#quartz spiral tube

[luverre-quartz]

Customized High Purity Heat Resistant Quartz Spiral Tube--Luverre Quartz Luverre Quartz is a manufacturer specializing in quartz tubes.We have over 18 years experience with the production of quartz tube, we will be your reliable partner on quartz tube and other quartz items. Luverre Quartz can produce customized quartz tubes in various shapes, such as spiral, square, round, with processing including cutting, bending, welding, etc., and available in different colors, such as transparent quartz tubes, opaque quartz tubes, milky white quartz tubes, red quartz tubes, and so on.

[beevean]

PALMTREE PANIC

A subtropical Round that matches the rhythm of samba. Run through palmtrees, grassy greens, and deep blue skies! A never-before-seen loop awaits Sonic!

COLLISION CHAOS

A group of pinballs floating on water. Huge rotating drums are spinning overhead. Proceed by making good use of flippers and bobbins. And then, something happened to Amy, who was chasing after Sonic...

TIDAL TEMPEST

A fantastic underwater atmosphere. You'll run out of air if you advance without breathing from bubbles. Go, and pay attention to the invisible water currents.

QUARTZ QUADRANT

Inside the crystal mine ruins. Make full use of the belt conveyors that change the direction of travel and run through them all at once. Push through the high-speed spiral tubes, and watch out for falling rocks!

WACKY WORKBENCH

The flashing floor makes Sonic jump high in the air. Proceed carefully so as not to get hit by the electric shocks, and successfully jump from platform to platform.

STARDUST SPEEDWAY

Let's run through the roads that feel like a roller coaster, with the starry sky in the background. And an unprecedented battle with the strongest rival, Metal Sonic, is about to unfold...

METALLIC MADNESS

A grand scheme that brings together all of Eggman's brainpower awaits Sonic. Sure enough, will Sonic be able to fight his way through...?

[yitaifoodequipmentparts]

Tungsten quartz infrared ceramic transparent matting heating tube RS-104

Product Number RS- 101 Finish Clear, Reflector, Gold Heating Resistance Wire Tungsten Wire Wavelenght Range Short Wave lnfrared Radiator Certificate CE, Rohs, SGS Life Time 5000h Material Grade A Baked quartz tube Shape Straight, C, U, Round, Pear, Spiral Voltage 12v, 24v, 36v, 75v, 110v, 120v, 220v, 230v, 240v, 380v, 400v, 415v Watts 100- 10000w Length 50- 4000mm Outer Diameter 6, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20, 23, 35, 50mm Base R7s, SK15, Round, X- Metal Burning Position Horizontal/ Universal Cable As Buyer' s Demand Color Temperature 2300- 2500K Response Time 1- 2 Sec Electrical- Thermal Conversion Efficiency ≥ 95%

[payasense]

Buy glass element

If you are looking to buy a glass element (quartz), first of all, it is better to know that the glass element (quartz element) consists of a spiral resistance coil wrapped around a quartz tube. This quartz tube is obtained from pure fused silica that has a semi-transparent (semi-opaque) surface. These tubes end in specially designed ceramic caps at both ends. These caps are securely attached to the pipes with refractory ceramic cement to reinforce the wiring of the terminal screws used for electrical connections.

Because the radiations are in the visible spectrum, in the phenomenon of emission from the surface of the semi-transparent glass element tube (quartz element), the emitted wavelength range is expanded without causing undesirable radiation.In an optimal design, when the heater is operating at full line voltage, it produces a red color on the translucent tube surface. The emitted wavelength is almost completely absorbed by the process and is the best choice for most industrial radiant heating applications

[potsmart]

You Can’t Dab Without a Setup… Let’s Get You a Rig

Headshops are overwhelming. I can’t even. If you also can’t even, let’s just give some proper suggestions.

Things we aren’t covering fully but you’ll want to know if you’re a beginner

Before you get started remember you’re also going to need a dabber and a carb cap. If these words are foreign to you I’d suggest looking up a few videos on “How-to dab.” Most of these suggestions come with quartz bangers, which many dabbers prefer. If it doesn’t you need to pay attention to the millimeter size of the “joint” or spot the banger attaches to. Common sizes for dab rigs are 10mm and 14mm. There is also a larger size, but not generally used for dabbing.

When it comes to carb caps I like ones with directional air flow. It helps vaporize those concentrates really nicely. Dabbers usually come in titanium or borosilicate and I prefer the latter.This is just the tip of the iceberg for names and devices folks use to enjoy concentrates. If it’s all expensive and overwhelming sounding, perhaps a digital version is an easier alternative.

A temperature reading device or timer is advisable. You don’t want to dab too hot. Protect yourself. Don’t blindly do anything regarding cannabis without researching yourself and making an informed and adult decision. But what am I telling you that for? You know that right? There’s a whole world of dabbing techniques and internet “experts” for you to explore. Use your head when getting your head right.

Recycler

Recyclers are aptly named for their distinctive two-chamber system that recirculates water through a loop. When you inhale, the smoke and water travel the same path, passing through the main chamber, which contains water, and a perc before entering the second chamber through one of the separation tubes. From there, the smoke and water follow another separation tube, returning to the reservoir to repeat the cycle until the vapour is pulled out of the mouthpiece. It’s similar to a closed-circuit recycling system, where materials are continuously processed and reused, with the added benefit of providing a smooth and refreshing hit every time.

This half globe recycler could be used for flower or dabs, but in general recyclers are not fun to clean. For that reason I reserve them for concentrates use only. This one seems to come with a bowl and a banger. Bonus.

Mini Recycler

The design of this product is cute. Yes, cute. I own a couple of these or similar. It combines MJ Arsenal’s trademark quality and practical design with added functionality. The piece has a compact  (and super heady) 10mm joint that comes with a matching quartz banger. It perfectly complements its design. The small size of the piece and the banger work together to provide optimal flavour and aroma from your concentrates.

You may think larger is smoother when it comes to dab rigs, but you’re wrong! Temperature is key to smoothaucity (yes that’s a word) and smaller size is generally more flavo-centric. (yes, that’s also a word.)

Triple Heart Recycler

Another cute one. It features not two but three stunning handmade borosilicate hearts in full colour. Each heart is not only beautiful but also fully functional, making this piece a true work of art. The second heart boasts a unique spirally swirl design that is sure to captivate any curious toker. From top to bottom, this recycler has been crafted with absolute precision and attention to detail. This makes a great gift, but hurry it’s limited.

A bong that will work as a rig

The nice part about a bong as a rig is that it can play double duty. That’s also pretty gross without a solid cleaning after using flower. The beauty of dabbing is not tasting that ash and bong water.

This bong is pretty nice and has ample room for water which in my opinion makes for a cooler hit. Again you’re going to need to match your banger to your connection there on the water pipe. The worst thing is getting a new rig and having mismatched the banger.

What I would not suggest

I would 100% suggest this for flower. It’s perfect. However with dabs it will be very airy. By the time the vapour reaches you it will mingle with a large volume of air and dilute the hit. This is why any rigs are smaller with 10mm joints and narrow airways. Big bongs like this are more suited to loading up with ice and hitting big rips of flower bowls.

And there you have it, a bunch of fully suitable rigs for dabbing. If you’re not an experienced cannabis user do be cautious when consuming concentrates. The potency is considerably greater than flower. Like edibles it is wise to start small and go from there when you see how it effects you. Unlike edibles, the effects are immediate.

By Bailey Quarters, Cannabis Connoisseur and Guest Contributor for Potsmart

[judiansteelcastingandrolling]

Do You Actually Know the Medium Frequency Aluminum Melting Furnace?

The medium frequency aluminum melting furnace is mainly used for smelting and heating of aluminum and aluminum alloys, especially in smelting places where there are many recycled materials such as aluminum profiles and aluminum products and the single furnace intermittently operates, such as aluminum profiles, aluminum products, alloy plates, and scrap aluminum recycling, etc.

Structural Features

1. Small size, lightweight, high efficiency, and low power consumption;

2. Low ambient temperature, less smoke, and dust, good working environment;

3. Simple operation process and reliable smelting operation;

4. The heating temperature is uniform, the burning loss is small, and the metal composition is uniform;

5. The quality of the casting is good, the melting temperature rises quickly, the furnace temperature is easy to control, and the production efficiency is high;

6. High utilization rate and convenient replacement of varieties.

How it works

The whole set of melting furnace equipment includes a medium-frequency power supply cabinet, compensation capacitor, furnace body (two), water-cooled cable, and reducer. The furnace body is composed of four parts: the furnace shell, the induction coil, the furnace lining, and the tilting furnace reduction box. The furnace shell is made of non-magnetic materials, and the induction coil is a spiral cylinder made of a rectangular hollow tube. Cooling water is passed through the tube during smelting. The copper bar leading out of the coil is connected to the water-cooled cable. The furnace lining is close to the induction coil and is made of solid sintered quartz sand. The tilting reducer directly rotates the tilting of the furnace body. The tilting furnace reducer is a two-stage turbine variable speed, with good self-locking performance and stable and reliable rotation. When there is an emergency power failure, it is necessary to stop the work and turn the furnace to avoid danger. The control of the tilting gearbox motors of the two furnace bodies can be selected through the furnace selection switch. The switch box with four-core rubber wires allows the operator to stand in a suitable position to control the tilting and resetting of the furnace body.

The aluminum metal material is different from the steel material, which is a non-magnetic material. In medium-frequency induction heating, increasing the induced current is used to heat and melt the metal aluminum through a large current. This high current plus swallow mode makes the temperature of the metal lead h heated and evenly distributes the hot star. The gap temperature of the intermediate frequency aluminum melting furnace is critical to melting aluminum if the expected life of aluminum and its quality is to be maintained. An ideal medium frequency aluminum melting furnace will provide precise temperature control. The medium frequency aluminum melting furnace of Luoyang HTGP has been purchased by many large-scale aluminum production companies. The medium frequency aluminum melting furnace has uniform heating and stable operation.

The medium frequency aluminum melting furnace melts metal aluminum by using a three-phase alternating current through a frequency conversion device and coil load to melt and connect. The impurities of pure aluminum will sink and the pollutants will increase during the melting, allowing it to be taken out from the top by the tilting mechanism, leaving pure aluminum. A water cooling system keeps the coils cool. This modern process of metal aluminum smelting allows for more precise temperature control and faster aluminum melting.

[erindrifter]

I SHOULD BE ASLEEP RIGHT NOW!!

So, there was once this dude named Jean Picard (NOT the guy from Star Trek) who noticed that his mercury would light up sometimes when moved. This was due to static electricity, however this was before electricity was actually discovered, so he had no clue what this was. However, Picard took note of this, and when electricity was discovered and harnessed, this effect was studied.

Then, a German scientist named Heinrich Gießler found out how to evacuate air from a glass tube and fill it with a gas of your choice, and they discovered that different chemicals would emit a different color when put under electric shock. The general idea for it was to put a positively charged node on one end, and a negatively charged node on the other, creating a flow of electrons.

The "how exactly this works" isn't the story. Moving on...

Eventually, various inventors including Tesla and those who worked for Edison tried experimenting with various chemicals, such as mercury and magnesium, but they never worked very well, and never entered commercial production. Another guy named Daniel Moore invented a sort of lamp that would use carbon dioxide gas or nitrogen that passed by an electrical charge that illuminated it. I don't fully understand this one, but it was more reliable and cheaper than the still-new incandescent lights, so they were installed into some business situations. However, they were still complex and not cheap.

Thus began a tug-of-war between florescent and incandescent lighting.

General Electric made an advancement in incandescent lighting that made it more efficient and cost-effective than the florescent, so the company took off.

Then, Peter Cooper Hewitt invented a florescent lamp that was more efficient and easy than the previous version, but it had limited uses since the only colors available was just blue-green.

At this time (1900s) florescent lighting was at a bit of a standstill. The tug-of-war was coming to an end, with the winner being incandescent. The only significant development was when German scientists figured out that using quartz instead of glass allowed them to increase the voltage, and thus the lumens, which resulted in more heat, hence the quartz. It was expensive, and didn't last very long. Florescent lighting was all but lost.

Until Neon. The discovery of neon, and it's ability to glow brightly under electric charge, kept interest in this style of lighting. See, it was only missing one aspect: florescent powder. Putting reflective powder along the tube would make the lamp seem even brighter.

The pieces were set. Then, General Electric (remember them?) stepped in and managed to stop a lot of development due to stupid legal stuff. However, the legal stuff was sorted, and florescent lamps were available to the general public.

Since then, only one thing has changed: beryllium was replaced by halophosphate-based phosphors.

See, there is no single chemical that makes pure white light. So now, we toss in color mechanics. Here's a quick rundown:

Colors made by light are different from colors made by pigment. If you combine the entire RGB spectrum of paint, you will get black. If you combine the entire RGB spectrum of light, you will get pure white.

With florescent light, in order to make it white, you will need several chemicals to do so. However, florescent lights are all still just evacuated glass tubes filled with chemicals and gasses that are being electrically excited to generate light.

The two main types of florescent lights you will see are the long straight tubes, and the tightly spiraled tubes known as Compact Florescent Lamps (CFLs)

Due to the inactivity in both incandescent and florescent advancement, they have both been quickly overtaken by LED technology, which has had its own series of advancements.

Lights are super cool!! Goodnight!! Probably...

[greenyvertekins]

Translations of the zone descriptions in Sonic CD’s manual I’ve been working on for a few days.

PALMTREE PANIC

“A subtropical round suited to the samba rhythm. Run through green grasslands, palm trees and clear blue skies! A loop you’ve never seen before awaits Sonic!”

COLLISION CHAOS

“A bunch of pinballs floating atop the water. A giant revolving drum rotates overhead. Utilize the Bobbins and flippers to your advantage, something happens to Amy who had been pursuing Sonic...”

TIDAL TEMPEST

“A wondrous underwater ambience. If you advance without catching your breath from bubbles, you’ll be gasping. Go and watch out for the flow of unseen water currents.”

QUARTZ QUADRANT

“The interior of a crystal mining site. Run through by making full use of the conveyer belt to change the direction of travel. Watch out for falling boulders, push on through the fast spiral tube!”

WACKY WORKBENCH

“The flashing floor will cause Sonic to jump high into the air. Proceed with caution so as to not be hit by electric shocks, jump to the platforms in the air.”

STARDUST SPEEDWAY

“A jetcoaster ride against a starry sky backdrop. An unprecedented battle with Metal Sonic is about to take place, the strongest rival of all”

METALLIC MADNESS

“Eggman has concentrated all of his intellect into one big mechanism that awaits Sonic. Will Sonic really be able to cut his way through...?”

[jurassicsunsets]

Foraminifera: Introduction and anatomy

There’s a lot more to palaeontology than just dinosaurs. I’m sure you’re familiar with fossil mammals like mammoths and sabre-tooths. Everyone loves fossil fish like Dunkleosteus and Megalodon. Fossil invertebrates, like trilobites or ammonites, are some of the most famous fossils of all time. And fossil plants are all over the place, from petrified wood to leaf impressions in coal. But have you ever thought about fossil microorganisms?

(Image: Single-celled organisms like this foraminifera are among the most common organisms today, but the vast majority are microscopically small. [Source])

Microbes are everywhere on Earth today, and they have been everywhere on Earth for seemingly as long as life has existed. They live in practically every environment—but their small size and soft bodies have meant that fossils of them are very rare.

Well, almost all of them, that is. One particular group of single-celled organisms is among the best-studied groups in the entire fossil record, having a highly detailed fossil record stretching back for over 540 million years. These are the hard-shelled foraminifera.

I’ve become enamoured with this neat little group of protists lately. But I’ve been really disappointed with a lot that’s been written about them. For despite being some of the most interesting and geologically famous protists, there has been very little written about them that is accessible to anyone who doesn’t already know a lot about them. I’d like to change that.

What are foraminifera?

(Image: An assortment of foraminifera shells, with a huge variety of shapes and sizes. More on that later... [Source])

Foraminifera (literally meaning “opening bearers”), or “forams” as they are commonly called, are a group of single-celled eukaryotes. In other words, they have a nucleus (or often multiple of them), and they have mitochondria that act as (say it with me) the powerhouse of the cell. Most forams consume smaller microorganisms as food; however, some are capable of utilising dissolved organic carbon, and many groups have convergently evolved endosymbiotic relationships with photosynthetic algae, including rhodophytes, chlorophytes, and dinoflagellates. In fact, certain foraminifera can extract the chloroplasts from algae they consume and incorporate them into their own cells to do photosynthesis! These don’t last forever, though, and the forams eventually digest the chloroplasts. Some other foraminifera actually actively predate on and kill small animals—an amazing feat for a single-celled organism!

Some of the most famous foraminifera are the planktonic forms that float within the water column; however, the vast majority of forams are benthic organisms. These include forms from shallow water to forms found at the very deepest point of the ocean. Though some benthic species live only above the sediment-water interface and others live only interstitially, most benthic forams are not confined to one mode of life and may move between layers of the community in order to seek out food. Some of these forms can even survive without oxygen for extended periods! This allows them to live in conditions that would kill many other organisms.

A few species of forams have been identified from freshwater environments, and one study presented molecular evidence suggesting foraminifera may be widespread in soils, although no actual forams have been found from soils yet. It seems that there might be a lot of diversity even among living forams that we still have yet to uncover.

Anatomy

Of all single-celled organisms, why is it that foraminifera have such a good fossil record? The answer lies in the hard shell of many species, known as a test.

(Image: A variety of test shapes in different foraminifera groups, viewed with a scanning electron microscope. They include may shapes—coiled, glob-shaped, linear, egglike, and more. There are many other shapes of tests that aren’t shown here—like spiralled, branched, disc-like, and more. All of these tests are calcareous. [Source])

These tests are not simply external structures within which foraminifera live; rather, the test is actually within the cell membrane. Although the soft parts of the foraminiferal cell are almost never preserved in the fossil record, modern species of forams have helped us learn a lot about their anatomy. Extending from the opening(s) of the test are pseudopodia, fingerlike extensions of the cell membrane. As the most prominent extensions of the cell outside of the test, they serve a multitude of functions, including locomotion, feeding, agglutinating the test, reproduction, respiration, and excretion. In many forms these pseudopodia extend in all directions through numerous tiny holes in the shell of the test. In other ways the foraminifera anatomically resemble typical single-celled eukaryotes, with nuclei and mitochondria. Some species have multiple nuclei within a single cell). During reproduction, some species of forams can even leave their shell behind entirely to undergo cell division.

(Image: The anatomy of a foraminiferan. Note that the test is actually inside of the cell wall, but most of the cell materials are inside the test. The pseudopodia are the main thing that extend out of the aperture, or hole. This drawing is a unilocular, or single-chambered, foram.)

The most famous and diverse of these are foraminifera with calcareous tests. Calcareous means that they are made of calcium carbonate, and calcium carbonate takes two main forms: Calcite and aragonite. Calcite is a very common mineral in nature; it’s the stuff that makes up limestone, marble, antacids, coral skeletons, and more. And aragonite is a mineral with the same chemical composition as calcite, but with a different crystal structure. It’s found in the shells of many organisms, like snails. Both calcite and aragonite tests are found in foraminifera, and many species have their own particular composition and crystal structure.

Other forams have agglutinated tests: that is, tests that are made by collecting bits of sand and cementing them together, using either organic proteins or calcite to hold them together. 

(Image: An agglutinated textulariid foram. Its test is made from sediment grains connected together. It looks a bit like an ice cream cone in shape, but rather than conical, it’s flat. And the top is sealed off. So really, it looks nothing like an ice cream cone. [Source])

Fewer still forams secrete tests of silica—the material that quartz and glass are made of. Others have softer tests made completely from proteins and other organic material. Even rarer are foraminifera which entirely lack tests and were until recently considered to be amoebae; these species likely secondarily lost the test.

Test composition appears to be pretty fluid in foram evolution. In the family tree of foraminifera, it seems that calcite tests evolved multiple times, and so did agglutinated tests. In some cases it looks like they might have even gone from calcite tests to agglutinated tests.

Test shape is also highly diverse within foraminifera. The simplest shape of test are the unilocular, or single-chambered, forms; however, unilocular forms may also have more complex chamber shapes, including spiraled tubes outwardly resembling snail shells. Unilocular forms are found in several groups of forams. The earliest foraminifera were probably all unilocular, and modern unilocular forams probably form a paraphyletic “grade” rather than a true branch of the tree of life. Single-chambered foraminifera probably make up the bulk of forams alive today, but many of these species remained undiscovered and unnamed.

Although unilocular forams are frequently considered the “simplest” forams, they also include some of the most bizarre protists, the xenophyophores. These are my favourite group of foraminifera, and the reason is, I think, pretty clear—they’re enormous. Like, I mean, the largest ones can get up to 20cm/8in across! These are the largest known single-celled organisms on the planet. All of the known species live on the floor of the deep ocean, where they filter-feed.

(Image: A xenophyophore, a giant, single-celled foraminifera. It looks a bit like a sponge, which is what it was once mistaken for. [Source])

Most named species of forams, however, are multilocular, having multiple chambers within their tests. The tests of the most well-known forms superficially resemble the shells of ammonites or nautili. In fact, the earliest scientific descriptions of foraminifera described them as being tiny cephalopods! The septa (internal dividing walls) of foraminiferal tests have holes that allow for the cytoplasm to flow between compartments, so that the cell can make use of all of the available space within the test. These openings—or foramina—also provided the name for the group: When initially thought to be cephalopods, they could be distinguished from all other coiled forms by the foramina between compartments. 

(Image: Cross-sectional diagram of a coiled, multichambered foraminifera. It does look a lot like a nautilus, and even has multiple chambers in its shell. However, unlike nautili, these chambers are connected by holes. [Source])

Not all multilocular foraminifera are coiled, however; many form more linear or globular shapes. Some are even star-shaped! Giants in their own right are found among the multilocular forms: the rotaliid genus Nummulites, though now smaller, has extinct representatives that could reach 15cm across, with up to 4300 distinct compartments. These lens-shaped forams make up the limestone that was used to build the Great Pyramids in Giza.

(Image: Fossil Nummulites shells being held by a human. They kind of look like pancakes, and are about 15cm/6in in diametre. Though you can’t see it here, they are actually coiled shells. [Source])

This post is the first in a multi-part series covering foraminifera—their anatomy, reproduction, evolutionary history, major groups, and geological applications. Later parts will be linked here, or check the “Foraminifera” tag on my blog!

[mimik-u]

Flower Child, Chapter 17: Fall

AO3 Link

i.

In defiance of every atom, of every primordial instinct that told her to run, Priyanka Maheswaran found herself in the slaughterhouse as the steel analog clock on the wall dragged her into the next minute.

5:55 PM.

But the hands of time were relentless. They kept moving, kept circling across the swath of smooth white. Seconds and seconds and seconds. Unthinking. Disinterested. Inexorable. 

Seconds and seconds and seconds.

They piled upon the altar like dry kindling. One spark, and they would smoke; they would simply burn, and the reek of charnel would suffocate her where she languished and sat in the slaughterhouse, where all dreams crumbled—embers becoming charcoaled dust.

5:56.

In approximately two hundred and forty seconds, in four minutes more, Steven Universe’s guardians would file in through the door directly across from the nephrologist. She would implore them to sit with a terse nod of her head. She would not tell them that the medical staff who worked on the Truman Ward colloquially called the conference room directly across the nurse’s station—this very room—the slaughterhouse, where doctors brought the family members of patients in and didn’t leave them unchanged when they finally came out.

I’m sorry, they would say to someone’s mother, father, sibling, lover, friend, daughter, son. 

We did all that we could, but the damage was too extensive.

We’ve tried everything, but your loved one is dead.

Your loved one is going to die.

I’m sorry, she would say.

She would adopt her best patient voice, which had only ever managed to be adequate. It wouldn’t be enough; her throat would strain against the sound, the crease between her eyes betraying that she was afraid.

They would see right through her.

I’m sorry, she would say anyway. She would plead. It would be the last defense against complete dissolution that she had.

She’d bring the cleaver down upon the smiles she’d wrought on their careworn faces only just that morning. 

It would be quick and brutal.

Barbaric even.

I’m sorry.

She had not intended to come here—not for any patient if she could help it.

Not for Steven Universe most of all.

But life was perverse, and it was so damn unkind; it knew nothing of intentions and hopes, dreams and childish wishes. It cared little for found families and fourteen-year old boys who needed kidneys.

5:57.

Priyanka sat at the head of the long table, her hands clasped in a rigid temple upon its smooth, gray surface, knuckles white from the simple exertion of clenching them. And then, as the seconds ticked by, as they smoked, as they gathered, as they burned, the room dissolved beneath her, stolen into nothingness by the snatch of a memory, an echo from a ghost who died nearly fifteen years ago…

She had possessed a beatific smile.

Her hair fell across her gowned shoulders in flowing, pink ringlets.

Rose Quartz went into labor two weeks before her due date.

It was a starless August night.

Balmy.

The world outside slept, lulled by the susurrant hush of the wind.

Though her contractions were coming steadily, Dr. Howard’s parenthetically lined mouth grew thinner each time his hawklike eyes slid towards the monitor which registered the twenty-six year old’s increasing blood pressure. She’d been admitted the week prior for severe headaches, a symptom consistent with her kidney disease, sure, but her blood tests indicated that she was hypertensive, too.

They started her on corticosteroids to help the baby’s still-developing lungs.

Dr. Howard took Priyanka off of all her other cases.

Made it her priority to stick to Room 11078 and to page him immediately if Rose’s blood pressure spiked to 140/90 mm/Hg.

“Because we’ll have to deliver the baby right then and there,” he stressed gravely,“if we want any chance of saving them both.”

He was talking obliquely about preeclampsia, a birth condition which began with high blood pressure and often ended with damage to the livers or kidneys.

And Rose Quartz’s kidneys were already shit, so there was that, and here was yet another sordid item to add to the ever growing list of what was wrong with the poor woman’s body.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl had all gone back to the hotel room for the night—against their wills, protesting—but Rose had made them, had told them to go on ahead, to get some sleep. She would see them in the morning. She loved them.

Goodnight.

And Greg was in the hallway, making a call to an insurance provider, which left Priyanka alone with Rose, who was propped up against two pillows on her hospital bed, palming her stomach protectively as she idly watched whatever was playing on TV—some offbeat sitcom or another. Frankly, Priyanka neither knew nor care. Scrunched up in one of the hardback chairs off to the left of Rose’s bed, she scratched harsh notes on her chart for the want of something to do.

To combat the growing feeling clambering up the rungs of her constricted throat.

To drown out the laugh track.

Those nameless people, that detached crowd, they laughed and laughed and laughed.

She couldn’t see what was so fucking funny, and she intimated as much without ever realizing it, scoffing just as her pen decided to run out of ink.

(It wasn’t really about the pen.)

“You seem exhausted, Priyanka,” Rose Quartz said softly, and it was with a jolt that the resident realized that she had been caught out.

Discovered.

Seen.

She flushed as she felt rather than saw that familiar, dark eyed gaze settle upon her gently—like a blanket, warm and encompassing. She stared obstinately at her clipboard, trying to will her own scribbles to make sense in a world that had currently lost its ever loving mind.

“I’ve been working overtime all week,” she said shortly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. The wooden armrest pressed stiffly against her back, an unwelcome hand upon her spine. “Of course I’m exhausted.”

“Then you should go home. Get some rest.”

“Dr. Howard assigned me to your case again.

“Excuses, excuses,” Rose clucked, teasing, fond, amused. “He can’t make you work overtime.”

Priyanka was simply furious with herself. 

With a final click of her useless pen, she replaced it in the lapel of her scrubs and finally met her patient’s gaze with a steeliness that she hoped would wound, cut, eviscerate.

But nothing, not even the possibility of her imminent death, seemed to faze the woman, who stared at her evenly, with all the air of someone waiting patiently to explain the turn of the seasons to a child who wondered where the leaves had all gone.

Change was inevitable.

Winter became spring became summer became fall.

I want to leave them with roots, Priyanka, she’d explained in that tiny examination room, so many months ago. She’d taken the resident’s hand and intertwined it with her own. A faint floral scent wreathed her hair. Strawberries, maybe. Wild and sweet. I want them to have the chance to grow…

“It isn’t looking too good, is it?” Rose asked, her voice so casual that they could have merely been discussing a chapter from a really sad book. 

And the princess didn’t get to live happily ever after. And the evil forces prevailed in the end. And Rose Quartz’s body was rapidly shutting down. And there was nothing they could do about it, or more accurately still, they were doing everything.

And nothing was entirely working.

Priyanka’s dark eyes flitted to the number she had just recently scrawled on her chart in stuttering ink.

132/90 mm/Hg.

“No,” she said flatly. She felt no need to sugarcoat a bush that was already burning. Her fingers were cold where they gripped the flat of her clipboard. Her entire chest ached. “Your blood pressure is too high. The antihypertensives aren’t working.”

“Oh, well… I figured,” Rose sighed softly, still rubbing her swollen belly. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, curly tendrils of pink hair clinging softly, like gossamer, to her pale temples. “That explains the headaches, doesn’t it?”

Priyanka stared at Rose Quartz incredulously.

Gaped at her wildly.

Like she’d never properly seen before.

(She’d seen her so many times in the past couple of months, flitting in and out of the hospital, Dr. Howard’s office, and then the hospital all over again; she’d done what she swore she would never do with a patient; she became attached; she cared; it would be her own undoing.)

“Of course it does,” she snapped. She didn’t care that she was breaking a hell of a lot of rules, all the studied lines of decorum. She slammed her clipboard onto her lap and couldn't bring herself to bring a shit that it produced such a violent sound. She wanted to shake this woman, wanted to break the calm in her face, wanted her to register the simple fact that she could very well die. “If you’re still suffering from headaches, then, of course , it means the medicines aren’t working. It’s common sense, Rose. Mere logic.”

Her shoulders heaved as though she had only just ran a marathon.

And Rose’s smile—that beatific, perfect, clandestine smile—slid, like melting ice, from her mouth.

Finally, Priyanka thought savagely, and she hated herself for it.

Guilt assaulted her, a new lump in her constricted throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, dull color bruising her sharply drawn cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… I’m—”

“No, Priyanka.” Rose brought one of her hands from the top of her belly, raising it firmly against the resident’s stammered apologies. If she was injured—if she was hurting—she didn’t very well show it, her expression as impenetrably smooth as the silver face of the moon. “Please don’t say sorry… not if you don’t mean it. You only said what you’ve been thinking, what all my loved ones have been thinking, really… what an entire fool I am.”

Her soft, brown eyes briefly flicked to the multiple IVs stemming from her lifted hand. The tubes swirled all around her arm, spiraling towards a multitude of brightly flickering machines.

“Crazy,” she laughed humorlessly, the sound without familiar melody. “Throwing my life away…”

A little less than nine months had elapsed since she had first announced her pregnancy, and now there was a grayness to her once milk white skin.

A lethargy behind that calm face.

The passion, the vivaciousness, the youth all gone. 

Priyanka was scarcely two years older than her.

“Priyanka,” she whispered, the name somber in the movement of that once perpetually smiling mouth, “would you believe me if I said that this ”—she gestured feebly at the hospital bed, at the medical apparatus all around her—“isn’t living? Would you understand if I told you that this isn’t who I am on the inside—all these needles and lines and medicines and awful machines?”

Without waiting for an answer, not seemingly needing one, Rose gently replaced her hand on her stomach, her palm tenderly cupping its curve.

“I know what living is, sweet Priyanka,” she continued, closing her dark eyes against some invisible memory, “and this isn’t it…  this isn’t all those days I’ve stood in endless protest for a cause that I so desperately believe in. This isn’t being able to play volleyball on the beach with my loved ones, watching Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl and Greg laugh in the sand. This isn’t the fish fries we’ve hosted, nor the long nights spent planning demonstrations on the deck. This isn’t the thrill of falling in love with so many people. Meeting Pearl. Coming to understand the strange cosmos of Greg Universe. Choosing to have this child with him. Choosing this path which may very well end in my own destruction… because this , Priyanka Maheswaran, from the moment I was first diagnosed at sixteen years old, was already my destruction. And I simply have been borrowing moments of living in the full acknowledgment of that terrible truth.”

Rose did not falter.

So strong, even to the last, she did not break.

But maybe, just maybe, she cracked… just a little, just enough so that Priyanka could see.

A single tear escaped the confines of her closed eyes, slowly slipping down her cheek and into the slightly rumpled collar of her paisley-studded gown.

“So would you believe me, Priyanka?” She asked again. 

She begged.

She pleaded.

“Please?”

She was asking a lot of the twenty-eight year old, to whom belief had never come easily. Priyanka was constantly interrogating her own values, checking and double checking them against rationality to ensure that they fit the meticulous schema she had constructed of the empirically observable world.

But just as there was no rationality in a twenty-six year old dying, there was no logicality in belief.

There was only a leap of faith, fingers crossed that she wouldn’t fall into the abyss.

Landing was not a guarantee.

And that was what so unfathomable to her, so cruel and so disgusting.

But what more could Priyanka say? What facts and statistics could she throw in this dying woman’s face to make her see reason that wasn’t exactly there.

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps it had always been nothing.

This student of science had no more protestations.

And in the absence of protestation, all that was left was a single choice: to jump or not to jump.

It was simple, really.

It was so damn hard.

Rose Quartz finally opened her eyes then. They were bright with her tears, and yet, simultaneously, the sheer darkness of them gripped Priyanka like the hands of a drowning sailor. The screen on the wall which measured her blood pressure had incrementally risen since they had started talking.

134/90 mm/Hg.

There was no time to waste anymore.

To pretend like they had ever possessed.

“What…” Priyanka began, her own voice hoarse, tight, strained, on the very verge of the precipice it hesitated to leap.“… what do you need me to do? Name it, and I’ll… I can’t promise anything… but I’ll try. ”

The word felt paltry, insufficient.

Trying was not an assurance, just as landing was not a guarantee.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Rose’s face simply collapsed, tears falling down both sides of her cheeks in gentle lines.

“Thank you, Priyanka,” she whispered, relief in every word, redolent in all the syllables of her spoken name.

But Priyanka did not want gratitude; she wanted an answer, something solid to latch onto, a promise she could keep.

“What you need, Rose?” She asked again, shifting her gaze her away. Her voice was abrupt—it was always abrupt—but somehow, it was not entirely unkind. “Tell me.”

The woman’s answer was immediate, unflinching; she had been obviously been thinking about it for a very long time.

It was the answer she probably would have proffered to anyone who asked.

Who took the time to wonder what exactly it was that Rose Quartz wanted.

What she needed.

What she had kept so carefully concealed behind that calm veneer of a facade.

“Take care of my baby for me, please,” she whispered. “Be their advocate when Dr. Howard and Greg will be mine… I’ll have so many people in the delivery room. I’ll have so many people rooting for me outside of it, too… but, my baby, Priyanka… I need someone in their corner, too… to root for them… to be their voice… please..."

All things considered, it was a pretty damn unreasonable request.

If Rose had to have a c-section, then Dr. Howard would need Priyanka’s steady hands to hold a clamp or provide suction; in the battlefield of surgery, her only allegiance was to the brusque orders that the old man barked to her behind his mask. The obstetrician would handle the delivery. Their own resident would whisk the baby away to the NICU.

And she and Dr. Howard would try to save Rose’s life.

That was Priyanka’s calling.

Her solemn oath.

Her duty.

But...

.... Unreasonable though it was—and it most certainly was so—Priyanka reasoned that it was likely not unkeepable. 

She could help keep an eye on the baby’s heart monitor.

She could even lend a hand in the delivery procedure if Dr. Howard didn’t need her.

She could try, dammit.

She could at least promise that.

“You have my word,” she returned tersely, dark eyes still averted. She played a little with her hands on top of her clipboard, twining and untwining them, as Rose seemingly sank back against her pillows, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Don’t thank me until it’s over—I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You heard me out,” Rose replied evenly. “That’s something.”

“No,” the resident heard herself say aloud. “It isn’t.”

The hands on the clock veered into 6:00 with all the bluntness of a collision and none of its explosiveness.

The door opened.

That was mundane enough.

And Amethyst and Pearl came in first, laughing about something that Garnet had apparently said.

And Greg followed, chuckling, lightly scratching his stomach.

And Garnet made up the rear, grinning, pleased with herself.

Oblivious.

They were all so happy, this extraordinary group of ordinary people—they had no idea where they were or what it all meant or what was about to happen to the smiles on their tired faces.

And Priyanka did not have time to recover her own face, to arrange it into some manner of professional acceptability, her mouth half-open, hands rigid upon the table.

And Amethyst caught her out first.

Because she was smart like that, perceptive.

And the mirth drained from her brown eyes as she perceived the nephrologist’s expression in the semidarkness of the room.

And the two women stared each other across its length.

They called this place the slaughterhouse.

“No,” she simply said. She croaked it. Panic violated the smooth youthfulness of her face, tearing it all asunder. “No, Doc.”

“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran whispered. 

It wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

Garnet only stared at her, disbelieving. 

Her mouth hadn’t quite untwisted itself out of the ghost of its last smile.

“I am so, so sorry.”

She said it again anyway, though, like it counted for something, like it meant anything, as tears began to flow down Pearl’s cheeks.

Greg Universe made a sound that was half-horror, half-agony, bracing his hands against the back of a metal chair to steady himself against the blow.

ii.

A doctor, a washed up rockstar, and three Crystal Gems walked out of a conference room.

And the joke, the cruel punchline, was that the boy they all loved wasn’t going to get the kidneys he so desperately needed; he was going to go back on the list, which had always been more of a desperate gamble than a guarantee; he was going to degrade in that hospital bed for however many days, weeks, and months he had more.

Dr. Maheswaran didn’t think he had a year.

She was blunt about it. 

Professional.

But her eyes gave her away, the lines beneath them, the consumptive shadows.

(Mere hours ago, her face had been transformed by the simple action of a smile.)

There were no comforting words, nor bracing gestures between the coterie of broken people who limped their way back to Room 11037—injured, defeated, the wounds glistening across their bruised eyes, their shivering mouths. Greg took the lead, the rubber of his sandals snapping harshly against the tiled floor with each step, every guttural, convulsive movement. 

They silently decided that he should be the one to actually commit the words aloud, knew that it was for the best. He could be soft where Dr. Maheswaran was brutal. Comprehensive when Garnet couldn’t muster words. Sage when Amethyst’s youthful clumsiness sometimes made it difficult to find the right words. 

And he could hold it together long enough to actually say it.

Trailing behind him, pale fingers gripping the fabric of her sweater, Pearl’s horror took the form of sniffling that couldn’t quite be concealed. She was holding herself together—the news had cleaved her apart—and he wondered again, not for the first time since Steven’s diagnosis, whether or not she had been right all those years ago, when she had told him quite plainly, in that incisively logical way of hers, that she was better for Rose.

They’d come a long way since then.

They grudgingly tolerated each other now.

They coparented the best that they could.

Sometimes, he thought that they were even friends, sharing beers together on dusk lit balconies and spending so many sleepless nights side by side at the kitchen table, poring over bills and medicines and more bills because the bills, above all, were endless. 

And perhaps in the end, he and Pearl were even family in the way that they loudly and silently and entirely loved the same dying boy.

(That was how they had loved the same woman, too.)

But still, maybe she had had a point.

Pearl always tended to have a point...

The hallway was painfully short; Room 11037 arrived far quicker than any of them had ever anticipated.

His breath coming in hitched gasps, chest seized with a sudden tightening, Greg palmed the wood of the door, splaying his shaking fingers against its smooth grains as though to steady himself against an impossible reckoning. He was minutes away, possibly seconds, from breaking his own son’s heart, and that was on him.

Hell, all failures when it came to his son’s happiness were on him.

He was the kid’s dad.

He was supposed to protect Steven, shelter him, keep him safe from every quantifiable danger that he could.

And here he was, about to deliver another slap to his face and call it kindness.

The contradiction was not lost upon him.

The unfairness of it all stung.

It stung his eyes, and it stung his heart, and it stung all over, simply undid the man. He was a pincushion falling apart in all the places where he had been needled over and over again.

But he felt a hand on the small of his back then—gentle, kind.

He expected it to be Garnet or maybe even Amethyst; that had always been their sort of thing.

But when he looked back behind him, his mouth half-formed in an empty, perfunctory thanks, he saw that it was Pearl, her big, blue eyes still edged with the remnants of her tears.

Her sweater, neatly pressed, seemed to swallow her entirely.

She stood perfectly within the lines of one of the tiles on the floor, feet poised like a ballerina’s. Rose had once told him that she’d been trained to dance—once so disciplined in the art that she could stand upon the tips of her toes for as many minutes as her tutors required. 

Even when she was devastated.

Even when she was hurt.

“How… how do I do this?” Greg asked before he could stop himself. The words tumbled out of his mouth in an ungainly rush. “How do I… how can I… I mean… he’s just a boy… a kid, and I—“

And I don’t want to do this, Pearl.

I don’t want to see him go through this.

Pearl swiped delicately at her nose, and she swiped at her leaking eyes, but the carnage still remained. It was unlikely to disappear for a very long time. She wrung her slender fingers together and twisted them apart. She congregated them in a prim temple just above her stomach. She eventually let them fall to her sides. She glanced down. She failed to look back up.

Shoulders shivering.

Feet still in first position.

“I… I don’t think there’s any right way to do this,” she finally said. “Not really… but I—we’re behind you, Greg.”

“Yeah,” Amethyst agreed.

Garnet nodded her silent assent.

“We’re… always behind you.”

The weight of these words, the implicit meaning behind them, was not lost on Greg. He immediately understood how much it must have cost her to say such a thing to him, and yet, he simultaneously knew that she must have meant it—for Pearl rarely ever said things that she didn't mean.

She gave silent treatments, and she evaded tough emotional conversations with all the agility of a dancer; she shot people glares that she thought to be discrete from the corners of her eyes; she kept secrets to herself, kept them tucked away in the same places where she had invisible shrines to the woman they both loved.

But she rarely lied.

Or maybe, more accurately, she wouldn't lie now.

And so, choked, overwhelmed, grateful, he could only muster something like a vague sound of gratitude in the back of his throat that he thought she equally understood because she nodded at him primly.

And then, he turned to face the door again, palming the brass handle.

On the other side, he heard a snatch of laughter.

Steven.

Assuredly.

Perhaps he was watching one of his favorite shows, laughing at something a character had said.

Greg twisted his hand downwards and pushed lightly upon the door.

iii.

The door opened upon a scene that Yellow Diamond had always intended to flee before she could be caught out, but one anecdote led to another, and before she knew it, Steven Universe had started telling her about how he’d met Blue at the cemetery where their dead daughter lay. And the conjured image of her bathrobed wife, holding a hibiscus aloft in her gently curving palm, plucked an dusty chord in her chest. 

So this was the flower that had been on the nightstand for a couple of nights now.

This was the story of a boy and a woman and a cemetery and a handful—a lifetime, really—of aching, miserable griefs.

“She told me that she married you so her name would be a pun,” Steven had said, grinning mischievously.

“Something to that effect,” Yellow dryly returned.

And he pressed for more stories, more memories, more chords inside her chest. How did she meet Blue? When did they fall in love? Who proposed?

He asked so many questions, his brown eyes alight with curiosity, that she was reminded so much of Pink that it almost hurt to even look at him. But, just as she had done with her daughter, she sighingly indulged him, groaning and moaning and making it out as thought she was doing him a massive favor by relenting. And he only smiled at her teasingly—like he was in on the secret.

It was the other way around.

She was the one at his mercy.

And so she told him the story of the princess and the knight in less than fantastical terms, laying out the bare bones of her and Blue’s first meeting with a halting voice as the memories slowly came flooding back: Blue Montgomery’s sweeping ball gown, the spidery chandeliers, the waiters swerving in and out of the crowd bearing silver trays loaded with champagne, her ridiculously dramatic mother waltzing through the ballroom with all the radiance of a sun. 

God, how many decades ago was that now?

Years and years and years.

“Our daughter used to love this damn story,” Yellow murmured at the end, briefly flicking her eyes downwards. “We told it so many different times to her that she could repeat it word for word.”

“It’s a very good story,” Steven returned, laughing. “Did you really think about punching that guy?”

“Fleetingly, yes,” she almost smiled, “but—”

But then the door opened so abruptly, bringing reality back in with what appeared to be a collection of harried looking people. The businesswoman’s head sharply cocked towards the far side of the room to greet an assemblage of expressions that she was surprised to find in total strangers: anger and disgust.

Complete and total loathing.

Damn, at least buy me a drink first.

“You!” A slight woman in a sweater hissed furiously.

“Uh-oh,” Steven Universe said, shrinking slightly beneath his covers. “Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh...”

But Yellow Diamond wasn’t listening to him anymore, instinctive indignation rising to her aid and defense as she stood up from her chair and mustered as haughty of an expression she could for a woman wearing silk pajamas.

“Excuse me?” She asked venomously, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

“Pearl…” The balding man standing next to the sweater-wearing accoster tried to plea, placing a big hand on her much smaller shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t… uh—?”

“No,” The woman named Pearl snarled, jerking her arm away from him. Yellow could see that her pale eyes were bright with tears, which seemed like an overreaction if she had ever witnessed one. She didn’t know these people from Jack, Jill, or Harry on the sidewalk! “I want to know what she’s doing here! She has no business—“

“Pearl, wait!” Steven tried to interject, jerking upwards from his pillows. “It’s okay! She just wanted to vis—“

But his voice got lost in the shuffle as the taller woman behind Pearl suddenly stepped forward, her powerfully muscled arms clenched into fists by her sides. There was an indefinable air of authority about her that Yellow only recognized because she, too, possessed it. Her bicolored glare was a weapon in and of itself; the harsh florescence of the overheads glinted off the sunglasses folded neatly across the collar of her sweatshirt.

“Leave,” the woman said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Garnet! No! She wasn’t doing anything wro—“

“Well, frankly,” Yellow shot back before Steven could complete his thought, “I’d perfectly well surmised that without your help. But forgive me if I’m having trouble piecing together the context behind this unwarranted rudeness.”

“You know what you’ve done,” Garnet growled.

“No!” The blood inside her head churned, simply boiled. She had never known when to leave well enough alone. “I damn well don’t!”

“1999—Diamond Electric vs. Hutchings,” Pearl began to tick off names on her fingertips. “2005—Diamond Electric vs. Davis. 2011—Diamond Electric vs. Bach. Are these names ringing a bell? Unsafe factory conditions! Unconstitutional wage gaps! Leaking waste reservoirs!”

“All settled in court!” Yellow returned with a cruel laugh that she did not remotely feel, raking her cold eyes over each and very one of her newfound opponents in turn. It had always been her against the world for as long as she could remember—she the trapped lioness cornered by the angry mob. (But the mob always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would devour them and gnaw on their bones for sport.) “What are you all? Lawyers? Reporters? Protestors? Please, spare no sordid detail as to why I’m being read case names for events that happened long ago.”

“Yellow Diamond, please—” Steven’s voice was tiny by her side; she could not hear him; or perhaps, she didn’t want to hear him.

She wanted to fight.

“We’re, like, the Crystal Gems,” the smallest woman to Garnet’s left said emphatically. Her lavender bangs fell over one of her eyes, but she blew them back with a small puff of air.

“Never heard of you,” Yellow replied flippantly and untruthfully.

Because she had heard of them—several times, in fact. 

They were some small activist group that had always been a vaguely minor nuisance at her side—especially a few years ago—but they’d never done anything more than force her lawyers to spend some time haggling in appeals courts. 

A waste of time and money for everyone, really.

“Never heard of us?” Pearl spluttered wildly, her complexion whitening. “Never heard of—“

“Enough, you all!” The doctor who had been at the back of the group finally seemed to have found her tongue, and a pretty harsh tongue it was because her exasperated voice clearly cut through the melee. “We’re in a hospital for goodness’s—”

But the doctor was drowned out, too, lost in the onslaught of noise suddenly coming from one of the monitors above Steven’s bed—a shrill beeping noise that put an effective end to all the squabbling. The neon green line measuring his heart rate was spiking in short peaks, the numbers climbing, climbing, climbing… and beneath it all, clutching his chest, Steven was struggling to breathe, gulping in shallow bursts of air, his skin paling. Sweat beaded at his pale templed, hid eyes wide with fear.

“STEVEN! Steven!” So many voices yelled his name; it was all a jumble, a blur, a dissonant symphony.

The white coated doctor shoved past Yellow unceremoniously, nearly knocking her to the ground in her haste to get to her patient’s side. She pulled an oxygen mask down from one of the receptacles behind the bed, placing it over Steven’s mouth and nose.

“Breathe, Steven!” She commanded, her voice tight with obvious strain. The man and the woman named Pearl scrabbled over to the child’s bedside. Tears streaming down his ruddy face and into his beard, the man placed an arm around Steven’s back, steadying him. Pearl clasped one of his hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

“In and out,” the doctor continued. “Breathe. One… two… three.  That’s it, honey. There you go…”

As Steven’s breathing evened out, the monitor’s beeping died down, nearly becoming regulated once more. Exhausted, overwhelmed, so quickly undone, the boy slumped against the man who was holding him, closing his eyes heavily as the doctor took the opportunity to more securely fasten the oxygenated mask around his face.

But what happened next, if anything happened at all, Yellow Diamond did not stay to find out.

Violently tearing her gaze away, the woman turned around and did what she should have done the moment she made the poor decision to come into this room in the first place.

Shoving past the remaining Crystal Gems, uncaring that she knocked Garnet in the shoulder, Yellow limped away as fast as her sore leg would allow her to go, nausea rushing up the column of her throat, her cheeks burning with shame.

What a pathetic creature she was.

A monster.

A lioness among men.

(The lioness always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would end up destroying the people she cared about, too.)

iv.

Pearl only had eyes for one person in the entire world, and his name was Steven Universe. Both in the absence of Rose and in the lingering presence of her, he was the center of her universe, the sun which she orbited day after day after varied, sundry day. Weak, pale, cold, he shivered in his father’s arms, barely able to keep his eyes open as his heartbeat continued to regulate itself after that latest episode.

“Acute stress arrhythmia,” she heard Priyanka explain behind her. The nephrologist had her back turned to them as she read numbers on a nearby computer monitor. 

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

Everybody in the room knew exactly who was to blame for his acute stress.

Shame colored them all; shame welled up in the corners of Pearl’s eyes as she continued to hold on to Steven’s hand.

Garnet collapsed into the chair that Yellow Diamond had just vacated, placing both of her hands over her eyes.

What children they had been.

What fools.

Pearl closed her own eyes in a useless attempt to stem the tears that were flowing freely now, unable to hold them back any longer. Shame wrapped a hand around her insides and squeezed. 

Steven was… he was—oh, God, the word was too unbearable to even think, much less say aloud—and here they all were—fighting with someone who would never see reason.

How stupid.

How pathetic.

“Steven, wait, honey. You need to put that mask back—” But Priyanka’s soft admonition was apparently ignored; Pearl looked up just in time to see Steven feebly lifting the oxygen mask from his face, dropping it just below his mouth. Each movement looked like it took something from him; he couldn’t even lift his head from Greg’s chest.

So he stared straight at her.

Directly into her eyes.

He had his mother’s eyes.

Her dark and lovely eyes.

“S-she…” She had to lean forward to hear him, for his voice was barely a whisper, an echo, a ghost. “…she really wasn’t being mean.”

“Shh, Shtu-ball. We know,” Greg tried hoarsely, pressing a kiss into his son’s mass of curly hair. “Save up your strength…”

“Steven,” Pearl pleaded, barely able to discern him through her tears. She refused to let go of his hand; it wasn't as much for his sake as she would have liked to kid herself to believe.  “I’m so, so sorry. We shouldn’t have squabbled with her like that. We just weren’t… I mean… I wasn’t… I was stressed—I-I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stressed?” Again, his voice was so small that it struggled to be heard over the hissing of the various machines he was hooked up to, and the fact of it nearly undid her right then and there. Salt coated her lips. It lacquered her tongue. “Why… why were you stressed?”

No.

No.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this... the news wasn’t supposed to come from her. It was supposed to be Greg’s job to do this; he was the one who was good at emotions; he was the one who knew how to have these sorts of conversations without completely dissolving into nothingness and rubble.

(He was the better person.)

(The one who Rose chose.)

Pearl could yell at a tyrannical businesswoman for longer than she could hold herself together in front of Steven; she could protest wars; she could hold demonstrations; she could plan fish fries; she could keep herself together on a day to day basis, bound by Scotch tape and glue.

But for him?

For Steven Universe?

Her eyes refilled with fresh tears, and she finally withdrew her hand from his, placing it over her mouth in the quietest sign of her incapacity.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Childish.

Fool.

“Oh,” Steven only rasped, understanding immediately. He was so smart like that; he never missed a beat. “The… the kidneys fell through, didn’t they?”

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Greg said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Steven as gently as he could manage as Priyanka took the opportunity to replace the mask over his nose and mouth.

“The kidneys were damaged during the donor’s accident,” she explained dully, “and we couldn’t detect it until we were already in surgery… I’m sorry, Steven. I am.”

But Steven never took his eyes off Pearl, those dark and lovely eyes. 

They were wounded eyes.

Bruised eyes.

Goddamn exhausted eyes.

"I'm sorry, Steven," she whispered. "I am so, so sorry."

The mask prevented him from speaking.

In place of his reply, there was only the steady hiss of oxygen and the dark-cloaked presence of grief, the seventh person in an already crowded room. They sat on the edge of Steven’s bed, simply taking up precious air.

Pearl couldn’t breathe.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

v.

Night descended upon the sky like a heavy curtain, unfurling its black velvet across the horizon with dark finality, the punctuation unmistakable. Sitting atop of the bulky air conditioning unit that stretched the length of the hotel room’s window, Amethyst gazed emptily at the spectacle, knees pulled up to her chest, her still-damp hair pulled over one of her shoulders. If she was back at home, there would be a roof to clamber onto and a vast canvas of stars to behold… but here, there were only skyscrapers that stretched their supplicatory hands upwards to an unhearing god. Here, there were stars made out of lit windows. Here, there was that familiar feeling of suffocation, of being cloistered in...

Cornered.

And unlike in a good alley fight, putting up her fists wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

Three hours had passed since they’d nearly given Steven a heart attack and then told him that he wasn’t going to get those stupid fucking kidneys. And still, the scene haunted her mind’s eye in the absence of anything else to think about, to obsess over, to grieve. When they had all left for the evening—Greg the only one staying behind for the night—he couldn’t even muster enough energy to tell them goodnight, simply blinking at them from over the top of his oxygenated mask before closing his eyes.

Merely twelve hours ago, they’d all been sickeningly happy because they had thought that the nightmare was over… but that sensation had long passed, a relic of time immemorial now.

Now, there was only darkness.

A feeling of falling.

The ground giving way beneath their feet.

Now, there was only Dr. M’s only consolation that wasn’t really a consolation at all.

He’s at the top of the list now.

The door opened and gently closed behind her. Amethyst swung her head around just in time to see Garnet come in, a towel slung around her corded neck, her white tank top damp with sweat. She’d gone to the hotel’s gym to obviously treadmill away from her feelings, which was a way more productive solution than Amethyst’s choice coping mechanism. She raised her half-empty bottle of wine in greeting—reckless, loose—accidentally sloshing a little over the top of the rim.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Pearl?” Garnet studiously avoided her gaze as she lowered herself to the carpeted ground, leaning against the wall. Her shoulders hunched forward, elbows braced on top of her knees, she almost looked like some kinda statue—still, beautiful, tragic.

“Tryin’ to drown herself in the shower, I think,” Amethyst shrugged before taking another hearty swig of Moscato. The tangy notes stung her tongue. “She’s been in there for an hour now, so you might not have hot water later.”

The gym trainer shrugged noncommittally as though this was all the same to her. 

And the two of them simply listened to the hissing of the water beyond the thin door to Garnet’s left for a handful of seconds; the serpentine sounds lashed the ground. Lashed their skin. Their ears. Their chests.

Amethyst sniffed and took yet another drag of wine.

There was nothing else better to do...

... but the silence was unbearable now that it was optional.

She turned her bottle upside down again.

Liquid courage.

“I met the old lady, y’know,” she said softly, her consonants a little rushed around their edges, a little tipsy, a little unsure. “Blue Diamond. It was… yesterday, I think? Hell, I think it was yesterday. God, I don’t even know at this point. But she was in the lobby, waitin’ for her valet to pick her up…”

Garnet didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up at her, but Amethyst knew she was listening from the way that every line in her body was rigid with attention.

“She’s kinda snooty, I think. Kinda looks like she’s got a stick up her ass… but she’s got a good heart, I guess. She cares about Steven…” Amethyst remembered the way her accented voice broke when she spoke of him, all of the syllables collapsing upon themselves in the throes of her gentle tongue. And she remembered the woman’s eyes, how startlingly blue they were, haunted underneath by the ravages of grief and time. 

“A lot,” she added. “That surprised me.”

“I… I shouldn’t have let Yellow Diamond get to me like that,” Garnet said, reaching up and gingerly holding her head. “I know. I know.”

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’, G,” Amethyst immediately and fiercely returned, shaking her own head. “I mean, it’s kinda what I’m sayin’, but we all got caught up in her. She got under all of our skins. I’m just, I dunno, I’m trying to—“

But she broke off then, ripping her gaze away from her roommate and back towards the window.

To the darkness.

The absence of stars.

She raised the bottle to her lips once more but stopped short of taking another swill; the sickly sweet perfume nearly gagged her.

“It’s just… it’s difficult,” she continued, setting the drink down between her knees. “That’s all I’m sayin’. God knows why, but he likes the Diamonds, and the Diamonds like him… and we shouldn’t… I mean, we should try our best not to shit on him for that because—“

But Amethyst stopped short again as the natural end to that sentence reared its head off the floor of her stomach, striking just where it hurt.

Sick, ashamed, inconsolable, she covered her eyes with both of her hands.

“Because we love him,” Garnet proffered, her voice quiet, almost inaudible over the noises coming from the shower, “and we want him to be happy.”

That wasn't the end of the sentence.

That wasn't what they had both been thinking anyway.

“Yeah,” she croaked gratefully, wiping roughly at her eyes. “Yeah.”

They resumed their silent vigil together then, mostly because it kept them from commenting upon the fact that it wasn’t just the water they were hearing behind that thin bathroom door.

Garnet reached upwards and grabbed the remote from the edge of the nearest bed, turning the volume up on some stupid sitcom to drown it out.

The water.

The weeping.

And the weeping and the weeping and the weeping.

vi.

Blue Diamond had been on the balcony for hours now, long enough for the sky to bruise from peach to blue to purple, long enough to see the first stars ascend to their storied mounts, glimmering down upon the world in silvery, distant specks. 

Long enough that the tear tracks riveting down her cheeks had dried upon her long face in stiff lines.

Long enough that she wondered passively to herself if she had been here forever, a statue carved out of flesh and bone and misery and blood.

Long enough to reflect upon the fact that she wasn't referring to the balcony... but to something more abstract.

Metaphorical.

A state.

A cycle.

A condition of perpetual mourning.

Her phone laid facedown on the tiny table between her chair and Yellow’s empty one.

The last text she had received had been from Steven Universe.

It wasn’t even a sentence. 

Just a fragment.

No exclamation points, no abundant elaboration, no joy.

Tuesday, 7:09 PM:

Steven: kidneys fell through

Blue had seen the boy just this morning—dropping by after she had left Yellow’s room—and she could remember, quite distinctly, how radiant his face had been, utterly metamorphosed by its own happiness. 

She’d been drawn in by it, magnetized. 

Oh, how the two of them laughed and smiled and played. 

How many years had it been since she had last played?

It was before Pink died assuredly.

But even then, the details were murky to her; she’d been so wrapped up in her school, that she had forgot what it was to be twenty-one, and that twenty-one year olds were still children in a way, that they loved to have fun.

She’d been so strict with her sometimes.

Forbidding.

Cold.

(Her own mother would have been proud.)

But she and Steven Universe? They played, and they played, imagining all the things that Steven was going to do once he had recovered from the transplant surgery. Some of these plans were simply extraordinary in nature. He was going to run all day just because he would finally feel like it. He was going to make a massive sandcastle on the beach with all of his friends. It would be palatial, obviously, so they could live in it together, making seashell necklaces and seaweed crowns. He was going to eat all the donuts that he wanted—his diet had been so restricted since he’d taken ill—and then some.

“And if I get sick,” he had said proudly, “it’ll just be a normal sick, and that’ll be perfectly okay.”

But it wasn’t the extraordinary inventions which had touched Blue, which had moved her to the quick.

Rather, it was the simple things.

The mundane ones.

He would get to go to school with all the rest of the kids his age. He could go to a theater without worrying that his symptoms might flare up during the movie's climax. He could ride a bike through his charming, little beachside town. 

He could simply be a child.

And that would be enough.

That would be perfectly okay.

“And I could come over for tea and cakes on Fridays,” he teased as she had prepared to leave, running one last hand through his curly hair as she stood up from her chair. He smiled at her gently, his mouth tilting crookedly.

“Aye,” she returned warmly, returning the gesture with an almost easiness that still surprised her. “I would love that..."

But just as quickly as these fantasies had risen—entertained, explored, viscerally imagined—they had been wrenched from his hands just as immediately, and so Blue Diamond sat on her balcony for hours on end grieving for the poor boy.

But because she was selfish, because she was predictable, because she was broken, she gripped the arms on both sides of her chair, and grieved, too, for Pink Diamond.

(She was always grieving for Pink Diamond.)

Fingernails digging into the weathered wood, she thought herself a desolate fool for ever kidding herself into believing that she could go a day without being painfully aware of her daughter’s ghost.

She thought herself a masochist for inviting the same pain again in the form of Steven Universe.

She thought herself a coward for not daring to say three words to Yellow Diamond, three words that wouldn’t make everything between them right, but three words that needed to be said nevertheless.

And she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.

Not even when Yellow was in a hospital bed, covered in lacerations and bruises.

Because how could she say such a thing when she hadn’t said it in so many years upon years?

I and love and you.

And she kept thinking these things until they chased each other around her head in circles—dizzying, unceasing, senseless circles that gradually chipped away at the tentative hope she had held aloft in her chest ever since she had met Steven Universe.

Spirals and spirals and spirals.

Fool.

Masochist.

Coward.

Circles and circles and circles.

And somehow, every time, Blue Diamond concluded where she had first begun: alone in her own misery, drowning.

Fool, masochist, coward.

vii.

The walk to the parking deck that night was slow and laborious, one foot dragged after another, the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee in her hand doing little to perk her up for the long drive home. Priyanka couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed past her shift so long, but she’d wanted to make sure that Steven remained stable… that he didn’t suddenly crash on them after such a long, hard day on his body… that she continued to try (and miserably fail) to keep Rose’s last request.

Take care of my baby for me, please…

Ever since his episode, Steven’s breath sounds had been decreased on the right side of his chest; she instructed the intern on duty for the night to keep him on a steady supply of oxygen and to page her immediately if his stats even shifted by a margin.

“Like, even a number or two?” Dr. Stephens asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yes,” she had snapped rather harshly. “Even a fraction.”

But somehow, even as Priyanka had said it, even as the poor intern had flinched, she had known to herself from the very beginning that she could quantify every little integer and it still all be for nothing.

Chronic kidney disease didn’t care about numbers.

It didn’t care about people.

“Hey! Priyanka! Wait up!"

Oh, hell and shit—she recognized that voice. 

Wincing, she tried to arrange her features into an expression that didn’t completely betray her entire disinterest with humanity before she turned to face her colleague Dr. Reed. Maisie Reed, an ER doctor, had been at Empire Regional for about a decade longer than Priyanka. 

She was a good woman and good friend, but frankly, she just didn’t know when to shut up, going off on long, rambling tales that were hard for Priyanka to weasel away from once she got rolling. 

This was vaguely annoying on most days, but tonight, the nephrologist simply wouldn't be able to bear it.

“Hello, Maisie,” she returned brusquely as the older woman caught up to her. Her curly, flyaway hair was tucked back in a messy bun, her wire-rimmed glasses perched a little crookedly on the bridge of her nose. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Maisie rolled her eyes. “Did you hear about my star patient?”

“I think I actually met her,” Priyanka said, resuming her brisk walk. Maybe if she made it to her sedan before Maisie started a story, she could make a narrow escape.  “She somehow made it to my patient’s room. Goodness knows for what reason. She and the patient’s family nearly got into a fistfight.”

“Ha! You're kidding! I didn’t think that part was true, but some of the nurses were saying—”

“It’s true,” she affirmed curtly, cutting across the woman. “All of it.”

They lapsed into silence then as they walked side by side on the harshly lit concrete. The nephrologist could see her tiny car near the end of the row. She pulled the key out of one of the pockets of her lab coat, clicked the unlock button, and hoped that Maisie would finally take the hint.

“I think we’re only parked a little ways from each other,” she said cheerfully, dashing all of Priyanka’s dreams.

Joy.

They continued to walk together, the heels of their shoes clicking reliably against the floor.

“I also heard… that you’ve got a bad outcome,” Maisie murmured, her voice soft, empathetic.

Pitying.

It was the pity that Priyanka hated most of all.

Her companion’s hazel eyes raked her over piercingly, like an X-Ray, and there was tenderness in her expression.

Understanding.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It’s not a bad outcome yet,” she snarled, rounding upon the woman fiercely, not bothering with polite pretense anymore. Screw her. Screw everything. Screw this fucking day. “He’s still alive. He’s still got a chance. I’ve just got to find…”

“… kidneys, yes. I’ve heard,” Maisie finished gently.

Priyanka violently turned away again, increasing her pace so that she pulled ahead of the other doctor. Her entire body strained against the sudden burst of energy.

She was tired.

So fucking exhausted.

“Then don’t resign him to the grave yet, Maisie. I’m still fighting for him, dammit.”

“Yes, I know that, too… I’ve always admired that about you, dear. You never give up.”

“Yeah, well”—she didn’t exactly know what to say to that—“that’s what we do.”

“Mm, yes,” Maisie replied. “That’s what we do…”

She finally reached her sedan with no small feeling of relief, proceeding to the driver's side with the expectation that Dr. Reed would continue onwards to her little red Nissan at the end of the row, finally putting an end to this unpleasant conversation.

Infuriatingly, though, Maisie stopped, too, her eyes bright with kindness and warmth and all the other things besides that Priyanka simply couldn’t stomach at the moment.

“Yes, well, goodnight,” she said pointedly, making a motion to open the door of her car. She threw her briefcase in rather unceremoniously. It slammed against the passenger side door and fell feebly to the ground.

“What’s his blood type, Priyanka? I’ll keep an eye out for any patients that fit the description… you know what the ER is like. We get potential donors all the time.”

Yes, this was assuredly true, but Steven’s blood type being what it was, finding a donor so quickly would be a damn near miracle.

Priyanka exhaled harshly through her nose but relented anyway—anything to end this absurd conversation.

What the hell—it wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s a long shot… but O neg, so I need an O neg donor. Had any of those on your docket lately?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

And here was the part where Maisie’s kindly face would undoubtedly fall into dismay because of course she hadn’t seen an O neg patient in a while—only seven percent of the entire population had O negative blood, which was a startlingly rare number. So, of course, she would shake her head profusely and apologize and swear to keep her feelers out…

… but Maisie Reed didn’t exactly follow the quick script that Priyanka had constructed in her head.

In fact, her pink lips wobbled into a radiant smile.

“Honey,” she laughed, “sit down and take a sip of that damn black coffee of yours because you’re not going to believe this.”

[my-blog-hikariledsite]

HB3 lamp review: features, reasons to buy

Lamps HB3

Consider the hb3 (hikari 9005 led) lamps that are used to arrange the headlights of a car in headlights. The lamp belongs to the class of single-thread lighting devices. This point determines that the design features of the lighting device provide for the presence of only one filament. For example, products equipped with two spirals can work when the low and high beam are turned on, due to the operation of the second element.

Design features

The lamp consumes an average of 12V of electricity. Often there may be versions with a capacity of 55V, but there are products for 51V.

The principle of operation of a halogen device with an index of HB3 is partially identical to the operation of a conventional incandescent lamp. The spiral filament from the incoming power of 12V increases its temperature, therefore, from this a glow is formed.

Bromine and iodine vapors fill a glass flask of refractory or quartz material. It is these gaseous components that significantly extend the operating life by half.

The case has a curved appearance with compact parameters.

Specifications

Modification of the lamp reproduces the light as close as possible to natural daylight.

The operational life depends on the number of switches on and off of the device. Periodicity is indicated by switching cycles. On average, hb3 lamps of increased brightness withstand up to 30,000 cycles, while the maximum duration of operation of analogues is up to 12,000 hours.

The type of bulb may differ in the degree of dispersion.

Advantages and disadvantages

Halogen lamp hb3 for equipping the head lighting of the car is used very often because of the increased service life of 2000-4000 hours. However, under ideal conditions and minimal vibrations, the duration of operation can reach 8000 hours.

HB3 high-brightness halogen lamps also have other advantages:

The light is as close as possible to natural light, which favorably affects the driver's vision and eliminates the possibility of a quick feeling of fatigue.

Insignificant expenses if you need to replace the device.

The product produces a constant stream of lighting without blinking.

The availability of the light element allows you to buy hb3 halogen lamps at the nearest specialized store.

In comparison with competitive analogues, the advantages of halogen devices are much less, but all of them are significant.

The disadvantages of lamps are not few, the main of which are:

Low level of productivity of luminous flux reproduction.

Excessive sensitivity to mechanical actions and vibrations.

At the time of operation, hb3 halogen lamps emit a huge amount of heat. This factor negatively affects the efficiency, since electricity is spent not only on light. And also, overheating of the equipment can lead to a malfunction of the optical device, overdrying the plastic and exposing it to cracking.

·         When replacing an outdated light device, take into account the possibility of a malfunction when the test tube is in close contact with heterogeneous elements. So that the glass case does not leave fat deposits from the skin, you should work with gloves.

·         With significant heating of the bulb hb3 - 2 500-5 000 ° in the area of touch, darkening may form. This negatively affects the distribution of temperature on the surface of the lighting device, as a result of which the product quickly breaks.

·          

·         Recommendations for selection

·         To begin with, you need to decide for what type of driving the car is used, in which the installation of lighting equipment is planned. For example, the movement of the vehicle is often made on an uneven roadway at high speed or unhurried movement on a good road. For each option, hb3 halogen lamps with different color temperatures are selected.

With the wrong choice, the following situation can happen: in the process of operation, lighting equipment produces a high temperature regime. Due to overcoming a certain barrier of frequency of mechanical influences or vibrations, the incandescent element is amenable to accelerated destruction.

Pay attention to the values of the following parameters:

Power degree: 51, 55, 65V.

The intensity of the luminous flux is brightness.

The temperature regime of the color depends on the design features. To date, there are halogen lamps hb3 on sale with radiation similar to a xenon device - 4000-4200K.

View of the body and the plinth element.

In addition, the main role is played by the manufacturer. According to customer reviews, you can come to the conclusion - in order not to pay twice, it is better to give preference to proven brands:

Koito;

Osram;

Narva;

Philips;

LightX.

Naturally, products from the above manufacturers will have a huge price, but the guarantee of the purchase of a high-quality device also increases. Source: https://hikariled.org/

[luverre-quartz]

Transparent Spiral Quartz Glass Tube Transparent spiral quartz glass tube, as a new type of efficient heat transfer element, are made of high quality quartz glass and processed by special technology. Its unique spiral structure design not only gives the product excellent heat transfer performance, but also presents a beautiful and generous appearance, which is widely used in all kinds of heating devices, lighting equipment, experimental instruments and other fields.

Luverre Quartz can manufacture customized quartz tubes in various shapes, such as spiral, square, round, with processing including cutting, bending, welding, etc., and available in different colors, such as transparent quartz tubes, opaque quartz tubes, milky white quartz tubes, red quartz tubes, and so on. Website: https://www.luverrequartz.com/ Welcome to inquire about ordering

[flutterclouds]

Waiting part one

Shannon had always assumed that they would be alone. The only other Pokémon that made their home near the isolated shore was Quartz, and they spent most of their time in Daybreak Cavern, doing who knows what. Most days, it felt like Shannon was the only living being in the world.

To fill their time, Shannon took to exploring the many mystery dungeons that populated the area surrounding the peninsula where they made their home. In these mystery dungeons, they found peculiar relics from a time that came even before them. Once they found said relics, Shannon would shut themself in their makeshift lab, tinkering with the assortment of strange objects that had caught their interest. However, that routine would soon change.

It had started off as another quiet day on that lonely peninsula. Shannon had gone for a stroll on the beach, a quick reprieve from a tiring week of spelunking in a mystery dungeon they had dubbed the Spiral Tunnels, which had earned its name by having narrow passageways that seemed to all lead downward in a spiral shape. What lay at the bottom of the dungeon was unknown to Shannon, but throughout all their excursions to the cramped tunnels, they heard the drip-drip sound of water droplets falling from a cavern ceiling and quickly descending into what they assumed to be an underground lake below.

As Shannon made their way along the shore, they felt like they were being watched. Focusing four of their eyes on Daybreak Cavern, Shannon saw no sign of Quartz.

A splash suddenly caught their attention. Focusing another four of their eyes on the sea, Shannon noticed a beige-colored dorsal fin sticking out of the water. Although the fin was still a ways out from the beach, it was moving closer. Shannon backed up a bit, preparing to face whatever was coming their way.

Eventually, the dorsal fin rose higher from the sea, revealing that it belonged to a Relicanth. Shannon felt their heart speed up in exhilaration. They thought, I can’t believe it. Relicanth are said to live only in the deep sea, but here comes one now.

The Relicanth, looking a bit bashful, approached Shannon’s spot on the beach. Shannon ignored their instinct to launch into a flurry of questions and decided to start out simple. After clearing their throat, they began.

“Uh, hi. I’m Shannon, and I live around here,” they used one psychically connected spinning top-like hand to point to the stone house on the peninsula, “may I ask your name?”

Dear Arceus, that sounded awkward, Shannon thought critically.

“Prisca,” the aquatic Pokémon responded quietly.

“Well Prisca, what brings you here?”

“I wanted to see the surface. This is my first time leaving the ocean trenches. I’ve seen you on the beach from under the water, but you always seem to be too busy to chat, what are you always in a rush for?” she asked, turning the tables on Shannon.

Shannon was thrown for a loop, but they quickly responded, “I’ve been exploring the nearby mystery dungeons. I’m quite passionate about historical relics. You see, I’m fascinated by inventions and how objects from the past could help me figure out new ways to help others in the present.”

Prisca swam closer, seemingly interested in what Shannon had to say. “I think that’s a wonderful goal,” she said, admiration evident in her voice.

“Thank you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, could I go exploring with you one day?” Prisca asked.

“Maybe,” Shannon replied, a warmth invading their voice.

That conversation ended up being the first of many. Often, the two of them chatted deep into the night, talking about this and that. One topic that Shannon never brought up was that of time, for they feared what Prisca’s answer might be if they asked her about how long she had existed, and how much time she had left. This soon changed, however, when Prisca herself brought up the topic of one’s lifespan on the beach one night.

They had been conversing about Shannon’s third failure to conquer the Spiral Tunnels when Prisca brought up the subject matter that Shannon had wished to avoid.

“Shannon,” Prisca started, “how long have you been alive?”

Shannon hesitated a bit. I really don’t want to open that can of worms, but I don’t want to be dishonest with her. I’ll just have to be brave and tell her the truth.

Letting out a deep breath, they responded to the question, “I’m a few centuries old, but to be honest, I’ve lost count. I was afraid of telling you because I’m afraid of outliving those I’ve grown close to.”

Inching closer until she was almost on the bank that separated land from sea, Prisca rested near Shannon, as if to ease their worries. “If you want to know a secret, I’ve forgotten how old I am, too. I know how you feel, worrying about outliving others. You must have felt so alone out here, but you’re not alone anymore. I’ll be there for you if you’ll be there for me.”

“Promise?” Shannon asked hesitantly.

“Promise,” Prisca responded firmly.

Years turned into decades, decades turned into centuries. Throughout the years, Shannon and Prisca remained together. We’re friends, Shannon repeated to themself multiple times, we’re just friends, and I’m perfectly happy just staying friends.

Shannon soon found that they might, no, did have more than platonic feelings for Prisca. The question was, what was Shannon to do with these newfound feelings?

The conundrum presented itself to both of them one starlit night. Shannon had taken note that Prisca had been late to their nightly rendezvous for a few nights in a row, which was quite unusual for her. What is going on, Shannon thought, did I do something wrong? It might be nothing, but I can’t help but feel that Prisca has been distant from me lately.

Puzzling over their feelings, Shannon came to a resolution. We can’t tiptoe around each other like this. I have to ask her what’s wrong, and I have to ask her tonight. We have to be honest with each other. Their thoughts were interrupted by the familiar splash that signaled Prisca’s arrival.

“Sorry I’m late,” Prisca began awkwardly, “I was, uh, I was feeling under the weather.”

“Prisca,” Shannon started, feeling hesitant now that she was there, “I wanted to ask you something, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“Try me.”

“Alright,” Shannon took a deep breath, “I’ve been feeling like you’ve been avoiding me lately, and I want to know what I can do to fix it.”

Prisca let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, Shannon. I’ve just been feeling that the way I feel about you has changed slightly.”

Shannon’s head was spinning. The way she feels about me has changed? In what way, though?

Gathering their courage, Shannon asked the question they had been meaning to ask for a long time, “How do you feel about me, then?”

She hesitated before answering. “I think that my feelings of friendship for you have evolved into something more,” she paused, looking Shannon in the eyes.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that my feelings for you are romantic in nature,” Prisca finished, assuring Shannon of her sincerity with a shy smile.

At Prisca’s sudden confession, Shannon felt tears begin to pool in their eyes, and Prisca’s smile quickly turned into a concerned frown.

“Sh-Shannon, I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have told you if I knew you’d be upset!”

Through the tears that streamed down their face, Shannon hiccuped, “Silly Prisca, I just feel really happy that you feel the same way.”

Suddenly being lifted from her spot from the water’s edge, Prisca found herself being held against Shannon’s shoulder. She looked up, seeing four of Shannon’s eyes peering down at her. To her surprise, she found that she was crying too. She used her fins to try and embrace Shannon. Although her fins only managed to touch Shannon’s side, it was enough for both of them.

A few years after they had become romantic partners, Shannon approached Prisca with a proposal. They had been exchanging pleasantries about their day, nothing out of the ordinary, when Shannon popped the question.

“I’ve been thinking, would you want to move in with me?” Shannon paused slightly and hurriedly said in order to reassure Prisca, “you don’t have to, of course. I would never try to force you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

Prisca was, understandably, surprised at Shannon’s proposal. However, she wasn’t opposed to the idea. There was just one problem.

“I would love to, but,” Prisca began, “I can’t stay on land.”

“I know, but we can find a way around that. I promise you, I’ll find a way so that you can live with me on land,” Shannon vowed.

With that promise made, Shannon started researching subjects, such as how to build indoor pools, to how metal tubes are assembled and connected. After much reading, they were ready.

The work began one humid afternoon, the sun was high in the clear sky, and the sound of rumbling could be heard. Inside their home, Shannon worked meticulously, carefully using Dig in order to create a fairly large, oval hole in one corner of the house. From there, they used Psybeam in order to form a perfectly circular hole in one wall that lined up with the pool’s measurements.

After phase one of the plan was complete, they were ready to start constructing the pipes that would connect the house to the sea. There was just one problem. They had no aluminum. But, they did know somebody who did.

Knocking on Quartz’s front door, Shannon waited anxiously. Please be home, please be home, they repeated over and over in their head like a mantra.

Opening the door, Quartz blinked curiously at Shannon.

“Shannon, what brings you here?” they asked, ears twitching slightly.

“Uh, hi Quartz. I really need to ask you something. Could you help me build some aluminum pipes?”

Turning around, Quartz scanned their house, looking for what they needed.

“Ah! There we go!” Quartz exclaimed, rolling a sheet of aluminum metal towards the door with their head, seeing as how they lacked any appendages.

“Thank you so much! If you have time, do you think we could get started now?”

Glancing towards the clock that hung on the wall, Quartz turned back towards Shannon and nodded.

“Sure, I don’t have to be in Daybreak Cavern for a few hours, so we have time.”

“Great, thank you so much!” Shannon then proceeded to spin around in a celebratory dance.

Over the course of the next few days, Shannon and Quartz worked to shape the aluminum into pipes that would easily let Prisca back and forth between the house and the sea. Next, they connected the pipes to the hole in the wall, forming a tunnel of tubes that traveled a short ways across the peninsula beach and a short ways into the sea. There, the end of the pipe rested on a rock shelf a few feet under the water’s surface.

To complete the process, Shannon opened the small hatch on the makeshift doorway to the indoor pool. Immediately, seawater flooded into the hole, filling it until it completed the image of a large, serene pool. Stretching after a hard day’s work, Shannon approached Quartz.

“Once again, I owe you my thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome. Besides, if we don’t support each other, who else will?” Quartz’s laugh sounded hollow.

“Quartz...” Shannon trailed off, unable to ask them what was troubling them.

“But never mind that, I have a long day ahead of me. See you around, Shannon!” With that, Quartz bounced out the door.

Shaking their head, Shannon asked themself, what is going on with them?

That night, as Shannon tinkered with a strange glowing cube by candlelight, they heard the clank of something or someone moving about in the aluminum pipes. Opening the hatch, they saw Prisca poke her head out and give a small smile.

“I’m home.”

Laughing, Shannon gestured towards Prisca. “Come here, I want to show you my lab.”

Following their directions, Prisca swam from the tube and into the large space of the pool.

“Was your trip through the tube comfortable?” Shannon asked, wanting to make sure their significant other had an easy time making it through the tubes.

“Of course, it was quite spacious,” Prisca replied firmly.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Shannon straightened up and floated towards her. Spreading their arms out, Shannon displayed their room to Prisca. Next to the pool was Shannon’s straw bed. In one corner of the room, was a work table with a glowing pink cube laying on it. In another corner, their relic collection could be seen.

“What’s that?” Prisca pointed one fin towards the wooden work table where the pink cube lay.

Shannon floated over to the table and picked up the cube. “This? This is something I found in the Spiral Tunnels. I have a theory that if I take it to the bottom of the tunnels, something might happen.”

“Then, could I go with you on your exploration?”

“But, how would you able to explore the tunnels? As you said, you can’t go on land,” Shannon pointed out.

“Didn’t you know, there are all sorts of underground waterways that lead inland,” Prisca said with a mischievous smile.

“Alright then, we’ll make our ways through the tunnels separately, and then we’ll regroup at the bottom and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Prisca shouted in exhilaration, overjoyed to go on an exploration with Shannon.

After saying goodnight, Prisca made her way out through the pipes. As Shannon was falling asleep, one last though crossed their mind. I hope tomorrow’s exploration is a success. On the table, the cube glowed warmly.

The next morning, Shannon set off for the Spiral Tunnels, the pink cube in their bag. They quickly found the entrance to the Spiral Tunnels and headed in. The passageways themselves were quite cramped for a Pokémon of Shannon’s height, but they pushed on.

Once they were a few floors down, Shannon began to hear the familiar drip-drip of water falling. I’m getting closer, they thought, hopefully, Prisca hasn’t encountered any trouble.

The Spiral Tunnels diverged many times, each new set of branches more contorted than the last. Finally though, they had reached the bottom.

“Oh my goodness...” they breathed, taken away by the sight that stretched out before them.

The underground cavern was enormous, the walls were covered in gems of all colors and sizes, which all glowed softly in the dim light of the cavern. From the cave ceiling hung stalactites, water droplets often dripping into the lake below, echoing throughout the chamber.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Letting out a shriek of surprise, Shannon turned to their left, only to be met with the welcome sight of Prisca.

“You made it!” Shannon let a out a shout of excitement. “How did you get in here?”

“I went through the various underground waterways until eventually, I found a hole that led into this underground lake,” Prisca paused and turned toward the other side of the cavern, “now, what are we going to do about that?” she asked, pointing one fin at a door on the other side of the room.

Moving forward, Shannon inspected the door. The door itself seemed to be made out of some sort of ancient rock that was slowly crumbling away over time. They also noted a diamond-shaped indent in the center of the door. Wait, Shannon paused for a moment, diamond-shaped? Then realization hit them.

Opening the flap of their satchel and reaching inside, Shannon pulled out the pink cube. Holding it up to compare its shape to the ident, they saw that the two matched up perfectly.

Turning back to Prisca, they asked, “Should we put the cube in? To be honest, I have no idea what might happen. The door might open, the ceiling might collapse, anything goes when it comes to these kinds of puzzles.”

Swimming closer to Shannon, Prisca nodded. “Let’s do it. This whole exploration would have been for nothing if we don’t see what’s on the other side.”

“Alright...” they murmured, and slowly inserted the cube into the indent. With a click, the cube was set in place. Immediately, the pink light from within the cube began to pulse, as if it was the visual sign of a heartbeat. The other gems on the cavern walls joined the strange pulsing rhythm.

@lovepmd @eev99art Happy Valentine’s Day!

[appendixz]

144. Not only are there no hot-air registers, return air vents, or radiators, cast iron or other, or cooling systems—condenser, reheat coils, heating convector, damper, concentrator, dilute solution, heat exchanger, absorber, evaporator, solution pump, evaporator recirculating pump—or any type of ducts, whether spiral lock-seam/standing rib design, double-wall duct, and Loloss (TM) Tee, flat oval, or round duct with perforated inner liner, insulation, and outer shell; no HVAC system at all, even a crude air distribution system—there are no windows—no water supplies, drains, bathtubs, urinals, sinks, drinking fountains, water heaters, or coolers, expansion tanks, pressure relief valves, flow control, branch vent, downspout, soil stacks, or waste stacks, or fire protection equipment: smoke detectors, sprinkers, flow detectors, dry pipe valve, O.S. & Y. Gate valve, water motor alarm, visual annunciation devices, hose rack and hose reel whether a 2 1/2″ or 1 1/2′ valve, foam systems, gaseous suppression systems; nor any sign of daisy-chain wiring or star wiring or electrical metallic tubing (EMT), rigid conduit, wireways, bus ducts, underfloor ducts, a cellular floor, a raised floor, or for that matter wire of any sort, No. 36 to No. 0000 (#4/0), or electrical boxes—3 duct junction boxes etc., etc.— or plug-in receptacles, 3-prong grounded duplex or other, pots on pans or cans, or switch plates, switches, whether swing pole, dimmer or remote, or circuit breakers or fuses, whether lead, tin, copper, silver, etc., etc., with a voltage class from 12, 24, 125, 250, 600, 5000+, or even lights, whether electrical discharge, incandescent, or combustion, no flame arc or gas-filled, tipless, inside frosted, decorative, general service, 10,000 watt aviation picture studio, projection signal, Christmas tree, arc projector, photoflood, mercury, sodium, glow, sun, flash, black light, water cooled, germicidal, purple x, ozone, fluorescent, Slimline, Lumiline, Circline, rough service, Q coated, Bonus A-line, 75,000 watt, Quartzline, special service, DVY, DFC, iodine cycle, axial quartz, halogen cycle, bi-post, heat, brooder, red bowl therapy, silver neck brooder, quartz infrared, bent-end infrared, iodine cycle infrared, RSC base, red filter, Marc 300, Lucalox, multi-vapor, e-bulb mercury, 1,500 watt multi-vapor, Watt-Miser II, Magicube, Flash Bar, Flip-Flash, GE-500, composite, discharge forward lighting, Precise, 35.5 lumens, white Lucalox, standby Lucalox, high output Lucalox, Halarc 32 watt, Halarc 100 watt, Staybright XL, high intensity Biax, metal halide, to say nothing of communication systems such as public address, intercom, radio, TV, CCTV, SATV, VSAT, telephone, (PAX or PBX etc., etc.,) or data, signal multimedia designs, or BAS, BMS, BMAS automation; there are not even any moldings or other stylistic signatures such as casings, baseboards, or finished floors, linoleum, cement, whether fast setting, coloured, fiber reinforced, self-leveling, mortar, high early-strength, sand mix, silica sand, plastic, hydraulic, or sheet vinyl, tile, cork tile, terrazo, rubber, carpeting, epoxy, ceramic & stone, slate, aputit-siarvaq, or marble, whether white—Danby Imperial, Colorado Yule, or Carrara—or black or green; or hardwood, whether overlay, strip flooring with alternate joints, or herringbone, inlaid, basket weave, Arenberg, Chantilly, or Versailles parquet; in fact no wood anywhere, whether rewordd, treated western hemlock, yellow pine, cedar, wood-polymer, Engelmann spruce, pecan, southern magnolia, Colorado spruce, alpine fir, american beech, northern red oak, Canada Hemlock, red maple, sugar maple, eastern white pine, butternut hickory, shagbark hickory, american plane tree, eastern black walnut, ponerosa pine, white fir, northern catalpa, common bald cypress, american sweet gum, bur oak, California live oak, mahogany, Douglas fir, eastern cottonwood; nor any sign of a sub-floor, sheathing, drywall, any kind of insulating material, polyicynne or other; sills, sill plates, sill sealer, rebar, anchor bolts, let alone footings or foundation walls; or bricks, whether split paver or red bullnose, or wall studs, firestopping, or braces, nor evidence of floor joists, rafters, king posts, struts, side posts, ridge beams, collar ties, gussets, furring strips, or bed molding (at least the stairs offer some detail: risers, treads, two large newel posts, one at the top and one at the bottom, capped and connected with a single, curved banister supported by countless balusters) though among other things no wallpaper, veneer plaster, Baldwin locks, any sign of glass, whether clear, reflective, insulated, heat-resistant, switchable, tinted, bad-guy, antique; or even tin-plated steel, factory-painted steel, brass; or even a single nail and screw, whether sheet-metal, particleboard, drywall, concrete, drive, aluminum, silicon bronze, solid brass, mechanically galvanized, yellow-zinc plated, stainless steel, epoxy coated, black finish, Durocoat; to say nothing of the sheer absence of anything that might suggest a roof, whether pitched, gable, hip, lean-to, flat, sawtooth, monitor, ogee, bell, dome, helm, sloped, hip-and-valley, conical, pavilion, rotunda, imperial, or mansard; no westwork, ziggurat, brise-soleil, trompe l’oeil etc., fenestration, tierceron rib, coffering, tholos, strapwork, stoa, egg-and-tongue, sala terena, absidole, rotunda, revetments, reredos, flying buttresses, retablo, herm, bedevere, pavillion, pastas, narthex, lunettes, dormers, cottage orné, pendentives, cheek-walls, cavetto, abutment, nor vaulted chambers, whether quadripartite or lierne vaults, or Mihrab domes, turrets, minarets, minbars, porticoes, peristyles, tabliniums, compluviums, impluviums, atriums, alas, exceedras, androns, fauces, posticums, peristylums, vestibules, arcades, apses, naves, naos, pronaos, opisthodomos, nymphaeum, internal crepidoma, courtyards, paradegrounds, bailey, demilune, caponiere, tenaille, flank, postern, rampart, face, bastion, embrasure, curtain, keep, brattice, merlon, or battlement; nor—obviously—pilasters, pillars, friezes, entablatures, architraves, facades, pediments, stylobates, triglyphs, scotia, torus, fillets, finials, and flutes, capitals, whether Ionic, Doric, or Corinthian, with volutes, abacuses, rosettes, acanthus leafe, or metopes, guttas, mutules, acroterions, dentils, or modillions, or even tretoil, Tudor, stilted, horeshoe, ogee, lancet, or equilateral arches, most probably resembling basket handle though without any sign of a keystone, pier, spandrel, voussoir, springer, or import. Picture that. In your dreams.

— Zampanò, House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski

[azuresquirrel]

Alright folks, here is my post of liveblog-y thoughts as I watch these new episodes of Steven Universe that are released and yet also not released at the same time (let me have this one more time: CN IS TERRIBLE). So this entire post under the cut is going to be SPOILER CENTRAL, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Yes, this will be me watching every episode as I do not want to spam people’s dashes with posts of Schrodinger’s Episodes.

I can’t believe there are six goddamn episodes put on an “app” to watch on your GODDAMN PHONE instead of 1. Aired or 2. On a streaming/ondemand service. Fuck it, one more time, I HATE CARTOON NETWORK.

Okay, finally let’s get into it.

“Dewey Wins”

Well we seem to be immediately dealing with the aftermath of the Trial/Homeworld/LARS IS A PINK ZOMBIE adventures. In which everyone looks rightfully concerned except for Steven himself who is talking like is was just another fun adventure. THIS BOY IS REPRESSED AF, SOMEONE GET HIM A THERAPIST. (I mean if he’s going to be therapist to every person in Beach City that means that PROFESSIONALLY he also should have a therapist, IT’S JUST COMMON PRACTICE).

CONNIE ADDRESSING THE EMOTIONAL FALLOUT OF THIS???? THANK YOU.

“We’re safe! Everything’s fine!” YEAH THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE MOST CONCERNED FOR STEVEN THAT I HAVE EVER BEEN. THERAPIST. NOW.

SEE, EVEN LION JUDGES YOUR LIFE CHOICES, STEVEN.

I don’t know where the rest of this episode is going, but Steven cheerfully and INSISTENTLY claiming that “it had to be done” (i.e. giving himself up to Homeworld) … it’s coming across as very Rose Quartz. AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY. Thinking that somehow just because they made the “tough choices” that means that it only affects them and not EVERYONE ELSE.

OH NO SADIE. (I mean I do believe that Lars being off on Pink Zombie Space Adventures is ultimately A GOOD THING for both Lars and Sadie but in the short term of it … oh no.)

I’M GLAD THAT SADIE ASKED IF HE TOLD LARS’S PARENTS (and that he apparently intends to do so after telling Sadie).

Aaaaand this episode just got one hundred times more topical.

IF NANEFUA DOES NOT BECOME THE MAYOR, I WILL BE EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED WITH YOU, SHOW.

I mean yeah, okay, there really isn’t anything Dewey CAN do about homeworld gems but at the same time also, fuck Dewey.

THIS “EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT” IS SOME KIND OF HORRIBLE REBECCA BUNCH-STYLE SPIRAL. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR MOMS AND DAD?????

“Someone posted it on Tube-Tube.” And 12 people is HALF THE TOWN. AMAZING.

“You’re like the son I never had.” “… you have a son.” This episode is VERY self-aware.

YAY, NANEFUA IS MAYOR.

And very transparent lesson for Steven. “That’s probably how Connie feels.” NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

… WOAH THEN.

Okay, so if I do have a complaint about this episode, it’s that I don’t think paralleling Steven with Dewey was the best way for Steven to realize that he’s been hurting people. But, I’m glad that it showed the mess that Steven arrived back to in the wake of his actions, especially with Sadie and Lars’s parents,

AND THEN IT STUCK THE LANDING.

WHEN CONNIE DIDN’T PICK UP.

Like it will probably be fixed soon but I’M GLAD IT WASN’T OVER AND DONE WITH IN ONE EPISODE. CONNIE IS RIGHT TO STICK TO HER GUNS. CONNIE FOR PRESIDENT.

“Gemcation”

GOOD, I’M GLAD CONNIE IS STILL STICKING TO HER GUNS.

“Are you good?? Are you safe?? Do you still love me??” GREG YOUR SON NEEDS SOME PROFESSIONAL HELP, JESUS CHRIST.

(yes yes, then there would be no show. THIS IS STILL GETTING TO HORRIBLE “CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND” LEVELS).

“I still have like, $9 million dollars left.” I’M GLAD THIS SHOW DOESN’T FORGET THINGS.

Steven trying to wash dishes by literally rubbing the bottle of soap against them = DEPRESSION.

Okay so 1. FAMILY VACATION IS A GOOD IDEA but also 2. BY THE AWKWARD “WOOOS” THIS IS DOOMED TO DISASTER.

I don’t know what Amethyst was doing with that egg and I don’t want to know.

GOOD JOB COACHING YOURSELF THROUGH THAT, GARNET. A+.

GREG SENDING AMETHYST TO BE FUN MOM FOR STEVEN. A+.

OMG she’s trying to give him a “Steven speech.” SHE’S TRYING HER BEST.

I WANT TO BE IN A HOT TUB WITH GARNET.

Look Steven, I want you to get help, I really do, because you need it, but I could do without YOUR PISSY ATTITUDE GETTING IN THE WAY OF POSSIBLE MORE BACKSTORY ON PINK DIAMOND K THANKS.

YAY THEY’RE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT HOW TO BE PARENTS TO STEVEN. A+++.

Man things have gotten REALLY bad when your solution to emotional disaster is SEND IN PEARL.

Hmmm … I REALLY do not know right now what to make of Pearl saying that she WANTED Steven to see Homeworld someday WITH HER, so I’m going to leave that there and stew on it for a while.

OKAY, I LAUGHED AT ALL THE RONALDO TEXTS, I ADMIT IT.

Gee, these episodes sure would be effective if they were, I don’t know, SPACED OUT A WEEK OR SOMETHING, LIKE A NORMAL SHOW? SO WE COULD REALLY HAVE SOME TIME PASSING AND SUCH?

Hmph. This episode was good but I must admit that I’m a little frustrated that … well yes Steven would care about Connie THE MOST, that’s fine, but his complete nonchalance about Homeworld … I don’t know. As a stalling tactic to delay more information/reveals, trying to sell it as “Steven is more concerned about his friends than Homeworld stuff” is getting REALLY threadbare after that whole DIAMOND TRIAL/PINK ZOMBIE LARS business. Unless the idea is that he’s repressing the fuck out of it, it is REALLY straining my personal disbelief that Steven WOULDN’T care to know any more at this point.

But all the Greg and Gems parenting stuff was GOOD.

“Raising the Barn”

Oh look. The barn is in the title. Fancy that. I wonder what this will be about.

(CAN YOU GUESS THE THING I WAS SPOILED ABOUT AND AM REALLY REALLY UNHAPPY ABOUT????)

I am REALLY loving this whole “Connie is keeping her distance” thing but AGAIN this would be MUCH MORE EFFECTIVE if this were in a WEEKLY format. (this show doesn’t have bad pacing it has A BAD FUCKING NETWORK)

VIDTIME WITH PERIDOT. A+

LAPIS BLUSHING BECAUSE SHE “WORRIED STEVEN LOST HIS PHONE ON HOMEWORLD.” MY … HEART … .

“Tell us about space!” THIS IS WHY PERIDOT AND LAPIS ARE THE BEST. THEY CARE ABOUT WHAT I CARE ABOUT.

YAY, TRAUMA TIME WITH LAPIS. MY FAVORITE!!!!! (that is actually … both sarcastic but ALSO NOT)

“But they’re installations They need the context of the barn!” I FUCKING LOVE ART LESBIAN PERIDOT.

“There’s not need to get so emotional!” THAT’S THE OCEAN CALLING THE LAKE BLUE, LAPIS.

STRONG WATER WITCH DAUGHTER IS STRONG.

Soooo … . Lapis wants to leave. Peridot does not.

… are they going to break up my OTP?

I AM NOT PLEASED WITH THE DIRECTION THIS IS GOING IN.

ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THAT FUCKING SPOILER I SAW.

Oh no Pumpkin is ~missing~ how very ~inconvenient~

STEVEN’S FACE IS MY FACE DURING ALL OF THIS.

Oh great. There goes my favorite character.

THAT’S NICE.

Like, obviously everything that happened was completely in-character but fuck it, I’m going to be petty as fuck about this. I AM NOT HAPPY THAT LAPIS IS GONE AND THAT SHE LEFT PERIDOT BEHIND. WHO KNOWS WHEN I’LL GET TO SEE MY WATER DAUGHTER AGAIN. THANKS A LOT, SHOW.

(I WAS SPOILED THAT SHE WOULD LEAVE!!! AND I WAS VERY PISSED!!! I’M STILL PISSED HONESTLY!!!!)

I’M GOING TO BE REAL FUCKING PETTY ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE PROBABLY, SO HEAD’S UP ABOUT THAT.

“Back to the Kindergarden”

So the theme for this season is DEPRESSION.

PERIDOT REPRESENTS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS TURN OF EVENTS.

Still, it’s sweet that Steven let her have the bathroom again.

I DON’T KNOW WHY PERIDOT DEPRESSED = COUNTRY MUSIC, BUT I FIND THAT KIND OF DELIGHTFUL.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE MOST I HAVE RELATED TO PERDIOT EVER.

Awwww, Amethyst is still happy about getting to meet all her sisters up in space. That’s sweet!

“You can make us feel dumb by telling us all the stuff we don’t know!” AMETHYST, YOU ARE A GEM IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.

“My sector of countryside was perfect. Now it’s somewhere in space.” Even aside my own personal pissiness, re: this turn of events, PERIDOT IS STILL PAINFUL. HELP THE NERD GEM.

THE FLOWER IS A METAPHOR.

Yeah “re-gardening the kindergarden” WON’T have disastrous effects, I’m so sure.

OKAY, THEM PLANTING SUNFLOWERS IS SUPER ADORABLE.

“I’m glad I was able to fix something.” And something terrible happened to the garden in 3 … 2 … 1…

YEP.

Me: “and of course the flower was a horrible corrupted gem.” Perdiot: “OH! OF COURSE!” Aaaaah, I love the nerd gem a lot.

YAY SMOKY QUARTZ!!!!

I am … REALLY tempted to make a moodboard out of Peridot’s expression in this whole episode. For they are MY MOOD.

“Yeah. We got the subtext.” = THIS IS A GOOD EPISODE FOR AMETHYST.

Okay THIS episode I really liked. Good messaging about depression, and lots of delightful Steven + Amethyst + Peridot hangout times.

I’M STILL FUCKIGONEGIHE PISSED ABOUT LAPIS THOUGH.

FUCK IT, I WILL MAKE THAT MOODBOARD RIGHT NOW.

Yes I am fully aware of the fucking lack of self-awareness of making a moodboard of depressed/angry Peridot faces when the episode is supposed to be about moving on, I AM WELL FUCKING AWARE.

“Sadie Killer”

UM

WELL THAT TITLE ISN’T FOREBODING AT ALL

I HOPE THIS IS THE CASE OF “MENACING-SOUNDING TITLE IS ACTUALLY FUN GOOFY EPISODE” BECAUSE FRANKLY I COULD USE SOME FUN GOOFINESS RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

Oh great. Sadie is working herself to death alone in the Big Donut. THAT’S JUST GREAT.

YOU SHOULD BE IN THIS CUTE BAND, SADIE. ENJOY YOUR FREEDOM FROM LARS.

Good, I can use some Cool Kid nonsense right now. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE COULD???? SADIE!!!!

“I just feel like this seafood festival needs to hear something challenging and provocative.” I am very happy about this.

DOO-DOO

BUTT

THE GOVERNMENT

CORRUPTS

THIS IS THE KIND OF HARD-HITTING SOCIAL COMMENTARY WE NEED IN THESE TRYING TIMES (ahhhh thank you Buck for putting a smile on my face in the midst of my LAPIS DEPRESSION-ANGER)

WHAT? KEEP AT YOUR PRACTICE SO SADIE CAN PARTICIPATE. YOU GUYS ARE BUTTS CORRUPTED BY THE GOVERNMENT.

Awwww, they came over to her place to jam with her! I RESCIND THE PREVIOUS ASPERSIONS ABOUT YOU GUYS BEING BUTTS.

Can the rest of this movie just be them watching crappy horror movies with Sadie? IT WOULD PLEASE ME.

CHANNELING YOUR ANGST THROUGH SPOOKY SCARY MUSIC – A+++++++++

THIS IS. MY PRECISE CONTENT.

“First, lose your youth to your boring job.” THIS EPISODE IS REAL.

And it ends with … Sadie quitting her job. Um, okay?

BUT I GOT SPOOKY SCARY SONGS WITH SADIE AND THE COOL KIDS AND THAT IS REALLY ALL I ASK FOR AT THIS POINT.

“Kevin Party”

NOT FUCKING KEVIN. REALLY?

THIS WILL ONLY BE ACCEPTABLE IF CONNIE IS IN IT.

Looks like Lion has been staying with Connie this whole time then? GOOD, SHE DESERVES A GIANT ZOMBIE LION TO BE THERE FOR HER.

Ugh, do we REALLY need Kevin to show up for every Stevonnie episode? DO WE?

YOU JERK, HE BROUGHT YOU POCKY.

LOOKS LIKE CONNIE IS DOING JUST FINE WITH HER CUTE NEW HAIRDO.

There is entirely too much Kevin in this episode for my liking.

BLAH BLAH BLAH, EMOTIONAL TALK, FRIENDS AGAIN, THE IMPORTANT THING IS THEY DITCH THE PARTY WITHOUT TURNING INTO STEVONNIE. BECAUSE FUCK KEVIN.

Okay, final thoughts:

THIS CONNIE-FIGHT/DEPRESSION ARC WOULD’VE WORKED BETTER SPREAD OUT FURTHER, BECAUSE THERE WAS JUST A LOT OF DEPRESSION.

“Dewey Wins” – really good as a follow-up episode to all the space stuff, just didn’t think Dewey was the best conduit for the message

“Gemcation” – I very much enjoyed Greg and the Gems trying to be good parents. NOT buying the whole “Steven doesn’t care about Homeworld” shit though.

“Raising the Barn” – I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

“Back to the Kindergarden” – PERIDOT IS ME. This one might be my favorite because it had a good mix of cute stuff and funny Amethyst lines (I didn’t mention it above but “Can I bring my music?”/”NO.” was a real solid laugh from me) and depression stuff, but also, PERIDOT IS ME.

“Sadie Killer” – I hope that ending means Sadie gets a better job soon and not that she’s just … unemployed. BUT I LIKED SADIE’S ANGST THROUGH SPOOKY MUSIC, THAT WAS GOOD STUFF. The Cool Kids were some much-needed levity during this little arc.

“Kevin Party” – I GREATLY dispute the idea that we needed KEVIN to get Steven and Connie talking again, Jesus Christ.

(okay I know we’re back in the “Beach City funtimes” stuff but … Pearl and Garnet were only in ONE of these episodes? REALLY? ESPECIALLY GARNET. DESPERATELY LACKING GARNET FOR FIVE DAMN EPISODES.)

(ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KICK OFF MY FAVORITE CHARACTER)

(SHE’S NOW IN THE “WHO KNOWS” VOID OF MY OTHER FAVES, THE ZIRCONS, SO THANKS A BUNCH FOR THAT, SUGAR WOMAN.)

I don’t know these episodes to me felt mostly … fine. The start of the season was SO FUCKING GOOD with the entire Homeworld arc, and I’m not usually so down on the Beach City episodes as most but … geez there was just a LOT of general down-ness and depression in these episodes. I hope the episodes after this have less down-ness, or not have Steven LITERALLY INTERRUPT POSSIBLE BACKSTORY BECAUSE OF HIS BAD MOOD, THANKS.

… I’M STILL SALTY ABOUT LAPIS. DON’T @ ME.

[t-a-c]

As far as I can tell, every zone from 1/2/3K/CD gets referenced either directly or indirectly in Sonic Mania, as does a lot of stuff from other pre-Dreamcast Sonic games. As this is going to both spoil a lot of level gimmicks and be a long list, I’m putting it under a readmore.

Sonic 1 Green Hill: Appears as a level Marble: Floating blocks in lava used in Lava Reef 2, boss appears in Metallic Madness 2 boss Spring Yard: Spinning light and Roller enemy appear in Mirage Saloon, CPU and COPE appear as graffiti in Studiopolis 1 Labyrinth: Platforms on pulleys appear in Studiopolis 1, spears appear in Hydrocity 1 Star Light: Stair blocks reused by Chemical Plant, Orbinaut variants appear in Studiopolis Scrap Brain: Effectively similar to Metallic Madness Sonic 2 Emerald Hill: Corkscrew used in Green Hill 1, boss appears in Metallic Madness 2 boss Chemical Plant: Appears as a level Aquatic Ruin: Arrow shooters appear in Press Garden 2 Casino Night: Pinball flippers and bumper enemies appear in Mirage Saloon Hill Top: Sol enemies appear in Oil Ocean 2, Rexxon enemies appear in Lava Reef Mystic Cave: Swinging platforms used in Press Garden 2 Oil Ocean: appears as a level Metropolis: Wall bumpers and spinning gears reused in Titanic Monarch, Asteron enemies used by Press Garden boss Sky Chase: Concept and enemies re-used Mirage Saloon 1 ST Wing Fortress: Clucker enemies, wind mechanic, and parts of layout reused by Flying Battery 2 Sonic 3 Angel Island: Ziplines appear in Green Hill 2, Caterkiller Jr enemies appear in Chemical Plant 2, swinging vines appear in Mirage Saloon Hydrocity: Appears as a level Marble Garden: Rappelling lines, spike balls, and wheel-operated doors appear in Stardust Speedway 1, act 2 boss’s pattern used by Mirage Saloon 1 ST boss Carnival Night: Spiral tubes appear in Chemical Plant 2, balloons and cannons appear in Mirage Saloon Ice Cap: Ice blocks and sprayers appear in Press Garden 2 Launch Base: Transport tubes appear in Studiopolis 2, switch-operated doors, spinning tubes and upward launchers appear in Press Garden 1 Sonic & Knuckles Mushroom Hill: Dragonfly enemies appear in Press Garden 1, uncurling ledges appear in Stardust Speedway 1, bungee cords appear in Stardust Speedway 2, Cluckoid enemy appears during Studiopolis 2 boss Flying Battery: Appears as a level Sandopolis: Springy chains appear in Stardust Speedway 1, emergency handles appear in Oil Ocean 2 Lava Reef/Hidden Palace: Appears as a stage Sky Sanctuary: Egg Robo enemies appear in numerous places, spinning platforms appear in Press Garden 1 Death Egg: Bomb platforms appear in Titanic Monarch Bonus stages: Magnetic spheres appear in Titanic Monarch Sonic CD Palmtree Panic: Spinning platforms and accompanying animation used in Mirage Saloon 2 Collision Chaos: Flat bumpers appear in Studiopolis 2, breakable orbs used in Mirage Saloon 2 Tidal Tempest: Effectively similar to Hydrocity Quartz Quadrant: Reversible conveyor belts appear in Lava Reef 2 Wacky Workbench: Bouncy floors appear in Chemical Plant 2, electric coils appear in Flying Battery 2 Stardust Speedway: Appears as a level Metallic Madness: Appears as a level, musical hooks used in Chemical Plant 2 and Stardust Speedway 2 boss theme

Other Sonic Games: Sonic 1 (Prototype): Unused level clear animation remade, Green Hill 2 mountains based on mountains from Tokyo Toy Show prototype, Splats appears as debris in Flying Battery and as an enemy in Press Garden 1, Marble Zone UFOs appear in Studiopolis 1, goggles appear on Sonic if playing as Tails in certain areas Sonic 1 (GG/MS): Underground and water segments of Green Hill appear in Green Hill 1/2 Sonic 2 (Prototype): Mirage Saloon reuses graphics from unused desert level Sonic 2 (GG/MS): Aqua Lake bubbles appear in Hydrocity 1, Silver Sonic appears during Stardust Speedway 2 boss, ring loss sound used during Mirage Saloon 2 boss Dr. Robotnik’s Mean Bean Machine: Chemical Plant 2 boss and unlockable extra Sonic Spinball: Sonic animation at start of Chemical Plant 1, warp sound effect used in Studiopolis 1, spindash sound effect used for Lava Reef ST boss Sonic Chaos: Gigapolis boss re-used for Mirage Saloon 1 K Sonic Triple Trouble: Nack/Fang appears in Mirage Saloon Sonic the Fighters: Bark and Bean appear in Mirage Saloon Sonic Crackers (Prototype): Bits of the Circus stage used in Titanic Monarch Chaotix: Marina Madness ships appear in Oil Ocean 2, part of Metal Sonic boss machine appears in Stardust Speedway 2 boss Non-Sonic Games: Revenge of Shinobi: some sound effects reused for Press Garden 2 boss Streets of Rage: Parts of Studiopolis 1 art based on Round 1 Daytona USA: Hornet/Gallop referred to in Studiopolis, Time Attack character select uses same announcer Other: Sonic OVA: Tails’ goggles Sonic 25th Anniversary Livestream: technical difficulties screen at the end of Studiopolis 2 Hacking community member PolygonJim: the Motobug used by Heavy Rider