Small flower tattoo behind ear

TL;DR: I can either have a completely reverb free set up that doesn't allow me to redo takes on the fly and also restricts my vocal performance because it's small. Or I can have a set up with a small but (at least on dry vocals) noticeable reverb, in front of my PC and with more freedom to move.
How bad is a bit of reverb for someone looking to do professional sounding vocals?
I use two GIK portable isolation booth walls and throw a blanket over top as a makeshift vocal booth and it pretty much gives me a completely reverb free vocal.
Issue is it's kind of a tight space in there and for the sake of my recording workflow I tried to get a set up going where I have the mic in front of my pc and then have the walls envelop me and the mic from behind. It allows me to do basic comping and to quickly redo takes basically.
This adds a bit of reverb to the recordings though, and honestly it sounds kinda good. It's bit more lively sounding, which might also have something to do with the fact that I'm not being squeezed from both sides and can move more. Not sure if I can trust my ears on that though.
Especially with rap vocals it's not ideal to have reverb. Is it a worthwhile tradeoff or would the reverb ruin my mixes?

I'm a newcomer to the audiophile community and am planning to turn my small office into a dedicated music listening room. I've been doing some research and have come up with a list of potential components for my setup. I primarily stream music from Spotify via my iPhone, and I'm looking for a setup that delivers clean, crisp highs and a good amount of bass.
Here's what I've come up with so far:

1. DAC: AudioQuest DragonFly or Chord Mojo
2. Headphone Amplifier: Schiit Magni or FiiO E10K
3. Headphones/Earphones: Sennheiser HD 800 S (Over-ear), Bowers & Wilkins PX7 (On-ear), Shure SE846 (In-ear)
4. Speakers: KEF LS50, Elac Debut 2.0 B6.2, or Klipsch RP-600M
5. Subwoofer: SVS SB-1000 or SB-2000 Pro
6. AmplifieReceiver: Marantz PM6007 or Yamaha A-S701
7. Cables & Connectors: 3.5mm, RCA, optical, HDMI cables, speaker wire, banana plugs, or spade connectors
8. Music Streaming Service: Considering upgrading to TIDAL or Qobuz for higher resolution audio
9. Wireless Streaming Device: Apple Airport Express or an AirPlay 2-enabled receiver

I would be extremely grateful for any feedback, advice, or suggestions you might have to improve upon this list. Are there any key components that I've missed, or any specific items on the list that you would recommend substituting for a different model or brand? Also, any tips or best practices for optimizing the setup in a small room would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you in advance for your insights!

TL;DR: I can either have a completely reverb free set up that doesn't allow me to redo takes on the fly and also restricts my vocal performance because it's small. Or I can have a set up with a small but (at least on dry vocals) noticeable reverb, in front of my PC and with more freedom to move.
How bad is a bit of reverb for someone looking to do professional sounding vocals?
I use two GIK portable isolation booth walls and throw a blanket over top as a makeshift vocal booth and it pretty much gives me a completely reverb free vocal.
Issue is it's kind of a tight space in there and for the sake of my recording workflow I tried to get a set up going where I have the mic in front of my pc and then have the walls envelop me and the mic from behind. It allows me to do basic comping and to quickly redo takes basically.
This adds a bit of reverb to the recordings though, and honestly it sounds kinda good. It's bit more lively sounding, which might also have something to do with the fact that I'm not being squeezed from both sides and can move more. Not sure if I can trust my ears on that though.
I'm big on maximizing my mixing and getting the best possible result, is this a worthwhile trade off?

My MCAS causes hives all over my body - as in 85%+ of my body is covered in huge raised painfully itchy hives. My ears, eyes and mouth swell up also. This happens maybe once every 2 weeks and last a few days. Otherwise I'm hive-free.
I started on Zaditen a few weeks ago but strangely it seems to be causing hives. I haven't had one of my usual big flares but seem to be dotted with small individual ones constantly. They fade after a few days and new ones in different places pop up. I thought this might be an initial reaction but I'm on it over a month now.
I'm due to see my rheumo again in 4 weeks time so just checking in here in the meantime to see if anyone has had similar experiences.

TLDR: dated a french girl in LA, visited her in Paris under the pretense she had feelings for me, a day after I arrive she becomes distant.
Context:
Met a Parisian girl through a friend in LA. We started to hang out as friends for a month in March. Initially I thought she was fun to spend time with, but I wasn't emotionally ready for romantic interest in her. Eventually, I became interested in her and things became more intimate in a way that I hadn't felt for a decade, since my first love. She and I seemed to connect extremely deeply on an emotional level. She had to return to Paris at the end of April for a bit to get her visa sorted, and the last week prior to her departure things felt very 'relationship'-like, despite not having any conversation around where things stood. I dropped her off at the airport and kissed her goodbye...she beckoned me back for another kiss before she left. She texts me "see you soon" before she takes off.
When she arrives in Paris, i get a cute selfie and text from her saying she arrived. We start to text eachother every day, and it's clear we miss eachoether. She's sending kiss emojis, etc. She tells me that her stay in Paris may be longer than expected (up to 3 months instead of 1 month), and so I let her know I'd like to visit her. She doesn't immediately say 'yes' but within the next week says I should visit. Though she has worries since "previously a guy she hit it off with visited and things didn't feel the same". I told her there is nothing to worry about. I plan to come visit last week of May. She's staying with her parents so I book a separate Airbnb.
Prior to my visit, things seem good. Shes excited to see me, though dealing with a lot of stress (both work and emotional) in Paris, and can't wait to just be 'present with me'. Some days before I fly out, she does send me a message about her being "anxious and having some unaswered questions about us" - I tell her we'll answer everything in person. Before I take off, I get a very sweet text from her, things seem perfect.
Arrival in Paris:
I arrive in Paris in the morning, she meets me at the main train station with flowers. Hugs me from behind and we're so excited to see eachother. We kiss then make our way to the area where I'll be staying. We grab food then go for a walk before she has to get back to her office for work. Things seem great.
Later in the afternoon, we meet up and go to my Airbnb. When we get in, I wrap my arms around her and hold her for a while. I had really missed her! She then tells me she needs to talk so we sit down as she begins to tell me that she had met up with her on-again-off-again ex during her first week back, nothing happened but it was emotional and stirred up confusing feelings and stress etc. She wasn't sure how she felt about things with me because of all this. In general, she was very open and communicative, which I appreciated. I thanked her for telling me all her feelings and said that I felt like I was ready to try a relationship with her, but if she wasn't ready for that its ok and we can take things slowly. The conversation went well, it seemed. We hooked up and she cried a bit after, though wasn't too vocal about why. She decides to not stay over - I felt a bit hurt but understood.
Descent
The next day we meet for lunch while we both have to do some work. We kiss, things seem good. But later that evening, we're hanging out after dinner along with a mutual friend, and I can tell she seems anxious. She's checking her phone, she's not in her element.
Later that night when she heads home I get a text: "I'm so sorry for being a mess and making you feel like you're a burden. I can assure you you're not. I love spending time with you. I'm just not in a good place at the moment and the fact that we don't have much time makes it feel like any minute not spent with you is wasted [...]. But I just don't want to pretend I'm someone i'm not. And I'm not a person who deals too well with uncertainty[...]. I just don't feel as strong as you"
She's a bit avoidant the next day and when we finally meet up, I tell her we can just spend the week together as friends. The mismatch in desires is putting us on different wavelengths in her mind, which creates stress & discomfort. Deciding to just hang out as friends seems to ease things up and we have a decent time together.
The reset of the week entails a lot of me wondering WTF I am doing in Paris, as she's pretty aloof and unresponsive. We meet up a few more times and on my last night have a nice time together as friends. She gives me a long sincere hug and heartfelt goodbye.
Making Sense of this
I'm heartbroken by all this, but more than anything I am confused.

• Did I come off too strong by being open & vulnerable with her by telling her I was interested in a relationship with her? Should I not have done that and instead have just been more open and understanding to her feelings, meeting her where she was at?
• How did her feelings change so quickly when I arrived, since prior to that it really seemed like she was emotionally invested in me? Things between us seem to have just completely evaporated - like she never had any feelings at all
• Am I the problem or is she broken, emotionally?

Chapter 88 - From All I Believed
​
Morning, Two days before Shel
Captain Setar suppressed a smile as she watched the Ops door close. “Well, that was interesting…Ce’lani is a little cranky.” The last vestiges of sleep clung to her as she settled down into the command chair. She felt worn out, but it was the cusp of dawn, and Pod Seven had only just turned over control. “Report on station?”
“The perimeter’s secure,” Jelki replied crisply, pulling up the map of the campus on the main screen. “Pod One is on station and reports twelve by twelve. Sgt Ma’reis is already complaining about janitor duty.”
“Ah, first pod problems.” Setar shook her head, rubbing her eyes and blowing gently on her mug of tea. “What about the objective?”
“The objective’s secure,” Re’lan piped up, already sounding chipper. The woman could have been priestess of Jrafell. Her unwavering cheeriness would have been a character fault if she weren’t so devoted. As it was, it was a damned penance for everyone else at this time of day.
Jelke finished running the obligatory shift change checks and stretched. Things wouldn't get interesting until breakfast, but watching the perimeter was a given. It didn't keep the curiosity out of her voice, as she cocked her head and glanced over. “What was interesting with Captain Ton’is, Ma’am?”
“Mm! Well… it appears she’s expecting a call from Professor Warrick today,” Setar drawled out, taking a moment to savor their reaction. “She felt a need to remind me she’s devoted to Hele, and that if Be’ona or I let her sleep through the call, she’s going to ‘fuck us up the ass with a lasrifle and pull the trigger’.”
Re’lan was probably blushing like a cadet, but Jelke shook her head ruefully. “I expect there's a ‘but’ in there somewhere, Captain?”
“Well, yeah, she said that’s where the rifle would go…” Setar sniggered before taking a long sip from her tea, and slid a bit lower in the command couch. Her eyes wandered to the traffic on the board. “She also made it clear what’ll happen if anybody listens in.”
Thoughtful silence descended. Setar almost counted to twelve before-
“We’re going to anyway, right Captain?” Jelke asked nonchalantly. “You know, for security’s sake?”
“Sergeant, that would be a base infringement of Captain Ton’is’ privacy, which is in fucking short supply for everyone in this bunker.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, watching the steam rise from her mug. “Deeps right we are.”
_ _ _
Lady Wicama regarded her guest with interest as their autocab plied its way about the outskirts of Prelitauri. While she’d been free and cheerfully able to accommodate Khelira’s request, Monsignor Santino Barcio, or Friar Barcio, as he preferred, was not at all what she’d been expecting. She supposed it was a matter of exposure…
The Palace had never quite been the same since Princess Yn’dara’s wedding. Yn’dara was one of those odd Royals who, though well-regarded, was seldom in the public eye. A perennial favorite of the Empress, indulging her unexplained absences passed as a matter of course for the Court. Widely known to be estranged from her mother, Princess Arduina, no one enquired either deeply or often, so when she suddenly resurfaced, her return would have equally passed without comment… if not for the wedding.
Yn’dara had shocked the entire Nobility.
While it was common for any woman to marry into an established family and become a kho, the wedding should have been singular for a Princess. Princesses didn’t marry into families, Princesses formed them. And while Yn’dara technically had done so, she’d taken on four unmarried women at the same time as her husband, who was a Human! Favorite or no, the wags in the court were agog that the Empress accepted Adam so readily! The Empress, however, had been adamant; Yn’dara and her family had her blessings, and were to be left alone.
However, time had proven to be on Yn’dara’s side as well as the Empress.
After a wedding seen across the galaxy, Yn’dara’s family settled into a life of public duty. They spent long trips away from Shil, and while quietly dismissed as ‘pleasure excursions’, her trips often showed the throne to the outer provinces. Although her public engagements were few, she’d become a vocal advocate of the Empress’ reforms against graft and corruption, and, gradually, the jealous mutters about scandalous excess and Human debauchery faded away. Her marriage remained an unusual footnote, but time had demonstrated the value of Yn’dara and her wives to the throne.
Then there was Prince Adam.
Rumor held the Prince had made a favorable impression on the Empress years before, at an event hosted by Yn’dara’s mother. While details had never been forthcoming, a more significant story about Adam wafted briefly through the ranks of the Golden Glaives.
Both stories had been effectively silenced, but Wicama knew who to talk to, and being Khelira’s guardian carried a certain clout all its own. Though that influence waxed and waned over the years, raising Khelira required being aware of events that could shape her future, and she’d proven herself to be discreet. Over time, doors had opened and words had flowed.
Time had been on Prince Adam’s side, as well.
As the years passed, she’d had an exposure to Prince Adam that few of the court and none of the public enjoyed. She’d been wary at first, but he’d been a good friend and mentor to Princess Khelandri before she joined the Marines, and however infrequent his presence, he always displayed a keen mind, a loving heart, and a steadfast duty to his wives. Privately, he absolutely doted on young Khelira and possessed a loyalty to the Empress that you could bend battlesteel around. The two got along famously - after all, he was a veteran.
Not Navy, mind you, but you couldn’t have everything.
And so, as Humanity began making forays upon the galactic stage, her first impression of the species had been favorable. She’d witnessed Adam mature into his role with the court, and while the issue of children remained unspoken, that faded as well. At the time, Yn’dara had been sixth in the line of succession. A year after the wedding, Kamaud’re became an adult, followed a year later by Khelandri, and the matter became largely moot.
As for a second impression on Humans, Khelira had provided enthusiastic reports about Thomas Warrick. While the Princess thrived at the Academy, Warrick seemed to be something special.
The absence of a father in her life had been a void that no woman could properly fill, but she’d done her best. Although she’d entertained a few qualms, as the months passed by, Warrick remained a positive influence. Khelira’s messages were infrequent by necessity, but she’d written about her distress over Warrick’s family and clearly been moved. Prince Adam carried his own scars, but what veteran didn’t? He hid them carefully around Khelli, and if Warrick had chosen not to, he’d provided a useful sense of perspective, instead. It was time for Khelira to grow up, and that meant facing the grist of differing opinions and ugly realities. That was what education was actually for, and Warrick seemed to be doing admirably well as a grindstone.
All of that was before the library incident, which settled her opinion once and for all. While erratic, irreverent, and capable of violence, Humans clearly could be a positive influence when channeled in the right direction. Yn’dara had shown what a good Shil’vati woman was capable of with Prince Adam, and Lady Pel’avon was following suit.
And at least the wags at the Palace wouldn’t speak of Yn’dara’s state wedding again. As a subject for spectacle, Miv’eire Pel’avon’s had put it to shame.
Still, it was good to see Warrick married. While Professor Ha’meres scandalous exploits had faded from the public eye, older wo… more mature women didn’t forget such things. The man had been a daring adventurer - and an inveterate gadabout - and an unmarried man around that many young women was too tempting for some girls. A wife or two… preferably more… resolved such idle fancies. If the Pel’avon ceremony had been somewhat… questionable in taste, compared to Adam’s, it remained legally binding. Warrick was willing to settle down, and by all reports his wife had a proper sense of decorum.
Human men seemed to be a trial from the Goddess, but hopefully she and her kho-wife could sort him with time, love, and kindness.
While exposure to only two Humans was not what she’d call a comprehensive sample, in both cases her impressions had been quite positive. And so, when Khelli asked her to escort a Human Priest about the city, she’d been entirely willing.
Thus far, it had been an enjoyable morning. While there had been occasional missteps, their conversation had been delightful as they traveled from property to property. Even so, she hadn’t expected to meet such a kindred spirit.
Admittedly she’d stammered a bit when he mentioned eating the flesh and drinking the blood of his redeemer. On the other hand, she compared it to the first time she’d bled into the ocean, mingling salt in her blood with the seas. He’d turned shockingly pale, so she changed the subject. It was a purely symbolic act to Drepna - just a cut on the thumb, for goddess sake...
She’d taken extra care afterwards. Barcio could be clearly a sensitive male, but diplomacy was part of her work. Even calling her role ‘work’ was deceptive. She’d raised Khelira in every way an Empress could not.
It was easy for other women to appreciate the prestige of her position, but few understood the depth of it - or the satisfaction.
During her career in the Navy, her flotilla had provided direct support for the Empress, and they’d come to work closely over three tours. After Khelira’s birth years later, the invitation came from the Royal Household to act as her guardian, and she’d never looked back. Competition had been fierce for the prestigious position, but applying had been the best move of her life.
Empress Kamilesh loved all her children and had spent as much time with each of them as she could, but her work was all-consuming, and after her husband’s act of… Well, the Empress had been there, but she’d born her pain privately. She had lost herself in her work for many years before recovering a semblance of her former self, and her absence had taken a toll on her children. Kamaud’re had taken it the worst. Khelandri had bounced back, while everyone doted on Lu’ral. Barely more than an infant, Khelira had been far too young to remember. Wicama had been there through all of it.
It was a good life, and the princess was a delightful girl. For Wicama, the absence of a man in her life was something she’d felt now and then, but she invested her life in Khelira. The Empress treated her as a member of the family in all but name… and in a very real sense, the child you raised was your child.
Looking back, some women might insinuate she’d given up her personal life to raise another woman’s daughter. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
She had her calling - just as Friar Barcio had his.
Yes, he was a priest, and his religious strictures were very unusual. A male priest in any of the Shil’vati faiths would never be placed under such restraints, and for a man to go unmarried was noteworthy…
But she understood having a calling. Oh yes, she understood that as few others could.
After discussing his needs, they’d set out to examine three properties around Prelitauri. The Friar’s individual requirements were deceptively difficult when taken as a whole. A complex coupling a generous auditorium, ample administrative space, and he clearly needed substantial grounds to properly convey a sense of aura. Such accommodations were seldom on the market, and since he expected his colleagues to arrive in weeks, his need was immediate.
Thankfully, urban renewal moved in waves. The tides of such fashions meant Prelitauri was once again an up-and-coming area. While difficult to find, three older structures had the potential to be suitable, and so it was that she’d enjoyed learning about her guest as they explored the tiny district.
The Monsignor spoke four other Earth languages fluently. He tended to break into his native tongue and hadn’t mastered contractions yet, but his Vatikre was passable and he listened carefully, seldom needing to ask about a word. After limiting her contractions when she spoke, their conversation flowed easily.
Barcio had shown little enthusiasm for the first two properties, but their conversation regarding other matters never waned. She expanded on her devotion to Drepna, Shil and the roles of each goddess while asking careful questions of his faith. His own inquiries proved thoughtful, and he was as avid in politely asking after her beliefs as explaining his faith.
After their second hour together, she’d taken the liberty of calling Prelate Hi’meta Merlamiss. As a priestess of Drepna’s second circle, Merlamiss had proven a valuable contact over the years. Well connected, she enjoyed a good relationship with many other prelates of the Divine Halls; she also got on well with Xinfess, the Rakiri’s Speaker of the Dark Mother on Shil. A meeting with Barcio would readily open doors for his group that might otherwise prove difficult to attain, and while Barcio’s accent strained now and then, it was clear the Monsignor and the Prelate shared a questionably low sense of humor.
Given a chance, they’d probably get on famously.
Certainly, that would be a blessing. Their hunt for a suitable facility had not gone nearly so well, and while Barcio had been conciliatory toward the first two facilities, she could tell he wasn’t taken with either. The last property wasn’t high in her expectations, so she found herself casting her head to the side when it swept into view and he clasped his hands in excitement.
”*È bella!* This is beautiful,” he exclaimed. “It reminds me a bit of my childhood home in Sacile!”
She looked out at the complex with its low gabled roofs, as their cab wound up from the entrance. Beside the drive, a small river meandered through the campus past the main buildings. She tapped the console to slow their ride and considered the place in a new light. “I’m… well, a bit surprised to be honest, Friar.”
“Please! We have been traveling for hours now, and I am not holding a service.” The Friar spared her a warm smile, before gazing back at the premises. “I would take it as a great kindness if you would call me Santino.”
“Very well - on the condition you call me Wicama.” It had been some time since anyone called her by anything but title or rank, and the informality was pleasant. Still, as their autocab closed on the end of the lane, she let such thoughts go and considered the location properly.
The buildings were low, sensible cubes, but that was largely an end to it. The architect had made some unusual choices in Helkam motifs that strained understanding. A long colonnade bordered the river, and that seemed nice enough, but the buildings! Forgoing purple was one thing, but they were beige! With unusual elements and the repressively bland color scheme, it was small wonder the clerk handling the property confessed that the space had lain vacant. Its original owners went into foreclosure. The exotic design had proven unable to attract interest, laying dormant ever since.
Barcio… Santino… seemed delighted, however, and she pulled up the specifications on her omni-pad. “This site has two smaller auditoriums besides the main one, while the central building has four floors. One is underground, but all the floors face an interior atrium.”
As the cab gently halted in the car park, she climbed out to hold the door but Santino had already scrambled out and was examining the gardens with evident interest. Tall stands of parago trees were losing the last of their fronds for the year, but she had to admit the grounds were substantial. Yesterday’s storm had left the morning air cold and crisp, lending the gardens an appealing aspect. Untended since the last owners, much could be done with them.
She had given up trying to escort the Friar anywhere after their first two stops, and now they fell into an easy pace side by side as they strolled toward the main building. She turned back to the property itself. “So, this reminds you of your home?”
It wasn’t exactly Helkam architecture - domes weren’t covering every possible surface - but the builder had clearly been nodding in that direction. A promenade wound to the entry, supporting white chevrons that arced into the sky. The bright morning sky shone through clever cutouts, making the unusual design at least look light, rather than oppressive and unappealing. With a decent renovation, the facility had possibilities, and the price was comparatively low.
“*Si!* Oh, not so much like home, but there is the sense of it. I was born near the sea, and this feels… similar.” He gave her a depreciating smile before rolling his eyes. “It may not please everyone who is coming, but ‘everyone’ is not here, so I am allowed some indulgence! Better to have something waiting than nothing at all. I confess, some of my colleagues thought we’d only manage when the bridge to Messina is finished.”
“You should not have been sent ahead alone! Surely your colleagues were not that worried about a poor reception,” she tutted. Priest or no, there were decencies about a man traveling alone to be observed. “You shouldn't need a bridge to find a place for your mission. I don’t know where Messina is, but I’m certain Prelate Marlemis wouldn’t stand for it!”
“Tch! Excuse my poor efforts! The older I get, the more I remember things like yesterday. Unfortunately, the yesterdays I remember so well were thirty years ago!” Barcio smiled wryly up at her as they walked. “The ‘bridge to Messina’ used to be a saying… People dreamed of building a bridge to Sicily, and it became something that never happened. My English friends would instead say ‘when hell freezes over’. *Un'espressione volgare*, but very much to the point.”
“Ah… I’m sure we can manage something, and this could be made presentable. Maybe change the beige to a pale violet?” she offered helpfully as she made it to the door first, holding it open. “The aura inside isn’t so bad.”
“You’ve said that several times, but I do not know what you mean?” He paused in looking around the entry, which had an open foyer exposing the two floors above and led out to the atrium beyond. “What is ‘aura’? I do not think I know the word as you mean it.”
“Aura is… Hmm…” Wicama paused thoughtfully and gestured at the atrium. The interior was in better shape than the grounds, and the architect had done something clever. Not yet noon, a bevel along the top edge filled the space with sunlight. “Have you ever walked along a beach and wanted to save a shell? When you are there, that is aura… When you take the shell home and think of the beach, that is aura, but… less focused. Diminished. You sense the beach because of the shell, but you are not at the beach. Places can have aura, but it is more than character. If you move through a place and find yourself experiencing it? That is aura.”
“Mhm! *lodevole!*“I like this idea very much. It would be right at home in the Vatican. Not everyone understands a space can move the spirit, or lend power to a message.” He nodded thoughtfully as he cast his eye about the open space. “With the right advice, perhaps we can lead others to these halls.”
“Perhaps. If you tour the Palace, I hope you’ll allow me to show you about? A lot of the real gems are hidden from the public.” She watched as he wandered toward the double-helixed stairways bordering the room. Those were definitely Helkam; walking up one side without meeting someone coming down the other was an interesting experience… once. After that, they could be an absolute nuisance. Spotting the elevators, she called him back. “The nice thing is this place is inexpensive! That will pad out your funds for a good remodel.”
Wicama quietly thanked the Goddesses that the builder’s had the good sense to install normal Shil’vati-style elevators. The sides were open, granting a wide view out over the atrium. The grounds were terraced to create a small park; that could make the underground space bearable, and the plans made them seem spacious enough. Not to everyone’s taste, but pretty. “I feel bad for asking, but can you afford the building? If the price of the first two bothered you, we can find others.”
“I would not hear of it! Thank you for your concern, but we are economical with our funds, and were sent with a generous sum. This is an important venture to everyone involved,” Barcio clasped a hand over his chest, as he shook his head. “I can not thank you enough for your help! You have surely spared me weeks, and I might not have found something half so suitable. As it is, the grounds are enough to gain me converts. Father Roscio and Pastor Weber will surely plant a vineyard before the inside is half done!”
“It’s not a problem. I have plenty of time,” she replied, dismissing the matter as inconsequential. “I work at the Palace, but with the Court away and my daughter at school, I’m a bit at loose ends just now. At the very least, I insist on helping you through the paperwork. I wouldn’t put it past some realty clerks to try and overcharge you… Someone from outside Shil, that is. I’ll ensure they stick to the listing.”
“To someone not from Shil… or someone who is not Shil’vati, perhaps?” His head canted slightly to one side, but he smiled as he said it. “*Certamente!* I would not dream of preventing you, though Rabbi Kleinbaum will be bitterly disappointed she has nothing to moan about.”
“I hope you won't take this badly, as I’ve only met one Human.” Wicama gave him a smile. She was long past girlish uncertainty, and the Navy had taught her a generous measure of professional poise to go with her skills as a markswoman. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“You know the professore, then?” He sucked in a breath and pursed his lips. “I am still deciding what sort of man he is.”
“No, actually, I know another Human but I’ve not… I have not… met Professor Warrick.”
“So. You mean that I am not *un barbaro*? I am here to make sure that we are seen as something more than savage warriors, *capisci*?” He studied her expectantly. “While the Imperium is doing good work on Earth, some still live in want. The Imperium provides enough for all to survive, but not all live in plenty. We need to present ourselves well.”
”That seems like a very secular outlook.” She offered, as they rode up to the third floor. Barcio asked for an explanation of the word, and by the time they’d made their way through the first offices he had the idea.
“My church has not always troubled itself with such things, but our holy father is greatly concerned with such inequalities. He takes it upon himself to address such matters with the Governess, when their time allows.”
“Your church has a good relationship with her?”
“È straordinario! The Governess adores our food, and while she was adamant about taking quarters in the Vatican, she has taken pains not to disturb us.” He shrugged dismissively. “*Cosa sai fare?* It seemed a small price, and we have endured far worse.”
“I used to hear terrible stories about red zones on Earth, though the Humans I’ve met don't seem the sort. It is good that your… pulp?” She tried the word and was rewarded with kind laughter and a gentle correction. “It is good that your pope concerns himself with the full welfare of the people and works with your governess. Our prelates share the same concerns.”
“I thought the Empress was the head of your church? Now, I find you have many…” he groped for a word, frowning, and gave up. “*Questo accento è una prova di fede!* ‘Denominations’ is not the right word, but she is the one revered, yes?”
“Of course! The Empress has to show all of our virtues and none of our faults, but that’s part of her role. To favor any divinity over the others could cause divisions. She has her personal preferences, of course, but never lets them be known.” Wicama explained carefully. “It would be in poor taste.”
“And poor politics, I think?” Santino gave her a long look. At his height it was difficult, but he managed. “This makes sense to me now, that the Imperium leaves matters of faith alone. *Una benedizione inaspettata.*”
Despite the serious topic, his fervent reply brought a smile back to her lips. “It seems your pope considers politics as well as economics.”
“People will always defend economic theories which assume that growth will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice. This has never been confirmed by the facts, and expresses a crude trust in the goodness of those wielding economic power and the sacralized workings of the prevailing economic system.” He said, stopping to clasp a hand over his cross. “Meanwhile, the excluded are still waiting.”
“That doesn't sound like scripture.” She offered cautiously, as they made their way into a wider suite of offices on the second floor.
“*Esattamente* The words of Pope Francis, a good and blessed man who appointed me to my position. His successor, his holiness John Paul the Third, is much of the same mind.” Santino said quietly. “Our savior washed the feet of others and urged all to do the same. The hardest step is to be involved. To work together for change, as well as to pray. That is why I am here.
“*I pigri di cuore trovano sempre una scusa* Some Humans, they are yet angry with the Imperium. Now they have enough, they are bitter not to have plenty. For some there is never enough - the true poverty lies within their hearts,” Santino said a bit testily. “Our faith teaches us to find salvation in eternal life, but others? *Pigrizia!* They see it as an excuse from taking agency in themselves. Jesus washed the feet of others - he did not lay down and wait for someone to wash his!”
Wicama turned the unfamiliar metaphor over in her mind but decided she had the sense of it. “Sham teaches us that helping our families and one another is the same as helping ourselves. ‘The rising tide bares us all from the reefs’.” It was a matter of faith… but that was why it was faith in the first place. On the whole, it seemed like a mature perspective that explained the changes she’d seen in Prince Adam over the years. “You’re here to meet with others, but this seems as much about knowing yourselves.”
“*Sì, non è una brutta cosa avere umiltà davanti a Dio.* Human beings, while we are capable of the worst, we are also capable of choosing the good. Of rising up to make a new start. We are entering the galaxy.” He gestured out the window at the world beyond. “If not now… when?”
_ _ _ “So, when are you going to explain this masterpiece you four have been cooking up?” Marin asked. Sammi and Sam were barely awake but the twins had already arrived, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, and Marin cursed the resilience of youth. The room was acceptably warm, but Ayen had complained about the cold and used the excuse to slip back into bed. She was considering her options for joining him.
Somewhere, somehow, Sammi had found their rabbit pajamas again. “Sam, explain it to her? You do it better.” Sammi yawned, but Marin suspected it was an act. Once something got their attention, sleep was usually an afterthought.
“What, now?” Sam had barely stumbled into the room and blinked. Bleary-eyed and barely awake, he looked like he’d been ambushed, which was exactly the case.
“Pllllllleeeease…?” They sat back pulling the ears, giving their best Roger Rabbit impression. Luminous green eyes peered out at Sam, imploringly.
“Alright… I need coffee, but fine.” Sam trudged over to the kitchenette and poked listlessly at the instant coffee. It was getting perilously low, but Marin was sure he’d brought more on the ship. Eventually Sam gestured at the K’herbhal sisters with his mug. “So the girls want to create an artificial topological soliton. It's like a black hole, except where it isn't… It's sort of a kink in space-time.”
“Made you say kink!” Sammi grinned impishly and the girls blushed. Marin shook her head but paid attention. It felt far too early after another late night, but once everyone was up you had to hang on for whatever came next.
“So, what's that got to do with this… hole you want to use for power?” Marin raised her voice just enough to drag the conversation back on track.
“It’s more like a side effect. If it cuts the right angle, it goes into a realm of space-time we can tap for power. Think of it as an obverse of an energy drain, so it's like a white hole.”
“Let me guess.” Marin shook her head and grinned, holding up a hand to forestall the inevitable. “Except where it isn’t?”
“Ummm… pretty much.” Sam grumbled, blowing at his coffee. Marin glanced back at the twins. With Sam busy, the twins had gravitated to either side of Sammi. There was room left on the couch, and she wandered over to settle in beside one of them.
The Sams had been complaining for years about a lack of ‘focal power’ for their mass compression technologies, and while a rubber duck inside a diamond was impressive, they’d wanted to do something more - a lot more. She suspected if the twins were providing the means, then they already had something about to surface from the depths of their imaginations. Over the years she’d learned to pick a bit, rather than take their answers at straight value. “And if things don’t cut at the right angle? You remember how long it took to get rid of the Navy, when you started talking about making black holes?”
“It's not our fault they didn’t understand,” Sammi said defensively, crossing their arms and pouting at her before the rabbit ears fell over their face.
“Who didn’t understand what?” Akeimei yawned at the door. She cast a wink her way before wrapping her arms around Sam and gave him a quick hug. “What did I miss?”
“Umm… a parallel universe, if the math is right,” Sam mumbled from the depths of his coffee cup.
“What? Like identical versions of us?” Marin watched Akimei’s nose wrinkled at the smell before she slipped away from Sam. Slipped down beside her, they rubbed shoulders a moment. “Tell me, is there one where I get more sleep?”
“More or less identical… though it's not like you need to go into a parallel universe for that sort of thing. There’s already a ‘you’ out there somewhere right now, to say nothing of past and future ‘you’.” Sam scratched his cheek idly for a moment “It's just the math. The universe is so vast that there are exact physical cosmic twins of us out there somewhere, not to mention even more almost-twins.”
“Sam’s right!” Sammi perked up excitedly, bouncing on the sofa. “Then there are quantum cosmic twins - which gets weird because particles exist in multiple states and you’d sort of overlap… but the easiest one is probably just another us elsewhere in the universe right now! That's sort of the point where things are since the universe is bigger than you can imagine!”
“So exactly the same… or almost.” One of the twins giggled. “Just like us!”
“Pretty much,” Sam nodded, slowly emerging from the depths of his coffee. “Another you out there on another Shil, or another me on a whole Earth, even - just a little bit different.”
“What? Like an Earth that never met the Imperium?” Marin canted her head, tossing out the obvious. It was hard to remember her life before, and she didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.
“Oh, I don't like that idea.” One of the twins stuck out her lip. “We want to come to Earth!”
“Yeah,” her sister nodded, though she suddenly looked glum. “I don’t know if Professor Warrick would mind though. He’d be with his wife and daughter, there.”
“Oh…” her sister's face crumpled. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, don’t…” Sammi hugged them both a moment, though they held the first twin a bit tighter. “The point is, somewhere he’s with them right now!”
“Wow, I guess so.” she brightened. “Just imagine! A whole Earth that never met the Shil’vati!”
“I wouldn’t worry, sis.” her twin nodded. “I think Professor Warrick is pretty happy right now.”
_ _ _
“I am not happy about this!” Tom glared at his omni-pad before tossing it down in frustration.
Miv looked up at her husband.
“It’s an honor!” She tucked her chin in and gave him a long, considered look, “What is it that’s bothering you - really? It wasn't Monsignor Barcio. Are you certain this isn't the same sort of thing?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” he growled, looking away like a guilty child. “Alright, maybe… but this uniform is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll look like a mushroom, and the hat only makes it worse!" Tom grimaced at the omni-pad accusingly, "They won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so now I’m on the rolls as a Warden Captain - whatever that is - and this ceremony is ridiculous!”
“The ceremony is traditional. Very symbolic... Besides, they don't make wardens out of anyone below the rank of captain - I looked it up. You were one before, so it's appropriate to make you one instead of a Warden Major or Warden Colonel.” She smiled at him serenely. “Surely, it can’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
He turned to wag a finger her way. “I’ll take that bet!”
“Worse than our wedding reception…?” She crooned, teasing him. “Or maybe pre-term night? I swear by the Goddess no one will pinch your ass, except for Lea and I.”
“Fine… “ Her smile grew wider as he grumbled, but he was calming down already and there wasn't heat in it. Still, he stubbornly clung on to the point a while longer. "It’s in my top five.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive, husband. Now then, I have meetings all afternoon, so why don't you finish reviewing the menu? You’ll feel better when all this is over and you can go back to cooking, chess, or starting that eeeyiy club… You might even give Ce’lani a call or message her?” She gathered her coat and smiled demurely, though it harbored nothing innocent. “If I’m not here you’ll have perfect privacy… Just don't promise anything you wouldn't promise to me.”
“It’s iai-do…” Tom groused, but he was already picking up his omni-pad.
She blew him a kiss and made her way toward the commons. Tom would probably stew a while, but he’d make the call.
There would be time to meet with Ce’lani on the common, before she had to come home for dinner.
_ _ _
Tom looked over the banquet menu as if it might reach out and bite him. The words stared up at him with perfect innocence.
Appetizer: Fruit and Cheese Platter - Slices of various cheeses and fruits on a platter providing a delicate mix of sweet, tangy and creamy to invigorate the dining experience. Serve with a selection of sweet and semi-sweet wines.
Soup: Choice of Tomato or French Onion Soup - Served with a piece of baguette and cheese.
Salad: Strawberry Salad with Poppy Seed Dressing -- an assortment of greens and fruit with a balsamic grain dressing to cleanse the palate.
Entree: Cornish Pasty - This herb-infused meat and pastry dish provides a counterpoint to the tangy taste of the salad and soup. Served with a creamy buttered mashed potato (a vegetable, humanely prepared!) with chives (also a vegetable). Served with a selection of wines or ales.
Dessert: Chef’s Sorbet Surprise - A sweet treat complemented by a palate cleanser, ending the meal on a piquant note.
His last call with Bherdin had been a trial and a half. Omni-pads were the definition of ‘high fidelity’, and hearing the little Shil’vati hyperventilate for ten minutes over the plan was pointless. At least Melondi had easier going with Vedeem on her side... one way or another this was happening.
As a final consolation, he relented on wearing matching suits. Bherdin frequently bemoaned Tom’s 'lamentable' fashion sense, and he perked up at that, promising to get him some appropriate formalwear for the occasion.
Privately, he suspected his Shil’vati friend was looking for a convenient alibi if a riot started.
In fairness, it probably wasn't a bad idea.
“Too late to use it myself…” he muttered. It wasn’t quite noon, and Miv was probably right. Instead of Chess Club or starting Iai-do practice or just cooking out at Human Food, he was stuck here at home. Miv’s place was bigger, but most of his stuff was still in boxes; it left him listless and climbing the walls. If this worked, at least things could get back to normal.
…Mostly normal…
He flipped back to the picture of the Warden uniform on his omni-pad. It was bad enough, but the hat made the whole thing look like a blue toadstool in silver filigree.
He swiped the picture away like an act of revenge, but didn’t toss the pad back on the table.
…Miv was right... and I promised to call Ce’lani…
Tom centered himself, pulling up the number. The universe was always in motion and a good Taoist accepted their part in what came. That was the lesson of ‘the Vinegar Tasters’, and it held true… The painting showed three men standing around a vat of vinegar. Each has dipped his finger into the vinegar and tasted it. The expression on each man's face showed his individual reaction.
The painting was an allegory for Confucius, Buddha, and Lao-tse. Confucius wore a sour look on his face. He believed life was out of harmony with the universe. As the second figure in the painting, Buddha had a bitter expression. Like the vinegar, life was painful and filled with attachments and desires that led to suffering. The last man, Lao-tse, was smiling at the taste. To him, harmony existed naturally and could be found by anyone at any time in any experience.
He thought about his buddy Dave. The old Marine would probably shake his head and tell him to ‘embrace the suck.’ It pretty much boiled down to the same thing.
Not that he was against calling. Miv and Lea had practically taken turns urging him on and giving their views on why it was a good idea. They hadn't harped about it, but he knew which way the wind was blowing. And Ce’lani’s message had been short, sweet in the literal sense, and the sound file she’d offered up had been…
…Pretty nice, really…
If he still said no, or decided he didn't like where this was going, they’d back his choice, of course. He didn't have a doubt in his mind… But with everything else in his life turned upside down, calling Ce’lani seemed like a calm in the eye of a storm.
…It's just a phone call. Leave the chaos at the gate…
He settled down on the couch to check his messages before giving her a call. It was nearly lunch…

Hello, if you need to protect your dogs ears from rain, dirt or at feeding time you can order some snoods from my etsy shop. I have small bussines in Lithuania. Shipping worldwide www.forafghans.etsy.com

Its been more than a week since I labored. I saw my baby, he's already quite big. His hands were small but his feet are large. We buried him already, with lots of flowers.
I remember it. Everything. Every time I remember it or see his photo, I cry. I wish things would've been different. I wish his father loved him. I wish I saw him grow.
I can't forgive myself for our decision, no matter what justification I think of. How do I find peace? My little angel. I love him dearly.
I just want to live now, just so I could remember his name. I miss you my little one.

These are my priorities:

• Music quality (I like a "full" sound if that makes sense, a bit of a wide soundstage, an immersive bass and sub-bass, and being able to distinguish instruments clearly)
  
• Gaming (good at pinpointing sounds from any direction)
  
• Comfort (this might be subjective, but my head is larger than average; my ears tend to hurt after long periods with iems and get stuffy with some over-ears)
  

Bonus:
-Wireless/Portable (it would be awesome if it could switch between being Bluetooth for travel and wired for PC use, even if the sound quality degrades during wireless use. I know the market is small so I'm not opposed to getting separate iems for travel if I have to.)
I'm not an experienced audiophile. I've tried a pair of Blon BL03s and Samson 850s. I'm hoping I can get a one-and-done pair that'll be my endgame unlike my other hobbies :(
Thank you very much in advance!

TWBS Next
-
---Esme’s perspective---
---Wednesday, 13th of September, 2682 Terran Calendar---
---Central Algeria---
“So, Mr Nasri… would you tell us about where the water comes from to irrigate these crops?” asks Ms Larch, a plump little half Denisovan woman with straight, dark hair and a limp that disqualified her from service.
She is a strong contender for the most boring woman alive… and is also my teacher.
“Of course…” smiles the tall, genial Amazigh man, in fluent (if heavily accented) standard English (as he can’t speak or understand Lallans Scots… which is fairly typical), gesturing at the fields around us “…the water comes from pipes, laid under the Mediterranean sea and Atlantic Ocean where they extend hundreds of kilometres off shore. It comes here, to the Sahara Agricultural band, and we use it to produce 45% of all Terra’s food!”
“And… could you tell us, why do the pipes need to be so long? Couldn’t the water just be collected at the coast?” asks the teacher, acting like she doesn’t already know.
The man smiles and laughs “Of course!… Mechanically, there wouldn’t be any problem with that! Ecologically, on the other hand, the problem would be that, with the enormous quantity of fresh water we need, we would be creating a huge plume of brine that would make the area around the collection point quite inhospitable to marine life… The desalination happens at the source, with only fresh water being let into the pipes and the salt being left in the ocean. The length of the pipes is necessary to… erm… what is the English word?…*snap* diffuse oversalinated water across a wide enough area not to be toxic to the marine ecosystem… Causing damage of that kind would be harmful to maintaining the habitability of our planet…”
“Fascinating, fascinating…” simpers Larch, seeming like she might have a bit of a crush on the agricultural engineer “…and, Mr Nasri…?”
“Please, call me Hassan!” smiles the good looking man.
“Well… err… Hassan, would you tell us a little about the role the Green Sahara played in the Reset?”
“I’d be honoured to!” he says, swelling with pride and turning to the class “You see, children… err… I mean… young ladies and gentlemen…” he corrects, obviously realising how ridiculous it is to refer to people almost old enough to serve as ‘children’!
He clears his throat and continues on his (obviously) heavily rehearsed spiel “…nearly a thousand years ago, back before the resurrecting of Homo Tshwane, Homo Longi, Homo Denisova or even Homo Neanderthalensis and before the creation of any uplifted or artificial sapients, when Homo sapiens were the only intelligent species living on Earth, our society experience the Industrial Revolution… which was a great thing for our technology and quality of life (generally) but not so great a thing for our planet!… By the late 21st Century, we were about to have a total collapse of Earth’s entire ecology!… It was at that time that Humanity United… Coming together to work to a solution to our dying world, we embarked on a grand project to terraform our own planet. This is known as the ‘Reset’… It took hundreds of years for us to fully undo the damage that had been done and the techniques we developed, here, were what allowed us to settle other planets so easily… The Green Sahara played three vital roles in preserving both our planet and our species: The first thing it did, was produce higher cloud cover, with the increased evaporation and transpiration happening here raising the planet’s overall humidity… This might not sound like much but, because the main problem we were facing was our planet’s increasing temperature, it helped in short term by increasing the albedo (the amount of light our planet reflects back into space). This bought us the precious time we needed to develop the technology that would rescue us from the calamity we had caused!… In medium to long term it made rebuilding the lost ice cover much easier by…”
Not really having the patience to listen (for the millionth time) to the story about how great we are for sorting out our own fuck ups, I lean in to Tommie and mutter “So it’s these guys’ fault that Stranraer is wetter than an otter’s pocket(!)”
Her whiskers swish up and down as she giggles at the joke.
“Is it just me or are you absolutely sweating your tits off out here too?” I ask.
“I’m… a little hot.” she breathes, hesitantly.
“I’ll bet! All that fur, you must be sweltering!... Is it…?”
“Ms Reid!” comes an angry voice.
“Yes, Ms Larch?” I respond, innocently.
“Is it too much to ask that you pay attention while Hassan hear is giving up his time to educate us about the history of his region?”
“No… Ms Larch…” I respond, abashed.
The rest of the class have a hearty giggle at my public shaming.
---later---
---Southwestern Scotland---
“The bitch has got it out for me!… Just ’cause she thinks I’m a ‘disruptive student’!” I grizzle, as I try and fail to skip a stone across the water toward the Man Peninsula, visible on the south horizon.
“You are a disruptive student, Mimi…” says Tommie from behind me.
I turn to stare daggers at her but find that she’s looking at her holopad.
“What’s the point in coming out hear to nature if you’re just gonna stare at your screen the whole time, Tommie?!” I challenge.
“It’s called homework, Esme(!) Not that you’d know anything about that(!)” she shoots back, coolly.
I scowl and turn back to the water.
“I just don’t really see the point of learning all this shit about history and ecology when I’m gonna be drafted soon!”
“You really want to come home with zero useful skills? Historically, it hasn’t ended well when societies have allowed there to be large numbers of unemployed people whose only talents are those related to killing folk…(!)”
“Easy for you to say… You get to stay here and raise an adorable little litter of kitten-puppy abominations-against-nature with Rex(!)” I tease.
“Actually… Mimi…” she starts, her tone serious.
I turn behind me, my eyes wide with disbelief.
“…I’ve been thinking I might try to… enlist…” she finishes, sheepishly.
I stand, frozen to the spot, for 3 long seconds, before I stride across the stony beach, my feet scattering pebbles with each footfall.
I reach the rock where she’s sitting and take her grey furred face between my hands, forcing her slitpupiled, amber eyes to meet mine.
She makes a silent whimper and folds her ears (more than normal) as I stare down at her, furiously.
“I forbid it!” I state, seething with anger.
“But…!”
“No buts, Tamsin Quinn!!!… I don’t get a choice about whether to fight… you do, but I’ll be bloody damned if I let you throw your life away for nothing!”
She stands up and bats my hands away with her paws “How is it fair that you have to fight and I don’t!?”
I give a slightly hysterical laugh as I answer “Fair?! Fair?!?!?!… Nothing about this stupid fucking War is fair!!!… Was it fair when it took my parents?! When it took your fosterdads?!… We spent our entire recorded history looking at the stars and imagining the people we could meet out there and, it turns out, to them, we’re the equivalent of the fucking xenomorphs!… On the 5th of February, 2679, fairness became an unaffordable luxury! So, you are going to thank your lucky stars that being an uplift means you don’t have to go to the same Hell that I do, you’re going to marry Rex (or maybe someone else, if things don’t work out with him) you’re going to have a million babies and, if I don’t make it back, you are gonna live my fucking share! Is that understood, Tamsin!?”
Looking extremely pained, she lets out a pathetic sob as she nods “OK, Esme…”
“Good!” I say, angrily, before pulling her into a heartfelt cuddle.
She holds me tight as I stroke my hands through the dark grey fur of her back.
I smile and joke “God, your fur is soft, Tommie!… If I make it back from the War and things don’t work out with Rex, how’s about you and me get married(?)”
She giggles as she says “We’re both straight, Mimi… Also, I’m not a muscular Neanderthal man and you aren’t a cute Canis boy!”
“So…(?!)” I grin “…did I say ‘lets get married and have wild, crazy sex every night’?”
“So your idea of marriage would be?”
“Simple(!) I go out to work and you stay home and keep the place clean, have a meal ready when I get home and then let me snuggle your fur(!)”
“It sounds like what you want is a live-in housekeeper more than a spouse(!)” she quips.
“Nah… I’d have to pay a housekeeper…(!) Plus, it’s generally considered harassment to make your employees snuggle with you(!)”
She gives a mirthful sigh as she says “You are incorrigible, Ms Reid!”
“I don’t know the meaning of the word(!)” I say (honestly) as I curl myself around her and sit her back down on the rock, cuddling her from behind now.
We look out to the south as the Sun gets low in the sky.
“I don’t only like muscly Neanderthal guys, you know…” I muse.
She snorts and answers “Oh, nooooo(!)… I’m sure you’re partial to a wide assortment of different types of man…(!) For instance, muscly Neanderthal hybrids, muscly Denisovans, muscly Denisovan hybrids and may even be persuaded to be attracted to a Sapiens or a Longi… if he was hench enough, of course(!)… I have to assume that even the most cut Tshwane would still be too skinny for your tastes.”
“Alright little Miss Only-Dates-Good-Boys(!)” I shoot back.
“Canis are fun and attentive, especially Rex!… I really don’t see the appeal of men who look like they’ve had their bodies carved out of marble and I don’t have the slightest inclination to Neanderthals!” she responds, resolutely.
“You don’t feel any sort of kinship with them… being a Scot?” I ask.
She gives a mirthful frown over her shoulder and demands “Explain exactly what it is that you think us and Neanderthals have in common, Mimi!”
“Well, to me it seems like we’re both proud races of intelligent folk (with lots of red hair) who, historically, got squashed under the bootheel of a more successful competitor, trying to erase our culture and identity and assimilate us into becoming them… Do you not agree?”
“You realise that, as a Sapiens, not only does that make you the Englishwoman of that little analogy but any hybrid kids you had with your lucky husband would also be part of the process of Neanderthal assimilation?”
“You call me an Englishwoman again, Tommie, and your gonna leave me with no choice but to wash your mouth out with soap(!)” I grin.
“I’m quivering(!)” she answers, dryly.
I give her a squeeze as we sit in silence, staring at the water for a while.
“Don’t you think it’s kinda bullshit that, right now, Terra considers me to be a wee baby, doing wee baby things, but, next month, they’re gonna press a gun into my hands and say ‘off to War with you!’” I say, eventually.
“You could always volunteer for Officer Training if you’re so keen to go off and die?” points out Tommie, dryly.
“I’m not…” I correct “…just commenting on the arbitrariness of it; Midnight strikes on my birthday and I magically transform from a poor little defenceless girl into a young body, ripe to be tossed into the meatgrinder, in the government’s eyes…”
She sighs and stays silent for a long time before saying “Promise me you’ll come back, Esme…”
I look to the ground and forlornly say “You know I can’t promise that, Tommie…”
“I know… I guess I just… wish you could!”
“I mean… who knows…? We’ve had the xenos on the run since we broke the Cordon… Maybe, by the time I finish Initial Training, they’ll’ve sued for peace!”
“Yeah… maybe…” she answers, letting me know with her tone exactly how likely she thinks that is!
“Do you think, if the situation was reversed, we’d’ve been any better?” I muse, idly.
“What d’you mean?”
“Like… if we’d discovered a planet with six billion xenomorphs living on it in Victorian conditions? Do you think we’d’ve been able to be all friendly with them, ignoring how absolutely lethal they were and how horrifying they looked to us.”
She shakes her head and answers “I think we’d’ve probably nuked the planet from orbit with someone saying ‘it’s the only way to be sure’… I am quite tickled by the image of a xenomorph wearing a tophat and reaching under his tailcoat to pull a pocketwatch out of his vestjacket, though!”
I giggle and the conversation ceases for another long moment.
Then my alarm sounds, letting me know it’s 6:59 and we’ve only got 40mins to make it back to the home before sunset and 1:01hrs to beat the curfew.
“Alright, Missus… you wanna call a capsule or shall we walk(?)”
“Oh, aye(!)” she smirks over her shoulder “Let’s trudge 50km home, over hill and glen(!)”
“Strathluce isn’t a glen, Tommie… It’s a strath!… Honestly, I thought you were meant to be the canny brainbox(!)” I say, smugly.
“We live in a glen, Mimi!” she retorts, calling a capsule on her holo.
“Glen Ryan doesn’t count! It’s all urbanised…”
We argue goodnaturedly, laughing until the capsule arrives to take us home.
---
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TWBS Next

Ivan Law: The Man Who Solved Hip Hop’s Biggest Mystery

Ivan Law is the man who claims to have solved hip hop’s biggest mystery. According to his blog, “Robo Cop: The Demo That Drove Dr Dre to Murder,” Law has uncovered shocking new evidence proving once and for all who was behind the murders of Tupac Shakur and Christopher “Biggie Smalls” Wallace.
Law says that in January 2014, he came into possession of an unreleased demo from 1992 featuring Tupac, Dr. Dre, and Suge Knight. The aggressive lyrics and tone of the demo allegedly enraged Dre so much that he conspired with Knight to have Tupac and Biggie killed in order to maintain control over the direction of hip hop.

• Law points out that Tupac’s shooting in 1994 happened shortly after he left Dre’s Death Row Records for Suge Knight’s label.
• Biggie’s murder occurred during the height of the East Coast-West Coast hip hop feud, for which Knight and Dre had motive and means.
• Law claims that Eazy-E was also murdered in 1995 by Dre and Knight to gain complete control of Ruthless Records and its artists.

While Law’s claims seem far-fetched, the unreleased recordings and additional evidence he cites in his blog and videos are compelling. His theory joins a long list of speculative explanations for the tragic deaths of these hip hop legends. Whether or not Law's shocking allegations prove to be true, he has certainly gained notoriety and stirred debate in the hip hop community. After 25 years, the murders of Tupac and Biggie remain unsolved, but Ivan Law believes he has finally cracked the case.

Robo Cop: The Song That Signed 2Pac’s Death Warrant

Ivan Law has been investigating the murders of Tupac Shakur and Christopher Wallace, aka The Notorious B.I.G. or Biggie Smalls, for over 20 years. His shocking new evidence points the finger at none other than Dr. Dre.
According to Law, Dre grew insanely jealous of 2Pac's success and talent. Pac's "Robo Cop" demo was the final straw. The song was set to be a huge hit, overshadowing Dre's own work. Enraged, Dre conspired with Suge Knight to have 2Pac killed.

• Law claims Dre provided the gun and getaway car used in the 1996 drive-by shooting of 2Pac in Las Vegas.
• Dre's anger only grew as 2Pac's posthumous albums gained more fame and success. Biggie's friendship with 2Pac made him a target too.
• Law says Dre paid a Bloods gang member to gun down Biggie in 1997 to avenge 2Pac's death and regain the spotlight.

If true, this disturbing theory means that two of hip hop's greatest stars were murdered out of one man's jealousy and greed. Law has called on authorities to investigate Dre's involvement and finally bring justice for the slain rappers' loved ones.
Fans have reacted with a mix of disbelief, outrage, and calls for the cold cases to be reopened. Law's claims are shocking, but he insists he has the evidence - including secret audio recordings and witness testimony - to back them up. Over 20 years later, could the truth behind these tragic murders finally come to light? The hip hop community waits with bated breath.

Dr Dre’s Role in the Murders of Pac and Biggie: Revealed

According to {Ivan Law}, Dr. Dre played a significant role in the murders of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. In his shocking new blog post, {Robo Cop: The Demo That Drove Dr Dre to Murder}, {Law} presents never-before-seen evidence that points to Dre as the mastermind behind the tragic deaths of the two rap legends.

Dre's Motive

{Law} claims Dre felt threatened by the success and popularity of {Tupac} and {Biggie}. Their fame was overshadowing Dre's own status in the rap world. {Tupac} in particular posed a problem for Dre. The two had a heated rivalry, and {Tupac's} provocative lyrics targeted Dre and other West Coast rappers. {Law} says Dre feared {Tupac} would ruin his reputation and hurt his record sales if left unchecked.

The Plan Takes Shape

{Law} alleges that Dre devised a plan to eliminate his biggest competitors once and for all. He hired notorious Los Angeles gang members to carry out the murders, hoping to avoid direct implication in the crimes. {The assassins were paid handsomely for their role and told that if they kept quiet, there would be more money coming their way.}

The Aftermath

In the months following the deaths of {Tupac} and {Biggie}, Dre's fame and success skyrocketed. His album The Chronic topped the charts, cementing his status as a rap icon. {Law} claims this was no coincidence. With {Tupac} and {Biggie} out of the picture, Dre had a clear path to rise to the top of the rap world.
{Law's} shocking claims have not yet been substantiated. However, if proven true, they would shake the rap community to its core and forever change how we view the tragic deaths of {Tupac Shakur} and {The Notorious B.I.G.}. More evidence may be revealed as {Law} continues to release details about what really happened during that fateful era in hip hop history.

Who Really Killed Eazy-E? The Shocking Truth Emerges

Ivan Law’s shocking revelations about the murders of Tupac and Biggie have taken the hip hop community by storm. His blog post and accompanying videos lay out compelling evidence that Dr. Dre orchestrated the killings of both rap legends.

Dre’s Motive

According to Law, Dre had clear motives for wanting both Tupac and Biggie out of the picture. Tupac had recently left Dre’s Death Row Records label, taking some of their most talented artists with him. Biggie's Bad Boy Records was Death Row's biggest competition. With Tupac and Biggie gone, Dre would have an easier path to hip hop dominance.

The RoboCop Connection

Law points to Dre’s 1992 song “RoboCop” as a blueprint for the murders. The violent lyrics describe killing a rival rapper in a drive-by shooting in Las Vegas—eerily similar to how Tupac was murdered. Law believes this proves Dre had been planning to kill Tupac for years. The “RoboCop” lyrics also refer to shooting a rapper in Los Angeles like Biggie—who was killed in an LA drive-by.

Who Really Killed Eazy-E?

Eazy-E founded N.W.A. with Dre but they had a falling out over money. Eazy-E died of AIDS complications in 1995, but Law presents evidence that Dre may have injected Eazy-E with HIV-infected blood. At the time, it was rumored that Dre and Suge Knight, head of Death Row Records, had threatened Eazy-E with infected needles. Law’s research seems to confirm these long-held suspicions.

• Dre’s shady history of violence and intimidation.
• Enforcers on Death Row Records payroll who could carry out the killings.
• Tupac’s bodyguards were off-duty LAPD officers with ties to Death Row.
• The murders of Tupac and Biggie remain unsolved to this day.

Law’s deeply researched investigation, while shocking, provides the most plausible explanation yet for who was really behind the tragic deaths of these hip hop legends. The truth, it seems, has finally emerged.

Conclusion

Law's shocking revelations have reignited the debate around these unsolved murders that shook the hip hop world. While Law's claims are controversial and unproven, they highlight the tangled web of relationships and rivalries that fueled the East Coast-West Coast hip hop feud of the 1990s. The truth may never fully come to light, but Law's meticulous investigation gives fans a glimpse into the dark underbelly of the music industry and the violence that often accompanies fame and fortune. For now, the murders of two of hip hop's brightest stars remain an enigma, their lives cut tragically short just as their careers were taking off. Law's work ensures their legacies live on and that the search for justice continues.

So I just went down the Kakariko well and i am so so sad. Theres a small area with a glow flower and a planting box with carrots and forified pumpkins and the small note that she left. It was a small space Dorian's wife used as a place so grow and cook vegiables and on the stool she would have sat on, she left a small note about how her husband works so hard and she cooks meals for him because of it. There is also sections on her children on how she is so proud of koko and how she loves her youngest. The story on how she had died just breaks my hear everytime I'm reminded of it and I just found it so sweet on how she loved her family so much and was so proud of them.

His dad read in a magazine that the greenest lawns need to be watered first thing and so the sprinklers were programmed to come on very early. Carl woke to their patter and to the smell of wet grass and May blossom. Looking down, a slice of dawn light crossed the middle of the bed (right over his tummy) and he watched as strands of dust drifted through it, their spiralling, jerky motions briefly visible before they vanished into the airy space of the room on either side. At some point, he drifted back to sleep.
In the houses around him, forty or so others lay in their beds, dreaming dreams which, if you could have seen them, would have blended into a heady mix of hope and fear that hovered just above the various Groves, Avenues and Closes that made up the neighbourhood. This cloud was as real, somehow, as the birdsong flitting between the trees and the mist creeping back down the streets to the sea. Within it, promises of new lives and new lovers blended with unseen foes and inexorable catastrophes. Some confronted deeply hidden parts of themselves, manifest as dead relatives, impossible landscapes, bizarre tasks and strange entities with shifting identities. Others dreamt about nothing at all, and contributed only black streaks to the otherwise iridescent, billowing cloud.
For his part, Carl dreamt he was five years younger, learning to ride his bike. His mum was running behind him holding on to the back of the seat, giving him time to find his balance while his legs built up enough momentum to keep him upright. Then he was doing it – he was riding and it was exhilarating: a blur of light and colour and rushing air. And then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t. He was awake.
“Morning, dingus,” came a voice with a hint of amusement. Carl blinked his eyes open and stared at the boy outside the window. His hair seemed to possess a life of its own, swirling and dancing in the breeze. The boy smiled with his eyes but not his mouth and nodded toward a corner of the room. Carl followed the nod and saw a cricket ball sitting against the skirting board. “Lucky your window was open. Pass it back?” Carl looked again at the boy, still half asleep. The boy began to roll his hands with mock impatience: “You deaf or something?”
Cautiously – without a word – Carl pushed off the duvet, swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the carpet. He went to the corner, picked up the ball and walked it back to the window. He held it out and saw the black squiggles curving around its surface. “Who signed it?”, Carl asked. The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the ball and ran across the lawn, disappearing into the hedges at the bottom of the garden. Carl stayed at the window for a few moments. As he stood, cool, salty air flowed past him into the room. The sprinklers pattered away.
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The houses of stood in a row like colourful blocks. Mrs Friedman moved past them slowly, eyeing each in turn. The older she got, the more her taut face struggled to conceal the many jealousies, slights and conflicts that had amassed behind it. And so, more and more often, some of the bile overflowed back into the world, escaping her thin lips as a pointed whisper or, sometimes, even a direct attack – which is what happened next.
“Have you eyes?” Her frail voice floated down the drive, weakening with every inch. It was almost imperceptible by the time it reached Mr Fuller’s ears. It was, however, just enough to make him turn around and investigate. Seeing her, he smiled and began walking toward her, wiping his palm on a rag and setting up to shake hands.
“Hi there and good morning”, he said, “I’m Paul Fuller – new to the neighbourhood and it’s very nice to meet you.”
She stared at his outstretched hand and remained perfectly still, her white-knuckled fingers wrapped around the Zimmer frame. The man’s pleasantness confounded her – as had his claim that he was new to the area (that the house had been for sale was news to her). But, after a moment’s stasis, she managed to brush all this away and gesture weakly toward the drive. She asked again, “have you eyes?”
“Excuse me, madam?”, Paul replied.
“Your weeds”, she said, raising her eyebrows to indicate the displeasure she felt at having to repeat herself.
Paul scratched the back of his head and looked at the little green shoots that were just starting to peep through the cracks in the paving stones.
“I’m almost waist deep in them.”
“Oh. We’ve just moved in.” Paul said defensively. “In fact, we’re actually still moving in”. He pointed to the delivery van parked on the drive. “But, well – I’ll get the weeds cleaned up just as soon as I can, madam.”
“Good”, she said, resuming her slow shuffle down the street. Inside a cluster of bushes, two bright eyes were fixed upon her; a little fist gripped a weighty ball.
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Mrs Alleman’s hands burned pink in the washing up bowl. She’d read somewhere that, for every additional degree she could tolerate, another species of germ was eliminated. Since then, increasing the temperature had become something of a challenge. She enjoyed the sharp tingle she felt as she pushed it up a little more each day, and she believed she was approaching what was possible for a human hand to endure. Her vindication came on the rare occasions when her husband or a friend got splashed dropping in a bowl or plate, or when they tried to fish out a piece of cutlery or a utensil, and jumped back in utter shock. “The hotter it is, the cleaner it is”, she’d sing, voicing the mantra that so often cycled in her mind.
Through the steam and the droplets running down the glass, she could just about see her husband talking to the new neighbour – or rather, the neighbour talking to him. Even from across the road, her husband’s discomfort was apparent, revealing itself in his demure, slouching gait and the way he kept glancing back at the house as though worried it would vanish and leave him stranded on this earnest stranger’s lawn. Left to his own devices, she knew, it would have taken him weeks or months to introduce himself – and, even then, it would only have happened thanks to some chance encounter at the grocery store or in the park, or in some other communal space, and only if the other party initiated it.
His awkwardness endeared her. It always had. Though, seeing her husband’s vacant face staring over this stranger’s shoulder, she experienced something else – something that was getting a little more familiar these days: a smidge of annoyance, perhaps. She pushed it away, reminding herself of all the things he did for her and for their family. Sighing, she pulled her hands from the blistering water and dried them off.
“Hi there”, she shouted as she crossed the road, waving with one hand and using the other to shield her eyes from the morning sun. “Welcome to Sunningdale. We’re so glad to see someone finally move in to this beautiful house. Mr and Mrs Cartwright only put in on the market on account of her mother’s – his mother in-law’s – health, bless her, which took a real turn last year. Cancer! I know. I mean, absolutely the last thing she needed. Her husband, Mrs Cartwright’s father – Mr Cartwright’s father-in-law – died last Christmas, sadly. Yes, on Christmas day itself, which they say is a very common day to die. I’m not sure why. Something to do with being surrounded with family? Maybe. Who knows? Anyway, the only reason they moved is to be closer to her in what will most probably be her final year. They were completed devastated to lose the house, of course – their home for over twenty years. But they needed to downsize, anyway. Two birds and all that. I actually remember seeing him carry her over the threshold. And haven’t they kept it lovely? I suppose that’s one of the reasons you bought it – gosh, yes, they really did keep it lovely, didn’t they? And is there a Mrs…”
“Fuller”, Paul answered, “And no, sadly not. There used to be. But she died – three years ago. Not on Christmas day. But also of cancer. Absolutely the last thing we needed.”
Mrs Alleman’s face dropped. “Oh, gosh – I’m so sorry. How cack-handed of me.”
With a smile, Paul revealed he was type of man who could joke about his partner’s death, which was a relief to the Alleman’s in the moment, but which would cause some disquiet to both of them as they lay siltenly in their beds that night.
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Hi all,
I'm having one small issue with Grafana when I'm running it behind Traefik. If I access Grafana directly (http://10.10.10.10:3000) and login, I can edit a dashboard and press save and it will be saved. If I access Grafana trough Traefik (http://test.grafana.domain.com) and login, I can edit a dashboard, but once I press save a small circle keeps ratating, but the dashboard is never saved. Why is this, and how do I fix this?
Config I have in Traefik: rule host: test.grafana.domain.com service-loadbalancer-servers-uri: http://10.10.10.10.:3000 And there is a http to https redirect.
In grafana I tried to change the custom.ini (so default stays default ;) ). instance_name = test protocol = http http_addr = 10.10.10.10 http_port = 3000 domain = test.grafana.domain.com root_url = https://test.grafana.domain.com/ server_from_sub_path = true

Hi :) in a YouTube Comment I wrote down something that took me on a two hour writing and research spiral. In this here theory, we will go over things such as:
-The real reason for Luffy's Fruit Awakening -Why Devil Fruits reappear after the user's die -Why some Devil Fruits are naturally way stronger than others -THE BIGGEST ONE PIECE PLOT HOLE SINCE G5! -And a possible parallel to My Hero Academia.
I hope you enjoy it :)
*After finishing I realize this is long, so if you're a person who likes to get to the bombshells you can read the Theory Summary right under this! BUT! If you wanna get into it the way I did and completely explore these interesting topics, I suggest you skip the next paragraph and we start at square one :) *
Summary: Devil Fruit's are alive and aware. They might represent the will or incarnation, of the being who originally owned an ability, which ability was then turnt into a fruit by a process we only know of as "through human imagination". These fruits would go on to live past the Void Century and make their way into the new era, all while trying to find a host they can merge with completely, or work with a series of hosts over decades to organically grow the Fruit's Power and capabilites, for when the true user, the one who gets to awaken it, comes.
Okay, Theory Starts.
The main building blocks for this are "devil fruit capabilites depend on the user's imagination", "devil fruits have a vicious cycle of reincarnation", and "some devil fruits seem to have a will of their own"
Here are some power points

• A lot of DF users gain a certain mastery and knowledge of their fruit upon consumption. ( Khalifa, Bruno, and Kaku having techniques with their fruits less than a day after consumption and Sabo knowing some of Ace's moves despite Sabo not ever seeing Ace use his DF and did not remember Ace existed until after his death).
  
• A lot of DF powers are straight up broken and don't fit into the categories set for them, or have abilities they shouldn't have, such as Sugar's Fruit, (erasing a person memory from existance, and forcing them to obey). Law's fruit being able to make individuals immortal, Blackbeards fruit allowing him to steal and pass on DFs, and Luffy's fruit twist, being a literal case of "imagination is your limit".
  
• Luffy's fruit is the only confirmed DF so far to have a will of its own, and although it's heavily implied all Zoans have a will, this opens the door to wonder if all devil fruits have a will of their own.
  
• It was revealed Devil Fruits, were brought to reality, due to Human Imagination. It's also implied that before DFs existed, superhuman abilities were present, giving the possibility of all DFs being ancient powers conviniently encased into a small and accessible package for a future where such powers might not exist no more. A fruit.
  
• And lastly, Awakenings. A DF awakening was described as the Fruits user's mind and body finally catching up to the fruit, and both the person and fruit "becoming one" We all heard Zhou; "JOYBOY IS BACK!"
  

So with this I present what I believe.
ALL FRUITS HAVE A WILL. Though they don't seem to all pick their users, it does seem all of Fruits keep a record of all their users, their abilities and skills. "Imagination is the driving force behind a Devil Fruits Power" so a good user can make a decent base power, such as stretching and inflating a rubber body, into something unthought of, such as gear 4. Or Doflamingo, who went from controlling strings, to flying and patching internal damage subconsciously. Then, when the user dies, a Fruit will take this info, note it, and reincarnate into another fruit, allowing for this process to be repeated endlessly. The next user will learn the Fruits name upon consumption, but, what else can they subconsciously learn? Can previous users techniques, knowledge and skill within the fruit remain?
Humans have been known to 'lock' memories in the brain. Whether to protect the host from traumatic experiences or outside reasons, memories can be out of our own brain's reach sometimes. So, if all fruits do have latent wills, a fruit could choose to not reveal it's capabilites and true nature to a new user until it 'accepts' or 'fully becomes one' with its user. In other words, an awakening.
This can explain the biggest Devil Fruit plot hole in the series since Gear 5 was introduced. Why didn't Luffy know his fruit was the Human-Human Nika fruit? Lucci stated the fruit will reveal itself upon consumption, so Luffy's fruit effectively lied to him. At least, until the fruits latent will, Nika, deemed Luffy worthy of tapping into the fruits real power. The fruit gave Luffy the keys, and since both their ideals match, it allows him drive recklessly with it.
This makes ALL DEVIL FRUITS a little book, in which upon eating it, the new user signs his name in this book. Then the fruit observes the user's life and his ability to think of new ways to use the fruits power, records it. And if deems the user worthy, reveals itself fully, giving the user all previous records of past users abilities and ways to use the fruit. This would be the Devils Fruit Nirvana, as in instead of simply using a "host", the fruit merges with the host, creating a new fruit with a new personality, will and power in the process.
If the fruit decides its not time to reveal itself to its current user and decides to wait for the next one, the fruit will never awaken, as the user will never appeal to the fruit as a potential master, and the fruit will wait until the user dies, takes what it got from him, and is reborn into a nearby fruit, ready to start again.
Luffy's DF couldve admired him for dying to bring freedom to people in the world, since it's said that's what Nika would have done himself, and recognized Luffy as the Fruit's real incarnation. Here he became Joyboy literally. Used attacks never seen before. Pushed his limits farther than he could've possibly imagined. Things he could never been capable of, without the fruit giving Luffy access to the real powers of Nika and the knowledge that comes with using them. Once you see it this way, it's impossible to even think of an Awakening, without this whole process of the Fruit's Will accepting the current user as the one to inherit its full power. As far as to what could impress a fruit we don't know for each lol, *all Fruit's motivations may be different. *
So, to summarize, Fruit's are alive and aware. They might represent the will or incarnation, of the being who originally owned an ability, which ability was then turnt into a fruit by a process we only know of as "through human imagination". These fruits would go on to live past the Void Century and make their way into the new era, all while trying to find a host they can merge with completely, or work with a series of hosts over decades to organically grow the Fruit's Power and capabilites, for when the true user, the one who gets to awaken it, comes.
And that's is it for my theory on the will of fruits and their awakenings. Thanks for reading all that.
There's a Couple theories that I'm thinking after this is how Devil Fruits and the Seraphim could be following a similar path to My Hero Academias Quirk Singularity Theory and, Nomus.
The real reason behind a devil fruit users natural weakness and impotency against water. The secret to them losing all strength in water could very well be psychological and directly tied to the "devil fruits contain wills, personalities, and memories" topic.
And what I think is the origin for devil fruits, as is implied that before century, superhuman abilities and powers were present, and devil fruits were not.
But thank you very much if you read this. I hope you enjoyed and please tell me how you feel about this. What I love more about speculating about this show is knowing other people's speculations about the future of the series! Much love.