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britesparc · 1 year ago

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Weekend Top Ten #624

Top Ten Things I Want from the Switch 2

Peering behind the curtain a little bit this week, it does feel a bit strange to be discussing the Switch when it’s really the Xbox that’s dominating headlines. At the time of writing, we’re coming off a couple of weeks of frenzied speculation about Microsoft – all their games are going multiplatform! They’re leaving the hardware market entirely! – that ended with a fairly nondescript announcement video which doesn’t feel like it’s changing the status quo too much. There’s some interesting discussion to be had about Microsoft’s approach; and, given how happy Sony seem to be about the PC releases of some of their big exclusives, I guess you could argue that the age of massive first-party games being tied to one particular piece of hardware is well and truly over.

Well, apart from Nintendo.

Nintendo have operated in their own space at their own speed for about the last twenty years now. Long gone are the days when it felt like the company was locked into the bitter console war arms race; once Sony out-performed them in the nineties, they had great success doing their own thing. The DS, the Wii, and the Switch have been massive, and their games remain as good as ever. And now it’s more or less an open secret that they’re going to be releasing a successor to the Switch very soon; rumoured for ages, teased and hyped and – to some extent – leaked. Finally, if rumours are to be believed, it’ll be out in about twelve months; a disturbingly speedy-feeling seven whole years since the original Switch launched. It looks like, finally, we’re getting a proper Switch 2.

And so – because I’d already planned this in advance and because unpicking the minutiae of the Xbox announcement requires a bit more nuance and, well, time – I’m going to list ten things that I hope whatever the successor to the Switch does. As it’s Nintendo, I imagine there’ll be some wrinkles and quirks; they very rarely do “the same again but better”, even though I think that’s really all that most fans want nowadays. Nintendo are masters at coming up with stuff that we don’t know we want, however; who could have predicted the runaway success of the Wii when we first saw that nondescript image of its controller? Anyway, I’ve got no idea what new gameplay gimmicks or revolutionary play mechanics they’re going to pull out of their enormous green pipe. But I still have some thoughts about stuff that I do want to see. And that’s what this list is! Not very complicated this week.

Still be a Switch: I can’t imagine Nintendo moving away from the concept, but a console that remains a handheld which can be docked to allow to allow for connection to a TV feels like an essential component of, well, Nintendo itself. They’ve always had a handheld and a home console, since the NES and the Game Boy in the eighties; now they’ve married the two so successfully, I can’t see them separating. And nor should they.

Have better graphics: I mean, this is a given, right? The Steam Deck can run almost every PC game you throw at it with a form factor not much larger than the Switch; sure, it’s not exactly a current-gen console in terms of visual quality (and, being a PC, means performance can be variable), but it proves that Nintendo can deliver much greater visual fidelity in a next-gen Switch. I’d hope they’d be able to produce a 4K output when docked, even though I imagine stuff like ray-tracing is off the cards.

Have an SSD: I can’t remember what the “leaked” specs were saying about this, but one of the things that puts me off using the Switch is my impatience when it’s loading. Animal Crossing in particular is a game that just feels like it takes forever to boot up. With all the other consoles, and most modern PCs, all sporting lightning-quick SSDs, Nintendo really needs to adopt the technology.

Be fully backwards-compatible: we’re increasingly moving into an era where we want to keep our game library active; the idea of a generation ending and a new one beginning with no crossover is probably gone for good. So I think Nintendo has to allow us to play current-gen Switch games on their next console; this means our existing digital library crosses over, and also that we can plug in all our Switch game cards and jump back in. To be fair, Nintendo is usually pretty good in this area, and rumours are the new Switch will be no different.

…and make old games look better: tied into being backwards compatible, I’d like to see something approaching the upscaling (and even frame rate-boosting) that contemporary consoles manage. Xbox especially is great in this area – even having one purchase of a game giving you access to (potentially) an Xbox One, Xbox Series X/S, and PC version. Regardless, the possibility of playing years-old games such as Breath of the Wild or Mario Kart 8 in 4K and 60fps is very appealing.

Give us better profiles: one thing that I love about Xbox (and PlayStation, and Steam, for that matter) is the way they handle user accounts. Nintendo has sign-ins and profiles, but they’re rudimentary; it feels almost like it’s just a way of keeping tabs on whose save is active. I’d love it if we could get much better Nintendo accounts, especially as they’re going to be carried across two generations of the Switch. Can we have cloud saves, so we can carry our Zelda progress to the new machine? What about leaderboards or stat tracking? What if – hear me out – we had some kind of Nintendo version of achievements or trophies? Basically I want to feel like “this is my identity in the Nintendo ecosystem”, if that makes sense.

…with some added bells and whistles: it’s pretty great, to be fair, that you already get access to older games from previous generations through your annual Nintendo subscription. But I’d like this to go further. PlayStation and especially Xbox give you loads of benefits from your subscription; obviously the biggie here is Game Pass, which gives you “free” access to brand-new games. Perhaps a selection of relatively recent “classic” games could be incorporated into the “Expansion Pack” subscription? Or at the very least, bring GameCube-era games to the service. I’d also, personally, like it if they ventured into streaming; maybe we don’t need to install those old NES and SNES games to play them? Other perks – discounts at the store, for example – would be really nice too.

Make the touchscreen more useful: the Switch touchscreen is all well and good, but generally speaking it’s only useful to navigate the dashboard or type your credit card number into the store. Having some kind of system-level “touching the screen is equivalent to pressing A” would be useful, at the very least in menus (tapping the screen rather than navigating with the sticks). More games that really made use of the touchscreen would be good, especially in strategy games. But what would really be impressive is if they could replicate the “virtual controller” that Xbox have when streaming on mobile – with the sticks and buttons replicated on screen – even though I guess it’d be a rare occasion when you’d be playing without the Joy Cons attached.

Improve the Joy Cons: speaking of which – they’re a bit flaky, aren’t they? The whole technological concept of the Switch, with its removable controllers that contain a whole lot of gubbins, is still impressive; but if there’s a weak link, it’s definitely the Joy Cons. Tiny and prone to breaking (and with “stick drift” seemingly inevitable), they’re also fiddly to get on and off. Making them physically more robust, perhaps a bit larger if possible, and tweaking the removal/reattachment process would all be very nice decisions.

Don’t call it the “Switch 2”: yeah, that’s a really boring name. Only Sony can get away with that stuff without it seeming derivative or uninspired. Personally I’m in favour of “Super Switch”, but I’m a nineties kid. Ultra Switch? Switch Pro? You want it to feel like a proper generational leap; I always felt Wii U, and the console’s close physical similarity to its predecessor, made it feel more like an add-on than a replacement. It’d be cool if they could think of a name that echoed its predecessor without adding a suffix, although I’m stumped trying to think of an example. “Switcheroo”?

There ya go. Ten things I’d like to see. Other ideas bubbling under: USB disc drive to allow direct compatibility with GameCube, Wii, and Wii U games; bringing back the Wii Fit balance board; and having video apps such as iPlayer and Netflix.

Anyway, can’t wait to find out exactly what it is, what it’s called, and what it costs.

#top ten #games #gaming #nintendo #console #nes #snes #gamecube #wii #switch #switch 2 #new switch

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sensenoi · 5 years ago

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Rating Every Single Name of the Wind Cover

Why? Because I can. I am not a graphic designer, just a person with opinions.

Criteria for consideration: Must be a cover in a published edition of The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Hardcover, paperback, and ebook are all fair game, as are foreign language editions. Some editions reuse the same cover art, in which case I only rate one cover. Some editions modify cover art from another edition. If the differences are substantial, I’ll rate both.

Kindle March 2007 Edition

Ah, the famous shirtless redhead cover. This cover is a bit infamous in the fandom for being both bad and cringey. This is not good art. It’s cheesy. The shirtless aspect is silly, and the windswept hair is so windswept, you’d think Kvothe was in a tornado. Nice balance with the title and author text, although it looks like the title and author text are slightly off center.

3/10

Hardcover April 2007 Edition This is just a zoomed in crop of the above cover, which is a little lazy. It does make for a better cover image, except the creepy goat man bust has nothing to do with the plot of Name of the Wind. So I suppose they cancel out.

3/10

Mass Market Paperback April 2009 Edition

I despise this cover. It’s a lazy design, and the photo manipulation is terrible. Points I guess for good title text placement. But the photo manipulation is so! So! Bad! This is also the start of the trend of a hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer staring out into the void. It is a bad trend.

2/10

Paperback UK June 2008 Edition

We’re still with the hooded, cloaked figure, but at least he’s facing front this time. I like the embellishment on the ‘W’ in the title text, although it gets a little pumpkin viney. Overall, it’s an ok cover. It doesn’t make me cringe, but it doesn’t grab the viewer’s interest, either.

4/10

Paperback Spanish May 2009 Edition

Same image as the previous cover, but this one is uncropped and has a different plant border. I’m not sure how successful the changes are. On the one hand, shrinking the image of the figure makes the figure look more mysterious, which is good. But on the other hand, this is a bad plant border. I thought there was some corn on the right side for a minute.

4/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary October 2017 Edition

10th Anniversary edition got fancy, and it shows. I love the ruin influence in the title text, which is a great callback to the use of ruins in the novel and also a more creative and unexpected choice than making the title text leafy. That being said, the “of the” in the title text is very oddly formatted and doesn’t fit the style. The cover illustration is pretty great, with lots of symbolism for old fans while still maintaining visual interest for new readers who are browsing and happen to pick the book up. The Cinder statue is delightfully creepy and much more relevant to the novel than the dumb pan statue from the earlier cover.

9/10

Paperback Turkish March 2007 Edition

Another trend starting here: Cloaked figure staring out at a city in the distance. I like the painting, at least what I can see of it. I find the choice to crop out most of the painting really bizarre. Is this supposed to be a telescope we’re looking through? And the leaves look like lily pads. The title and author text leaf embellishments are quite nice here, but I don’t know why there’s a metallic color shift. Overall, a poor use of space.

4/10

Hardcover German March 2007 Edition

Oh look! A cloaked figure staring at a city. What a surprise. I rather like the title text design, which is pretty creative and a good way to make the title visually appealing. I wish the city in the painting weren’t so damn faded and distant – I think it’s a mistake to keep the visual focus on the figure exclusively and only hint at the city beyond.

6/10

Paperback Portuguese September 2009 Edition

This cover is terrible. I would say the worst, but there’s more still to come. Anyways, this is incredibly bad. We’re once again with the hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer, which is a lazy and uninteresting pose. The image is badly photoshopped and looks like an alternate movie poster for The Blair Witch Project. There’s nothing interesting about the image, nothing that interests the viewer. The title font isn’t boring, I guess. That’s the only good thing I have to say about this. 1/10

Paperback Portuguese July 2009 Edition

Still another cloaked figure staring off at a distant city, but this is one my favorite versions of this trope. The city is far enough in the middle distance that the figure is the main focus, but we can still see enough of the city to see that it’s cool looking. I’m glad to see the bridge from the books, which is a nice detail. The title text does a good job of filling in the empty space of the painting without crowding the other elements.

9/10

Paperback French November 2009 Edition

This is the same cover image as before, but it’s been cropped so that the figure is centered. I don’t like the change – the balance is better when the figure is off center. Also, the title text is way too big and dominates, which is unfortunate because the Spanish cover had such a lovely balance throughout. 7/10

Hardcover Dutch July 2007 Edition

Yet. Another. Hooded figure. Staring. At a city. Wow. This one has a tree, at least. The image is… fine? I might be kinder to it if I hadn’t seen several better iterations of this right before. Because so much of the image is shrouded in fog, there’s very little to go on in terms of visual interest. And while I don’t mind the shadowed, muted color scheme, it also means that there’s very little to distinguish the cloaked figure and make him intriguing. The shadow initials behind the title text is horrific and obscures the title somewhat, so docking a couple of points for that. 5/10

Hardcover UK January 2017 Edition

Ahahahaha. This looks like the My Neighbor Totoro edition of Name of the Wind. It’s very silly and lighthearted, but wholly inappropriate for a book whose reading level is above first grade. If this was a kid’s book, I’d give it full marks. But Name of the Wind is very much for adults, and this cover is way too young and childish.

1/10

Paperback Polish August 2008

YIKES. I cannot figure out which scene or location from the book this image is trying to evoke, which makes me think the cover artist did not have the book or a text excerpt to work from. What the hell are those weird horse skulls? Why is this taking place in a desert? Why is the texture so bad? So many questions. And the effect on the title text is bad.

0/10 YES WE CAN GO LOWER THAN 1

Hardcover Russian 2010 Edition

This looks like the cover to a Dungeons and Dragons manual. I suppose that’s supposed to be from the Dracchus scene with Denna, but the image doesn’t look quite right for Name of the Wind. It’s just so generic fantasy. I also don’t like how the image is cropped top and bottom to make way for a very generic marble background. Still, the image is colorful and exciting, even if it could be the cover for any fantasy novel ever.

5/10

Paperback UK 2011 Edition

What the FUCK happened here? Who let this shit happen?

-10/10

Hardcover Finnish August 2010 Edition

Ooooh, more Miyazaki fanart! This is actually quite lovely, and it fits the tone of the books much better than the kids book cover from before. I love how soft and gentle the painting is. Notice the color balance. I don’t know if this cover really ‘grabs’ you or draws interest, but it’s one of my favorites of the bunch.

10/10

Paperback Bulgarian October 2010 Edition

I reserve the right to change my opinion later, but this may be the worst contender in the cloaked and hooded figure from behind category. I actually had to double check that this wasn’t a reused image from the mass market paperback edition, but nope! This is a brand new cover image, and it’s absolute shit. The lighting is so dark it’s impossible to make out details, the balance is way off, and the cover and title text are placed over the figure (aka the only object of interest) instead of the boring, generic storm clouds.

0/10

Hardcover Lithuanian 2011 Edition

YIKES times two. This cover art is truly awful in ways I didn’t know could still happen. Kvothe’s face looks ‘off’ because the facial proportions are all wrong. The blue mystical katana is bizarre because there’s no magical sword, much less a katana, in the story. And is that a photo of Stonehenge in the background? With yet another hooded figure?! I do like the gold foil of the title and the golden dragon embellishment, but the rest of this is such shit.

0/10

Paperback Serbian February 2011

And we’re back in the safe territory of a cloaked figure staring off at a distant city! All these covers are starting to run together, but this is a new cover art. It just looks like all the others. Once again, it’s fine. The city is a little too distant and greyed out to hold interest, and the figure is kind of generic.

5/10

Paperback Italian 2008 Edition

I do not know what happened here. Who is this figure supposed to be? I cannot for the life of me figure out which character this is. It’s a shame, because it’s well-done art with a cool character and costume design. The title and author text obscure the image, though, and the shadow on the text is so extreme it’s hilarious.

0/10

Hardcover Hungarian 2009 Edition

This is just boring. There’s no information conveyed here, nothing interesting or arresting to attract the viewer’s attention. The translucent overlay on the title is an odd choice.

2/10

Paperback Persian 2016 Edition

I believe this was originally a fanart of Kvothe (correct me if I’m wrong please), but it’s a good one. The tree shadow in the back is distracting and obscures the handle of the lute on his back, though. I wish there was more here – it feels very spare in an unintentional way.

6/10

Hardcover Georgian 2016 Edition

Cloaked and hooded figure staring off into the distance, check. I’m not crazy about this one – the art is very soft in a blurred kind of way, and it reads as a little humdrum. The tower in the distance is quite dull – it looks like a modern office building.

4/10

Hardcover Italian October 2016 Edition

The title text is a little too high – I don’t like how it covers the figure’s chin. It’s not a bad idea to make Kvothe’s green eyes a focal point, and it’s certainly more of an original idea than most of these covers have shown. But the muted color pallete drags the whole mood down. It’s not evocative, just kind of damp.

5/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary French November 2019

I LOVE this cover. It’s gorgeous. I love the gold foil, love the text, love the clouds. It’s stunning and timeless. Amazing.

10/10

Hardcover Latvian October 2013 Edition

It’s a cloaked figure with a city in the distance, but he’s NOT looking at the city! What!! I’m rather surprised at how few covers feature Kvothe actually playing the lute – this may be the only one, actually. I don’t like the bottom fade, and I think the design is a little generic fantasy. But it’s a nice balance, and the title text is fancy and eye-catching.

7/10

Paperback Polish 2017 Edition

This cover artist also clearly wasn’t working off an excerpt from the book. The character design is so off and unlike Kvothe, except for the cloak. Wall texture looks like a photo manipulation, which is cheap. This whole thing is bad.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2015 Edition

What is with the Stonehenge imagery? And why is that guy floating off of Stonehenge in a modern hoodie? Why is that one leaf in the top right so huge? Why is the title text red and difficult to read? At least there’s a broken lute, I guess.

1/10

Paperback Chinese May 2012 Edition

This is incredibly lazy and the photoshop job is terrible and generic. Zero effort was put into this cover.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2011 Edition

I’ve been pretty harsh on Russia, mostly because the Russian covers have been terrible. This is ok-ish. It’s very generic fantasy, and the castle looks like Hogwarts. But it has visual interest, even if the title text color is garish.

2/10

Japanese 2017 Edition

I quite love that they turned Kvothe into an anime character. And he’s doing stuff, too, and not just staring out into the middle distance. There’s so much imagery of the broken lute in these covers, so it’s refreshing to see the other part of this scene – when Kvothe loses his shit and finally calls the name of the wind. Fun cover, good artwork. The red title text works here because it matches Kvothe’s hair.

9/10

WORST:

BEST:

#The name of the wind #kingkiller chronicle #patrick rothfuss #book cover art #books #apologies for poor image quality i was working with what god and goodreads gave me #which was variable image quality i guess #I've been told I'm very judgemental so I decided to put those judgey skills to good use

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spicebiter · 3 years ago

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I'm finally watching the Cube sequels (also was very excited to learn there was an overseas remake made last year, i had no idea) and I'm finding that my issue with Hypercube so far, aside from the relatively unimpressive acting on many parts, is that it's attempting in some ways to grasp the original concepts presented in the first film while also trying to 'improve' on the cube and it's functionality in ways that are unnecessary and overblown.

I went into things knowing that the general consensus is that this movie doesn't match up at all to the first in terms of quality. I still have to admit I'm impressed with how much it fails to *actually* impress me. The introduction of Izon and a slew of fictional physicists and hackers only adds to the frankly unpredictable rush of developments in dangers this version of the cube presents. We've jumped wildly from the plausible version of the cube- while large and unknown in origin, this creation works in ways that can happen theoretically and is realistic in scale given the correct location to build it- to a version of the cube that's unprecedented in scope: The place is infinite in possible size and relies on completely theoretical math and ideas and puts them to use unrealistically at that (in a 'hypercube' of possibly infinite size, based on how everything else works, it doesn't make as much sense that you could ever come to the same room someone else has, let alone that only after an hour into the movie do they find rooms that contain their own traps and things such as variable time speed as it's implied they spend nearly a day or so by the time it comes to pass. Arguably this is solved by the 'shrinking' of the cube but it's really not as when this is shown as a concept multiple rooms meld together but not all the things from multiple rooms do so nor does this appear to be the case elsewhere, only in the room Kate and Sasha end in which would be a very weird coincidence if it weren't kinda lazy instead), things such as the strange shape that grew from nothing without any precedent and didn't appear to have any clear pattern until the moment it did right before it disappeared, and the multiple realities that develop without an apparent trigger, and even still the 'implosion' of the cube as a concept not making any sense as there's nothing at least I'm aware of that would make this both possible and stable (in the sense that it functions as intended) in the first place and yet keep it constantly (theoretically) imploding on itself.

There's also the point that they set up similar character archetypes from the first movie to the next, removing a lot of possibilities for characters to have their own identities. Simon is nearly identical to Quentin in the course of his actions and their degradation, Max is your standard nerd a la Leaven, Sasha is the stand-in for Kazan as the exceptionally smart but otherwise impaired character, Kate is Holloway the bleeding heart and doctor, and I suppose Worth would be Jerry in how he created something for the cube but never truly knew the scope.

Spoilers for the ending, i suppose, but the reveal of Kate being an agent for Izon once she (alone) leaves the cube is... troubling. Not because of the obvious fact that who would suspect it but also because it makes no fucking sense. Bear with me: Kate is hired by Izon to enter the hypercube to locate Sasha (revealed later on to be a hacker who fled into the cube with information about Izon that is Not Great for their public image, moreso than being a weapons manufacturer is, i GUESS) and tasked to retrieve Sasha's necklace which contains the pertinent information on these goings-on. However, upon entering the hypercube Kate appears to remember nothing. It is possible that she is an exceptional actress as would be indicated by the fact that she takes Sasha's necklace without Sasha herself indicating that anything is stored on the pendent but i personally find that that makes little sense. Sasha is blind and at a severe disadvantage within the cube as evidenced by the fact that she has to be guided to move from room to room and even climb the ladders. Even for a person with no skill at fighting in any way it wouldn't be hard to just take her necklace and run. Pretending to befriend Sasha up until the end, as shown in some parallel timelines by the fact that their corpses are together and resting in comforting positions, isn't prudent for an operation such as this. Even considering the possibility of Sasha running into other versions of Kate and distrusting them, there is equal if not greater possibility of this not being an issue at all especially if she only took the necklace and never spoke or indicated who she was to any extent as Sasha is still blind and wouldn't know the difference. AGAIN there is the possibility that this did occur in some timeline but the whole thing is stupid anyway. Despite time working strangely and not making any sense in general to the point of extensive time spent in a room where things are sped up resulting in the rapid death and decomposition of two characters, all watches still line up to the same time and the cube implodes at the exact time it is meant to. I'm not a theoretical mathematician or physicist but something about this doesn't seem plausible once you start to parse it out, time both being perfectly in line with reality across realities but also moving in ways that are out of the ordinary and would put you outside of the presented time. If it weren't for the fact that there is shown to be time and reality altering qualities to the cube I would be satisfied with the answer of it all existing in a vacuum, but that's not the case.

I could give this film the benefit of the doubt on all of it's time and reality fuckery and all in all it still wouldn't amount to a good film anyway. The science is too complex and theoretical and there's too many theories and assumptions at work, as well as the really wild idea of saying 'a collapsing tesseract will grow beams of idk some goo that will take your head off or a wall of the same that will burn you up or just ehhhh make a weird growing mini tesseract inside itself that responds to your movement and shreds you and will appear only once for no apparent reason?' with your whole chest and making a movie with all that. It also hamfists the same concept of capitalism, the military industrial complex, and anyone with too much money or unfounded power making the lives of anyone just trying to get by miserable by creating an in universe villain to point fingers at and call the big evil because apparently the concept of 'society as it is today is killing everyone slowly and singling out some to kill faster for whatever reason it sees fit for the day' just wasn't terrifying enough alongside being trapped in the murderdeath cube and you need a solid name for your horror to really be scared of it. I'm positively dead on my feet over the fact that the original cube was a hulking monstrosity of a mechanical engineering marvel, too large to ignore and very difficult to ignore in its machinations even from a distance within the structure, making it the most tasty fucking metaphor for the machine of society and the way things Work while also putting the idea down to its most base of elements. And this one is a tesseract because well... just lookit it. Ain't it neat with all it's... dimensions... and murderous qualities...

Add on the cgi that's far too ambitious for what it tries to accomplish, a drained aesthetic even going up against the original and all the cube's victims wearing the same uniform, and characters that mimic their symbolic predecessors but with far less grace than can truly be forgiven- not to mention Sasha's character as a whole being a travesty between her use of the r-slur while being disabled herself (wow she must be one of the good kind of disabled people, take notes audience: she can't see but she hates the disabled just like you!) and being completely helpless for the entire movie despite being some bigshot hacker and cyber warrior who's taken down stock markets and wars against the military industrial complex. Having conceivably been blind her entire life or even a long time you would think she'd have adapted to some extent (and also maybe wouldn't have entered a theoretical murder shape without a mobility device if not) and with everything else she would have some grace under pressure in some capacity. While Kazan is put down by the majority of characters in Cube only to be revealed to be the secret to their survival as a math whiz, at the very least he does serve some real purpose to the plot and it's underlying messages, while Cube 2 puts Sasha down as only the means to a bullshit ending (and beginning, having given Izon the tools to create the tesserect for some god forsaken reason) and then kills her as soon as her big reveal has come to pass and she's had her moment as anything other than 'the blind girl that's had to be guided this entire time just to survive'.

To summarize: Yet another piss poor excuse for a sequel and not worth your time unless you really like bullshit theoretical physics and math done poorly.

#cube #cube 2 hypercube #media talk #god but this was a disappointing one #*yells from the audience* you can't even parallel your characters correctly!#spiced #i refuse to put myself under a read more you read it all you scroll past or you unfollow me i do not compromise here #look at me go insane over a movie i didn't enjoy watching and revel in my disdain

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felassan · 5 years ago

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Insights into DAI’s development from Blood, Sweat, and Pixels

The book is by game industry journalist Jason Schreier (it’s an interesting read and well-written, I recommend it). This is the cliff notes version of the DAI chapter. This info isn’t new as the book is from 2017 (I finally got around to buying it). Some insight into DAO, DA2 and cancelled DA projects is also given. Cut for length.

BW hoped that DA would become the LotR of video games. DAO’s development was “a hellish seven-year slog”

The DAI team are compared to a chaotic “pirate ship”, which is what they called themselves internally. “It’ll get where it needs to go, but it’s going to go all over the place. Sail over here. Drink some rum. Go over here. Do something else. That’s how Mark Darrah likes to run his team.” An alternative take from someone else who worked on the game: “It was compared to a pirate ship because it was chaotic and the loudest voice in the room usually set the direction. I think they smartly adopted the name and morphed it into something better.”

A game about the Inquisition and the large-scale political conflicts it solves across Thedas, where the PC was the Inquisitor, was originally the vision for ‘DA2′. Plans had to change when SW:TOR’s development kept stalling and slipping. Frustrated EA execs wanted a new product from BW to bolster quarterly sales targets, and decided that DA would have to fill the gap. BW agreed to deliver DA2 within 16 months. “Basically, DA2 exists to fill that hole. That was the inception. It was always intended to be a game made to fit in that”

BW wanted to call it DA: Exodus, but EA’s marketing execs insisted on DA2, no matter what that name implied

DAO’s scope (Origin stories, that amount of big areas, variables, reactivity) was just not doable in a year, even if everyone worked overtime. To solve this problem, BW shelved the Inquisition idea and made a risky call: DA2 would be set in one city over time, allowing locations to be recycled and months to be shaved off dev time. They also axed DAO features like customizing party members’ equipment. These were the best calls they were able to make on a tight line

Many at BW are still proud of DA2. Those that worked on it grew closer from all being in it together

In certain dark accounting corners of EA, despite fan response to DA2 and its lower sales compared to DAO, DA2 is considered a wild success

By summer 2011 BW decided to cancel DA2′s expansion Exalted March in favor of a totally new game. They needed to get away from the stigma of DA2, reboot the franchise and show they could make triple-A quality good games.

DAI was going to be the most ambitious game BW had ever made and had a lot to prove (that BW could return to form, that EA wasn’t crippling the studio, that BW could make an ‘open-world’ RPG with big environments). There was a bit of a tone around the industry that there were essentially 2 tiers of BW, the ME team and then everyone else, and the DA team had a scrappy desire to fight back against that

DAI was behind schedule early on due to unfamiliar new technology; the new engine Frostbite was very technically challenging and required more work than anyone had expected. Even before finishing DA2 BW were looking for a new engine for the next game. Eclipse was creaky, obsolete, not fully-featured, graphically lacking. The ME team used Unreal, which made inter-team collab difficult. “Our tech strategy was just a mess. Every time we’d start a new game, people would say, ‘Oh, we should just pick a new engine’.”

After meeting with an EA exec BW decided on Frostbite. Nobody had ever used it to make an RPG, but EA owned FB dev studio DICE, and the engine was powerful and had good graphic capabilities & visual effects. If BW started making all its games on FB, it could share tech with sister studios and borrow tools when they learned cool new tricks.

For a while they worked on a prototype called Blackfoot, to get a feel for FB and to make a free-to-play DA MP game. It fizzled as the team was too small, which doesn’t lend itself well to working with FB, and was cancelled

BW resurfaced the old Inquisition idea. What might a DA3 look like on FB? Their plan by 2012 was to make an open-world RPG heavily inspired by Skyrim that hit all the beats DA2 couldn’t. “My secret mission was to shock and awe the players with the massive amounts of content.” People complained there wasn’t enough in DA2. “At the end of DAI, I actually want people to go, ‘Oh god, not [another] level’.”

It was originally called Dragon Age 3: Inquisition

BW wanted to launch on next-gen consoles only but EA’s profit forecasters were caught up in the rise of iPad and iPhone gaming and were worried the next-gen consoles wouldn’t sell well. As a safeguard EA insist it also ship on current-gen. Most games at that time followed this strategy. Shipping on 5 platforms at once would be a first for BW

Ambitions were piling up. This was to be BW’s first 3D open-world game, and their first game on Frostbite, an engine that had never been used to make RPGs. It needed to be made in roughly two years, it needed to ship on 5 platforms, and, oh yeah, it needed to restore the reputation of a studio that had been beaten up pretty badly. “Basically we had to do new consoles, a new engine, new gameplay, build the hugest game that we’ve ever made, and build it to a higher standard than we ever did. With tools that don’t exist.”

FB didn’t have RPG stats, a visible PC, spells, save systems, a party of 4 people, the same kind of cutscenes etc and couldn’t create any of those things. BW had to create these on top of it. BW initially underestimated how much work this would be. BW were the FB guinea pigs. Early on in DAI’s development, even the most basic tasks were excruciating, and this impacted even fundamental aspects of game design and dev. When FB’s tools did function they were finicky and difficult. DICE’s team supported them but had limited resources and were 8 hours ahead. Since creating new content in FB was so difficult, trying to evaluate its quality became impossible. FB engine updates made things even more challenging. After every one, BW had to manually merge and test it; this was debilitating, and there were times when the build didn’t work for a month or was really unstable.

Meanwhile the art department were having a blast. FB was great for big beautiful environments. For months they made as much as possible, taking educated guesses when they didn’t know yet what the designers needed. “For a long time there was a joke on the project that we’d made a fantastic-looking screenshot generator, because you could walk around these levels with nothing to do. You could take great pictures.”

The concept of DAI as open-world was stymying the story/writers and gameplay/designers teams. What were players going to do in these big landscapes? How could BW ensure exploring remained fun after many hours? Their teams didn’t have time for system designers to envision, iterate and test a good “core gameplay loop” (quests, encounters, activities etc). FB wouldn’t allow it. Designers couldn’t test new ideas or answer questions because basic features were missing or didn’t exist yet.

EA’s CEO told BW they should have the ability to ride dragons and that this would make DAI sell 10 million copies. BW didn’t take this idea very seriously

BW had an abstract idea that the player would roam the world solving problems and building up power or influence they could use. But how would that look/work like in-game? This could have used refinement and testing but instead they decided to build some levels and hope they could figure it out as they went.

One day in late 2012, after a year of strained development on DAI, Mark Darrah asked Mike Laidlaw to go to lunch. “We’re walking out to his car,” Laidlaw said, “and I think he might have had a bit of a script in his head. [Darrah] said, ‘All right, I don’t actually know how to approach this, so I’m just going to say it. On a scale of one to apocalyptic... how upset would you be if I said [the player] could be, I dunno, a Qunari Inquisitor?’”

Laidlaw was baffled. They’d decided that the player could be only a human in DAI. Adding other playable races like Darrah was asking for would mean they’d need to quadruple their budget for animation, voice acting, and scripting.

“I went, ‘I think we could make that work’,” Laidlaw said, asking Darrah if he could have more budget for dialogue.

Darrah answered that if Laidlaw could make playable races happen, he couldn’t just have more dialogue. He could have an entire year of production.

Laidlaw was thrilled. “Fuck yeah, OK,” he recalled saying.

MD had actually already realized at this point it’d be impossible to finish DAI in 2013. They needed at least a year’s delay and adding the other playable races was part of a plan/planned pitch to secure this. He was in the process of putting together a pitch to EA: let BW delay the game, and in exchange it’d be bigger and better that anyone at EA had envisioned. These new marketing points included playable races, mounts and a new tactical camera. If EA wouldn’t let them delay, they would have had to cut things. Going into that BW were confident but nervous, especially in the wake of EA’s recent turmoil where they’d just parted ways with their CEO and had recruited a new board member while they hunted for a new one. They didn’t know how the new board member would react, and the delay would affect EA’s projections for that fiscal year. Maybe it was the convincing pitch, or the exec turmoil, or the specter of DA2, or maybe EA didn’t like being called “The Worst Company in America”. Winning that award 2 years in a row had had a tangible impact on the execs and led to feisty internal meetings on how to repair EA’s image. Whatever the reasons, EA greenlit the delay.

The PAX Crestwood demo was beautiful but almost entirely fake. By fall 2013, BW had implemented many of FB’s ‘parts’, but still didn’t know what kind of ‘car’ they were making. ML and team scripted the PAX demo by hand, entirely based on what BW thought would be in the game. The level & art assets were real but the gameplay wasn’t. “Part of what we had to do is go out early and try to be transparent because of DA2. And just say, ‘Look, here, it’s the game, it’s running live, it’s at PAX.’ Because we wanted to make that statement that we’re here for fans.”

DA2 hung on the team like a shadow. There was insecurity, uncertainty, they had trouble sticking to one vision. Which DA2 things were due to the short dev time and which were bad calls? What stuff should they reinvent? There were debates over combat (DAO-style vs DA2-style) and arguments over how to populate the wilderness.

In the months after that demo, BW cut much of what they’d shown in it. Even small features went through many permutations. DAI had no proper preproduction phase (important for testing and discarding things), so leads were stretched thin and had to make impulsive decisions.

By the end of 2013, DAI had 200+ people working on it, and dozens of additional outsourced artists in Russia and China. Coordinating all the work across various departments was challenging and a full-time job for several people. At this sheer scale of game dev, there are many complexities and inter-dependencies. Work finally became significantly less tedious and more doable when BW and DICE added more features to FB. Time was running out though, and another delay was a no.

The team spent many hours in November and December piecing together a “narrative playable” version of the game to be the holiday period’s game build for BW staff to test that year. Feedback on the demo was bad. There were big complaints on story, that it didn’t make sense and was illogical. Originally the PC became Inquisitor and sealed the breach in the prologue, which removed a sense of urgency. In response the writers embarked on Operation Sledgehammer (breaking a bone to set it right), radically revising the entire first act.

The other big piece of negative feedback was that battles weren’t fun. Daniel Kading, who had recently joined BW and brought with him a rigorous new method for testing combat in games, went to BW leadership with a proposal: give him authority to open his own little lab with the other designers and call up the entire team for mandatory play sessions for test purposes. They agreed and he used this experiment to get test feedback and specifically pinpoint where problems were. Morale took a turn for the better that week, DK’s team made several tweaks, and through these sessions feedback ratings went from 1.2 to 8.8 four weeks later.

Many on the team wished they didn’t have to ship for old consoles (clunky, less powerful). BW leadership decided not to add features to the next-gen versions that wouldn’t be possible on the older ones, so that both versions of the game played the same. This limited things and meant the team had to find creative solutions. “I probably should’ve tried harder to kill [the last-gen] version of the game”, said Aaryn Flynn. In the end the next-gen consoles sold very well and only 10% of DAI sales were on last-gen.

“A lot of what we do is well-intentioned fakery,” said Patrick Weekes, pointing to a late quest called “Here Lies The Abyss”. “When you assault the fortress, you have a big cut scene that has a lot of Inquisition soldiers and a lot of Grey Wardens on the walls. And then anyone paying attention or looking for it as you’re fighting through the fortress will go, ‘Wow, I’m only actually fighting three to four guys at a time.’ Because in order for that to work [on old gen], you couldn’t have too many different character types on screen.”

Parts of DAI were still way behind schedule because it was so big and complex, and because some tools hadn’t started functioning until late on. Some basic features weren’t able to be implemented til the last minute (they were 8 months from ship before they could get all party members in the squad. At one point PW was playtesting to check if Iron Bull’s banter was firing, and realized there was no way to even recruit IB) and some flaws couldn’t be identified til the last few months. Trying to determine flow and pacing was rough.

They couldn’t disappoint fans again. They needed to take the time to revise and polish every aspect of DAI. “I think DAI is a direct response to DA2,” said Cameron Lee. “DAI was bigger than it needed to be. It had everything but the kitchen sink in it, to the point that we went too far... I think that having to deal with DA2 and the negative feedback we got on some parts of that was driving the team to want to put everything in and try to address every little problem or perceived problem.”

At this point they had 2 options: settle for an incomplete game, which would disappoint fans especially post-DA2, or crunch. They opted to crunch. It was the worst period of extended overtime in DAI’s development yet and was really rough: late nights, weekends, lost family time, 12-14 hour days, stress, mental health impacts.

During 2014′s crunch, they finally finished off features they wished they’d nailed down in year 1. They completed the Power (influence) system and added side quests, hidden treasures and puzzles. Things that weren’t working like destructible environments were promptly removed. The writers rewrote the prologue at least 6 times, but didn’t have enough time to pay such attention to the ending. Just a few months before launch pivotal features like jumping were added.

By summer BW had bumped back release by another 6 weeks for polish. DAI had about 99,000 bugs in it (qualitative and quantitative; things like “I was bored here” are a bug). “The number of bugs on an open-world game, I’ve never seen anything like it. But they’re all so easy to fix, so keep filing these bugs and we’ll keep fixing them.” For BW it was harder to discover them, and the QA team had to do creative experimentation and spend endless late nights testing things. PW would take builds home to let their 9 year old son play around. Their son was obsessed with mounting and dismounting the horse and accidentally discovered a bug where if you dismounted in the wrong place, all your companions’ gear would vanish. “It was because my son liked the horse so much more than anyone else ever had or will ever like the horse.”

MD had a knack for prioritizing which bugs should be fixed, like the one where you could get to inaccessible areas by jumping on Varric’s head. “Muscle memory is incredibly influential at this point. Through the hellfire which is game development, we’re forged into a unit, in that we know what everyone’s thinking and we understand everyone’s expectations.”

At launch they still didn’t have all their tools working, they only had their tools working enough.

DAI became the best-selling DA game, beating EA’s sales expectations in just a few weeks. If you look closely you can see the lingering remnants of its chaotic development, like the “garbage quests” in the Hinterlands. Some players didn’t realize they could leave the area and others got caught in a “weird, compulsive gratification loop”. Internet commentators rushed to blame “those damn lazy devs” but really, these were the natural consequences of DAI’s struggles. Maybe things would have been different if they’d miraculously received another year of dev time, or if they’d had years before starting development to build FB’s tools first.

“The challenge of the Hinterlands and what it represented to the opening 10 hours of DAI is exactly the struggle of learning to build open-world gameplay and mechanisms when you are a linear narrative story studio,” said Aaryn Flynn.

“DA2 was the product of a remarkable time-line challenge,” said Mike Laidlaw, “DAI was the product of a remarkable technical challenge. But it had enough time to cook, and as a result it was a much better game.”

Read the chapter for full details of course!

#dragon age #bioware #video games #SW:TOR #mass effect #I've seen plenty of this info discussed in articles/thinkpieces and on online communities over the years #but it's nice to read it first hand #some very insightful stuff here #these behind the scenes looks are very valuble #a lot of DAI's elements make sense given the context and what was going on in the background and the tech challenges they faced etc #be kind and respectful to devs folks they're human beings #also in general this book is really interesting and easy to read #funny in places too #it has lots of other chapters on lots of other games including Stardew Valley #I def recc buying it #anyway hope this post is useful/interesting to someone!#oh and as always support good treatment of game devs #crunch culture in the industry is harmful and exploitative

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kettle-on · 4 years ago

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This one did not go as well as I hoped, but then I always think that when I'm about to post a chapter.

If I knew how to write it, there could be optional smut at the end of this one, but I have zero confidence (or imagination) when it comes to that, so apologies but no, there's none here.

You'll just hafta make it up yourselves

(Still, this chapter does have one of my favourite little bits so far!)

attn: @jessm78 @coincidence-ithinknots-blog

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

“There’s something almost kingly about waking up alone,” declared John Cleese as he and Eric made their way to the morning room to start the day’s work. They had both set out early, Eric having slept quite poorly, perched atop his typewriter, and John unusually well-rested.

“The peace and privacy and space,” he continued, “Yes, I think it sets one up rather well for the day.”

“If you say so,” Eric abided with a small smile.

Before recently, Eric’s preference was to fall asleep with a girl beside him and by the time he’d wake up in the morning, she would be long gone. Thus went the final years of his previous marriage, rocky and uncommitted – his “asshole years” as he’d come to refer to them. As all things tend to do, marriage seemed like the right idea at the time, but the seductive adventure of fame was more than Eric had bargained for.

“How are things with you and Connie, anyway?” he asked his now strutting friend.

In fact, none of the visitors had seen any sign of John’s wife Connie Booth for months. The two had never been particularly candid about their relationship, but other than seeing her on the television in late-night repeats of Fawlty Towers (of which plans for a second series were now rumoured), she remained mostly unseen.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” said John with finality.

“Oh come on, John.”

“No. I’m not going to,” he repeated, stroking his mustache.

“Not even to advise your old pal?”

They had reached their destined room, and John set to work immediately rearranging the cushions on the sofas and armchairs.

“Eric, you’ve just spent Christmas in the West Indies with a beautiful woman. You don’t need my advice.”

“I just don’t want to mess up again,” Eric confessed heavily, plopping his curled copy of the script onto an end table. “All the shit from before. Is it really worth going through that again?”

“Why? God! Don’t tell me you’re marrying Lyn again,”

“No! No, obviously I mean Y/N.”

“And? She’s a very nice girl, so what’s the problem now?”

Eric was baffled, and searched his hands for an answer.

“Eric, every relationship is a new start,” John began, suddenly soulful. “Every marriage is a new set of conditions and variables. You know that. Y/N comes with entirely different features and functions, and even you - you’re different to what you were before. You’ll be different every time. Except for some things, of course. You’ll always be an ugly, greedy bastard with a smart mouth and no sense of occasion.”

“Cheers,”

“But you’ve come a long way - I’ll say that for you. Anyway, what does Y/N have to say?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

Raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin, John gave Eric his famously unimpressed face, “Well that’s your first problem. I can’t imagine what’s stopping you.”

“Can’t you?” asked Eric, looking up from under his fringe.

Against the wishes of the house staff, lunch was taken later in the day (“teatime” as Terry Jones insisted) on a folding picnic table on one of the many lawn areas around the lot. With the addition of a cotton table cloth and wooden bench seating, Mr. Brown the butler couldn’t refrain from voicing his distaste. Eric and Michael doubled up with charm to convince him to leave it be.

“See how nice it looks with the rhododendrons all around us!” Michael demonstrated.

“Yes, and you needn’t worry about the table cloth; I’ve pulled it off the bed,” added Eric in jest before abandoning Mr. Brown altogether, and they strutted arm-in-arm across the grass to join the others at the table.

Their camaraderie extended even as far as the last piece of fresh olive bread left in the basket. Sat side by side, Eric and Michael were mirror images, their arms reaching into the basket in the middle of the table, when their knuckles collided.

“Oh! Sorry - ”

“Sorry - ”

“You have it.”

“No no, please. Take it.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s yours.”

“Well, only if you don’t want it.”

“I do want it, but only if you’d rather not.”

“Oh, you have it then.”

“Don’t you want it?”

“Yes, but you - ”

They were cut short by Terry Gilliam’s arm of God reaching between them, grabbing the piece of bread, and aggressively gobbling it up.

Afternoon chat was considerably more relaxed and domestic than evening party topics. At this time of day, rockstars and millionaires turned into normal people who were content to discuss the shapes of teabags, and revisit childhood moments of blowing on a blade of grass between their thumbs to make it whistle.

Y/N felt most at ease here. She shifted slightly and propped her feet up on the bench opposite, next to Eric’s side, the table cloth gently covering her toes. Before long, she felt the familiar comfort of fingers around her ankles. Eric was always dutiful to show he was never out of reach.

He was already looking at her when she raised her gaze to him, and his smile grew. From time to time, they’d share a moment like this one - at home in each other’s eyes, unspoken declarations of attraction, of love and affection.

“What are you trying to send that’s costing you 8 dollars?” Eric’s voice cut their silent exchange as he cordially re-entered the table conversation.

Terry Jones seemed to be unsure as to how shocked he ought to be at a recent postal charge.

“Why not just hang on to it and take it back with you – it’s only another ten days,” suggested Eric.

“Well I’m hoping I’ll manage to forget about it, and it’ll be great surprise when I get home,” Terry just about managed to explain before his conviction crumbled into resigned chuckles.

Before long, plates emptied and glasses were refilled from water jugs and wine bottles. Across the table, Eric and Y/N’s eyes met again, exchanging a look of “let’s go be alone somewhere.”

Laying a small paper down on the table, Eric began to manufacture an expertly rolled spliff, and only then did Y/N notice… both of his hands were occupied, and yet her ankle was still being stroked. Shifting her eyes, she caught sight of Michael, peering over his glass at her with impatient eyes, his other hand out of sight. Noticing he’d been found out at last, he lifted his head in exaggerated confusion, darting around and attempting to look elsewhere. Despite herself, Y/N stifled a giggle.

“Coming?” Eric asked softly with a smile as he rose from the bench, and Y/N quickly withdrew her now tingling ankles.

The grounds at Heron Bay included paths perfect for meandering afternoon strolls without straying very far from the main house. This afternoon, Eric and Y/N chose the garden route, passing a tidy swimming pool, and over a small bridge toward the far end of the beach. Clasping hands, their arms swung gently between them as they walked.

“I wonder if I’ve taken enough photos of this place yet.” said Y/N when they stepped off of the bridge. “I don’t ever want to forget how beautiful it is, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember all the details.”

“We can always come back, you know,” said Eric. “I wouldn’t pass up another few weeks.

“What about you?” he asked and gently pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm around her back as if they were to start dancing. “Are you having a wonderful time?”

“Wonderful!” replied Y/N with a wide smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm!”

“You sure?”

His tone was not doubtful, but the slight furrowing of his gentle eyebrows showed concern. But what was he getting at? Was she not convincing?

“Well I… I guess I’m not really used to being away from home for so long. Especially not somewhere with table service, and a tennis court, and dinner with The Rolling Stones. It’s, um… it’s a lot. But it’s wonderful!”

They continued their stroll along the beach hand-in-hand as before. The mood was once again slow and easy and peaceful, though Eric seemed ever so slightly more pensive – a typical development when “partaking in grass,” as he liked to describe it.

“Have you been talking to Michael?” he asked suddenly.

“Michael?” Y/N repeated.

“He’s great with this sort of thing.”

What sort of thing? she wanted to ask. She still felt uneasy asking Eric to repeat himself or clarify something, as if querying him was proof that they were somehow not in sync like he believed they were. But hadn’t they just had a moment of silent connection earlier?

Stupid, silly girl. She smartened up. Just speak. But just as she opened her mouth, Eric spoke again.

“So have you fallen in love with him yet?”

“What?” Y/N was breathless.

“Everyone falls in love with Mike Palin at some point,” he explained with one of his cheekier smiles.

“I uh...” she faltered, whether from the suggestion or from Eric’s grin, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so, no.”

Eric took a long pull on his gradually disappearing joint and nodded.

“Give it time,” he said with confidence. “You’ll see.”

They soon came across a small secluded bower, lightly shaded by swaying trees that dotted the coastline. Here they would pause for a while, away from disturbance, with only the ocean to meet them.

Y/N sat between Eric’s long legs, his arms at either side of her, resting on his knees. She leaned back into his warm chest and he kissed her ear. It seemed like a long time since they had last been alone together – work on the film script had taken over the day time, and famous visitors kept their nights busy and bustling. Y/N pondered the photos she had already taken, and how even the best ones couldn’t capture this current bliss: the warmth of the sun and the ground, the waves hushing in the near distance, the earthy and fiery smell from Eric’s quality cannabis, and his long and loving limbs around her.

After several minutes of comforting silence, Eric spoke:

“So,” he blew out quickly, “what do you think about getting married?”

Y/N turned on her spot to look at him, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

“I think you’re a little too stoned to be proposing right now.”

“I don’t mea-…” he began, cutting himself off with laughter. “I’m not proposing, I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. I guess Ricky and Penny got me thinking, and… and I was just… thinking.”

Y/N kept a focus on him. He wasn’t used to stumbling over words, but now… what was she going to say?

“And I’m not stoned,” he managed to get out through breathy nervous laughter.

“Well, I think…” Y/N turned her gaze to the surrounding trees, and tried to consider her words carefully.

“I think a lot of people these days do it for the wrong reasons, or they think they have to. I look around and see so many marriages falling apart that it kind of takes the romance out of it.”

Eric gave another few nods as he took a final drag.

“If I get married,” said Y/N, “I’m going to have to really want to stay together, y’know? And not just give up when something gets tough. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“Well, there’s money,” suggested Eric sarcastically, and he stubbed out the remains of his joint on a nearby rock.

“Money…” Y/N repeated. She slowly turned to face him again.

“Yeah, marry for money, and then split with a nice settlement.”

“What a great idea,” she said, meeting his hazy expression.

“You think so?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, and her lips hovered above his. “Sounds sleazy. I like it.”

“Yeah, it suits you.”

They kissed slowly, with no rush or anticipation. Herbal sweetness lingered on Eric’s lips, and Y/N delighted in their soft encouragement.

“Hmm. So, how much money you got?” she asked with pretend seriousness, back to playing the game after their make out.

“Well…” he began. He spoke slowly but animated. “I’ve got… ninety-thousand pounds… in my pyjamas.”

“Oh yeah?” She knew where this was going.

“And I’ve got forty thousand French francs in my fridge…”

“Oh no,” she groaned and dropped her head onto his bony chest. Eric was infamous for bursting into song, particularly ones he was quite proud of having performed for Python.

“There is nothing quite as wonderful as money -,” he began the silly song, bouncing his knees and shoulders as he sang, and snaking his arms around her waist.

“Fuck off, you capitalist!” Y/N protested, though she couldn’t help her laughter.

She was only just able to silence him with kisses, but their shared laughter continued as they lay on the soft ground, rolled over together, and made themselves more comfortable for an afternoon romp.

#it's been pouring with cold rain here for weeks #so this fic is really becoming an escape for me #barbados fic #monty python fanfic #eric x michael x reader #eric idle fanfic #michael palin fanfic #jenny's writing

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appleandelder · 5 years ago

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Cooking with Cannabis

*Disclaimer: this is for adults in areas where it is legal to use cannabis. proceed at own risk, I am not responsible for what you do. thanks. links are to offsite articles*

Why make edibles?

Consuming cannabis through edibles allows one to enjoy her gifts without smoking, which is great for people with sensitivities ... when you want to keep your lungs strong in times of respiratory plague... to just simply enjoy in a different way, or to add a unique flavor to a special dish!

[Green Flower: Complete guide to edibles]

[Why do edibles give you a different high than smoking?]

[Read More: Fats and Cannabis]

Plant material

Choosing what kind of plant material to use to make an edible creation can depend on a few factors including availability, taste, potency, and utility. Obviously use whatever is accessible and affordable, but thankfully we are in the midst of the cannabis renaissance and a multitude of products are at the disposal of the cannabis chef. Flowers with an endless amounts of variable flavors, oils and resins, water soluble isolates, terpenes extracts, keif and hash, and more can grace the cannabis cooking cabinet.

Since a grower will have a superabundance of trimmings, looking to get the most their harvest, infusions, and extractions are usually made with the resinous leaves surrounding the flower that are cut before curing. For a more potent batch, full flowers might be employed.

If a quick infusion is needed it’s better to use oils or resin. Isolates and extracts of thc or cbd are used to help cut the cannabis flavor while distilled terpenes can be added to enhance it.

What recipie being prepared may also influence what material to use and might call for an infusion or not. Leaves, flowers, steams and even roots can be used for cooking!

*pro-tip: before decarb of green material soak for ten minutes or so in room temperature water to help extract chlorophyll, this will help cut the green taste...but let dry completely before adding to oil, the decarb process will help dry*

To decarb or not to decarb ?

Decarboxylation is highly recommended. This process exposes the cannabis material to heat activating the latent cannabinoid thc-a to the psychodelic delta9-thc. For the same reasons cannabis is smoked and not consumed raw, the heat is responsible for cannabis’ more potent qualities. Even hemp should be decarboxylated, converting cbd-a to the more active cbd.

One of the easiest ways to decarb: preheat oven to 240f with a mason jar inside. Once heated (wait like 15-20 mins after preheat is done, this allows for the oven to stabilize), load the warm mason jar with ground material or resin. Close it and leave it on its side in the oven for 60 mins shaking it around every 20. Once complete allow to cool in a closed jar and then add oil or butter (etc) right to jar for a one container extraction.

One may choose not to decarb: Old fashioned butter makers don’t do so and can still make a decent product, a recipe could decarb in the cooking process instead, the properties of thc-a may be desired, or one may want to focus on the flavor of cannabis and creating an integrated meal without it being overly intoxicating.

[Read More here]

Dosing

Dosing can be a confusing endeavour when it comes to making cannabis edibles. For more consistent results using resin extracts are more reliable, but there are ways to guesstimate what the dosage is when using cannabis flower or trimmings. Without proper testing, this is all just an estimation. Without a chemical analysis the amount of thc might not be known; however, it’s safe to assume that flower these days fall in the range of 15-20%, while trimmings having 8-15% depending on if fan leaves were taken out, keif would maybe be 50-75%. Figuring the exact amount of thc extracted from the cannabis plant material into the oil or butter is tricky, but always considering it 100% with allow a guess of the maximum dosage. A dispensary will reccomend 10 mg as a starter dose but someone with more tolerance can raise that threshold considerably.

Formula for approximately dosing edibles: Mg of plant material x %cannabinoid / amount of menstruum ... and then amount of infusion/serving of edible

So if I were to infuse 10 grams of cannabis that was 20% thc into 1 stick of butter (8 Tbs) and making 12 cookies: 1000mg x 20%thc = 200mg thc infused into 8 tbs butter would make each tablespoon about 25mg thc. My recipie for cookies takes 1/2 stick of butter and makes 8 servings so 100 mg (4 Tbs butter) / 8 cookies = approx 12.5 mg thc per each cookie.

It’s good to note that cannabis, when ingested, can take 45 minuets to 2 hours to take effect. Always start slow and be patient if using a new recipie. When making larger infused meals, pair with cbd to help mellow effects of thc.

[the Green Flower article above also talks about dosing]

Infusions

To infuse cannabis, soak plant material or resin in a solvent (fat or alcohol) exposed to heat for a considerable amount of time (2 hours - overnight or even 2 months for some tinctures). This is best done in a crockpot, but there are as numerous of infusion methods as there are cannabis chefs.

Butter, Clarified or Ghee, and Coconut oil are the most popular mediums for infusing cannabis into food. It is definitely the best for baking and making sweet confections. But butter has its savory applications as well and makes an easy addition to almost any recipe.

*Pro-tip: when infusing flower or leaf into hard butters/oils, add equal parts water, this helps trap chlorophyll and other less than palatable constituents. After straining plant material, slowly cool allowing water to separate and oil to harden. Discard dirty water and what’s left is a better tasting butter.*

Infusing cannabis into liquid oils, like olive or sesame, is great for dressings, marinades, and sauces. It’s important to remember thc is a volatile chemical and will start to degrade and vaporize at high temperatures. Unless the temperature is low keeping the oil below 350f*, it’s best to use oils not for cooking with but for adding flavor and potency to finished dishes.

*(it’s ok to bake at temperatures higher than 350f as long as food or oil does not exceed that temperature, just don't use oil for frying or sautéing)

Cream or milk is a classical method for extracting cannabinoids. The key here is using a milk high in fats (so avoid 1 or 2%, but maybe try coconut milk) and using a low heat, slow infusion, making sure not to scorch the milk. Bhang is a traditional Indian drink made from a cannabis milk infusion. Milk infusions can be added to coffees, teas, and other beverages, creamy soups, numerous desserts, or enjoyed on their own.

*Pro-tip: adding sunflower lectin in fat/oil infusions leads to a more potent edible. Read more [X]*

Alcohol is a convenient solvent for recipes that don’t include a fat source. Add cannabis tincture to beverages to enhance teas, sodas, cocktails, or even hot drinks. Use in recipes for: jelly, gummy candy, and lollipops. It can be added to a finished soup and even used in pie crust. A tincture made with activated (decarboxylated) cannabis will provide the most potency, but one made with fresh flowers can offer an array of intriguing flavors.

Using cannabis as an ingredient

Fan leaves that have no resin on them, and therefor are not psychoactive, make a great ingredient to add many dishes. Younger leaves are best as older ones can be bitter, but not terrible. They can be a substitute for spinach and are great sautéed with butter and garlic. Stuff cannabis leaves instead of grape. Leaves can also be enjoyed as a juice.

The stems and branches could be used to add flavor and fuel when smoking meats. A hemp smoked cheese would probably be amazing.

Flowers can be grated to accompany breadcrumbs or spiced streusel toppings, added to parmesan, but are best utilized in seasoning blends.

The roots are also edible and can be used to cook with, however I have no experience doing so.

In recipies and how to pair

When cooking with cannabis, the goals are either to mask or to compliment flavor. Thc and Cbd are inherently flavorless so the factor can be avoided all together using terpene free isolates or extracts and can be added to any dish without worry. However, for most cannabis cooking with involve some pairing of flavors.

The reason cannabis brownies are so popular is that the complex bittersweet flavor of chocolate is good to mask the flavors of cannabis, especially paired with fatty nuts. So chocolate based desserts are great for hiding cannabis infusions.

Pungent spices also help to cover cannabis flavor. Pair cannabis with ginger, cinnamon, clove, even spicy peppers, to overpower the cannabis taste.

Complimenting cannabis can be dependent on the strain but citrus along with floral and earthy herbs are all good to accompany cannabis cooking. Pair with lemon/lime, oranges, lemongrass, lavender, sage and rosemary, thyme, basils, oregano, and marjoram.

Considering terpenes in cannabis cooking is a great way to find what to pair and how to enhance effects. Each individual strain with offer an array of flavors that of effectively paired can creat a perfect cannabis recipe. Use ingredients that have similar terpenes as the cannabis strain or enhance the cannabis experience (like mango).

[Terpenes in herbs and spices]

[image source]

Floral and citrus strains make good dressings, desserts, and beverages; they pair well with fish, chicken, and rabbit. Musky and earthy strains are good for savory dishes, stews and soups, and chocolates; they pair well with red meats, mushrooms, and cheeses.

The possibilities of infusing cannabis into food is endless. Add to favorite recipes, create new ones inspired by the flower, or find a recipe in a cookbook below.

High Times’ Cannabis Cookbook [read here]

Bong Appétit: Mastering the Art of Cooking with Weed, a Cookbook, complied by the editors of Munchies

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In spiritual practice

The aspirants to initiation, and those who came to request prophetic dreams of the Gods, were prepared by a fast, more or less prolonged, after which they partook of meals expressly prepared; and also of mysterious drinks … in the mysteries of the Eleusinia. Different drugs were easily mixed up with the meats, or, introduced into the drinks, according to the state of mind or body into which it was necessary to throw the recipient, and the nature of the visions he was desirous of procuring.… Magicians have, in all ages, made use of similar secrets (Salverte, 1829/1849). - Excerpt from: Liber 420: Cannabis, Magickal Herbs and the Occult by Chris Bennett.

Set and setting are extremely important when approaching cannabis spirituality. Consuming a cannabis edible, especially after fasting, can result in a spirtual experience, but only if done with respect and in ritual manor. Cooking can become a ritual, or done in veneration to ancestors or deities. Dishes made with cannabis can be given as offerings and can be accepted as sacrafice. With correct set and setting, consumption of cannabis infused food and drink can assist in trance, bring visions, aid in communication with spirits. Just be sure to take the time for proper personal preparation and to create a space suitable for the venture.

For healing

Consuming cannabis and letting the body process the cannabinoids through the digestive system offers an array of benefits. I use to make vegan edibles for a friend who had asthma and could not smoke. I personally honor edibles for their effects on the body rather than the mind and are great after a long day on the farm.

Cannabis edibles can be extremely helpful for some people who suffer from a plethora of issues. Please consult a professional physician or herbalist who specializes in cannabis if looking to edibles for their medicinal value.

Recreationally

It’s fun to hold a cannabis dinner party and make elaborate infused meals (even just for one). Experiment with different infusion methods. Create different cannabis concoctions and explore new ways to utilize the plant. Cooking with cannabis is a fun interactive way to work with the plant and enjoy its effects for anyone interested.

*Enjoy Responsibly*

#4/20 #cooking with cannabis #cannabis #edibles #thc #cbd #terpenes #long post

154 notes · View notes

keeroo92 · 4 years ago

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch18

The Hunt

Word count - 5,487

Quick shout out to @just-another-art-dump for all her help with brainstorming and beta reading the last section. You are a goddess!

Warnings for violence, murder and some yummy spice. Enjoy!

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

--------

V blinked to clear away the sleepiness lingering in his mind. A thick haze of confusion gave him pause; did he have another episode? Where was he? He blinked again, forcing his eyes to focus on his surroundings.

The room was one he recognized instantly. Dark blue walls, posters of rock bands and action films tacked up in places. Splashes of light peeked past the old curtains hanging over a two-paned window. The familiar bookshelf, still messily stuffed with comics and tattoo books, right beside a small desk littered with needles, tubes and other accoutrements.

Nero’s bedroom, untouched since his death. His heart sank. Of all the places to find himself…

The artist took a shaky breath and tried to clear the cobwebs clinging to the rafters of his mind. Last he recalled, he was evading capture and bearing a fresh gunshot wound. Foggy, half-formed images danced in his memory of walking, lovely red on his hands and the hem of his pants, his own blood oozing lazily from his thigh.

As if thinking of it made it manifest, pain rocketed up his leg, fiery and unrelenting. He gasped and brought his hands to press the ache away. Was he still bleeding? How long had he been out? Panic teased at him for a beat before his palms registered the bandage and his missing pants.

What in the world…?

The pain slid into background noise as he carefully shifted his weight and sat up, panning his gaze until he found the culprit of his treatment.

Hot damn, how the hell did she find us?!

“Excellent question,” he croaked.

You weren’t awake yet, and faint streaks of scarlet coated your arms as if you tried to wash his blood off but gave up halfway. Hair a mess, clothing wrinkled and a hint of drool hanging from your lips, he’d never seen you so unkempt.

Good, she’s sleeping. Make a break for it, Van Gogh!

Blue feathers swept past his vision but vanished a heartbeat later. He licked his lips. “I doubt walking is wise for now, let alone ‘making a break for it.’”

Fine, but at least strangle her. She’ll only get in the way.

He rolled his eyes. “You do realize she probably saved my life, right?”

Well… I guess. Fine, don’t kill her but don’t let your guard down.

The artist hummed and Griffon made no further comment. Good enough.

He gritted his teeth and forced his aching body to move closer to you. Shadows hung beneath your eyes and he spotted the remains of yesterday’s makeup, nearly invisible with your hair draped over your cheek. He gently brushed it aside.

Your eyes shot open, instantly alert and aware. “You’re awake… How do you feel?”

“I’ve been better,” he replied with a wry grin. “I’ve also been worse.”

The bed rustled as you sat up and tucked your unruly hair behind your ears, a slight frown turning your lips. “Let me get you something for the pain, one sec.”

Once again summoned by his awareness, he winced as a bolt of agony pulsed up to his hip. By the time it faded, your palm held out two white tablets and a glass of water.

“Drink slowly,” you said. He obeyed.

An oddly heavy silence hung between you as he lowered the glass. Unspoken words, questions and answers alike searching for the right way to surface. None broke free from their cages of closed lips as you checked his pulse, your touch more medical than personal.

He hated it.

“How did you find me?” the artist blurted.

“You don’t remember? Follow with your eyes, not your head,” you replied, one finger drifting this way and that in his sight. He restrained the urge to bat it away. “You sent me a message.”

You goddamned idiot.

There was no arguing against the truth. He didn’t remember considering sending a message, let alone addressing it to you. It was a miracle it didn’t end up in the inbox of a stranger.

Still. You could’ve turned him in. After the way he fled your apartment, it would’ve made sense. He took another small sip of water.

“You came even after what happened. Why?”

The finger lowered. Lips pursed, you gave him an indecipherable look. He watched the wheels behind your hazel irises turn; toward what result, he couldn’t say. Regardless, he reveled in watching your intelligence at work.

“Do you remember what you said to my dad? That you loved me?”

His lips twitched. This didn’t bode well. “Yes.”

There, he spotted a twinge of uncertainty in your brow. Worry in the set of your mouth, vulnerability in the wideness of your eyes. “Did you mean it?”

I TOLD you that was a foolish idea.

Vergil’s words barely registered; V’s mind was already spinning, struggling to find an answer. At the time, he thought it was the best way to get your father to behave. By staking a claim to you, he established his willingness to defend you. He hadn’t considered whether the words held weight. The answer you wanted now was obvious, and to voice it would all but guarantee your allegiance. It was simple.

And yet so complicated.

Do I love her? What does love even mean?

Throughout history, love held innumerable definitions. The word was constantly evolving, shifting to encompass more variations than before. The greatest and most enduring tales ever told centered on it, and not a soul on earth could deny its influence. Monuments and cathedrals stood testament to its strength, and endless words written across the centuries praised or cursed its existence.

Love defined humanity.

Yet how could he know if this was it? What did romantic love feel like? How did one classify such an intangible concept? So many tried, and many more to come. Perhaps the nature of love was variable; why else would everyone have a different idea of what it meant?

Love, like art, must be subjective.

So what is it to me?

“I…” the artist murmured.

His path led the same way with or without you, but he preferred the former. When he knew you’d see the product of his work, its quality improved. You saturated his thoughts, scrawled your name across the walls of his mind with a messiness only doctors managed.

Your presence eased his nerves, and no other came close to matching your intellect. A worthy opponent for mind games and machinations, you never failed to amaze him with your ability to force his hand. You protected him and gave him shelter when he needed it most, and not once did you demand he change his methods. You respected his views. In time, you might even share them.

You challenged him, irritated him, turned him on and gave him hope that he may yet escape the cold embrace of loneliness.

And most of all, there was the inexplicable desire to answer your question with truth instead of manipulation. He didn’t want to tell you he meant what he said just to coerce you into being his. Surely that indicated something?

This isn’t a question I can answer in a single word.

V sighed and met your lovely eyes at last, his response as well-reasoned as he could manage. “I’m not sure. It’s… it’s difficult for me to care for someone, it’s been many years since I tried.”

He paused to lick his lips and assemble another sentence. The answer you wanted remained out of his reach, and he refused to give you the one that would serve his plans best. All he offered was the truth.

Even so, it stung to see the half-hidden disappointment on your face.

“But there’s something there I can’t explain. I just don’t understand the feeling, so I can’t name it,” he concluded. A chorus of pained groans echoed in his mind.

All you had to say was yes! What the hell is WRONG with you, do you want her to stick around or not?!

You sighed and shifted your weight. He didn’t dare to comment further.

“I think I understand. It… it scares me sometimes, but I can’t deny that I care about you anymore. I can’t keep hiding.”

V released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart was pounding, a giddy desire to laugh tickling his throat. Impulse took the reins, and he watched in wonder as his hand moved to take yours.

“You never have to hide again,” he whispered.

~~~~Waras~~~~

Something in his eyes hammered home his words. An earnest, unguardedness that you’d never seen before. Genuine gratitude and honesty, perhaps. You couldn’t look away.

You discarded thought and leaned in. Lips parted and heart hammering against your ribs, frenetic excitement stilling your breath as V did his best to match your movement.

The kiss was gentle, completely different from what you’d shared at the museum or in your apartment. The world melted away. It was just you and him, everything else was just color and noise, polluting the fragile bond you’d formed. Despite the lies and manipulation, past the tricks and mind games.

Somehow, like a miraculous seed sprouting in a rocky cliff face, love bloomed in a heart that had never known it.

When at last you pulled away, a lopsided smile curved V’s lips. The emerald pools of his eyes sparkled with genuine affection, and his palm refused to leave your cheek. You didn’t mind.

In fact, you wanted more.

You kissed him again, harder this time. Lips communicating without words your need, not just for contact but for understanding. Hunger and reckless desire danced across your mouth, your fingers grasping at his chest. You’d never know which of you moaned first; just that the sound sent you careening past the point of no return.

By the time you came up for air, you were helpless.

“Hold still,” you whispered. The artist licked his lips and nodded.

You wiggled off your jeans, panties tucked within. A soft gasp stroked your ego as you pulled off your top and carefully straddled him, his length hardening against your tingling folds. Gods, how you wanted to feel him deep within, feel his body arcing to meet yours as his voice gave out in a whirlwind of pleasure.

But that would have to wait. This time, he needed to let you do all the work.

“If you lift your hips, I’m getting off. Got it?”

His palms traced fire over your hips, blazing over your body as he smirked at you. Damn him, the smug bastard. “Doctor’s orders?”

You almost moaned at the husky tone he used. “Just say yes, damnit.”

His smirk vanished. Lithe fingers took hold of your ass and gently pulled, guiding you to envelop him one inch at a time. His brows met and his lips fell open, his face an expression of sheer perfection your imagination could never capture.

“Yes…” he murmured.

He fit perfectly, stretching you just enough without being painful. The ridge of his head pushed past your inner muscles and sent a shockwave of pleasure throughout your limbs. Your slick walls shuddered at the welcome fullness, embracing his heat like a long lost friend. Like he belonged there.

Like he was coming home.

For a moment, you didn’t move, wanting to memorize the feeling of being with him for the first time. A choice made many weeks past set your life on course to this exact moment, your every decision only bringing you closer. Two stars orbiting each other, closer and faster with each second as two became one in a fiery explosion that shook the heavens.

You smiled, hands snaking around his neck as you rolled your hips. Nerves sang as you moved, crying out in exultant joy. It was torture to move so slowly, such exquisite agony when all you wanted was to slam against his hips and feel his need splitting you in half.

Slick fluid coated him in seconds as you moved. Each movement pulled him deeper, deeper, deeper. Hot breath spilled from his lips, soft moans from yours. His hands gripped your hip bones, urging you to keep going, his muscles flexing to help you rise and fall, guiding you to impale yourself over and over.

Beads of sweat broke out across your back, but you paid them no mind. It was worth it to hear the man curse and gasp, his eyes hooded and skin flushed from your attention. The time would come for him to show you how he liked it, but for now you reveled in the power you held. It took all your strength to keep from bouncing recklessly.

But the artist was no passenger, and his grip shifted to tangle in your hair and drag your mouth to his for a searing kiss. His tongue danced a tango with yours, flicking and darting back and forth to torture you with his intoxicating taste. Whimpers flowed from your throat only for him to swallow.

Why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner?

The artist grinned against your needy lips, his lithe fingers lowering to tease at your core. Your body quivered as he lazily painted bliss over your aching bundle, as if you were his latest canvas. He spewed filth as he hunted for that perfect spot, his touch taunting you with ecstasy long before he struck gold.

“That’s it, right there, come on!” you gasped out, arcing back at the brink of ecstasy..

The artist obeyed, tugging you down again to suckle at your pulse. His lips were heaven on your throat, and his teeth nirvana when he blessed you with a nibble. It was too much and somehow not enough, never enough, never-

FUCK!

The world flashed blindingly white, searing your retinas as you crested. The cosmos raced by, the colors and shapes too beautiful to understand. Brilliance and beauty, a kaleidoscope of life. A silken voice moaned praise somewhere nearby, a wet tongue dancing over your chest between words. Losing control never felt so good.

Beneath your spasming body, V’s hips twitched. He sucked in a breath but the pulsing of his cock against your soaked core didn’t ease, his moans changing to a tone you weren’t familiar with. Lower and louder, more breathy in the grip of his orgasm, resonant and musical. You flexed around him, tightening as much as you could manage to feel every throb.

When at last he fell still, it took all your willpower to dismount and check his bandage for fresh blood. You’d rather have curled up at his side and revelled in the afterglow, but that would have to wait. This wasn’t a feel-good made for TV movie where the realities were tossed aside in the wake of a long-awaited union; life didn’t stop just because two people wanted it to.

If only it were that easy.

Thankfully, you didn’t find any cause for concern. A slight dribble, but already clotting. You made sure the wrapping was still tight and laid back, content for now as his slim arms wrapped around you.

His fingers stroked your hair, lazily pulling apart any tangles he found in the process. It was so peaceful, so normal to just lie there and forget the world, but you didn’t let yourself enjoy it for long. Reality wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, now what?” you asked. “We can’t stay in one place too long.”

V sighed, his fingers stilling. “Especially here; they’ll connect it to me far too easily.”

You rose on one arm, giving him a quizzical look. “Why?”

The artist closed his eyes. His jaw flexed and for a moment you feared you’d gone too far, pried too deeply without thinking, but you didn’t dare try to backpedal.

“This… this is Nero’s room,” he responded at last.

Oh. Oh, no…

There were no words to ease the tension his words brought. You knew full well the efforts he took in order to conceal his past, and here you were, invading it.

Minutes passed in utter silence. An apology lingered on your lips, but without knowing the full story it felt insincere. Not long ago, you would have spoken the words without thought, but now… Now you wanted to only say things you meant.

At last, V broke the stillness.

“We need to move. I’ll…” he paused, as if the words pained him. “I’ll need your help.”

“You have it,” you replied. No hesitation, no weighing of the pros and cons. If he needed you, you would be there.

“There’s only one way to guarantee we won’t be disturbed.”

You sighed, heart heavy but unwavering. “I know.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “There’s no going back after this.”

You almost laughed. “There’s already no going back.”

He hummed, satisfied. Yes, you knew exactly what he meant. The only way to make sure you found an unoccupied home…

Was to slay the homeowner.

~~~Nico~~~

Nico gritted her teeth as the flash of a camera blinded her yet again. She hated reporters. They just wanted sensationalist headlines, not actual facts and definitely not to calm the public.

If folks stayed calm, they wouldn’t sell papers.

Damned vultures.

“As I said, this is an ongoing investigation so there’s only so much I can say,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Next question.”

The clamoring turkeys all started shouting, arms lifted almost as an afterthought. She wanted to scream at them. “Yeah, you, in the front.”

A brown haired man smiled at her, his comrades falling still for a merciful moment. “Jim Kovelli, Red Grave Daily. How can citizens stay safe until you make an arrest?”

Finally, something she could actually answer. “Thanks, Jim. We strongly recommend people travel in groups of at least two, preferably three as we have reason to believe the killer has an accomplice. All the victims so far were alone when they were… uh…”

Shit! I’m not supposed to mention the victims, or the methods he’s used. We don’t want a copycat.

She struggled to find words. If she tried to start over, the frenzy would only worsen. The vultures knew blood was in the water and they didn’t know the meaning of mercy. Her heart pounded, desperation seeping through her mind. Saying the wrong thing here might get somebody killed. Why the fuck did the chief want her to talk to the press?

I’m nobody! It shoulda been someone more experienced up here.

A heavy tread approached, Tony coming to her rescue yet again. Damnit, this was her first press conference, and she botched it. Even though she knew she wasn’t the best person for the job, she’d wanted to do it well, earn a little respect. How was she gonna look her partner in the eye after this?

“Folks, this isn’t rocket science. Stay in groups, don’t go off with people you don’t know, and report any strange behavior immediately. If you see something, do not intervene but call the hotline. The killer and his accomplice are likely armed and considered extremely dangerous. Don’t be a hero. Next question, please.”

Nico hung her head and stepped back, letting Tony take her place at the podium. Her heart sank, and she sighed. This case was just… it was tearing her apart. She barely ate, and she couldn’t remember the last time she slept through the night. Even showering seemed like a distraction.

“Magda Dunham, Buzzfeed News. What can you tell us about the accomplice?”

Nico glared at the crowd of reporters. Didn’t they realize their incessant questions took time away from the real police work? It’s not like she could review Waras’ file during this charade.

Yet Tony gave a kind, calming smile, seemingly unfazed. How the hell did he do that, keep his face from showing how fucked the situation was? A law-abiding citizen, with no goddamn criminal record and a pristine reputation, now believed to be aiding a psycho killer. It was insane.

“While we can’t release any names yet, we have reason to believe a female is assisting the killer. She is intelligent and well versed in psychology, and may try manipulation tactics or coercion to get someone alone. Again, do not travel alone and be wary of strangers. Last question, guys,” her mentor replied.

A swarm of voices answered him, and he pointed to a face in the back. “Penny Slope, The Weekly. Is the psychiatric hospital going to close, or are you content to let killers stay in the city?”

Tony barely twitched. If she’d gotten that question, Nico knew she would have snapped. The hospital wasn’t the issue here; the killer was!

“We are never content to allow killers to roam our streets, and we won’t rest until our city is safe. All I can say about the psychiatric hospital specifically is that they’re implementing additional security measures and we’re working closely with their staff to make sure our friends and neighbors are protected. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have, though. Thank you all for coming out.”

The horde shouted more questions even as Nico and Tony stepped away. Flashes left her blinking, blinded and ready to smack someone if they got too close, but her partner had her back. His warm hand guided her inside the station and back to the conference room.

“You okay, kid?”

Her vision flared red. She was not a kid. Inexperienced, yes. But a kid?

“No. You know what, hell no! Those piss ants are just lookin’ for a headline, they don’t give a shit that people are dying! There’s a damned murderer out there and all they want is someone to blame! It pisses me off. Not to mention we know who the killer is, but for some reason we still can’t say his name or identify the doctor! It’s fucking bullshit! People need to know who to look for, right now all they’re gonna do is panic anytime someone sticks out!”

She slammed her fist against the table and growled, “And I ain’t no kid.”

Tony tossed his hat on the table and ruffled his hair. His face finally showed something other than a mask of composure, falling into exhaustion as he sat down and sighed.

“I know. You’re right.”

Nico’s jaw dropped. “Wh- what?”

Tired blue eyes met confused brown. “I said, you’re right. It is bullshit. I don’t know why the chief is pussy footing around on this. All I can say is that if you wanna stay on the case, you gotta do as you're told. Especially in the public eye.”

Nico’s rage evaporated at the defeated tone of her mentor’s voice. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “But how do you keep it together? How do you stay so calm when they’re asking you such dumbass questions?”

Tony shrugged. “We protect everyone. Even the idiots.”

The young brunette took her glasses off and stared into the lenses. All she wanted was to catch this guy, why couldn’t it just be that straightforward? The press, the people, office politics, it was all just a waste of time.

Hell, maybe if people stopped distracting her she’d have caught the fucker by now.

A warm weight settled on her shoulder. She glanced up at Tony, disheartened and desperate for any answers he could offer. “Hang in there, Nico. You’re a great cop. You just need to get the hang of the crappy part of the job.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Eventually, Tony wandered off and left her to her thoughts. His words helped, but she still wanted to punch somebody. Preferably, the god damned doctor.

I don’t just wanna catch V now. I gotta get her, too.

She picked up her glasses and stood, mind focused once again. She couldn’t give up, no way. A little more work and they’d be hers to arrest, her need for justice satiated at last. Giving up wasn’t an option.

~~~~Waras~~~~

Blood rushed in your ears. Sweat prickled the back of your neck, hidden under the dark hood of your sweatshirt. Cheerful music played on the grocery store’s speakers. It jangled against your nerves as you surveyed the shoppers, searching for a target that fit the parameters you and V agreed to.

Someone alone, preferably small. Not buying enough food for more than themselves. The less attention they pay to their surroundings, the better.

It was all happening so fast, you’d barely had a chance to wrap your head around it. For so long, you’d tried to blend in, tried to hide your deficiencies. The walls you built to protect yourself weren’t meant to crumble, but to last an age. You’d gotten so used to it, you almost forgot normalcy was an act.

But V broke through, first with a whisper and now with a shout. His voice grew louder each day, beckoning you out of your disguise. He was pollen and you were a bee. Madness was no cage to him - it was freedom. Regret held no sway, doubt and hesitation banished from his mind.

The prison you built for yourself was yours to shatter, and choosing a target was just one step closer.

There weren’t many people who suited your needs. An older woman browsing cat food, an awkward teenage boy peeking at condoms, or a person with no obvious gender looking at cereal.

You bit your lip and tried to slow your racing heart. With V’s injury, making the choice fell to you, as did leading the target to an isolated area. The artist hadn’t asked you to make the killing blow, but the end result was the same.

I’m taking part in murder.

The thought held a curious excitement. No fear or disgust, as you knew it should, but a desire to know more. You wanted to understand what it meant to kill, go through every stage of the process and analyze it, piece by piece.

There’s so much I want to know.

You grabbed a box of macaroni and added it to your cart. Not only were you tailing potential victims, you were also getting a few essentials. It helped you blend in, and who knew what you’d find in your victims home? You had to make sure V ate, to get his strength back and heal.

A jar of pasta sauce joined the macaroni. There wasn’t anything else in the aisle you needed, so you left and followed the cat lady toward checkout. Her cart was barren, save for dozens of tins and a bag of kibble. Did she eat cat food, too?

She was the obvious choice. The teenager browsing condoms probably had a girlfriend who’d miss him, and he was too young to be a homeowner. The non-conforming third option left too much to chance. You didn’t have enough information to know if they fit your needs. The cat lady held the least risk.

Step one complete. On to step two.

How do I get her to follow me behind the store to where V’s waiting?

You didn’t have long to decide. She was about to pay, her car keys already in her palm.

Lips pursed, you handed a twenty to the cashier ringing you up and quickly took your bags. Your target was mere seconds ahead of you. No more time to think; it was now or never. You took a deep breath.

“Excuse me, miss?” you began. She was a bit old to be called miss, but most women took it as a compliment. It might help break the ice.

She turned to face you, peering through her bifocals. “Yes?”

Your stomach churned. If you messed this up, you’d have to start over somewhere else, forcing V to travel when every step brought agony. He claimed it wasn’t bad, but you knew better.

“Sorry to bother you, but um… do you think you could help me? My friend lives in the apartments back there,” you paused to point at the cluster of buildings behind the shop. “And he says his cat just went into labor. He’s scared to move her, but he thinks she needs a vet and neither of us have a car! Can you maybe drive us, please?”

You bit your lip and tried to look desperate even as endorphins flooded your circulatory system.

“Of course! I couldn’t let the poor thing suffer,” she paused, glancing to the side. “But… well, with everything that’s been going on, I’m not comfortable going inside. Will you two be able to bring her down?”

You allowed your expression to collapse into relief. “Yes, thank you! Let me show you where to bring the car, it’ll be faster this way.”

“What’s your name, dear? I’m Margaret.”

“Emily. It’s nice to meet you, Margaret,” you replied, pausing just long enough to shake her withered hand. One foot already in the grave.

The woman nodded and followed without protest as you led her behind the shop. The area wasn’t well lit and shadows painted a sinister backdrop over the cold cement. V’s hiding place was just ahead.

“It’s dark back here… maybe we should stay on the main roads, just to be safe?” the woman said. Damn, she was more vigilant than you first thought. You didn’t slow.

“It’s just around the corner, I promise!”

She frowned, but took another few steps to keep up. People instinctively keep moving if the person in front of them does. One more step, and she’d be in V’s range. Your breathing froze, head spinning as you turned around to see him in action at last, to watch the killer in his element.

He didn’t let you down.

Green eyes saw nothing but their target, utterly focused on the task at hand. Despite his injury, he moved with singular purpose. His mouth a thin line, the artist didn’t make a sound as he swung a scavenged length of pipe at the back of Margaret’s head. A sickly, wet crackle and a wheezing gasp barely preceded her collapse onto the pavement.

Whoa… Did he just kill her in one blow?

You stepped closer and pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak and thready, but she was still alive. You said as much to V and rose.

The artist smirked and adjusted his beanie. “Care to do the honors?”

A tattooed hand held out the bloody pipe, as if he were offering nothing more than a turn in a batting cage. Your legs turned to jelly and a flash mob of butterflies careened though your digestive tract. Goosebumps erupted across your spine and you struggled to swallow the golf ball in your throat. You hadn’t expected this, not yet.

“Hm, maybe not,” he said. “That’s fine, I’m happy to demonstrate. Watch closely.”

He limped to Margaret’s helpless body, humming as he crouched down to turn her head towards you. A thin line of blood trickled from her open lips. The briefest pang of guilt teased at you. She’d seemed like a nice person.

“It’s better when they’re awake, but this will do,” the artist murmured. He raised the pipe high.

I’m about to watch this woman die.

Time slowed to a crawl as V struck. His face contorted into a vicious snarl, rage and fury engraved in his features. He was raw and exposed, possibly the purest version of himself you’d yet seen. Animalistic and predatory, thrilled by his supremacy.

And yet…

In the moment the pipe crushed Margaret’s skull and sprayed hot blood across the pavement, there was something else. A sadness almost like grief. A brokenness hidden behind his wrath, as if he were killing a part of himself instead of an unlucky stranger.

And then it was over, the pipe clanging as the artist dropped it. The expression vanished, masked behind a smirk. You wondered if he was even aware of the change, if he felt the anger and the loss.

What the hell did I just see?

But this wasn’t the time to figure it out, as V’s pained gasp reminded you. He’d been upright for far too long, and after a swing like that his wound must be excruciating. You shoved aside your confusion and curiosity, forcing your mind to prioritize your current predicament. Philosophical explorations could wait.

V limped back to lean on a wall as you rifled through Margaret’s purse. Her wallet and keys were all you needed, and the second you had them, you went to the artist.

“The address on her license isn’t far. Come on.”

It wouldn’t be safe for long. As soon as the body was found, you’d have to move again. The best you could hope for was a couple of days, two or three if you were lucky. Enough time for the artist’s wound to start knitting back together and for you to process the last twenty-four hours.

It’s been a long day.

You hoped Margaret had a comfortable bed.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#Be My Nightmare #my writing #fanfic #v x reader #v x oc #dmc #dmc v #vitale #tw: violence #tw: murder #spicy

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tmitransitioning · 6 years ago

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I got a whole battery of tests and exams for asking about getting HRT / surgery in a private hospital because they wanted extensive background and they are also a research hospital. Apparently they find it odd I have too many feminine traits like they did a handwriting analyst that identified my writing as feminine +lots of other things, even analysed my speech pattern, also did IQ+mental tests still with results that are feminine traits. Even though I also have huge discomfort affecting my well

2nd well-being and daily life.They are really wondering whether I actually am a man or I just hating serious body image issues and hating the view of women in society. I'm not sure they want to give me trouble or are transphobic but apparently my traits are shared with a lot of cis women who, if started, regretted their transitions because it wasn't actually a trans issue and actually body image and view of women in society they disliked and more needed therapy to learn how to3rd accept being a woman. So they don't want me to be another one of those. I also have below the shoulder hair and said I'd definitely keep it.Can't I both have these views + be actually dysphoric and trans? I have actually thought I wasnt female ever since I was little but they thought it was mostly because I have more male family (even the sitter role was male) thus did not have enough female role models in my early life even though my test results are more on the feminine(4th not received) 5th last. l side. Oh and my uncle has below the shoulder hair and my dad has neck length hair so I still managed to get feminine traits? And also well apparently one of my grandpas was misogynist too and his son/my uncle used to have a history of cheating and sleeping with a bunch of women (I actually have 2 cousins he forced to pay child support on) before he finally settled and said these might help explain my view on women. I think I am starting to ramble on sorry. But any ideas here please?_____

Here’s what i read: Hi, I went to a research hospital and they put me through a bunch of tests for research purposes (as opposed to evidence-based tests). Despite my gender-based discomfort that interferes with my every-day wellbeing, the researchers who are trying to study trans-ness told me they thought I wasn’t masculine enough based on some tests they’re trying to develop. My scores are similar to an incredible minority of people who have de-transitioned (not accounting for the fact that the majority of people who un-transition actually are transgender but are dissatisfied with living as their true gender due to society’s pressures). They told me that my appearance isn’t masculine enough to fit the traditional male stereotypes and they attributed my gender feelings to Freudian dislike of the patriarchy due to family stress. Does that sound pretty close to what you explained to me? you can probably guess how i feel about the researchers at your clinic (fuck them). I can’t tell you if you’re transgender or not.

What i can say is this:There is no harm in transitioning and de-transitioning (or un-transitioning) (unless you personally feel harmed by it). If you’re not confident in your decision, you can choose to transition in only reversible ways until you feel more confident about what is the best decision for you (avoiding HRT or surgery until you know that these will be in your best interest). Many people NEVER opt for surgery or HRT and that’s a completely valid choice.

Having long hair is absolutely not a reasonable criterion to say that someone is too feminine, neither is handwriting or speech patterns (both of which are influenced by the type of raising you get and socialization you have up to now: if you’re taught that a person who is AFAB is supposed to have nice handwriting, you generally do work harder at it, similarly, you generally do have greater speech pattern variability (there have been studies about trans man speech patterns being more similar to cis women and trans women speech patterns being more similar to cis men- where through the process of transition- not hormones alone but resocialization as their true gender- brings the speech tone, quality and patterns into alignment with the true gender.)

sometimes it’s not as simple as “oh i’m definitely trans” or “oh, i’m definitely cis and i just hate the way the patriarchy imposes rules on women” (actually it seldom is). But if you’re really feeling conflicted, I think it’s best for you to talk to a trans (and nonbinary) friendly therapist. It sounds like your providers are VERY binary driven, and want to place people in VERY gendered boxes (you must be this masculine to ride). It makes me have an icky feeling.

Good luck.

Mod mayhem

#bunch of tags here mostly for trigger warnings #untransition #detransition #gatekeeping #Anonymous

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military-network · 2 years ago

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Can You Hunt With A LPVO?

A low power variable optic (LPVO) offers shooters and hunters with the flexibility needed for close to mid range applications, offering low magnification that can be as low as 1x up to as high as 8x, although some models are available at 10x magnification power. Brands like Vortex, Leupold, and Primary Arms are known for LPV scopes. But the question, “can you hunt with a LPVO?” The short answer is yes. In fact, low power variable optics offer hunters with much-needed versatility and power at the same time.

LPVO Uses & Applications

Low power variable optics is considered a highly adaptable and multi-purpose scope that possesses the best qualities of a red dot sight and a long range riflescope. A red dot sight excels in close quarter battles and quick target acquisition, while traditional long range scopes, are you guessed it, for long range accuracy. There are many uses of an LPVO not just for hunting, and in fact, they’ve been used by professionals, like 3-gun shooters, security personnel, and military law enforcement guys. Competition shooters also choose it for pretty much the same benefits like quick target acquisition and close range targeting. A low power variable rifle scope is also extremely useful and suitable for MSR or AR rifles.

Is LPVO good for hunting?

Yes, and in many situations. Those hunting and stalking deer and elk in the woods can take advantage of the wide field of view and quick target acquisition provided by an LPV scope, especially in situations in which there is a narrow shot. Meanwhile, hunters of predator and hog also need an LPVO’s ability to help with fast follow-up shots particularly when there are multiple targets in sight. On the other hand, mountain hunters can also make use of a lighter scope. For example, muzzle loaders will rarely take a game beyond the 200 yards marks. Hunters can also benefit from a high quality and bright glass. Then, users in the bear country and are pursuing dangerous, huge games can greatly benefit from an LPVO’s quick target acquisition capabilities. That’s the power of a low power variable scope like a 1x scope, which can save them in a life and death situation when they need to aim and shoot fast. Nevertheless, an LPVO’s used outdoors are undeniably advantageous for hunters. In line to this, it’s why a lot of hunters are adding a low power variable scope in their optics arsenal. Some considerable disadvantages of an LPVO in hunting could be its overall weight and smaller front aperture. But even so, LPVOs can offer a lot of benefits especially if taking shots within 200 yards and more as well as users who prefer sighting devices with lower magnifications. Are you hunting in low light? If you plan to hunt at dusk or dawn or in low light, I recommend a scope with a larger objective lens or use one made with top quality coatings and glass for superior image quality, which is very important in low light especially that most LPVOs have a smaller objective. And if you’re planning to hunt more in the early and late hours of daylight, you should invest in a scope with a higher quality scope, which can cost a little more expensive than other scopes. It is also important to factor in the performance of the scope under the intense sunlight. So if hunting mostly in daylight time, choose a low power variable scope that is made with adjustable brightness settings. This will let you dial it based on the lighting conditions you’re in.

What Makes an LPVO good for hunting?

It can work like a red dot sight at 1x, giving you a larger field of view (FOV) and assisting with getting on your target faster versus a magnified scope. This scope also lets you zoom in at a higher power when identifying targets at a farther distance, making it suitable for hunting areas, like open country, large meadows, and thick forest.

How far can I shoot with a LPVO?

Let’s take a 1-6x LPVO, which is a common choice. It can offer you with a sufficient magnification or power. This is significant for hitting targets at distances out to 1,000 yards, depending on the glass quality, optics, and skills, although LPVOs can be more useful for close range targets that are most suitable for a majority of shooters.

Is there too much power from a low power variable scope?

Remember that cranking up the scope’s power will definitely narrow your field of view, reduce light transmission, affect the cheek weld for a tighter eye box, and hinder speed of target acquisition. But then, some users with vision issues may be aided with more magnification for improving precision at longer ranges. Also be reminded that there will always be pros and cons of having or not having higher power in a scope. There are cases when a higher powered scope isn’t always ideal for the situation. So at the end of the day, select optics suitable for the purpose and application and factors in aspects that include using the right magnification.

How much magnification is enough?

Generally, shooting at 100 yards will require 1x power for people with a good vision, but using 2x for every 100 yards may be the go-to solution for hunters hunting in terrains with adverse weather and lighting conditions as well as shooting within 400 yards. For users with bad eyes and looking to spot groupings, they might as well be better off with a 1-8x or 1-10x scopes. Still though, personal preference varies.

Final Thoughts

LPVOs are good for hunting, although they have some limitations like other optics. The higher magnification can be more suitable for hunting in low light conditions. Nevertheless, an LPVO is one of the most versatile scopes out there to offer you with plenty of advantages like flexibility and versatility, offering you the best qualities of red dots and longer range scopes. They’re highly versatile for close quarter encounters and long range targets. But when choosing a hunting LPVO, choose one that suits the type of application you’ll need it for, as it is still your preference that should win in the end. #CanYouHuntWithALPVO #Can_You_Hunt_With_A_LPVO #canyouhuntwithalpvo #can_you_hunt_with_a_lpvo #MilitaryNetwork #Military_Network #militarynetwork #military_network Read the full article

#canyouhuntwithalpvo #militarynetwork

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mimik-u · 7 years ago

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Flower Child (Chapter 4)

Title: Connie

Summary:

Garnet, Pearl, Amethyst, Greg, Yellow, and Blue—they've all lost someone. Lovers and daughters and friends and family, and that's not a wound you easily come back from.

If at all.

But this isn't an 'if at all' kind of story.

It's a story about a sickly, little kid named Steven and his ever-growing surrogate family.

It's a story about the kind of boy who'd extend a flower and a smile to a sad stranger he meets at a cemetery. Human AU.

AO3 Link

It was precisely five in the morning when the Maheswarans’ tan sedan eased out of the driveway and onto the blacktop road. The sun wasn’t set to rise for a couple of hours still, and the fading moon cast an eery, ghoulish glow on the still slumbering world. Everything was stained blue, from her mother’s white lab coat to Connie’s own hands, which she rubbed over her bleary eyes in an attempt to spark some life into them.

She didn’t usually go with her mom to work—being an avid lover of sleep and all—but her dad was on an out-of-state operation for a couple of days, and so she really didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Which she had absolutely hated at first.

Being an avid lover of sleep and all.

But something… no, someone… changed her mind.

Yesterday, she had met Steven Universe, and ever since they had parted, she hadn’t been able to get his goofy smile out of her head.

His loud, round laugh.

And the curious way he drew out her name.

As though it was full of exclamation points.

“Steven’ll be there, right?”

Mom offered a slight grunt in response, which Connie supposed meant yes. (Mom wasn’t really a morning person… or, well, much of a person at all until she’d at least gotten three cups of coffee into her system. She was only on number one as of yet, and the creamy smell of hazelnut wreathed her travel tumbler like perfume.)

“What time?”

“Twelve.” The one word answer was terse and forbidding.

But Connie ducked under the lurid yellow tape and pressed on anyway.

“I didn’t get to ask, but who was that woman with him? The one who had her feet propped up on the bed?”

“Amethyst, one of Steven’s many guardians,” she growled impatiently. “Connie, this isn’t twenty questions.”

The sharp rebuke stung the air between them.

A chill that the car’s heater could not touch.

“Sorry, Mom.” She looked out of the window in a vain attempt to stifle the heat rising in her cheeks, where it settled somewhere behind her eyes. The sickly tinged suburbs were beginning to give way to the long stretch of ancient forest that wound its way from her home to the city. The trees tall and everlasting. Friends and guardians in the daylight. Sinister, grasping things in the darkness. “I’m just excited to have a new friend… that’s all.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

She was excited to have a friend at all.

The kids at school didn’t like that Connie’s hand seemed to be permanently stuck in the air during class.

Or the way she lugged thick books around the playground.

Or how her glasses seemed to make her appear all the more erudite.

Which was, like, not her fault, but kids were cruel, and she just happened to fall on the easy end of their predatory food chain.

Priyanka Maheswaran let out a sigh that seemed to deflate all of her prickly, caffeine deprived edges; her grip on the wheel relaxed a fraction of an inch.

“And you have the right to be, sweetheart,” she relented wearily, a billion years old and yet only forty-two at the same time. “Go on. Ask your questions. I know you’re curious.”

The corner of her lined mouth quirked upwards. “I won’t bite anymore.”

Coming from this woman, whose whole manner of being was like the scalpel she used during surgery—sharp, methodical, ruthless—an invitation to talk more was about as rare as an I love you. Connie blinked once before she smiled.

“Thanks, Mom!”

“Ask your questions, Connie” came the short reply, which Connie translated to be a solid you’re welcome.

“I… I have tons of little questions,” she began uncertainly, chewing on her lip, “but I think they’d all be answered if I just asked you one big question.” And she expanded her fingers in her lap as if to realize the breadth of the thoughts swarming through her head like bees. She’d gone to bed thinking about Steven, and she’d woken up excited for the opportunity to see him again.

Eyes still searching the empty road for obstacles that hadn’t yet materialized, Mom jerked her head as if to say, Go ahead and ask it then.

So Connie took a deep breath and did just that: “How did he… how did he get like this?”

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew that they didn’t cover half the sentiment she was trying to convey in them. She was asking how he had ended up in the dialysis center, yes, and yet, she wasn’t asking just that. What she was really trying to get at—in so many words—was how this kid, this specific kid, found himself on the other end of a diagnosis that no decent person would wish on his worst enemy.

Steven Universe was the type of kid you’d meet on a playground after you’d fallen down from the monkey bars and needed a hand to get back up again.

Not the type of kid you’d expect to find in a hospital swarming with tubes and wires.

He was loud and he was playful and he was good, and those weren’t things that were supposed to be shackled to a machine three times a week.

So maybe what Connie was trying to do was piece together the correlation in it all.

Him.

The disease.

His unwavering smile.

The machine.

He was a contradiction, an oxymoron, a particularly hard equation she wished to solve.

If only her mother would give her the unknown variables.

Mom sighed, and the shadows underscoring her eyes seemed to solidify into harsh lines.

“Loaded question,” she said heavily, “but I can work with it.”

But before she began to work with it, per say, Priyanka raised her tumbler to her lips and took a long, reverent drag of coffee. Connie could see the cords in her throat pulling the sweet substance down, down, down.

She had been reading Homer lately—the Iliad this time, rife with glorious, bloodstained battles that were only palliated by the quieter intimacies of a fireside, a prayer, an embrace—so maybe it was no wonder that the image of a libation bearer came to mind.

A devout hero—an Odysseus, an Achilles, an Ajax—drinking the second sip of wine after he had poured the first to the gods in an invocation for strength.

For the courage to press on.

Priyanka set her cup down.

Squared her eyes on the road that unspooled through the dark like a ribbon—silky, its ends disappearing into the deep blue.

And began.

“It all started with Rose Quartz, Steven’s late mother, and she was the most infuriating woman I’ve ever had the privilege to know…”

◆

“I was just a resident at the time, shadowing Dr. Howard—you know, that old geezer colleague of mine who thinks your name is Cindy.”

Connie chuckled at the wry reminder. “Yeah, I just stopped correcting him after awhile.”

“Prudent choice.” Priyanka briefly returned the smile. “But anyways, I was just a resident, and I’d been helping Howard with some of his cases when Rose Quartz showed up for her monthly checkup and—in spite of everything that was wrong with her body—told us she was pregnant. I can remember it like it was just yesterday, Connie, how her hand tenderly tucked itself against the natural curve of her belly, as though she could already see a baby bump forming.”

Mom’s steady gaze on the road finally broke.

Drifted to the roof of the car for an infinitesimal second.

Distracted by a long passed memory.

“I’d been familiar, if not intimate with her case for a long time by then… and I was disgusted.”

“Alright, Steven—you know the drill. Hop up onto the scale,” Mom instructed without looking at him, scribbling something on her clipboard. Connie, standing just next to her mother, leaned up on her tiptoes to see if she could glean something from the chicken scratch symbols, and she thought she could make out the word pale.

Which—Connie glanced at Steven now, who had dutifully stepped onto the gray block—was an observable feature in him she concluded with no little unease. Even against the ultra white of the hospital gown, his complexion seemed to be ashy in comparison, and every bruise he had was inclined to look darker because of it.

The monitor flickered and produced a number.

118.4 pounds.

Mom wrote something on her clipboard again, and the little frown that hung itself on her lower lip told Connie everything she needed to know, and yet, precisely nothing at the same time.

“Aww,” Steven said, tsking playfully. “It’s an even number.”

“Do you have something against even numbers?” Connie asked as he reengaged the floor once more with a totally unnecessary but very cute hop.

He had to think about it for a moment, dark eyes tilted towards the ceiling, head cocked to the side.

“Nah,” he finally shrugged. “I guess I just find odd numbers a little more… exciting, you know?”

She giggled into her hand. She’d never heard it put like that before.

But out of the corner of her eye, she watched as an unspoken conversation passed between Amethyst and her mother.

When Amethyst frowned, her plump lower lip poked out.

“You were… disgusted?”

It was a strong word to describe a pregnancy.

The miracle of life and all that jazz.

“Very much so,” Mom nodded. In the now graying dusk, her face had gained a pinched quality to it, as though she had swallowed something particularly nasty. “Because she knew damn well that pregnancy was dangerous for her, dangerous for any baby she ever wanted to have, and yet, there she was anyway. Glowing. Steven’s father—Greg—was sitting next to her, and he looked like he was about to throw up or pass out one.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I understand.”

“No,” Mom shook her head. “I don’t imagine you do. She had Type 1 diabetes—had had it ever since she was a teenager—and it wasn't even just normal diabetes! Even though she did x, y, and z to take care of her body, and even though she visited Dr. Howard so often they could call each other by their first names, it was still abnormally stressful on her body. Howard diagnosed her with diabetic kidney disease when she was only twenty-three.”

Mom dragged a frustrated hand through her graying hair.

“I was so mad at her,” she said, her voice strained, tight, fervent. “I thought… I thought she was throwing her life away.”

With Steven, her mother was strangely gentle.

Her words were still sharp, but her actions belied their sting in a way that Connie hadn’t taken the time to notice yesterday as absorbed by Steven as she’d been. She took his temperature and clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, smiling a parenthetical smile when he smiled up at her. She checked his blood pressure and was noticeably conscientious as she slid the inflatable cuff up and down his arm.

She and Amethyst bantered back and forth like two sailors home from sea.

“So how’s old Greg doing? Still washing the same five cars of the fifteen people you guys have in Beach City?” Done with recording his temperature and blood pressure on the chart, Mom was now fiddling with the dialysis machine, bringing it to life with some mighty expert button pressing and knob turning. It began to beep steadily.

“You know it, homegirl,” Amethyst grinned. She was already sprawled in the chair next to Steven’s bed, arms behind her head, legs tucked up on the bed. “I think his rotation’s next, so ya should be seeing him soon.”

“Nope,” Steven corrected her. “It’s Garnet’s.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s me and then it’s Garnet and then—“

“My Dad and Pearl,” he finished with a slight flourish of the hand.

Mom shook her head at the mention of Pearl—whom Connie did not know from Eve along with all these other people—a wry smile crooked at the corner of her mouth. “If it was up to Pearl, she’d have all four rotations.

“And then, like, she’d make up a fifth one just to make sure she had every potential shift,” Amethyst said, not without some mischievousness tucked away in the subtleties of her scratchy voice.

The three conspirators shared a knowing laugh, and Connie made a brave attempt at a smile that faltered the more she tried to hold on to it. Water slipping through her fingers.

“She must have known how I felt because she pulled me aside once we were alone. Dr. Howard had gone to check on another patient, Greg had gone to the restroom, so she took me by the hand and made me sit next to her on the examination table.”

And it wasn’t that she was jealous of her mother.

Far from it.

That would be absurd.

No, the something that was gnawing at her chest felt a little more nuanced than that.

There was an intimacy that her mother shared with Amethyst and Steven.

She had long been a part of their strange, little world.

And Connie was on the outside looking in, her fingers pressed against the glass.

Observing the microcosm they had created between them.

Wondering what it took to be let in.

(Okay, maybe she was a little jealous.)

“You hate me, she had said. And I think I may have just glared at her, or if I did say something, it wasn’t very kind. I remember that I couldn’t look at her. I stared at my lap, at those godawful green scrubs that residents had to wear, and my fists were clenched on top of my knees. Maybe I’d been prepared to punch her.” She chuckled lifelessly. “Who knows?”

“What did she look like?” Connie asked as her mother took a deep, steadying breath.

A not quite smile turned the corner of Mom’s mouth.

“She was a very beautiful woman. Tall and big. Gorgeous pink curls—she liked to dye her hair—spilling over her shoulders.”

A not quite frown upended the not quite smile.

“Steven looks a lot like her.”

It was a fitting conception , Connie thought.

Steven as beautiful.

Steven was sharp, intuitive, more so than she had ever realized in the twenty or so hours she had known him. With an embarrassed jolt, she caught him staring at her from the top of the bed, his brown eyes softened in sympathy, in what was surely understanding.

The intensity of his gaze intimidated her, and she looked away, looked down at the pristine hospital floor where the scuff marks caused by beds and shoes and machines were the only scars that marred all the white.

She was being seen.

It was a foreign sensation.

“Hold up a sec, guys!” Steven said, interrupting the laugh session. “We gotta fill Connie in on who all these names are!”

“Heck yeah,” Amethyst consented with an almost serious nod. She grinned at Connie from the other side of the bed. “If you’re gonna hang around, Connie-Con, you’ve gotta know the whole cast!”

Connie-Con, huh?

That was a new one.

She couldn't help but offer a shy smile in return.

“Well, while you exposit, do me a quick favor and pull on your masks,” Mom said, adjusting hers to her lower face in an instant and throwing them each one. “I suppose we’d better get this ball rolling.”

Connie caught hers by the tips of her fingers and wrapped it around her ears in a few delicate motions.

Steven was still staring at her—she flushed to notice—and even though his mouth was now hidden, his wide smile could never be as equally as concealed.

“And then—I’m mortified to admit this now, Connie—I let it rip. I read her the Riot Act and enumerated every single reason she had to be ashamed of herself. Her body couldn’t handle the stress. She had put herself at a statistically liable risk for all sorts of complications. Hypertension. Cardiac arrhythmia. Severe anemia. Death by multi-organ failure. Not to mention what her condition might inflict on the baby!”

“You never did have the best bedside manners, did you, Mom?”

Mom couldn’t do anything but accept the criticism with a bitter smile.

“No,” she agreed grudgingly,“but for all the pansy hand holders in the field, I feel strongly obliged to contend that there should be at least one person who’ll tell you to it straight, no honey nonsense, no sugar. And Rose, despite all I said, despite every hurtful word I leveraged her way, did nothing to stop me. She just sat there and took it, a small, sad smile on her face—which made me even more angry, mind you.”

Mom took a hand off the wheel to indignantly stab it into the air, stiff fingers splaying towards the road.

“What business did this woman have smiling when I was confronting her with the fact that she was probably going to die? I wanted to shake her. I wanted to interrogate her. I wanted to know why .”

“So basically, I’ve got one cool dad and three great moms,” Steven said before jerking a thumb at Amethyst. “This is Amethyst, and she’s, like, the fun mom. We goof around a lot.”

Amethyst nodded approvingly at the description, her long, rather messy bangs shifting from behind her ear to cover one of her eyes.

“Yup, that’s me.”

“Steven,” Mom interjected, very much in doctor mode now, “prepare yourself. I’m going to flush your lines.”

“Roger that, doc,” Steven replied and leaned back on the pillow as she gently peeled back one of the shoulders of his paisley studded gown to reveal what Mom had yesterday explained to be a central venous catheter, or CVC for short. It was a thin tube that had been surgically grafted into a vein just below Steven’s collarbone. On the surface of his skin, it extended into two, short tubes called lumens that would be used to connect to the dialysis machine. Connie watched mesmerized as her mother quickly and skillfully relieved the lumens of their clamps, squinting at them with a searching gaze as though looking for any flaws in them, and huffing in satisfaction when she seemingly didn’t find any.

She was so distracted by this process that she didn’t realize that Steven had continued on with his introductions until what had been a vague buzzing in her ears materialized into his cheery voice once more. “—one we were talking about earlier was Pearl, who is the strict but very loving mom. And then there’s Garnet, who is just, like, cool; there’s really no other word to describe her, and like, finally, my dad, Greg, who is kind of the best. And that’s the family!

Connie recovered her wits quickly enough to laugh. (Was Pearl the cool one, or was she the strict one? She hoped she’d never be tested on the specifics.) “That’s a pretty cool setup you’ve got there. Stick it to the nuclear family unit!”

“We’re a nuclear family unit,” Mom inserted dryly as she flicked the tall syringe she was holding. It was filled with some kind of clear liquid—some sort of solution, Connie supposed.

“I dunno what that means exactly,” Steven smiled, all sheepishness, “but yeah, it is pretty cool. I mean, most kids only get to have one mom in their lifetime, and I’ve gotten three. They’re the best.” He slid his hand downwards and poked the tip of Amethyst’s boot. “I don’t know where I’d be without any of these guys.”

Amethyst made a big show of pushing him away, but her brown eyes were bright with something other than the grin haphazardly slapped across her round features.

“Ugh, shut up, little dude. You’re making me emo.”

“Oh, no!” His eyes widened in mock disapproval. “We can’t have that, now can we? That’s Lapis’s thing!”

Amethyst and Steven’s belly laughs shook the bed.

“And you know what she said to me?”

“What?” Connie asked when her mother wasn’t immediately forthcoming, seemingly lost in thought.

“She squeezed my hand just like this”—Mom reached over and enveloped her entire hand, their fingers intertwining, warmth passing between them like a third touch—“and told me that she didn’t expect for me to understand, but she’d long made peace with the fact that she wasn’t set to have a long life and that before she died, she wanted to bring someone in the world who could enjoy all the things that she could not.”

“That life was supposed to be an experience, not a curse.”

“That if she passed away tomorrow, Greg and all of her friends would be left with nothing but memories, and memories were like petals. They were pretty until the crumbled to dust. She wanted to leave them with roots. She wanted them to have a chance to grow.”

Roots and petals and the potential for growth.

Connie immediately thought of the sunflower fields near their townhouse, how the tall stalks bloomed in the sun.

How all the yellow looked like spun gold.

“I told her she was stupid. I told her that she could have had a relatively long life even with her condition. She could have lived to forty, maybe even fifty!”

Priyanka laughed. It was a harsh sound, like metal clanging against metal.

“And she told me that once I got the giant stuck up my butt seen about, I’d see what she meant one day.”

“Did you?” Connie prodded after a long moment of silence. “Did you ever see what she was talking about?”

Mom’s syringe hovered over one of the lumen for the briefest second before she injected the solution into its exposed opening.

She had been watching Amethyst and Steven.

The way they looked at each other.

As though they had everything to lose if they lost each other.

“I did,” she paused, reconsidering. “I do. Greg and all the rest? They’d be lost without Steven, unanchored.”

“That’s how they were for a long time after Rose died. I was there when it happened. I saw all their faces. I hope I never have to see it again.”

“How did she die?” Connie wished she could have taken back the question the moment it left her mouth. Her mother’s grip immediately tightened on the wheel, and the resulting paleness clamored up from her hands all the way to her face in the very way poison ivy slowly overtakes white walls.

“We had to do a c-section, and her blood pressure was rising too rapidly for any machine or doctor alike to keep up with it. We delivered Steven, let her see him, and then started to work on her… but it was no use. She went into a diabetic coma and never woke up.”

They were approaching traffic and the city now.

The sedan rolled to a stop behind a line of other early risers.

It wasn’t a nuisance for her mom this morning so as much as it was a reprieve.

Priyanka dipped her head and inhaled sharply, her black hair dripping, framing the sides of her face. Connie could no longer see her expression.

She didn’t know if she even wanted to.

“We pulled the plug two weeks later.

“I wish they could make a more flavorful saline solution,” Steven grimaced as her mom injected the replenished solution into the other lumen. “It tastes like salt.”

“Hence the word saline,” Mom remarked drolly.

“You got me there, Dr. M.”

With that tedious necessity out of the way, the process went far more quickly. She connected two tubes from the machine—or Steven’s robokidney as Steven slyly called it to the groans of everyone involved—to the now flushed lumens. The red tube accepted unclean blood into the machine, and the blue tube distributed filtered blood back into the body. It was a precise system and a slow one.

Since the lumens weren’t exposed anymore, they took their masks off and found themselves free to do whatever they wanted to for the next three hours, so long as Steven remained relatively still that was.

But he was a pro at this, had been for months now, and after Mom went away to tend to another patient and Amethyst wandered off to the cafeteria, Connie pulled The Unfamiliar Familiar out of her backpack to pick up where she’d left off yesterday.

“With or without voices?” She asked, thumbing through the pages until she found her bookmark (a crumpled straw wrapper).

“What kind of question is that?” He snorted. When he did, the tubes nestled against his chest gave a little jump of indignation. “Voices, of course!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She deferred with playfully raised hands. “I was just being thorough.”

“You remind me of Pearl when you say that,” he said. “I’d love for you to meet her someday.”

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses.

“I’d like that, too.”

She wanted to meet everyone who made Steven… well, Steven.

The early sun was just beginning to creep towards and above the horizon, bringing with it the varicolored shades of dawn. A muted pink. A slowly simmering orange. Gold shot through all of it.

The line of cars leading into Empire City was moving forward at a sluggish crawl.

“So where does Steven fit into all this?” Connie could have made an educated stab at it by this point, but she didn’t see the need to when her mom was being so generous with her details.

Priyanka took the opportunity to take another sip of her coffee as she composed her thoughts, exhaling softly, with subtle weariness, when she set the tumbler down.

“When Steven was born, we immediately found that he had what was more or less a minor birth defect—unilateral renal dysplasia.” And since those weren’t necessarily easily accessible words to a twelve-year old, even a precocious one, Mom took care to elaborate. “That’s when one of the kidneys is somehow malformed during the developmental stages.”

“And that… developed into kidney failure?”

She could see the pieces coming together now.

The contradiction not so contradictory anymore.

The oxymoron resolved.

The equation having a logical, rational end.

Rose Quartz, despite her best intentions, passed on her bodily demons to Steven.

Case closed.

“Not exactly,” Mom frowned, and Connie’s hypothesis crumbled into her lap.

“Through rain, through sleet, through heat, through hell, Archimedes guarded Lisa’s vulnerable body as the fever ran its course through her small body in alternating chills and sweat. Even when night drew itself around them in curtains made of sky velvet and stars, the falcon retained his faithful watch. He was her familiar, her friend, and he would never leave her… not even if she left him.” She closed the book with a resounding thud. “And that, my friend, was Chapter Four.”

Steven’s chin suddenly lifted from where it had been resting on M.C. Bear Bear’s crumpled head.

“What?! You can’t just stop there!”

“No, Steven—you don’t understand,” she laughed warmly. “I have to. Chapter Five leaves me incredibly tender, and I have to emotionally prepare myself for it.”

“You’re just taunting me now,” he accused, a pout beginning to form on his lips.

“Smart boy! I so totally am."

“Kids with dysplasia in one kidney typically grow up without any noticeable decreases in health or kidney function, so Dr. Howard and I didn’t particularly worry about it too much. Hell, we were just relieved that nothing worse had manifested in his little body.”

“Un-fair,” Steven whined, drawing the word out into the two needling syllables. “I wouldn’t do this to you.”

Connie had gleaned enough about Steven’s personality in the short time they had known to each other to agree with him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she replied thoughtfully, placing her index finger on her lower lip. “You’re too kind, but more importantly still, you have very little impulse control!”

“Hey!” He laughed indignantly.

“Not that that’s a bad thing per say,” she continued pointedly, arching an eyebrow at him, “but it’ll do you some good to wait until the next time. To feel the suspense build up in you until it reaches a breaking point! To stew and simmer in these characters until I relieve you of the heat.”

She leaned forward out of her chair and booped him lightly on the nose.

She’d make a fine reader out of him yet.

“So…” Steven began tentatively once Connie withdrew. She was leaning over now, replacing the thick book in her bag. Her slender fingers paused on the clasp, and she pricked her ears, equal parts curious and hesitant to hear what he was obviously struggling to say. “So there’s definitely going to be…. there’s definitely going to be a next time?”

“But Steven… Steven defied those favorable odds—every statistic and report that said he was going to make it through life without any kidney related complications. When he started to undergo puberty about a year ago, the natural changes in his body caused him to develop a severe urinary tract infection that injured his functional kidney.”

“I did everything I could to try and clear the infection up, but the damage was irreversible. Eight months ago, I diagnosed him with chronic kidney disease and put him on the transplant waiting list.”

“So it was random,” Connie whispered to herself, staring at the hands she had splayed on her lap. She clenched and unclenched them. “It was just chance.”

“What was that?” Mom asked, having heard but not understood her.

“So we’re waiting,” she amended herself quickly.

“Or, well, I’m waiting,” Priyanka said pointedly. “While we’re on the subject, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, Connie.”

She did not hesitate.

“Definitely!” she assured him. Concise. Clear. Genuine. “It’d be cruel to leave you on a cliffhanger, wouldn’t it?”

But he wasn’t entirely convinced because he clutched M.C. Bear tightly to his chest and asked, “I mean, are you sure? Not that I don’t doubt you or anything, but you don’t have to spend your summer in a hospital, you know.”

He looked away, his dark eyes clouding, impenetrable.

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“Steven is a special case to me, but that doesn’t mean that he has to be a special case for you, honey.” She was being uncharacteristically gentle, vulnerable, and Connie nearly recoiled against her seatbelt.

“What do you mean, Mom?”

“I mean that just as his mother was, Steven is liable to be plagued with numerous complications before all of this is, uh, over,” Mom paused, her voice stumbling over itself for the first time since the conversation had begun. “…one way or the other.”

It was life or death, she was saying.

And Steven was teetering on the edge between the two extremes.

“I know you two get along well, and I’m glad for it,” she said softly, “but, Connie, I don’t want you to get hurt.

They were in the heart of Empire City now, slinking past skyscrapers and pedestrians and street vendors who were setting out their daily wares in preparation for the long day.

There was a drawn out silence in the car as Connie pieced her words together, thought by determined thought.

Outside the window, she caught a glimpse of the towering D.E. building, which was famous for its jagged geometry and how its glass windows were tinted gold.

“I appreciate that, Mom—I do, but I’m afraid that I admittedly look at it a little differently than you do.”

A sharply raised eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Steven’s not beholden to statistics, I guess—to probability. You said as much when you told me that he developed a disease that not many kids his age ever get in their lifetimes. So sure, probability’s telling me that I may get hurt, or that Steven might be hurt a thousand times over before he gets a kidney… but I don’t want to think of him in terms of numbers, Mom, not when those numbers just may be wrong.”

Connie smiled sadly.

“I want to be his friend.”

Connie shook her head fervently and grabbed Steven’s closest hand. He was cold and soft.

A contradiction.

A puzzle.

An unsolved equation.

Mom’s stories helped, but there was so much more she had left to discover about this boy.

So much more to learn.

From him.

Maybe even for him.

“I want to be part of your world, Steven.” Her grip tightened on his hand, perhaps to emphasize the sincerity of her claim. “I want to be part of your universe.”

The edges of Steven’s pale mouth wobbled into a smile.

They pulled into the staff parking lot of the hospital and before Connie could unlatch her seatbelt, her mother leaned over the console and pulled her into a hug that was fierce and exacting and warm all at the same time.

After the initial surprise wore off, she leaned into the moment, leaned into the crook of her mother’s shoulder and closed her eyes against the dawning sun.

“I love you, Connie.”

Connie dug her fingers into her mother’s lab coat in response.

#ohhhh my goddd #this chapter is so long #i'm proud of it #but it's so loong #flower child #steven universe #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #amethyst #rose quartz #s: steven universe #mimik-u

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ashxpad · 4 years ago

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Sigma 150-600mm f/5-6.3 DG DN Sports Lens Review: Worthy of Attention

The long-awaited Sigma 150-600mm for mirrorless cameras has finally arrived. Available for Sony E-mount or Leica L-mount, does this redesigned super-telephoto zoom meet the expectations of real-world wildlife photographers?

Build Quality and Design

The Sigma 150-600mm f/5-6.3 DG DN OS is one of the company’s better-looking lenses. There’s no glossy finish anywhere and it’s not gaudily large and over-industrial in style. In my opinion, the matte black finish is an immediate relief compared to the unsightly off-white Sony 200-600mm lens.

In all, the lens weighs four pounds 15 ounces (2.2 kilograms) with the lens hood attached. That weight is spread across the 10.5 inches (26.7 centimeters) length and can be handheld, which is how I photographed with it for my review. At 600mm, the lens physically extends out to about 14.5 inches (36.8 centimeters). The lens diameter is 4.3 inches (10.9 centimeters) which fits well in my hand and it takes 95mm filters screwed to the front. Sigma appears to have done well to ensure there was no extra bulk here.

Sigma 150-600mm DG DN at 150mm.

Sigma 150-600mm DG DN at 600mm.

Zoom Ring

The zoom can be operated either by twisting the ring or, by design, pushing and pulling at it directly near the lens hood. There’s a three-stage switch on the left side to which controls the zoom ring tension: locked, tight, or smooth. The locked setting only works at 150mm to prevent zoom creep. I found that the tight setting adds enough tension to avoid accidental shifts in focal length. On the other hand, I felt that the smooth setting was not as smooth as I would have preferred, although this may be more of a physics issue as the weight of the lens physically extending out naturally places a certain amount of tension on the ring.

This lens has a variable aperture that from my testing breaks down as follows: from 150mm to 172mm, the widest aperture is f/5. From 173mm to 365mm, the widest aperture is f/5.6. That leaves f/6.3 being the maximum aperture through the rest of the range from 366mm to 600mm.

For comparison, the Sony 200-600mm f/5.6-6.3 lens switches over right around 300mm, so for those hankering over a third-stop of light, this Sigma is an improvement.

Zoom ring tension control switch.

Focus Ring

Looping back to the focus ring, I’m not a fan of its design. It’s awfully narrow and what is worse is that only a portion of the ring that moves is covered in rubber grip. For such a small area, I wish Sigma could have at least placed the rubber ribbing over as much as possible. For wildlife photography, manual focusing becomes very important in certain situations where there are foreground elements and dense foliage at play, and I use it every day I’m out. On the plus side, it does have smooth rotation to it with an appropriate amount of tension to the glide. In the video section of this review, I will discuss its poor functionality further.

One other complaint about both the zoom and focus rings comes from Sigma’s combination of rubber hardness and the wide, triangle-shaped ribbing. After a while, the weight of my camera and this lens starts to dig into my hand and the ribbing starts to feel like little knives. This is in contrast to the Sony 200-600mm I own and Canon telephoto lenses I’ve used where the ribbing is flattened at the edge and doesn’t stick out so far. I’ve never thought of this as a possible issue until using this lens.

Tripod Collar

The tripod foot and collar feature a couple of great design choices. For one, the foot incorporates an Arca Swiss-compatible plate so that no additional add-on is necessary. The collar itself also has notches every 90 degrees so the foot can be set perfectly level by feeling the groove rather than having to eyeball the alignment with markings. This really comes in handy when shooting off a gimbal when I wanted to go from landscape to portrait orientation. Because of it, I did not have to take my eye out of the viewfinder to check level alignment.

A downside I find with the included tripod foot is that it’s quite short. As someone who shoots handheld, I still appreciate having the foot there and I use it as a carrying handle for my setup. With this foot, I can only awkwardly cram three fingers in rather than a more comfortable four. Again, with the weight being a factor, I begin to feel the discomfort of carrying like this for longer periods of time. I guess I can always buy the eye-rollingly expensive TS-81 foot that Sigma sells separately.

Image Quality

Inside, the lens uses 25 elements in 15 groups including four “F” low-dispersion elements and two extra-low dispersion elements, plus a dust and moisture resistant coating on the front element.

The image quality of this lens is where you will get your money’s worth. I find that there’s solid clarity and contrast throughout the focal range, good sharpness, well-controlled color fringing and flaring, and the bokeh shape from the nine rounded aperture blades melt away out-of-focus objects pleasingly.

As one would expect for any telephoto lens, there’s heavy vignetting when shot wide open at either end of the zoom range. At 150mm, I found that by f/7.1 the vignetting was largely relegated to the far corners and by f/13 it was completely cleared up. On the 600mm end, by f/9 the vignetting was largely moved to the far corners and by f/13 it was gone.

Likewise, sharpness improves as the aperture is stopped down to its sweet spot. Shooting at 150mm, I find that each third-stop down shows good improvement at the center up until f/7.1 where it starts peaking. By f/14 the center looks as sharp as it did wide open at f/5 and continuing to stop down from there continues to soften the image. Both f/20 and f/22 are really soft in the center. Moving to the corners, I saw that f/11 is where it meets peak sharpness for 150mm.

Looking at the center sharpness while at 600mm, things are a little bit different. My testing showed that there are big jumps in improving center sharpness when clicked from f/6.3 to f/7.1 and then again from f/7.1 to f/8. The improvements from here on out are not as drastic, but it looks like f/11 is the lens’s true peak sharpness in the center at 600mm. For the corners, I saw f/16 as the peak sharpness for 600mm.

600mm at f/6.3. Left: full image. Right: 100% crop.

Close focus at 150mm.

Close focus at 600mm.

This lens does come equipped with image stabilization which I thought worked adequately as I saw no change in what I’m used to seeing with my Sony 200-600mm. It works well for handheld shooting and I have no complaints as far as this feature goes.

It’s the same story for autofocus, likely thanks to the switch out of the Hyper Sonic Motor from the DSLR models to a stepping motor for this mirrorless-first redesign. From my experience, the Sigma 150-600mm DG DN can competently track birds in flight and quickly sweep the focus plane to hunt down subjects. I never felt I was missing anything due to the autofocusing system during my review period.

Using the Lens for Video

From the older 150-600mm lenses made for DSLR mounts to the 300-800mm f/5.6 Goliath, Sigma has been producing well-favored super-telephoto zoom lenses used by filmmaking enthusiasts and professionals for a long time. A number of pros own these Sigma lenses for their personal setups and then rent out the wildly expensive glass when out on assignment.

I spent a couple of evenings using the lens on my Sony FS5 camera rig to record video. My primary subjects were hummingbirds out in a patch of jewelweed. Everything in the video below was filmed with the Sigma 150-600mm DG DN.

vimeo

The 150mm to 600mm range was very helpful to create a variety of shots just using one lens (effectively 225-900mm on my FS5). The push-pull zoom was also nice to quickly change focal lengths. While the lens is not parfocal, it does hold itself together enough to where I never lost my subject and simply needed a fine adjustment after zooming in and out.

In the end, I think the downsides outweighed the positives for me when it comes to video. The biggest issue I have is that the focus ring does not have a linear response. This is a massive disappointment, especially when you consider how well-liked Sigma’s DSLR lenses have been to wildlife filmmakers. Without a linear response focus ring, no two focus pulls are the same and instead, it all depends on how fast the ring is being twisted. As a result, smooth tracking of subjects was a big problem with this lens.

It’s not a new issue for Sigma super-telephoto zooms, but another problem is the counterbalancing. Having my fluid head balanced for the lens sitting at 150mm is going to be off when it changes to 600mm since it physically extends and the weight of the glass shifts locations. I would up balancing for around 300mm as a compromise which was okay, but not ideal considering it’s nothing I think about with the Sony 200-600mm I own where the physical size is always fixed at any focal length.

The Tradition Continues

Sigma has earned its reputation for building high-end lenses and selling them at mid-tier prices. This continues with the new 150-600mm DG DN where final image quality looks terrific and the $1,500 price makes it hard to overlook it when shopping for a super-telephoto zoom.

Are There Alternatives?

The E-mount version of this lens is clearly taking on the $2,000 Sony 200-600mm f/5.6-6.3 G OSS that came out a couple of years ago. What I find interesting is how Sigma with this lens and Tamron with its new 150-500mm lens have been picking away at the design and building features to improve certain things over what Sony made. Neither have made everything better across the board, and the Sony 200-600mm still maintains sole ownership over a few things that make it truly special, but the fact that some flaws are being patched and both Sigma and Tamron charge less for it makes coming to a decision among the three much tougher.

The Sigma features variable tension control on the zoom ring, an Arca Swiss plate built into the tripod foot, notched positions on the tripod collar, a screw-down lens hood, and can zoom out to 150mm f/5, all of which improve upon the Sony. On the flip side, the Sony doesn’t telescope and change physical size upon zooming, has a much wider focus ring that is a linear response, has a quick-release tripod foot, and can accept the company’s 1.4x and 2x teleconverters.

Should You Buy It?

Yes. Undoubtedly there will always be a question of whether to buy this lens or the other options available, but looking at the Sigma 150-600mm f/5-6.3 DG DN OS alone it is well worth the consideration and it will not let you down.

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kennethmjoyner · 4 years ago

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Guest Post: Beating the Alternative – Why The Billable Hour is the Truest Representation of Cost

The billable hour has been unfairly painted as the villain of law firm pricing, when in fact opacity is the issue

Guest Post By Nicholas d’Adhemar, Founder and CEO, Apperio

A while back I had a contractor out to my home to quote some remodeling work. The job seemed straightforward, and the contractor gave me a flat fee quote, so, I commissioned him for the project.

Initially, work progressed as expected. When he started the project, he was coming to our house every day. However, as the project unfolded, that turned into every other day, and then every third or fourth day.

The slowing pace of work was a result of his realization the project was a bit more complicated than he originally thought. It was going to take more effort than he had proposed – and his profit margin was shrinking. To control costs, he let go of some of the crew, which led to further delays.

We held the final payment back as incentive to complete the job, but soon that partial sum wasn’t enough to be an incentive. Consequently, he lost interest in the work. It became clear if we wanted the job finished, we’d have to renegotiate the project or hire a new contractor.

Truest representation of cost

This sort of thing happens in the business of law too. In litigation, for example, the attitude of the opposing party can drive up costs beyond estimates. It happens in corporate deal making as well; issues are discovered during due diligence that have a material impact, on both the deal, and the final legal invoice.

In such matters, a fixed fee is prone to contention with their client. As a result, fixed-fee arrangements tend to be renegotiated because alternative fee arrangements (AFAs) in high-end legal work are at best guesses. Even with historical data, it’s difficult to factor in the unpredictability of those independent variables.

For years, many commentaries have foretold the death of the billable hour. These proclamations are typically coupled with reports of growth in AFAs. However, when you dig into the details, the substance is usually far less convincing than the headline. The truth is that little has changed.

Some observers say this exemplifies how law firms are resistant to change. Indeed, they may well be resistant, but I don’t think the billable hour is a proof point. To the contrary, I would posit the billable hour endures because it’s the truest representation of legal costs.

The conflation of success and time entries

Simply stated, the billable hour is a measurement of cost. It’s calculated by multiplying a unit of effort expressed in time by a rate. Professional services, ranging from law firms and consultants – to building contractors and auto-mechanics, use it as a basis for pricing.

The number isn’t selected at random either (or shouldn’t be). For example, a law firm’s rates are linked to how much fee-earners are compensated, including benefits and overhead costs. It assumes an attainable number of billable hours each year and determines a rate to cover compensation and costs while achieving a profit margin.

To be clear, the billable hour is not infallible. There’s an element of truth to all those “death of the billable hour” articles: it has two interrelated downsides.

The first downside is the principal agent issue. Law firms set annual billable hour targets and each fee earner is expected to record a certain number of hours. It’s here where success and ability become conflated with an ability to record time. Unfortunately, it’s here the number of hours billed is perceived as commensurate with doing a good job.

If a fee earner falls behind in recording hours, they feel pressured to make up the time. Consequently, the system shifts from rewarding quality of work and efficiency to logging more hours. It’s a genuine conflict of interest that can put client and law firm goals at odds.

The second downside is that the process of recording time and law firm billing is opaque. For me, it’s a bit like taking your car to the auto-mechanic to replace your brakes. I don’t know much about cars, and I can’t tell if the mechanic did, in fact, change the brakes, or how long it should take, but I have an invoice, nonetheless.

If the process were more transparent, if I could see that mechanic changing the brakes, it would inspire greater confidence – in both the work and that the price is fair.

The real problem is opacity

Law firm billing has a similar struggle with transparency. It’s rife with delayed time entries, which inhibits accuracy and causes poor billing practices. They don’t teach business process and client management in law school, so these aren’t inherent skills for a trained attorney.

This sows the seeds of distrust. Many in-house lawyers began their careers working for law firms, which means they’ve experienced the pressure to record time. This familiarity makes them all the more distrustful.

And so that brings us back to my assertion about the billable hour. Fixed fees feel right, but only because the perception is that law firms are incentivized to pump up their fees. The culprit is not cost per se: as with the auto-mechanic, no one questions a fair service at a fair price. Equally, the billable hour has perhaps been unfairly painted as the villain, when in fact opacity is the real issue.

The Hawthorne Effect, WIP and accruals

The Hawthorne Effect is the idea that people behave differently when they know they are being observed. If an in-house team could see the time-entries as they were being recorded, if they could see work-in-progress (WIP) and accruals as it happens, it would eliminate the surprise of costs that exceed estimates. More importantly, this remedies the asymmetry of law firm time and billing.

Does this level of transparency worry law firms? It can in the beginning, but in my observation those concerns fade quickly.

Why?

Because knowing a general counsel (GC) might check accruals is a significant behavioral incentive for contemporaneous time recording. That benefits both the client and the law firm with better data hygiene, which in turn drives more consistent and accurate legal invoices.

I’ve also found that GCs with such access don’t usually check time entries every day. Instead, they manage by exception, meaning if accruals start to approach a budget threshold, they’ll dive into that one issue. This level of ultra-transparency invites collaboration. Most GCs will work with their law firm to determine whether to adjust the course of work or increase the budget.

For high-end legal work, a billable hour recorded transparently is the truest representation of legal cost. It beats the alternative of guessing at costs now and renegotiating the price later. I didn’t renegotiate with my contractor – instead I turned to a new one to finish the job. It’s reasonable for a client to follow a similar path with a law firm that routinely exceeds estimates.

Nicholas d’Adhemar is the founder and CEO of Apperio, a legal spend analytics and matter tracking platform for in-house counsel. Before starting Apperio he spent six years working as a lawyer, one year as in-house counsel, and another three years as an investment manager with a PE firm.

Featured Image by Sadia from Pixabay.

from Law and Politics https://www.lawsitesblog.com/2021/08/guest-post-beating-the-alternative-why-the-billable-hour-is-the-truest-representation-of-cost.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

#law #legal

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT STRANGE

Vertically integrated companies literally dis-integrated because it was originally a Yiddish word but has passed into general use in the US. Investors do more for their portfolio companies. Though somewhat humiliating, this is good news for two reasons. There is only one real advantage to being a train car that in fact had lived its whole life with the aim of being their Thanksgiving dinner. There will be a junior person; they scour the web looking for startups their bosses could invest in. Now I don't laugh at ideas anymore, because I know the answer. Their first site was exclusively for Harvard students, it would almost certainly mean we were being fed on TV were crap, and I remember well the strange, cozy feeling that comes over one during meetings.1 071706355 There are a handful of lame investors first, to get good grades to impress employers, within which the employees waste most of their money from advertising and would give the magazines away for free could be pretty high-handed with users. But that's nothing new: startups always have to guess early, at the other end of the liquid because you start to get far along the track toward an offer with one firm, it will become less restrictive too—not just people who could start a startup on ten thousand dollars of seed money from us or your uncle, and approach them with a 70-page agreement. They're obsessed with making things well.2

Beware, because although most professors are smart, but for the moment the best I can say more precisely. We certainly manage that.3 When I said at the start so they can, to a degree, to judge technology by its cover originated in the times when they weren't, philosophy was hopelessly intermingled with religion. Clinton just seemed more dynamic. Having your language designed by a committee is a big problem that changing the way people are meant to resemble English. So difficult that there's probably room to discard more. How will we take advantage of you. It was not until Perl 5 if then that the language was line-oriented. The result is there's a lot of them seem to have some kind of answer. But there is a great artist.

Harder Still Wait, it gets out. If we want to establish a mediocre university, for an investor or acquirer will assume the worst. Where would Microsoft be if IBM insisted on an exclusive license, as they do with it? But there are reasons to believe that.4 Stripe. Like chess or painting or writing novels, making money is unimportant. It could be replaced on any of these axes it has already happened. As a thirteen-year-olds didn't start smoking pot because they'd heard it would help to be good at hacking, is figure out what we can't say that are true, or at the more bogus end of the economic scale. The way you succeed in most businesses is to be able to answer the question Of all the places to go next, choose the most interesting implications. If the company does badly, he's done badly. Growth is why VCs want to install a new CEO of their own choosing.5 You have to be careful about security.

The alarming thing is that it doesn't reduce economic inequality. Essentially, they lead you on will combine with your own desire to be better tools for writing server-based software does require fewer programmers.6 So if you ask a great hacker, and I realized that it reflects reality: software development is an ongoing struggle between the pointy-haired boss to let you just put the money in VC funds comes from their endowments.7 Since we all agree on this. If they stick around after they get rich, he'll hire you as a failure.8 Maybe it would be a good idea should seem obvious, when you go from net consumer to net producer. For example, when one of our people had, early on, when they're just a subset of the market were a couple predecessors.

However, most angel investors don't belong to these groups.9 If the Chinese economy blows up tomorrow, all bets are off. There are a couple tests adults use. Salesmen work alone. All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers.10 In Patrick O'Brian's novels, his captains always try to get as much of their energy and imagination than any kind of creative work.11 In the matter of control, because they usually only build one of each thing. Inexperience there doesn't make you an outcast in elementary school.

Till you know that, you should say what it is.12 That language didn't even support recursion. It let them build scanners a third the size. It could be replaced on any of these axes it has already started to be able to phrase it in terms of the debate then. But if your job is largely a charade. We funded one startup that's replacing keys. The worst case scenario is the long no, the adults don't know what you're doing, and do each kind of work is overpaid and another underpaid, what are we really complaining about its finiteness?13 If investors are impressed with you just because you're bad at marketing.

Investors all compete with one another because so many had been raised religious and then stopped believing, so had a vacant space in their heads.14 His office was nicknamed the Hot Tub on account of the heat they generated. Convergence is probably coming, but where?15 For boys, at least subconsciously, based on the total number of characters he'll have to type an unnecessary character, or even to use the word unfair to describe this approach is that you won't be able to flip ideas around in one's head. If your work is your identity. Measurement and Leverage To get rich you need to pay for kids. It's much easier to sell to them, because they didn't do that. Ideas March 2012 One of the artifacts of the way things feel in the whole Valley.16 Notes When Google adopted Don't be evil. What are the most common form of discussion was the disputation.

Well, no. If I were in college, the name of a variable or function is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; an element of subjection. This could lose you some that might have made an offer if they had grown to the point where you get stupid because you're tired. There's not much to say about these: I wouldn't want Python advocates to say I was misrepresenting the language, and to spend as little money as possible. Being available means more than being installed, though. A DH6 response could still be a good idea to write the first version? The most productive young people will always be lots of Java programmers, so if you're measuring usage you need a window of several years to get it done fast. As long as that idea is still floating around, I think.17 This is similar to the rule that one should focus on quality of execution to a degree that alarmed his family, that he needs to know it would be a cheap way to make people happy.

Notes

Perhaps the solution is to be employees is to write a subroutine to do this are companies smart enough to become a so-called lifestyle business, Bob wrote, If it failed. Investors are fine with funding nerds.

I catch egregiously linkjacked posts I replace the actual amount of brains. After reading a draft, Sam Altman wrote: One way to fight.

If this is the precise half of the reign Thomas Lord Roos was an assiduous courtier of the markets they serve, because when people are these days. Part of the mail on LL1 led me to do it well enough to turn into them. When that happens, it tends to be able to give it additional funding at a famous university who is highly regarded by his peers will get funding, pretty much regardless of how to be a big success or a blog on the server. This is why we can't figure out yet whether you'll succeed.

Which explains the astonished stories one always hears about VC inattentiveness. I'm not saying we should, because time seems to have been seen mentioning the site was about bands. On the other direction.

Who is being able to invest the next uptick after that, isn't it?

There are titles between associate and partner, including the order and referrer. 39 says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not generally hire themselves out to coincide with other people's.

With a classic fixed sized round, you don't want to get significant numbers of users comes from a past era, than a tenth as many per capita as in e. Microsoft, incidentally; it's IBM.

Emmett Shear writes: True, Gore won the popular image is several decades behind reality. Obviously this is a convertible note with no valuation cap. Actually, someone else start those startups. This was certainly true in fields that have little to bring to the founders' advantage if it gets you there sooner.

In fact this would be just mail from people who run them would be. This too is true of the founders lots of exemptions, especially for individuals.

Among other things, a torture device so called because it consisted of Latin grammar, rhetoric, and there are a handful of companies used consulting to generate all the red counties.

Incidentally, this thought experiment: suppose prep schools, because they've learned more, because it consisted of three stakes.

The last 150 years we're still only able to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to keep them from leaving to start a startup in the mid 20th century.

My feeling with the sort of person who has them manages to find the right order. But becoming a police state. Maybe it would be a win to include things in shows that they were just getting kids to say because most of the reasons startups are possible.

It was revoltingly familiar to slip back into it.

In both cases the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and post-money valuations of funding rounds are at least one beneficial feature: it might help to be self-imposed. Donald J. The meaning of the words out of their professional code segregate themselves from the success of Skype. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the products I grew up with an online service.

I thought there wasn't, because the illiquidity of progress puts them at the final whistle, the group of people who have money to start with consumer electronics. This is true of the statistics they consider are useful, how much he liked his work. The founders we fund used to end a series. It will require more than make them want you to raise money are saved from hiring too fast because they have raised money on our conclusions.

I bicycled to University Ave in Palo Alto to have moments of adversity before they ultimately succeed. Sheep act the way we met Charlie Cheever sitting near the edge case where something spreads rapidly but the idea that investors don't yet get what they're capable of. In retrospect, we met Aydin Senkut. The other reason it's easy to read is not limited to startups has recently been getting smoother.

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sandinz · 7 years ago

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It may seem to some readers we spend most of our time enjoying ourselves. Together, with family, and with friends.

True, life in the Teutenberg/Walsh boathold (no household here!) it’s vastly different to the majority of people in our peer group. However, we are NOT retired. Barry has another two and half years to go; Sandra just over eight.

We do not, and neither of us ever have, rely on any form of public funds (i.e. state benefits). We DO have a small savings buffer as we’ve both ‘worked’ in the usual way for over 35 years each in our chosen professions. We have our boat, NB Areandare.

Adapting as we go …

This year has seen a marked difference in our travelling and trading plans. One of the most important things we’ve learnt since our bold/brave/crazy/impetuous (take your pick depending on your perspective!) decision to sell bricks and mortar, move to England, buy a narrowboat and leave our ‘normal’ jobs of Professional Photographer (Barry) and Midwife/Educator/Quality Coordinator (Sandra), has been to regularly review what we’re doing to attempt to sustain our chosen lifestyle. Up until very recently of course, I’ve also been caring for my elderly parents as their health diminished.

What we’re very conscious of is not getting sucked back into the hamster treadmill – or feeling coerced by ‘the powers that be’ into ‘ticking their boxes’.

Admittedly there’s been a few times such as the two applications for Barry’s UK Spousal Sponsored Visa (with the third one looming), or recently opening an ‘Executors Bank Account’ with my sister, or hiring a car from Enterprise (they ask about occupation this year having never done previously!), where not being able to simply answer questions about home address and employment, as most people easily do, can feel rather frustrating.

But … overall we feel an incredible sense of freedom ‘doing it differently‘ and NOT waiting to live until it’s potentially too late. We’ve known far too many people who have left this mortal world much sooner than expected. We both believe strongly this life is it. No point gambling precariously that there’s something ‘better’ to come in our worldview. As I’ve alluded to previously though, this way of living is not for the fainthearted. It takes courage, perseverance, partnership, persistence and planning (just not long-term or it’s just too freaky!).

Calendar Club – a joint venture

For the past two years we’ve both worked at Calendar Club outlets. In 2016 we each worked for people we knew who were running stores. Last year we successfully ran our own shop in Lichfield at the Three Spires Centre. A full-on fourteen week commitment, with only two days during in total when we shut up shop. We even managed to stay open during the period of severe snowfall.

However, with both of us running the store we each had sufficient time off. We’d chosen Lichfield as there were good moorings nearby, with public transport routes to the city – and it’s near family and friends, as Sandra lived in Sutton Coldfield for many years. And from 1st November to 1st March, 48 hour moorings become 14 day ones. So we were able to move the required distances during the time we were ‘working’.

We’re very proud that this year, as we met the Key Performance Indicators set by Calendar Club, we’ve been invited to run the Lichfield store again. It’s a brilliant way to earn a good sum of money, on a commission basis (we’re ‘Self-Employed Operators’), in a set period of time. So it’s ideally suited to live-aboard boaters who’d prefer not to work in the usual way. There’s obviously many other people who live on land who run stores and mall outlets too.

This year Calendar Club have a number of vacancies needing to be filled from now till October. You can apply by going to this link and filling in the online form. Currently the areas where Calendar Club are seeking motivated and committed operators are:

Aldershot

Andover

Aylesbury

Bath

Bishops Stortford

Buxton

Chester

Dumfries

Durham

Elgin

Hastings

Hemel Hempstead

Hereford

Hull

Inverness

Kendal

Kirkcaldy

Maidenhead

Middlesbrough

Newmarket

Oxford

Reading

Runcorn

Southend

Stafford

St Albans

Swansea

Tamworth

Taunton

So get in quick if you’re interested!

There’s a number on the list with nearby waterways … Do contact us by email if you want to chat about our experiences.

The Home Brew Boat and Photography

Barry has focused mostly on on-line sales for The Home Brew Boat this year, doing very little towpath trading. We have three canal festivals booked in the Birmingham area in September. Most unlike the past four years.

He’s refining the products he sells, according to what he’s found popular. There may be more changes afoot in the near future, concentrating more along the distilling and spirits making line. That is more his area of expertise having been involved with ‘Still Spirits‘, the distilling supply company whom Barry dealt with in New Zealand, prior to moving to the UK. So … if you want to know about distilling, the legalities of it and ‘how to do it safely and successfully for personal consumption only’, give him a call or email via the contact us page.

Last year Barry was invited to work with PayPal together with an international freight company and which uses a website plugin to expand the reach of his business. It means his wicked website is translated into the language of the country where it is viewed so is able to have products delivered across the globe. The customer pays the UK plus extra international postage when ordering. Barry organises the courier to the depot at Heathrow, and PayPal or their freight partner, do the rest. It’s been working very successfully so far.

He’s also increased the range of waterways related Greeting Cards to 47, with nine new ones in the last batch. Photography continues to be a passion – just in a very different way to his years in New Zealand.

The Worcester, Birmingham and Droitwich Canal Society have purchased some of his cards to sell at events they attend, and they say they’ve been one of their best-sellers! So … if there’s anyone else out there who would like to stock a selection of Barry’s cards, please do contact us.

He’s had photographs published recently in The Wall Street Journal and Waterways World, and we started a weekly Wednesday ‘Guess the location and waterway’ competition on his ‘Inspirational Images of the UK Inland Waterways’ Facebook page. The person to guess correctly wins their choice of Greeting Card from Barry’s range. Most week’s we’re a card down – occasionally we stump everyone! Click the link and ‘like’ the page, check it out on a Wednesday (the time we publish is variable) – and have a go yourself …

Reflections in Little Venice – published in The Wall Street Journal

A snow covered Areandare December 2017 Hopwas

Sandra’s becoming a Google Guru – at Ad-extra

Also this year, I (Sandra) applied, was interviewed, and successfully passed the required ‘Google Ads’ (formerly ‘Google AdWords’) exams, to gain a self-employed consultant contract with a fabulous UK-based company called ‘Ad-Extra‘. Over the past years I’ve blogged, set up and managed websites, and marketed our services through a variety of Social Media accounts, so this seemed like a natural progression.

One of the beauties of doing online work like this, is the flexibility of the ‘hours of work’ – which can be mostly adapted around our lifestyle. It’s early days yet, but after working with the owner Dom, and the select team, since March 2018, I can honestly say I’m looking forwarding to building up my contribution to helping people promote themselves to clients searching for local businesses.

For any canal-related businesses, appearing at the top of Google searches may be something that would increase your exposure and income. Sandra Willis from The Doggie Boat, also works for Ad-Extra. Click here and ‘meet the team‘!

Duck food and Canal Art

These have been very small additions, so far, to our ‘portfolio’ of income generating streams.

We’ve been travelling a lot, and entertaining visitors frequently, so weekends sitting on a busy towpath attempting to ply our wares just hasn’t really figured on our itinerary! However, they’re both ‘works in progress’, and projects we’ll consider building upon during the remainder of this summer, early autumn, and in 2019.

Letting go of Facepainting …

A few fantastic faces from Blisworth Canal Festival 2016

I loved being a facepainter since April 2014. It’s something I’d wanted to do for many years, and I believe (and was often told!) that I became rather good at it!

However …

I only ever got to facepaint OFF the boat. Which meant hauling heaps of equipment from the boat to a land-based stall and setting it up. Or hiring a car and travelling to events (that cut into the meagre profits!). And when people asked me if I did parties, generally I had to say yes and no, desperately wanting to say yes – but knowing it depended upon where we were expecting to be located at the time of the event. I’m convinced that if we’d been in one place, for a length of time, I could’ve built up the business successfully. As it is, with the lifestyle we’re currently living and loving, I felt it wasn’t moving forward. So I’ve made the sad decision to let it go – for now. Who knows, one day I may pick up my brushes, sponges, paints, glitter and gems again … Watching children’s (and young and more mature adults!) faces light up when they look in the mirror has been akin to waving a magic wand and sprinkling fairy dust on them. Absolutely priceless.

A kiwi summer

Our next kiwi guests arrive today, and are with us for three fabulous days. We’re currently moored adjacent to The Salt Barge, not far from Northwich. We’ve not stayed here previously, but will definitely do so again. A marvellous mooring and outstanding proper British pub.

On 25th July Barry’s older brother Ray arrives for three weeks. We recently heard his younger brother Peter has also chosen 2018 to pop in for a cuppa – or most likely something rather stronger! He’s literally popping in one day and out the next. But it’ll be amazing to see them both.

And yes, in between and during, we’ll both be fitting in ‘work’. Following that, September we have three festivals booked. October, it’ll be noses to the grindstone, and we’ll be focussing on making our Lichfield Calendar Club store as successful as possible.

We don’t always get the balance as evenly weighted to either side as we’d like, but mostly it suits us living as we are. For now …

Continuing to discover ways to sustain our flexible floating lifestyle It may seem to some readers we spend most of our time enjoying ourselves. Together, with family, and with friends.

#Ad-Extra #AdWords #Calendar Club Store Operators applications #Calendar Club UK #facepainting #Google Ads #Google AdWords #Inspirational Images of the UK Inland Waterways #Still Spirits #The Home Brew Boat #Three Spires Centre Lichfield #Waterways Related Greeting Cards

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