog]

The Function Stack

Overview

Leading Function:

most used, i.e. overused

determines if the type is extraverted E, or introverted I

determines if the type is feeling F, or thinking T, or, if it is a perceiving function, if the type is sensing S, or intuiting N

Auxiliary Function:

in support, i.e. under control of the leading function

different direction ( i, e ) than leading

different nature ( perceiving, judging) than leading

Tertiary Function:

further supports leading

diametral to auxiliary, yet in a supportive manner

same direction as leading

same nature as auxiliary

Repressed, Inferior Function:

diametral to leading

contradicts, inhibits leading function

same direction as auxiliary

same nature as leading

Interpretation

To understand any type, it should be enough to know its function stack and what each function in it represents. As every MBTI type consists of two specific function axes in a particular order, it is most useful to know how to interpret these axes.

One axis always connects the types leading and auxiliary function. With these two functions, the one being on the one side, what you might call the strongest function, while on the other, the weakest function of the type, the interaction of these poles is a key-part to understand the inner processes of a specific type.

The leading is actually not the most used function because we like it the most. It is the other way around: We like it the most, because we use it the most. There is no real consensus in the MBTI-community, why most human beings tend to prioritize one cognitive function over all others, but the most common answer here is: because we tend to stick with what has worked.

So in fact, one could imagine, that we all got used to our leading function over the course of our lives, in a need for inner stability, as well as simply pragmatism paired with human laziness. Most likely there may have been not even any talent: We just got better at interacting with the world through a continuing experience.

However, once a certain gap in skill was reached between the most used leading function and it’s opponents, it sounds just natural one unconsciously avoids risking his/her inner stability, by using a function that is not trained as well as the lead. This behavior isn’t something unique to cognitive functions; a decent proportion of psychological problems start with the overuse of one certain area forcing the avoidance of others.

C.G. Jung, the psychologist who originally came up with the idea of psychological types, and who’s work made the base for Myers and Briggs typology model, had certain assumptions about the interaction of the consciousness with the subconscious. Simplifying: As we only have certain control over conscious things, the subconscious is the place where all things get equalled — whether we like it or not.

So, as one overuses the leading function on and on, one also gets into a state of dependence on this cognitive process. From this point on, everything that seems to hinder the leading function is unconsciously suppressed. However, the power of the repressed function grows ever so slightly in the subconscious, while the dependence on the leading function intensifies.

This dynamic is vastly important to understand the repressed function. It might be even lower than the tertiary function, but this does represent neither it’s value nor it’s power. The way how any type reacts with the world is characterized by this tension between the first and the fourth function. The leading function indeed leads — most of the time! If the tension gets too big, the individual experiences a breakdown, colored by fears, doubts or even impulses, that might seem to directly contradict the nature of a given type.

Life actually seems to be, for each and anybody, after all, nothing but a dance on a tightrope, where left and right could be imagined as one’s type leading and inferior function. These specific characteristics might be hard to detect at times, however, they exist as a core part of our personality.

(I think I’ll write an extra chapter on C.G. Jung’s work Psychological Types, as I can see it assisting to get behind the nature of each cognitive function, as well as in what way they were intended originally.)

This is very different for the auxiliary and tertiary function, which also represent two poles on one function axis. There is no power left to force this pair into an unhealthy overuse-compensation dynamic. They simply coexist next to each other in the grip of the leading function.

While the auxiliary is still above the tertiary, there is almost a notion of balance between these two and their kinds of uses. As their natures still contradict each other, there aren’t even that much scenarios, where both had the ability to contribute the same amount to the situation.

To get a feeling for the way in which the auxiliary and tertiary function impact the type, one might look at the natures of the whole axes. I’ll elaborate on these in the posts for the specific function axes.

[ericlwoods]

Not sure how to start this write up. There is some hesitancy on my part, but not for the usual reasons.

Not for fear of Leica adherent backlash. I am a casual member of the same. Very much enjoyed a brief Leica film dalliance I fully understand the Leica allure.

https://flic.kr/p/26omc7J

And I loved what the Leica M3 (KEH Blog Post here) could do.

https://flic.kr/p/YPNiHi

What happened? As much as I loved the M3 functionally it was a dead end fiscally.

Body: I would rather in body metering. But that means a film M6 (M5 also technically) which currently goes for more than a few brand new full-frame digital cameras.

Lens: Had and loved the Voigtlander 50mm f/1.5. But why not a proper Leica? They are quite expensive, especially when you go wider than f/2. Multiples of the cost of the M3 body alone used in fact.

Media: An M mount digital Leica was beyond my reach. The cost of moving to a digital M mount was a hard proposition for me personally.

Sidebar: Not saying digital M mounts are not worth the price. They are. Simply a matter of them costing more than I am willing or able to spend.

What did I do next? I already enjoyed Voigtlander lenses so I went for a less expensive Voigtlander Bessa R2 that has in body metering.

https://flic.kr/p/261676d

Perfect for my purposes for much less spend. So it looks like I dodged the Leica bullet. What happened? Put simply the Q happened.

As soon as it was released back in 2015 I knew the Q would haunt me. Some scoffed at such an expensive all in one camera. Not me. Without knowing anything more the mere fact that this was a camera with:

An AF Summilux lens included where a manual focus M version would cost more alone.

No rangefinder, but zoom and peeking aids like those I grew to appreciate on other mirrorless cameras.

Full frame. As much as I appreciate the Leica name I would not purchase a less than full frame lens Leica product.

I stopped reading further. Knew I was in trouble. A close encounter with a Q in the wild proved problematic as well. On a local photo walk accomplished photographer Edde Burgess took what is still to this day my favorite portrait of me.

Edde took this with his Leica Q that I tried not to look directly at during the walk for too long. In short, I had a medium format film camera in hand and a bag full of digital gear, while Edde was rolling with one self-contained wonder. Still, I resisted.

Then after some years went by…

A Q showed up at my local camera shop recently.

Dang it.

Took it in hand and told myself not to look at the price on the bottom. I looked. Was initially stunned by, but not really surprised by, the price. Holding its value better than I had hoped.

Went home and looked at the prices of examples online and realized the Q really holds its value. This local example was very much priced to move. If I ever was going to get one this would likely have to be it. Dang it.

Went on to finally read and watch the reviews and deep dive into the specs I had all avoided all of these years. Hope was that these would back me down. Snap me out of it. Sheesh. A rare consensus. Praise after praise. And the specs listed features I did not expect of any all in one camera, especially a Leica.

OIS

Found this particularly surprising. My one real bogey, the RX1, does not have this feature. Digital stabilization does not count. Having long become spoiled with OIS it is now a must-have feature.

Macro

So avoided early reviews and specs that I had no idea that it had a macro function. The party piece is the shifting distance markings. Amazing bit of engineering and design that actually works.

Leaf shutter.

Silent shooting with physical shutter up to 1/2000s and flash sync up to 1/500s. Will not ever likely use flash, but the silent shooting is a definite plus.

E-shutter.

Up to 1/16,000s shutter. What? This means completely silent stills in daylight with the aperture wide open without an ND filter any time I want.

WiFi/NFC.

Well implemented remote control and file transfers by all accounts. I see you Leica.

10fps… 10fps!

3 years old and bests the rightly highly regarded newbie 8 fps A7iii (No ding intended. Love that camera. Just facts.).

AF.

Fast and accurate AF on a full frame Leica. That is a ‘take my money’ sentence.

Direct manual focus.

With assists. WIth hard stops. Focus tab with an ingenious AF/MF switch built in.

Not drive by wire. With zoom and peeking. No. it is not a proper rangefinder, but it more than makes up for it with it’s well thought out and elegant implementation.

Face detect AF.

Another ‘take my money’ feature.

Touch screen with touch focus.

Greatly helps to mitigate the omission of a tilt screen for me.

AF Tracking.

Actually works.

Favorites menu.

Most recent firmware I installed added a favorites menu where you can choose what comes up first. Found the menus already to be intuitive and quick to navigate, but this is even better.

User profiles.

Quickly switch between my favorite self defined configurations (B&W/High Speed/Street/Normal) just like I have set on all of my other cameras.

Video.

Not pro grade. No mic jack. Not 4K. But AF tracking is good and more than serviceable for the few occasions I would want to capture video.

Decided a test drive was in order. Does it add up? Have been disappointed in the past when real life experience does not match the hype and/or spec sheet. Not the case here.

Lower price non Leica comparisons.

Having owned and tried many digital cameras (Sony RX1 line, Fuji X100 line, Ricoh GR line and the like) I can honestly say that this camera is greater than the sum of its parts. It is not about capability since any number of cameras can produce excellent images. But even if you took the word Summilux out of the equation this camera matched or bested every camera listed above ergonomically in my book. I spent near no time staring at the camera wondering how to change setting X or Y. Switch to MF? Move the focus wheel on the lens away from AF. Change the aperture manually? Move the dial on the lens off of A. Change the shutter speed manually? Move top plate mounted shutter dial off of A. Change the ISO? Press button on the back marked ISO and turn the wheel. Hey, what is this unmarked dial on the top do? What do you know it adjusts the exposure compensation. All this in the first few moments after having picked up the camera without ever picking up a manual or visiting Youtube. Your mileage may vary, but add the Summilux name back in on top of that (and my notes below) and it is a no brainer for me.

Higher price Leica comparisons.

Leica M acolytes look away until the next paragraph. Nothing to see here… Seems absurd to say, but at the Qs price point there is value to be had here. To achieve the equivalent Leica M specs of this lens and body combination one would need to spend many thousands more for a digital 24MP M 240 body (new or used) or Summilux lens (any focal length used or 28mm new). And I did say ‘or’ not ‘and’. Combine the two and you easily surpass what I paid for my dadmobile daily driver on up into five digits. Some would say that an M advantage is that you can change the lens. Moot point for me. Truth is that if I ever did buy a comparable M lens and body there would be no budget left ever for another lens. And no AF at that price. Tell me of a less expensive AF true Summilux full frame experience anywhere and I am all ears. Not arguing worth. Stating what I am personally willing to pay.

But both comparisons ultimately miss the point. To say the most cliched of cliched things you have to use it and evaluate the results for it to make sense. Hard to relay in words, but since we are here let me try. Imagine if you combine:

Summilux.

I.E. outstanding sharpness wide open, class leading sharpness stopped down a little, great focus fall off, great contrast, creamy bokeh, and wonderful colors. Best lens I own hands down is permafused to this camera.

Near DSLR speed swift and accurate AF acquisition.

Even in low light. How they did this with contrast detect AF only I have no idea. Some Panasonic partner magic perhaps?

10fps.

With useable AF-C tracking in a pinch. That bests all of my other quite capable interchangeable lens cameras.

Best of the best mirrorless manual focus implementation.

Utterly silent shooting.

Best of any digital I own 1/16,000s shutter speed available.

Not to be used for panning/fast moving objects or it will distort, but fantastic in relatively static brightly lit conditions. 1/2000s leaf shutter available if need be for motion.

24.2MP.

This the goldilocks MP count for me. Any less is not enough of a post crop detail safety net for my liking. Any more eats into archive RAW archival storage space quickly and noticeably impacts the speed of my post processing workflow.

Full frame.

Some of my favorite work ever was done in MFT. APS-C is just fine for most all purposes. But if available I prefer full frame.

OIS.

Mentioned above, but deserves mentioning again.

Time lapse, panorama and other scene modes.

Have not gotten around to using any of this yet. But glad it has them.

Macro.

Mentioning again, because this is not just macro writ large on a non macro lens, but actual fast AF wonderfully implemented real deal macro capabilities.

EVF.

Best EVF I have ever used. And I have used a lot of EVFs.

In body 35mm and 50mm field of view crop.

May seem silly since you can crop after the fact. Made more useful since the images are so sharp that cropping still leaves plenty of detail.

Great for sharing real time with the Leica app. Crop while you shoot instead of after the fact.

 If you shoot RAW and JPEG like I do it is the best of both worlds since RAW files are not cropped.

Monochrome JPEGs.

 There are other JPEG settings, but this is the only one that matters to me.

 Small.

No, not as small as the also full frame RX1 line, but tried it and that camera is too small for my beef mitts. Bought and sold two RX100 cameras for the same reason. For me there is such a thing as too small. A nice size with half case and hood, but remove both and I am able to get this camera into a jacket pocket. Plus more compact than a similar M set up. And far more compact than a similarly spec’d A7III and lens. I believe this may be the most compact brighter than f/2 full frame digital camera and body combination on the market currently.

Summilux, summilux, and in conclusion summilux.

But not so fast. There have to be minuses, right?

Focal length.

This was one potential demerit that concerned me. As I have pointed out ad nauseam my usual go-to prime focal length is 50mm or thereabouts. But in use, the 28mm focal length has not proved to be an issue at all. It has forced me to move in to get the shot sometimes, but this is where the small, silent, and quick nature of this camera pays dividends. So far I have thoroughly enjoyed taking shots while in the fray rather than having to back up and away. Has proven handy with environmental candid shots also. And if I do need to step back the bright aperture, ample MPs, accurate focus, and very sharp lens means that cropping is no issue. I should not have been surprised since two of my favorite all in one film cameras are 28mm.

Lack of weatherproofing.

Would have been nice. But not really an issue for me. Some of my cameras are weatherproofed technically and they all get put away at the first sign of rain regardless.

Saved the most biased, eye roll/cringe inducing, subjective assessment for last.

Fun.

Fun to use. Fun to review the results. A highly technical and very capable contraption that is simple to use for any situation that does not require a superwide or telephoto lens. I have cameras that have high keeper rates. The Q is the rare camera that has a high “wow factor” rate. And the only one I own film or digital with that “wow factor’ that does not have some usability compromise involved.

So much so that I have gone from carrying a gear bag everywhere to just carrying this camera. In fact I have already traded quite a bit of the gear the Q displaces without hesitation to partially fund this acquisition.

But lastly it has been out so long you might mention. True. But I know of no camera released since that tops this camera. Some mentioned a Leica Q 2 one day, but why? In my humble opinion there is little that would improve this camera.

So in case you were still wondering I like it. A lot.

Here are some sample shots below and here is a link to an ongoing gallery.

Happy shooting.

-ELW

The Leica Q 4 years on: An amazing camera still. @leica_camera #leicaq #leica #leicaqtype116 Not sure how to start this write up. There is some hesitancy on my part, but not for the usual reasons.