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Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (season 2)

[3 stars]

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a complicated love/hate relationship with a show. I’ve certainly hate-watched other shows. And I’ve gritted my teeth through others, while loving some aspects of them as well. But I don’t ever recall, in the Trek universe or any other show for that matter, loving and hating in equal measure such that it’s hard to tell how I feel about it.

On the plus side, this is the first spin-off to really capture the sensibility of the original series. They’ve continued to build on that since the inaugural series. Anson Mount is a great choice for Pike and the perfect precursor to Shatner’s Kirk. The show doesn’t take itself too seriously (a dual-edged plus to be sure), and it has some seriously good production values. The cast is generally solid and fun to watch. And the addition of Carol Kane has been an unexpected delight.

On the negative, it violates canon constantly. It doesn’t take itself seriously enough. It wastes its short season with too many stand-alone episodes that don’t really build on the larger arcs. While the original Trek was all stand-alone (OK almost all stand-alone) the larger arcs are a necessity for today’s entertainment.

And there is one truly unforgiveable aspect: they didn’t even give us a complete season. It’s a bloody cliff-hanger! They had plenty of time to build and complete their arc. Instead we go off in all kinds of directions, some of which give us interesting background, but which don’t help get us to a resolution. If you have 10 episodes, use them. You’re allowed one or two stand-alones to help the pacing, but not 7. And you certainly don’t have the wiggle to put in two “joke” episodes that, again, have bits and pieces, but which made the whole very weak. I’ll come back to them in more detail.

Admittedly, this second season continues to embody more of the original series than any of the other sequels/prequels. But it also is drifting more toward satire of that venerable beginning more than building on it. Several of the episodes echo some of the classics (such as City on the Edge of Forever) while otheres simply rewrite canon…particularly for Spock. I am far from a purist when approaching stories that fill in gaps, but some things are set and some things aren’t. You have to abide by the rules or you’re just writing fan fiction. In this case, with a huge budget. Rules don’t limit, they force you to be creative (think sonnets).

I will admit that the style of the dialogue and the new characters that are being expanded upon are all really well done. It is also definitely entertaining. I am always happy when a new episode shows up (even if I sometimes am grumbling about aspects). It has serious potential to go on for a long while if nursed properly. But it is also becoming its own thing in a way that is separating it from the Star Trek universe in an ineffable way that I’ve yet to put my finger on. Maybe it is the throwback feel of the series rather than the pushing-forward sensibility of even the weakest of the shows like Enterprise. Maybe it’s the lack of respect for the established “truths.” Maybe it’s the fact that they never met a joke they didn’t like? Maybe it’s simply me being intractable.

One of its best episodes (Under the Cloak of War) lands late in the season. And it is followed by one of the craziest ever produced for Trek on any of its various platforms and incarnations. That vacillation in tone is brave, but also more than a little confusing. You never know quite what you’re walking into.

Let’s talk about that a moment.

Subspace Rhapsody. You can see how it was inspired by the Buffy musical Once More With Feeling…it even steals riffs from it. And the lyrics were quite literate and often interesting. The music… well, let’s just say they didn’t quite make the grade. It was repetitive (and not in a way that served the plot resolution) and boring most of the time. Nurse Chapple got probably the best song of the lot, and the most poignantly ironic as well, though the Klingon spot was a riot. And I will admit the finale was a real big number to go out on. But the whole idea was premature in this show. They haven’t earned the kind of emotional constipation that required song to let it out. Musicals are all about bottled emotions that have no other way to be expressed. In Buffy, it was 6 years in the making and one huge secret or more to divulge. Here it was a bunch of mostly obvious stuff that folks just had to get a bit drunk to disclose.  This treatment wasn’t necessary to get the characters where they wanted to be to sell their season finale.

It also came on the heels of their oddest cross-over episode…the ironically acronymed Those Old Scientists, which comes out to TOS. Cross-overs aren’t new in this universe, but this was with the wonderfully silly animation Lower Decks. The existential conundrum of which of these worlds the shows live in (animated or real) is funny and odd, and they did a great job with it. However, to put two back-to-back was a show-runner mistake in my opinion.

Despite all of this, I waited to see if they could pull off the season. Could they weave all this together into a meaningful payoff?

Answer: no. There are aspects of the backgrounds that play in. There is the building of the TOS crew through the season with some amusing nods as it happens. But they left us hanging .. and it is going to be a long hang given the current WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, which makes it even more frustrating. I didn’t leave the season anticipating the resolution, I exited screaming at the television and cursing their inability or unwillingness to give me a complete tale. Not what you want to do to your audience.

And yet, yes, I will be there when they come back hoping they’ve learned some lessons in crafting a more satisfying season.

Where to watch

Shibari + Zhongli canon compliant nsfw

Pairing: Zhongli x Gender Neutral!reader

Genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 

Words: 3.9k

AN: Hi anon!! Sorry this took a while! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS ONE!! I’m glad I had experience writing something like this before skajdha I decided I can’t fit this into a small drabble, so here’s like a really long version lmao my two itty bitty braincells are now in no-brain mode, so this might be full of typos or errors. 

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

***

When Zhongli first heard the word while on a stroll late one night, he had realized that there was indeed an artform he had yet to encounter or at least heard of. His curiosity peaked, it was only a matter of time before he finally had to give in and ask you what it was.

“YN, if I may,” he began, settling the cup of tea to the table. “There is something I wish to know.”

Attention caught, you raised your brows at him—surprised that there was actually something Zhongli has yet to know—as you took a mouthful of wonton noodles.

“Sure, ask away,” you replied, chewing.

“Well, this was several nights ago,” Zhongli recounted, his deep voice serious. “I was passing by a group of shipbuilders and I couldn’t help but over hear their conversation.”

You hummed, prompting him to continue while stuffing another serving of blackened bass in your mouth.

“Their discussion involved an artform popular in Inazuma, and apparently has spread all over Teyvat as well,” he continued. “Unfortunately, I have yet to hear about this certain artform. Could you care enlighten me please?”

Leaning your head to the side, you wondered what it was. There wasn’t any popular art trend nowadays which Zhongli doesn’t know, so you became to grow curious as well.

“Did you catch the name of it?”

Zhongli nodded. “Yes. It’s called shibari.”

You almost choked on the food you were eating.

“Are you sure that’s what you heard?”

“I believe it is what I have heard,” he replied. “Is there something wrong?”

Sighing, you were going to have a lot of trouble explaining it to him. It was painfully obvious how Zhongli is so out of touch from the pleasures of mankind.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you decided it was best for him to know, before he does something unexpected.

“It’s kind of a sexual play,” you told him, but despite your words, Zhongli only glanced at you, eyes blinking.

Watching him, you noticed he had placed his hand over his chin—a habit he had whenever he was thinking. Whatever comes out of his thoughts, you were beginning to become nervous.

“I see. So, performing art during intercourse…interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “It is not too far off considering the fact that intercourse could also be deemed as a form of art, wherein it takes specialized honed skill to elicit a pleasurable result. To take two art forms and combine them in one act…I am astonished at the inventiveness of man.”

You took a bite from a dumpling, eyes jaded. “It’s not that grand, you know.”

“Now that I am aware of its existence,” Zhongli continued, paying no heed to your comment. “I wish to experience it myself. YN, I must request for your assistance.”

The dumpling you were eating fell back to your plate. “…what?”

“This…this shibari. I wish to partake in this now popular art form,” he repeated, but you only became more flabbergasted.

“Didn’t you hear me say that it’s a sexual play?!”

“I did. That is why it must be you,” Zhongli replied, taking your hand and placing it over his smirking lips. “You are my lover after all.”

Flustered, you had no choice but to agree. You knew of Zhongli’s immense curiosity and nothing is going to stop him from finding out what he wants to find out. Moreover, you wouldn’t really want him to experience it with someone else.

“F-fine,” you conceded, still nervous. “But give me a month to prepare. You should also ready yourself.”

Wondering why he had to wait and ‘ready’ himself, Zhongli leaned his head to the side. “Very well, but why a month?”

You scratched your nape as you averted your gaze somewhere. “I don’t have the right stuff, and I don’t have enough knowledge to do it properly. So give me some time.”

*

It had been a month since that conversation had occurred, and Zhongli began to feel a little bit antsy as the day drew near. It wasn’t common for him to feel this nervous energy, always maintaining his calm and composure. But it was different this time.

Since that discussion with you, you had banned any sort of sexual act from sex to masturbation, all except from small kisses; and as someone who had gotten used to your presence in his arms at night, Zhongli instantly felt withdrawal symptoms cloud his dignified countenance.

Zhongli inhaled sharply as soon as you entered his room, anticipation deeply running in his veins. You took a shower right after him, making him wait and allowing his imagination to run rampant inside his head.

“Sorry, did I make you wait?” you asked, making your way to the bed in nothing but a bathrobe.

“No, it’s alright,” Zhongli replied, his long hair now freely flowing after he had taken off his ponytail when he was taking a shower.

Running your hands through his dark hair, you admired the way they slipped against your skin as if they were made of silk. Absentmindedly, you began to braid his hair in a lose coif, making him relax underneath your touch.

“Um…er…YN, are we going to—”

You hummed, interrupting his words as you smiled. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“I fear that I may longer be able to contain my anticipation,” he confessed, feeling your hands on his back through the thin robe he was wearing.

Grinning, you knelt down and embraced him from the back; giving his temple a small kiss. “It seems like I don’t have to ask you if you’re sure about this.”

Loving how you felt so warm around him, Zhongli smiled as well as he intertwined his fingers between yours. “I do feel nervous, but it was I who wished to know; thus I must see it to the end.”

“Well, that settle’s it then,” you replied as you removed yourself from his shoulders. “Before we start, I need to remind you that we can always stop if you can no longer handle it, ok?”

Zhongli sighed. “I am confident that I can handle something like this.”

“Please stop being so stubborn,” you retorted back, annoyed that he really has to insist he wouldn’t need it. “Since it will take you forever to decide, I’ve picked one for you. It’s Rex Lapis. Say it when it gets too much.”

He scoffed. “You retaliate in the most absurd of ways, yet very well, I’ll keep it mind. Nonetheless, that does not mean I will use it.”

You grinned. “You’ll take that back soon enough.”

As you said those words, you shifted from your seat and faced him; hands cupping his chin. There was a look of surprise in Zhongli’s expression as soon as you tilted his head up to meet your eyes—too slow to react at the situation.

“Now, from here on out, I’m the one in charge. Any misdemeanor will warrant due punishment,” you began, voice firm and authoritative. “Are we clear, Zhongli?”

It took him some time to adjust at the sudden shift in the air; stunned at the tone you were giving him. This was probably the first time he had seen you take the lead, and it might’ve given him some sort of whiplash.

“Answer me,” you demanded, which made him jerk his attention back to you.

“I—uh…yes…”

“Very good.”

Smiling at his response, you removed yourself before him and sat just beside him with an easy expression. “Well then, why don’t you take off that robe? Just the robe though, leave your underwear on.”

Brought on by the awkward situation and the fact that you just ordered him to strip, Zhongli’s face immediately heated up to a few degrees. It was strange that he was feeling it for some reason—was this the actual appeal of the performative art form? Or was this simply one of your whims?

As he removed the silk tie tying his robe shut and slid it on the floor, you instructed him to quietly kneel down on the bed before you; hands neatly placed on top of his lap.

“Y-YN…? What is this…?” he asked, confusion marring his youthful face. It was embarrassing to sit on the bed that way, wearing nothing but his underwear, his dick beginning to form a tent.

Yet you only smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. We’re getting to the actual act,” you replied, crawling towards him before placing your hands on his bare chest. “If you can hold on till then, I might actually award you, you know?”

Leaning down, you immediately captured his lips in a deep kiss, moving softly yet sensually against his. Cupping his cheeks, you pushed your tongue inside and easily played with his. For some reason, this felt way hotter than the kisses you previously shared, with Zhongli unable to keep his hands to himself and began to wrap his arms around your waist.

You broke off the kiss with a click of your tongue; your thumb still on his swollen lips.

“YN…”

“What did I say about touching?” you asked, eyes holding nothing but pure mischief.

As soon as he heard you, Zhongli knew he had made a mistake and instantly rescinded his embrace; eliciting a chuckle from you.

“I—uh, forgive me…” he hurriedly told you, his voice beginning to lose their strength as he stuttered and tumbled at the words he used to be so eloquent with. As someone who has prided of his calm demeanor, Zhongli felt a surge of embarrassment at how he easily succumbed to your touch.

It was so adorable to see him like this; all flustered and nervous, making you want to see more of those reactions you have yet to see.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back,” you told him and stood up; an idea forming in your thoughts.

The moment you left; thoughts of things he might’ve done wrong kept repeating inside his head. He was scared that he might’ve crossed something which he shouldn’t have—the sounds of you rummaging through your belongings only exacerbated the nervousness that was already in his system.

However, you were not gone for long. He could sense you behind him, daring not to move or look back, and as soon as you draped a cold silk cloth over his eyes, he instantly realized what he had eagerly signed up for.

For one, as the Geo Archon, it was unimaginable for him to be in such a position, but for some reason, Zhongli found it incredibly arousing to have him at your mercy—to be restricted and ordered around; to be at the other end of the spectrum from what he was used to?

This is strange indeed…

“Don’t you agree that everything feels more vivid when you’re blindfolded?” you asked, now back on his lap; and despite being robbed of sight, he could tell you were smirking. “Does it feel good, Zhongli?”

“I…I cannot be certain…” he replied, the feeling of your intense stare sending shivers down his spine. “I haven’t experienced something like this before…”

At his hesitation, you could only giggle and gave him a small kiss. “Well, there’s a first for everything, but this one here…”

Your voice trailed off, your hand effortlessly finding his half hard dick and pressed on it harshly; eliciting a strangled moan from him. “It’s been feeling good for a while now, don’t you think so Zhongli?”

“I…I—!” He was at a lost for words; the pleasure he felt intoxicating his mind. You were right, the blindfold seemed to heightened his senses to such degrees of vividness.

“I can’t blame you really,” you told him, still toying with his member with your finger but not fully committing on pumping it up and down. “I did tell you to hold off for a month, of course, you’d be unusually sensitive and horny.”

If Zhongli thought his face was hot enough before, he hadn’t anticipated for it to feel full out burning as if his blood was set on fire. He tried holding off the sounds he was making whenever you pepper kisses on his shoulders, but to no avail. He was gradually becoming heady at the immense pleasure your hand was giving. By the time you continued talking, he was already panting heavily, skin flushed and hands balled so tightly into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

“Y-YN…” He wanted to say ‘too much’, but he didn’t want to stop you either.

“I’m impressed you can keep your hands to yourself,” you remarked playfully, rewarding him with a love bite just underneath his jaw. “Why don’t we move on to the actual thing itself?”

Even with the blindfold, Zhongli could feel you standing up; anticipation once again beating wildly against his chest. What were you going to do to him this time?—that was a thrill he had never expected to feel pleasure from.

You returned once more to his side, now with the appropriate items you needed, and brilliant grin on your lips to top it off. It was weirdly exciting for you as well, finally doing something as erotic as this to a dignified gentleman such as Zhongli. Which is why, you couldn’t help but talk him through it.

“I did tell you that shibari some sort of sexual play, right?” you began, as you seized both of his hand and pinned them on his back. “It involves tying someone up with rope, in patterns that are not only visually pleasing but are also designed to make you feel good.”

Zhongli could feel the roughness of the rope cling to his skin as soon as you tied his wrists together before doing various knots up his torso and down to his legs. It was incredibly strange—you were only tying him up but for some reason, he felt so exposed and so turned on.

“The reason why it’s so popular is because it gives a sense of security if you will,” you continued, remembering the patterns you had religiously practiced over and over again for the past month. “As if you were surrendering everything to that one person, trusting that they can give you security, give you pleasure. That is what this art form is.”

Every time he felt your soft hands brush against his damp skin as you tightened the rope around his body, he would control a shudder that kept on surging through him like a multitude of waves. This was beyond the ordinary, a situation Zhongli had not anticipated—you were right when you told him to prepare himself. He definitely did not heed your advice, and it came to him with a price, especially when you finally wrapped some rope around his dick as it stood straight and hard between his legs.

“If only you could see yourself right now, Zhongli,” you told him, pressing firmly on the ropes around his member before nibbling on his earlobe. “Aah, I just want to eat you up.”

With your sultry voice directly sending shockwaves down his lower parts, he could only dig his fingernails on the palm of his hands as the hemp ropes dug deeper in his skin. Even though they were not too tight, the restrictive sensation enveloping his body, plus the way you were touching him now was making him lose his mind.

“YN…YN…p-please, I—!”

He spoke between gasps as he felt your lips suckle on a sensitive point on his neck, his dick twitching as he tried to jerk up.

You hummed amusingly. “What is it, love? Where do you want me to touch you?”

Raking up your fingernails up his toned chest, you smirked as he groaned, unable to find any sort of friction he had been seeking for some time now. The way his long dark locks stuck to his skin because of how much he was sweating, or the way he trembled and shivered at every touch of his skin—you loved them all. As much as how Zhongli was intoxicated by pleasure, you were also heady with the power you had over him.

Not waiting for his answer, you crept your hands up and suddenly pinched his nipples—making him jolt straight up at the abrupt stimulation with a loud moan.

“Do you like it here?” you asked, now lavishing your tongue over a hardened nub; relentless and teasing.

“Ahh…! YN…! Wait, please!”

All of his thoughts had already vanished, replaced only by the sensations of your tongue on his now sensitive nipples, of the ropes wound tightly around him, of how painfully hard his dick was. It felt good, he had to admit it. It felt incredibly good.

“Do you want me to stop? I can always stop,” you asked, smiling. “If not, tell me where else I should touch you.”

Breathless as his chest heaved, Zhongli tried to find the words he wanted to say even as his lips trembled.

“Um…please touch….m-my…”

He was blushing furiously, the word seemingly unable to pass through his lips.

“Your what, Zhongli?” you asked him again, almost cooing but inwardly laughing at how he just can’t say the word ‘dick’.

Biting his lip to stop it from quivering too much, it seemed like he really has to throw every sense of dignity he had in him just to relieve his arousal.

“M-my…pe—ahh!!"

You pinched one of his nipples, pouting. “Don’t you dare call it penis, or else I won’t let you cum. Now, as you were saying?”

If only his head wasn’t too hazy from all the sensations stimulating him simultaneously, he would’ve made a mental note to make you suffer at a later date, but right now, his brain was being ran by his dick.

“P-Please…YN…! My—my…d-dick…I can’t…” he forced between pants as his sweat made the ropes feel even tighter and his underwear feel even more sticky.

Smirking at your victory, you pressed a kiss on his lips, your hands finally removing his dick from the constraints of his underwear. You could feel him groan on your lips as you began to move your hand up and down, and making sure to reach his most sensitive spots.

“Look at you, getting this hard after being tied up,” you whispered to his lips, a grin plastered on your face. “I didn’t know you were this dirty, Zhongli.”

“I-I’m…not!”

He tried to deny it but you kept his mouth shut by squeezing his cock tightly.

“Really now?” you asked, voice low as you kept on pumping him, his voice becoming nothing but dirty noise. “Are you about to cum?”

“YN…!” he growled, the ropes keeping his legs folded biting on his skin. “T-too much….! I’m…!”

Mercilessly, you continued to jerk him off as he crept closer and closer to climax. However, there he realized that the ropes around his member had gotten tighter, and the painful throbbing he felt was because he couldn’t cum.

“Oh? Did you find it out?” you asked, chuckling at the look of desperation so evident in his face. “If you can endure this in a few more minutes, I’ll reward you. How about that?”

“N-no, no….! YN…p-please, I c-can…no longer….” Most of his words were incomprehensible, affected by the pleasure and the pain on his cock.

You hummed playfully once more. “Do you want me to stop then? You can always say the safe word, you know?”

“No! W-wait…please! I n-need…I can’t…!”

“Then endure,” you replied, an idea blooming in your head. Your free hand then reached for the blindfold covering his eyes and unraveled it, allowing him to finally see.

However, he did not have time to recover when you immediately caught his attention.

“Look how hard you are, Zhongli,” you told him, his amber eyes blow wide by his current state. Yet strangely, the thought of him so aroused and at your mercy, only made him harder.

Laying down on the bed with your chest on the mattress, you looked up to him, his dick on your hands; your eyes reflecting mischief. “If you can hold on for a few minutes, I’ll let you cum, alright?”

Zhongli only gazed down on you, face as hot as the sun and as red as beet. He watched as you took his dick in your mouth and began sucking him off. At the sensation, he instantly threw his head back. This was totally different from your hands. This was just incredible.

With lustful eyes, you watched him convulse before as you assaulted him with your tongue—sucking and licking at every sensitive point you knew. The underside and the tip were particularly sensitive and that was where you concentrated.

“A-ahh…! Oh…shit…YN!” he groaned, his deep voice and the way he was now cursing sent you reeling as well. “T-too good…I’m…f-fuck…!”

You chuckled, the vibrations on your throat making his dick twitch as you kept on bobbing your head. Gazing up, you both exchanged glances as you kept on sucking the tip; his eyes tightly closing at the intensity.

“Are you going to cum?” you asked before diving in once again, your hands secretly making their way underneath his underwear and finding his hole. “I’ll help you.”

“W-wait…! T-that’s!” he jolted up yet unable to do anything but feel your fingers brushing around the rim.

Prodding at his hole, you enjoyed watching the pained yet lustful expression he was making on his otherwise stoic face. His eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks flushed pink, his mouth ajar as drool poured down his chin. It was fascinating, addicting. You can’t help but tease him endlessly, relentlessly as he kept on moaning your name again and again as if under a spell.

“P-Please….let me…I can’t…I’m going to….Y-YN…!”

Deciding that this was finally the limit of his first time, you cleverly untied the knot on his back which kept the rope around his pelvis secure, allowing it to loosen.

Still sucking him off and poking on his hole, you could feel him twitch inside your mouth, an indication that he was close.

“YN…! I’m….ughh…c-coming!”

In a few pumps, Zhongli climaxed in your mouth; his warm cum on your throat. It was a bit too much, and a little thick so you were unable to swallow everything, allowing it to drip down your chin.

Released from his high, Zhongli couldn’t believe he just had his biggest nut of his life after being tied up. It was in every ounce, shameful and embarrassing but it just felt too good for him to resist at all. Maybe it wasn’t too much of a bad thought to do this once in a while.

Eventually, you loosened the ropes that were still on him and took note of the rope markings on his skin, reminding yourself to give him that special balm you got for this exact purpose. As soon as you released him, you pulled him to a deep kiss which he gladly reciprocated.

Unlike your previous ones, this kiss was one of concern and care—asking and answering questions that were difficult to convey. As your lips moved against each other, your chest began to warm and float, glad that you were able to deliver his request. When you both pulled away, the normal Zhongli was back; his eyes warm and lively.

“I’m glad it felt good,” you told him, cupping his cheek. “I was afraid I might hurt you or something.”

He only chuckled and gave you a pat. “I did tell you I can handle it.”

You sighed in relief, loving the way he was touching you. “So, how about we sleep—"

Zhongli however interrupted you, pushing you down the bed, pinning your wrists. He was smiling but you definitely knew you were screwed.

“I reckon it is time for me take my revenge,” he gazed at you, eyes turning feral. “No one will be sleeping tonight.”

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me. 

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)  

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while. 

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.  

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

Breathless

Fem!jily February.

I think it was @blitheringmcgonagall who gave me the prompt. “What are your intentions towards my friend?” And as this week is Hogwarts and canon-verse it is now time for me to share this with you all.

read on AO3 where my love of italics can be properly appreciated.

When Jamie ran in from the cold outside—her face shining brightly from the joy of running with her friends—she spotted Lily straight away. There weren’t many redheads in Gryffindor, and none with quite the same shade of hair as her. It always drew Jamie’s attention, like a flickering candle seen out of the corner of your eye. Without waiting to see what her friends were about to do, she kicked off her shoes and shucked out of her cloak before joining Lily on the window seat, taking full advantage of the chance to catch her alone. Sitting down, she noticed absently the view below this window was where she had been playing with the boys just moments earlier.   

“Alright, Evans?” she greeted warmly, tucking her toes under the blanket and hoping that Lily wouldn’t call her out for intruding on her space, wishing this new not-quite-sure-what-they-were thing meant she could join her without asking. To Jamie’s surprise, Lily moved to rest her very warm feet on top of her own chilled ones without a word. This sudden warmth made her realise just how cold the rest of her was, causing goosebumps to erupt on her arms. She had no idea what they spoke about, she was trying so hard not to obsess about the way Lily’s feet were so much neater than hers, how they were resting gently on top without pressing down, and how this unexpected closeness was making her heart thunder in her eardrums.

Lily had asked her a question, she was certain. Some part of Jamie’s brain that was not overwhelmed by Lily Evans perfect toes came up with an answer. Just when she thought this moment couldn’t get any better, or worse depending on how one felt about the imminent chance of self combustion. Lily reached for her hands, capturing them in hers, delicate fingers cupping her much more ungainly digits, pulling them to her face almost in slow motion, Jamie gulped and hoped to Merlin she wasn’t looking as panicked as she was feeling. Lily’s breath on her numb fingers warmed her insides and made her abdomen do a funny little swoop. She swallowed hard. This was fine, she was fine! Lily was just looking out for her. This was what girl friends did right? When she did it again, Lily’s eyes locked with her own, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her soft lips no doubt picking up on the rapid pulse hammering against Lily’s fingertips, she realised she just couldn’t handle it at all and she bolted.

 As soon as she left the window seat and Lily’s touch she felt rather foolish for panicking, but it had seemed the safest thing to do at that moment. Going on instinct had not always served her well when it came to her red headed roommate so the more time she spent around her the more she held herself back from doing something rash. She had rushed away from Lily when the urge to kiss her had become so strong she had not known what to do with herself. She’d lied, saying that she needed to get her wand from the dorm room when it was safely stowed in the pocket of her cloak lying at her feet. She didn’t even go near the girl’s stairs like she said she was, instead she rushed straight up to the boy’s dorm, where she felt most comfortable being herself. They were all there... warm, clean, dry and not in a complete Lily related crisis. Free from frozen fingers and a heart beating out of their chests like she was.

She slumped onto Sirius’ bed throwing an arm over her eyes, yelling out in frustration, as the adrenaline of the situation finally started to eb. 

“Remus, I can’t be too sure but I think something is bothering our dear friend?” Sirius’ voice carried over to her from his place by the log burner that was crackling merrily in the centre of their room. She sat up and looked at him pleadingly.

“I can’t handle this, that woman is torturing me on purpose. You should have seen her just now!” She pointed to the door to emphasise her point, but nobody was looking at her. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Remus retorted emerging from his trunk with a pair of socks in his hand. “If you are talking about who I think you are?”

“Of course I bloody am, nobody else is out to get me like she is,” she whined, falling back on the bed once more and looking at the ceiling through a suspiciously large hole in the drapes above. Jamie smirked at it despite the way she was feeling, remembering the day that had happened.

“Who’s she talking about?” Pete asked. “Whatever their problem is I’m sure we can sort them out. You always come up with something, Prongs.”

“Thanks for your confidence in me Pete, but I really don’t think my skills for managing mischief are going to help me out here. Even if they could, I just turn into a babbling idiot around her. I just can’t handle it, what am I supposed to do with these feelings? She can’t have any idea what she does to me, or if she does she enjoys watching me suffer.”

“Sirius, help our friend out,” Remus ordered, throwing the balled up socks at him. He turned and the sound of his name and caught them deftly in one hand, before throwing them at Peter who yelped in surprise, then giggled, before throwing them at Jamie who caught them easily, still prone on the bed.

“Alas, I fear poor Prongs is beyond any form of help, completely lost in the depths of those...how did you describe them earlier? Enchanting green eyes?”

“I know, I’m fucked!” Jamie yelled again as she looked at her fingers, still haunted by the touch of those dainty hands. The room went quiet for a time, Jamie didn’t see the silent exchange happening between Remus and Sirius as she spiralled in a dilemma of her own making. Somehow at some point, the fun banter and the sharp comments back and forth had softened, Lily had stopped storming off when she lost an argument, she had started going more thoughtful instead. Around the same time as this Jamie had noticed how many shades of green there could be in a person’s eyes, how Lily’s soft laugh was the most magical thing ever, made all the more special when it was Jamie herself who had caused it to happen. Jamie had never felt any kind of way about anybody before Lily, and she doubted she ever would again. The silence had gone on for far too long, Jamie watched Remus out of the corner of her eye as he was blatantly pointing to her.

“Why?” Sirius yelled out suddenly Jamie lifted her head to see Remus throw up his hands in exasperation. “She seems to be doing a perfectly good job of messing it up on her own, without my help. I mean what the fuck do I know? I don’t understand why she can’t just ask her straight out.” Jamie sat up hopefully an idea forming in her head as if she’d just been hit with a brain-boosting charm. She jumped off Sirius’ bed and hugged his shoulders, leaning against his back, he returned her affection half-heartedly patting her arms,  when she let go and spun him around holding him at arm's length grinning like an idiot, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do I have the feeling you are going to ask me to do something I don’t want to do?”

*

Lily Evans was just sitting in a window seat reading her book occasionally being distracted by the goings-on of the group of people in the misty grounds below her. She didn’t mean to watch, but somehow lately her eyes were constantly drawn to those four, and one in particular. She bit her lip thoughtfully as she looked down on them, marvelling at the way they were all just so comfortable and happy together.

They were playing a game (they often were) to which nobody apart from them could ever understand. It seemed to involve a stick and a ball. A ball that was enchanted to move on its own and produced puffs of different coloured smoke whenever it was hit with the stick. Lily wondered if this was their interpretation of one of the Muggle sports they had asked her endless questions about. 

Eventually, they grew tired of their game and disappeared from her view and Lily went back to her book. 

“Alright, Evans?” a familiar voice called out before joining her on the window seat, sitting at the opposite side to her. They smelled strongly of the outside freshness, their face flushed from the cold, with droplets of water beading on the flyaways in their hair. She had already kicked off her shoes and removed her cloak, once sitting carelessly dumping it on the floor beside them. They swung their feet up to join hers in the no-man's-land between them. Toes wiggling themselves under the blanket that was covering her legs.

“Hi, Potter,” she replied, feeling the chill from her feet as they touched her leg. Without thinking she slid her socked feet over the top to try and warm them up a bit. Jamie watched her do it with a funny half-smile on her lips. “Did you have fun with the boys? Did you win your game?” She didn’t mean it to sound like she was talking to a child but sometimes she found herself just wanting to look after the raven-haired girl.

Jamie rubbed her hands together as she thought of a response, not noticing or not minding Lily’s tone, “Yeah, I had fun. You should’ve joined us, you would’ve liked it. I did win one game but the game’s never about winning, it’s about not losing.” She responded, continuing to rub her hands trying to get the heat back into them.

“Where’s your wand?” Lily asked when she saw Jamie still hadn’t performed her usual rapid warming and drying spells. Lily gestured for Jamie’s hands and she complied slowly as if she was expecting a trick.  Lily shuffled herself forward so she was leaning over her bent knees, and admired her friends hands, she had such nimble fingers, so adept at Quidditch and intricate transfiguration spells, large enough that she did not struggle to open jars in potions like Lily did. Smiling to herself she wrapped her hands around Jamie’s chilled fingers and blew on them gently. Lily could feel the other girl’s pulse quicken as the tips of her fingers rested on her wrist. She blew on her hands again this time a much longer and more deliberate breath, then looked up at Jamie through her eyelashes. Jamie swallowed hard, her glasses beginning to fog around the edges despite the anti misting charm she usually had on them. 

“I left it in my room, I better go get it and dry off my clothes,” and she grabbed her cloak and shoes and darted away from Lily towards the dorm rooms as if she was expecting McGonagall herself to swoop down and berate her for leaving her wet cloak on the common room floor. Lily leaned back against the wall and tried not to sigh. It was the same every time she tried to get close lately, Jamie would spook and run. 

“Oi, Evans?” came a strong male voice a while later, she turned her gaze slowly upon Sirius Black waiting for him to say more. “Can I have a word?”

“You can have several, Black,” she replied, arching an eyebrow trying to look stern. But her face cracked as he approached and she realised he wasn’t in the mood for their usual banter. She gestured to the empty space in her window seat and he joined her. Lounging with one leg off the edge as if he needed to make a quick escape, elbow resting on his bent knee. “So what’s up?” She asked expecting some homework question or a favour, but nothing was forthcoming. Sirius Black just sat there as if he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he eventually said.

“Don’t strain yourself,” she replied almost on instinct, she pressed her lips together in an apology when he looked at her flatly. 

“Something’s happening between you and my friend? — Don’t start denying it,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak. “You’ve both had doe-eyes for each other for ages. Have you two finally put aside whatever it was holding you back?”

“I don’t think I’m the person you should be having this chat with, Black.” She responded quietly not sure exactly herself what was going on so why should she need to share with him of all people? He didn’t know girls, didn’t seem to care much for them at all apart from one particular girl. Sirius didn’t take any notice of the simpering admirers who seemed to be constantly gazing at him, drawing sketches of him on their notebooks and giggling when he would flick his hair or announce to the whole common room something he thought was impressive. He was the perfect friend for someone like Jamie, another lost soul not sure of their place in this world. If she thought about it Lily was equally out of her place, having to find her own way as she went alone, separated from her muggle family. Even now after seven years at Hogwarts still occasionally uncertain of the most basic things wizard children grew up on. 

“I already know Jamie’s feelings about this. I want to know your intentions towards my friend?”

“My intentions?” She snorted, her battered copy of Sense and Sensibility still sitting beside her. “Are you her father or something because last I checked we weren’t living in a Jane Austin novel?” Sirius did not look too pleased by her response, she wondered if he even knew who Jane Austin was, if he didn’t he wasn’t likely to admit it. Instead of replying to her directly he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. “She’s amazing, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say? She is funny and kind to her friends, she doesn’t care about what others think of her. She is so confident.”

“All these things are true, but you still haven’t answered my question.” His arms were still crossed but his eyes had softened and there was a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

“Well every time I try to get close she runs away and I’m beginning to think she isn’t interested and is running away so she doesn’t hurt my feelings. I thought she liked me. I thought, maybe, she would want to be my girlfriend.  Now I think perhaps she was messing with me this whole time.” Sirius looked at her shrewdly.

“So you aren’t just playing games to get her to blush?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea, you don’t seem the type to do anything like that at all. I’ve been telling Jamie for weeks now she’s an idiot for thinking that way, but you see, she can’t think logically or objectively around you.”

“Oh,” Lily replied to this, touching her hand to her lip. “So she does want to be my girlfriend?”

“It sounds to me like you both need to have a proper chat and leave me out of this,” Sirius declared in a strange voice as if he wasn’t talking to Lily at all.

“Do you know where she went?” He stayed quiet for a time as if he was considering what to say to her, or he was listening to some sort of silent cue.

“She mentioned something about getting a hot drink from the kitchens,” she grinned at him as she stood up.

“You are a good man Sirius, I hope you know that. Jamie is lucky to have you as her friend.” He tried to shrug off her compliment but his pleased grin shone through.

“Don’t let everyone know that Evans, I have a reputation to upkeep.” Without thinking about it she kissed the top of his head and patted him on the shoulder before running off in the direction of the kitchens.

*

“She’s on her way, don’t fuck this up, Prongs.” Jamie smiled at Sirius before his image faded and she tucked the mirror back in her pocket and smoothed her hair nervously. Her heart was beating fast and she just wasn’t sure how to sit. She had managed to conjure up the convenient little bench on the way to the kitchens herself. It was a handy little spell to know. It had gotten her out of a few detentions because teachers found students sitting on benches reading, far less suspicious than students leaning on walls whistling. She sipped her tea again as she tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach, and cast a quick warming spell while she was waiting. She’d felt a little bad listening in to Lily and Sirius talking but it was her plan to tell Lily that she had done so at the right time. She heard the footsteps running in this direction and she looked up hopefully.

Lily came around the corner looking flushed. When she spotted Jamie her feet stopped and a smirk appeared on her face. 

“Why do I get the feeling that whole little conversation I just had with Sirius was set up by you? And you heard every word of it.” Jamie tried to keep her lopsided grin firmly on her face but she could feel her confidence at this moment wavering greatly, especially as Lily approached looking more determined than happy. Jamie gulped her reasons for doing what she had done trying to form on her lips, but her brain was not cooperating at this moment.

“Lily, I’m sorry I --” Her words were cut short abruptly by Lily holding her checks and tilting her face up to meet hers, she managed a moment to blink in shock before lips were being pressed against hers and she forgot about anything else but the feel of Lily’s hands holding her face, her hot breath as she smiled into those kisses, her giggle as Jamie reached out for her pulling her onto the bench. The tea set already taking up that space completely forgotten until the sound of it crashing on the floor made them leap apart as if it had scalded them.

“Are you okay? Sorry I should have moved it before I made you sit, you caught me off guard and I forgot it was there.” Jamie asked her breathless and panting slightly. Being close to Lily Evans always did strange things to her but now being this close, to actually having Lily’s hands in her hair. Being surrounded by the fresh apple scent of her shampoo, these feelings were erupting stronger and deeper and more intense than ever. They both looked down at the teapot now lying in a smashed mess on the stone floor and laughed at it. 

“It didn’t hurt me,” Lily replied softly, sounding like she had run further than the short corridor. Jamie didn’t know when they had started holding hands but she noticed their interlaced fingers and smiled, not quite believing this was actually happening. Lily’s hands had always looked so delicate, so feminine, compared to her own too big, too blunt, calloused hands.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry I should go get some more.” Lily stayed silent as she repaired the china and effortlessly floated it over to sit on the silver tray. 

“Jamie, I’m fine and I really don’t care about the tea.” She took a breath and looked up at her with a light in her eyes as a small smile appeared. “I care about you. Now can we go somewhere less public than this corridor? I want to…” She bit her lip before she went on, making Jamie momentarily forget her own name, “continue this chat somewhere more private.” Lily stood still holding onto her hand and pulled her up to join her. She grabbed her other hand, lifted the palm of it up to her face and pressed her lips to it so gently. Jamie was finding it hard to breathe again. Jamie watched her lips hungrily desperately wanting to capture them with her own once more, to make Lily as breathless as she was making her.

XigXem SFW Headcanons

I love doing these to get ideas for headcanons I wouldn’t normally consider, and since I finished filling these out today I thought I’d share! Borrowed from the @otp-imagines-cult post here!

(Just a heads-up, this is a messy mashup of canon-compliant and modern au headcanons)

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Xemnas spends so much money on Xigbar. He doesn't even try to say no at this point, he knows Xig will get his way.

Xigbar sometimes feels guilty about how much Xemnas spends on him, but those feelings fade as soon as Xem comes back from shopping with bags full of gifts for Xig.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Xigbar sleeps in Xemnas’s lap. It's rare that it's the other way around, usually only if Xem is extremely tired or upset (he'll fall asleep while being comforted and held of course).

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

They both do. Well, Xigbar runs around HALF naked, Xemnas is just full frontal at any given point if they’re home alone. Xig will tell him to cover up, but he doesn't ever mean it.

When they have guests, Xigbar is fully clothed 100% of the time. Xemnas, though? There’s always at least a 10% chance he’ll forget wearing a shirt is a thing people expect from him. Everyone is either too afraid or horny to tell him to put one on, thus the responsibility falls on Xigbar to tell him. (Again, about a 10% chance he’ll “forget” to tell him to put on a shirt.)

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Bold of you to assume they both don't have 11pm bedtimes.

But every so often Xemnas will lose himself in his work and suddenly it's 3am.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Xigbar is forbidden from cooking anything that isn't microwaveable.

Xemnas's fallback career was fancy chef if “Superior of the In-Between” didn’t work out.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

Neither, but only because neither of them are very online. I think if they were though, Xemnas would see their relationship in everything but not say anything out loud. He just smiles to himself and moves on.

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Xigbar is an accomplished hoodie thief. Xemnas wears Xig’s croptops sometimes to work out in, but always returns them when he's done.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Xemnas is usually the one running errands, but he rarely forgets anything on the list. Xigbar always asks if he remembered everything, though, just to soothe his own anxiety, and quietly hoping to catch Xemnas slipping up so he has something to tease about.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

Xigbar drives ever since Xemnas got his license suspended for running too many red lights.

Or; Xig drives like a maniac and Xem is just so used to it he doesn't even bother to insist on driving anymore (unless he's the designated driver, which usually he is). Xem is lowkey surprised Xig has a clean driving record.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Xemnas poses, Xigbar draws. Xig’s had plenty of lifetimes to perfect his hobbies, and even though he hasn't had time for them in a while, it doesn't take long for him to get back into the swing of things. What better way to capture his lover's radiance than through charcoal drawings and oil paints?

Plus, Xemnas absolutely adores the attention. He just basks in the glory of another being finding him beautiful enough to immortalize on canvas.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

I want to say Xemnas is the super cool backflip guy and Xigbar is the one with the chips, but honestly? It's the other way around. Xig likes to show off in front of his man, and who could blame him?

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

Xemnas overdoes it. He doesn't drink nearly as often as Xigbar does, so he doesn't exactly know his limits. Xig tries to keep his eye on him and make sure he doesn't drink too much, but unfortunately Xem is REALLY good at acting sober, so Xig never realizes Xem has overdone it until its too late.

He takes really good care of Xemnas, though, no matter how drunk he is himself.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Xemnas and Xigbar both surprise each other quite often. Xigbar gives Xemnas little things like seashells and shiny baubles he finds on missions/outings that he thinks Xemnas will like for his office shelves. Xemnas sends Xigbar flowers when he senses Xig having a bad day, and buys him every new book that Xigbar expresses even a passing interest in.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Xemnas. He's definitely the romantic here. He's got an Entire Notebook filled with different combinations of their names squashed together.

Xigbar is lowkey terrified of major commitment. He'd say yes if proposed to of course, but he'd never offer himself up like that.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

Xemnas saves it, Xigbar just squishes it. Neither are afraid but they have different approaches to dealing with bugs.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

On most cold days you can find Xigbar wearing a too-big leather coat and Xemnas in naught but a t-shirt or turtleneck.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

Ansem tried. He tried so hard. But he severely underestimated Xigbar’s resistance to intimidation tactics.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

Xemnas. He planned out a whole mega-elaborate date for the two of them, and confessed his love for Xigbar.

Xigbar: "Wait we weren't dating already??"

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

They would make fantastic fathers, they'd care about their kids so much. But christ alive that household would be chaotic as all fuck.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

Xemnas used to type with perfect grammar and spelling until he learned about text lingo. "It's more efficient, Xigbar, I am a busy man and don't have time to type everything out." It's a damn lie, though, he just thinks it's neat.

Hell will freeze over the day that Xemnas uses an emoji.

Xigbar relies on emojis and autocorrect and if it doesn't catch a typo or he sends the wrong emoji, “Oh well.”

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

The bully gets attacked by them.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Xigbar is the pun king. Genuinely funny. “10/10 would hear again.” -Xemnas, probably

Xemnas tries sometimes, bless his soul. Xigbar just doesn't have it in him to tell him they're bad.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

To Xigbar's dismay, this has happened more than once. He's the dad that is against the pet but ends up loving it, and Xemnas just can't resist bringing home strays.

They have 2 big dogs, a little dog, and a cat, and have fostered a few puppies and old, sickly cats here and there.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

When Xemnas gets too drunk to stand, Xigbar will give him a piggyback ride, but he never tells him the next day. Xemnas is too prideful and would be very ashamed to hear of it. Plus, Xigbar kinda likes keeping those moments between them to himself; like a secret he’s keeping safe for a special occasion.

Xigbar will ask for piggyback rides all the time, and Xemnas is happy to indulge him.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

When Xemnas cheers for Xigbar, it's less overzealous and more normal cheering, it's just that Xemnas' voice is booming and carries over the rest of the crowd with ease.

(Don’t ask me what competitive activity Xigbar does, for I Do Not Know)

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

They both do. The main difference is that Xemnas focuses the camera on Xigbar, and Xigbar gets them both fully in the shot.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

Both of them would be willing to give the other a makeover, but neither of them have asked.

But! Xemnas does Xigbar’s makeup sometimes, and Xigbar has bought his own style of clothes for Xemnas on a few occasions, just to see what he’d look like.

(Unrelated sidenote: they have matching onesies with cat ears and a tail that Xigbar refuses to wear unless he has to, or unless Xem asks him while Xig is wasted)

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Before they moved in together, Xigbar refused to go inside Xemnas's house unless his husky was in the backyard. He got used to her over time, and now Xemnas sometimes comes home to them asleep cuddling on the couch.

Xemnas was never actually afraid of Xigbar's beloved corn snake, but he wasn't a fan either. He’d hold him, but he wasn’t thrilled about it.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Xemnas holds the umbrella, Xigbar holds the Xemnas

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

In a canon setting they’d go worldhopping for a week, but in a modern au they'd take trips every year to cities and small remote locations around the world.

They've never been properly camping though. Xemnas refuses.

Their first trip together was small, just to a little known beach on the west coast. They lounged on the beach most of the time, and every night they ate at a different food truck. The last night they were there Xemnas surprised Xigbar with reservations for the fanciest 5-star restaurant in the city.

Xigbar thought he took all the pictures until he was going through them after the trip, only to find over half the memory card filled with photos of himself that Xemnas took when he wasn't looking

Wasted Plotential: Pokemon Journeys Beginning

While Pokemon Journeys has certainly proved to be quite unique when compared to other series in the Pokemon Anime, one thing that has particularly bugged me for a quite a while was the beginning. Now don’t get me wrong, the beginning isn’t “bad” in any way, it’s just that when looking at it, I just feel there could’ve been a bit more done to it. So for this post, I’ll be going over the first two episodes of Pokemon Journeys and what I would do to change them to make them stand out more. I would do a little more than that, but considering more important events happen in those episodes (such as the introduction of Galar and Goh’s capturing of Scorbunny), I think I’ll just leave it at the first two to keep things a little more simple. So without further ado, here we go.

Episode #1: Enter Pikachu!

There’s not really much to change in the first episode. Pikachu’s backstory is fine as it is, as well as Goh and Chloe’s side of the plot as it properly introduces their characters and distinct personalities. Ash, however, is on another story.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but Ash is really treated like a joke throughout the first episode. Sure, this is way before the canon plot of the series even begun where he has shown to be much more capable and competent once he gets older, but seriously, first episode and you’re gonna write him off as a joke even when he just won his first regional league in the present? C’mon.

Anyways, just like in the episode proper, Ash wakes up too late to properly Professor Oak’s Summer Camp. He tries to leave the house in his pajamas, but this time, he is stopped by Delia, not wanting her son to humiliate himself in public. While he argues a bit at first, he soon relents and sulks back up to his room. To pass time, Ash sadly scrolls through a small booklet filled with pictures of Pokemon. Delia notices her son’s miserable state, so she walks back down to the first floor and the scene ends with her picking up a phone, dialing in Professor Oak’s number.

When the episode focuses back on Ash, he is still upset in his room for having to miss Oak’s Summer Camp. That is, until his mother comes back from downstairs to tell him some good news: Professor Oak will be having another Summer Camp session within the next few weeks and she had already signed her son up for it via a message she left on Oak’s phone from her previous phone call. The news excites Ash and Delia quickly reminds him to wake up early next time and never try to walk through Pallet Town in his pajamas. Ash eagerly ensures her that he would never be caught running around in his pajamas in public (which we, as the audience, knows that’s a blatant lie) and he grabs a random bandana from his drawers and proclaims it as a good luck charm to help him make it to the next session on-time, with the bandana being the same one he will give to Serena. With his vigor restored, Ash’s backstory part of this episode ends with him looking through the Pokemon booklet again, wondering to himself the many Pokemon he could come across at camp, such as Poliwag or Rapidash, a reference to the times he saw those Pokemon in flashbacks from the Diamond & Pearl and XYZ series.

With these minor changes, the episode’s narrative is hardly changed, Ash is treated with a bit more respect, and the some continuity of other flashback shown in previous series is established.

Episode #2: Legend? Go! Friends? Go!

Here’s when the changes really pick up.

At the beginning of the episode when it shows Ash’s many accomplishments from his past adventures, alongside that shot, we also get a little flashback montage of some of Ash’s most proudest battles, with those battles being against the likes of Lt. Surge, Drake, Gary, Noland, Spenser, Brandon, Paul, Trip, Sawyer, Alain, Gladion, and Kukui, usually showcasing his more iconic mons, such as Pikachu, Charizard, Sceptile, Infernape, Oshawott, Greninja, Hawlucha, Rowlet, Lycanroc, and Torracat. I mean, if the manga wasn’t afraid to showcase Ash’s old mons, I don’t see why the anime itself would be.

When Ash makes it to Oak’s Lab, instead of with only having Pikachu in his party, Ash goes to the ranch to withdraw 5 Pokemon. It honestly doesn’t make sense for Ash to only have Pikachu alone in his party when he’s not going on any big and particular adventure at the moment. Since he’s most likely been at Kanto for a hot minute and since we all know that Ash treasures all of his Pokemon, it would honestly make a lot of sense for Ash to rotate 5 random Pokemon every day from Oak’s ranch when he’s not traveling in order to keep every his mons in tip-top shape and show that he still loves being by their side. Otherwise, it kinda just makes Pikachu’s little tantrum later down Journeys look even more OOC and inconsiderate as it already is. Anyways, since he will attending a Kanto-related celebration, the 5 mons Ash brings with him are Bulbasaur, Charizard, Kingler, Muk, and Tauros, promising Bulbasaur he will return him to Oak’s Lab as soon as he can in order to ensure Bulbasaur’s peacekeeping duties. He also has Bulbasaur out of his Pokeball for the time being, giving Ash’s iconic and first-ever grass-type some more screen time.

Ash, Delia, Mimey, and Oak make it to the lab and that’s when Ash comes across Cerise’s Yamper. Instead of pulling an incredibly OOC moment by invading a clearly defensive Pokemon’s space, Ash simply just keeps his distance while gently beckoning the unfamiliar mon to come to him for a pet. Yamper is, of course, distrustful, but after some reassurance from Pikachu and Bulbasaur, Yamper soon approaches Ash and happily allows the trainer to pet him while making friends with his two outside mons as well. Yamper soon suddenly jumps back up to its feet to run past Ash and return to Chloe’s side, setting up for an awkward introduction instead of Chloe being an inconsiderate jerk by leaving a person her Pokemon clearly has attacked left stranded alone without even calling for help or checking on him. Ash asks her if Yamper’s her Pokemon and she just says “no”. Ash then tries to introduce himself, Pikachu, and Bulbasaur, but Chloe, not wanting much to do with the sudden stranger, simply walks right past them to return home, with the only thing she says being a subtle, but polite “excuse me”.

Ash soon regroups with Oak and the rest of the episode plays on the same way up until the encounter with Lugia. When Ash tries to make his way to the Legendaries location, he has Charizard fly him to its location. The rough winds occurring as a byproduct of Lugia’s presence kinda messes up Charizard’s flight path, justifying Ash’s late arrival compared to other trainers. Upon arriving to Lugia’s location, Ash decides to watch from the side, marveled at both the Johto Legendary and the many powerful Pokemon used by the other trainers. When Lugia begins to take off, Ash gets back on Charizard to follow it, which Lugia, being a friendly mon, sees that Ash and his Pokemon mean no harm and happily flies alongside them. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is when Ash meets Goh.

Ash finds him holding onto Lugia’s tail for dear life, so he helps him onto Charizard’s back. Goh, seeing Ash, becomes a bit stargazed upon seeing a trainer about his age with such a powerful Pokemon as Charizard. Before any former introductions can be, Ash suddenly hears Charizard roar for him and he turns around to see Lugia looking right at him and Goh before slightly turning its backside towards them. While Goh is confused, Ash quickly gets the message that it wants to take them for a ride, so he takes Goh’s hand and leaps onto Lugia’s back with Pikachu while Bulbasaur stays behind on Charizard in order to keep an eye out for their trainer in case something goes wrong. At first, Goh is scared out of his mind until Ash ensures him that Lugia means no harm. The montage of Lugia soaring around with Ash and Goh plays the same for the most part, with a little comedic moment added in when Lugia takes its passengers underwater, causing Bulbasaur to panic before Charizard calms him down, knowing that Lugia is just having fun. Ash and Goh then introduce themselves to each other and once they are left at the flower field, Goh panics due to having no idea how to get home until Ash calmly ensures him that they could just ride Charizard.

The two return to the lab and as soon Charizard touches the ground, Goh collapses out of exhaustion and relief, given the fact that he’s never flown on a Lugia or Charizard before. Yamper greets both Ash and Pikachu in a friendly manner and then we go into Cerise recruiting Ash and Goh. He’s impressed at Goh’s footage and states to himself that he is indeed of some enthusiastic research assistants, which is when Oak steps to inform Cerise that Ash himself has already traveled through Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, and Alola (which surprises both Goh and Chloe), so he could definitely be of some good use thanks to his previous adventures in those regions. Not only that, Delia also steps in to state how much of a strong trainer Ash is before whispering to Cerise’s ear that he’s Alola’s Champion. I would make a version where she says it out load for Goh and Chloe to hear, but for now, I think I’ll just leave it as a surprise in case the canon anime does that as well. With more than enough reason, Cerise recruits Ash and then, to Goh’s shock, does the same for him, noting that being an assistant could be beneficial to the beginning of his trainer career. The two boys are then introduced to their dorm room (with Ash humbly allowing Goh the top bunk instead of fighting over it like a 6-year old), Delia leaves Mimey with Ash to help take care of him, Ash gives his other 5 mons’ Pokeballs to Oak to return to the ranch since he now has a new adventure (and thus an actual reason to start from scratch with Pikachu again), and Delia and Oak then make their exit. While Delia still reminds Ash to eat healthy and brush his teeth (because that’s what moms do), she doesn’t ask Goh to watch over her son in my version, considering it would be stupid to say that since Ash is leagues above Goh and that’s why she left Mimey at the lab in the first place. Instead, it’s the other way around, with Oak asking Ash to watch over Goh, pointing out that he’s new which Ash promises, much to Goh’s embarrassment. And then the rest of the episode plays out the same way as it did originally. (seriously, what was this episode’s love for embarrassing Ash 24-7 like he’s Dan freaking Hibiki?)

Closing

It honestly really bugs me on how much Ash, the main character of the anime series, is treated like an utter joke throughout the first two episodes of Journeys. If it wasn’t for his past achievements being shown at the beginning of the second episode, one unfamiliar with his character could easily mistake him as just as much as a beginning as Goh and Chloe due to his constant immature behavior that leads him making mistakes that he should be more than smart to not do (invading Yamper’s space, arguing over a simple bunk, etc.), and sadly, this is kinda an overall issue for Journeys as a whole, but that’s another story. Ash just conquered the Alola League, he should be portrayed as a mature, yet fun-loving mentor, not someone who could easily pose as Goh’s younger brother behavior-wise or a kid Chloe has to babysit.

Learning To Read, Pt 6: F is for Faerghus

Chapters: 6/26 (7/26 on AO3) Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro Characters: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dedue Molinaro, Gustave Dominic, Original Characters, Rufus Blaiddyd Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon Compliant, Grief, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Tragedy of Duscur, Racism, Developing Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Blue-Lions Typical Mental Illness

Summary:

A series of 26 alphabetically-titled vignettes examining the period where, in the wake of The Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri taught Dedue to read: a time in which they learned about each other, and the rules of their relationship, perhaps more than about books.

Read on AO3!

A is For Ambiguity

B is for Book

C is for Commendation

D is for Dining

F is for Faerghus

The woman who called herself Cornelia Arnim considered this whole affair to be something of a fiasco, even if the potential for instability from the regency council was immense . But the council was giving her a headache. It was just a cold room full of sycophantic pigs snorting the air at the smell of fresh slop. They weren’t terribly interesting as puppets or tools, the newly-minted regent and his collection of cronies. They couldn’t even recognize that they were pigs, and wasn’t that just sad? None of them were grand noblemen; the room didn’t have a Fraldarius or a Gautier, or even just an equal in terms of clout. Also, at least one of them — one of the regent’s drinking buddies (which described about 2/3rds of the room), a minor noble who’d run in Rufus’ circle since his own academy days — seemed unaware of the fact that she was not there for his personal amusement.

But she smiled sweetly at him from across the table, and tried to think of how best to use him. Cornelia Arnim’s body had its advantages as a lure, at least, even if the fish weren’t the ones she was hoping for. If she needed to get anyone that way, it’d be the man himself. She’d been planning that the Agarthans would have owned Faerghus by now, using the dear ickle prince’s secret stepmother, wise and noble, stepping into the limelight for the first time. Obviously not the real thing, she was much too whiny and sentimental, depressing and depressed — and this was Cornelia’s opinion as the woman who had had to lure in Patricia. It had been stunningly easy, which had made the plan seem viable. Patricia had wanted so terribly to see her little girl again; she’d offered that wish for Cornelia to use however she liked. They’d spoken with other nobles, ones who were so wildly ambitious that they dreamt of freezing time so their precious kingdom would always be theirs. Ones so hungry they wanted to devour the land. They’d promised Patrcia she’d get what she really wanted, if she was only willing to take a little risk.

The plan had been, obviously, that Patricia would never see her little girl again. Or anyone else, for that matter. The attack from the nobles’ henchmen went off without a hitch. They’d even kept the prince alive, if only just, which would have made things easier. (Now, she wasn’t sure if it was something she wanted. He might have to be neutralized somehow, was the thing.) But after they’d walked Patricia away from the carnage and killed her in secret, that was where things went wrong. Because those moronic soldiers showed up, some detached battalion catching up a little too late. Their absurd vengeance culture rearing its head like a bunch of sharks smelling blood in the water. That pathetic Gustave had arrived too early. They hadn’t had time to get their Patricia ready for her miraculous survival, and so, Patricia simply had not survived in any form. All they had to show for it was the slaughter of an entire town and a sizable power vacuum currently being stuffed with hot air. Which wasn’t bad, necessarily, there was some quality chaos and a lot of raw material, but it was second place. But there were advantages.

Such as the scene playing out before her right now — once you tossed out the more worthless parts, like 90% of the animals littering this room. One of the more studious members of the council — it paid for anyone important to have at his command some little man with nervous energy, bookish disposition, and the patience for paperwork, and Rufus for the time being had this one — was explaining a situation. The son of a minor nobleman had been, according to contacts with official church messengers sent to observe and aid while the kingdom was in this transitional stage, found to be involved as a conspirator in the Tragedy. This was, and about half the room knew it, not remotely true.

“Your Highness,” asked the obligatory bookish man to the regent, “What would you like to do concerning Lord Lonato’s son?”

“...They say he was involved in the king, my brother’s, murder, do they?” asked Rufus, lifting his head from his hand, and sitting back upright in his chair. He was popular with women for a reason, besides his loose spending — the Blaiddyd men bred tall and prone to tapering appealingly from strong shoulder to toned waist, and Rufus had kept himself in that same shape as he’d entered into his early 40s — his face was lined slightly, marked at his eyes and the corners of his mouth with the careless smiles of an adult life lived with abandon. His hair was warmer than his brother’s or nephew’s, not cool blond that had darkened from an infant ice-white, but a vividly red-gold color that blazed thick and sunny all throughout his life. 

“That’s as they report,” answered the man. “They are, of course, offering themselves as aid in the matter of capturing him, while we’re so short-handed.”

“Let them, then. I’m sure their information is accurate.” Rufus brought his chin back down onto his hand. Of course, Cristophe Gaspard had nothing to do with any of this. About half the room knew it, and some of them were so faint of heart they looked shocked or appalled. What precious little cowards. Cornelia made a note about them for later. 

“My lord,” said one, tentatively. “Lord Lonato was once a knight in your service, was he not? As his lord...” 

The other half of the room, the half that didn’t know, looked righteous, and one of them answered first in defense of his lord.

“If Lord Lonato allowed his son to contemplate such monstrosity, then he has betrayed both his lord the archduke and his lord the king; what he ought to do is take revenge into his own hands!”

“I intend to. But not concerning Christophe.” Rufus looked only like he was shoving away a boring chore. As it was: this would let the church think they were busy with something, that was all. “We have more significant action that must be taken than to concern ourselves with him.”

“Ah, yes. Lord Kleinman has a report, Your Highness. It appears emissaries from Duscur’s council of aldermen have come to him seeking peace terms.”

“He should have sent them on to me, not a report.” Rufus glowered. “I am regent.”

“He already knows your answer though, right?” said one man with too much of a smile. He chuckled. “He’s the one dishing out the punishment. You can’t possibly go and fight yourself.”

“I can!” Rufus snarled, pounding the table with his fist. Papers and mugs of beer shook as the whole structure rattled. That was why they couldn’t just replace a Blaiddyd — even the crestless ones had surprising strength. And the ones with crests were beyond even that, monsters in human skin. Their experiments, Solon had told her, were showing real results now, but they weren’t going that well . Rufus’s strength bristled under his shirt-sleeves as the old nerve in him, one she’d have thought killed by drink and sex, reeled as it was struck. “I can, and so I must, or none will believe it of me!”

Everyone was silent until he sat back down, drained his beer and handed the tankard to a servant to have it filled again.

“His part in this measure may be great, but he must remember who has the crown’s authority if he is to receive the crown’s reward.” His cheeks were just the tiniest bit flush when he proclaimed that, the color fading slightly in the next moment.

“Ah, my lord…” said a secretary, who’d been standing by the door with a look of apprehension.”Prince Dimitri has been outside for some time now, demanding to see you. Again. Should I let him in?”

A few people made pitying noises. Rufus dug the heel of his palm into his forehead, preparing himself for what was to follow. He had been avoiding the prince’s efforts to speak to him seriously for some time now. Since the boy had gotten back up onto his feet, more or less. Cornelia had been politely helping him with that, citing the prince’s condition as a reason not to let them talk. ‘He’s been so traumatized after all, we don’t want to upset him further.’ That kind of thing.

“Very well, bring him in.” Rufus sighed. That story couldn’t go on forever, nice as it was for him not to deal with that child. His little brother’s son. 

There were probably people who hadn’t seen the prince properly since the tragedy, and they looked appalled when the drawn little figure entered the room — which was, in its own ways, comical. They had just casually tossed a young man to his death not a moment ago; now, one grave-looking boy was enough to tug at their heartstrings? He’s not even doing that badly anymore! He only trembled a little as he strode forward, as much anger as nerves. 

“Uncle, you must put a stop to this violence,” the prince proclaimed. Oh, yes. He needed to be handled, one way or another.

 ***

“You can’t do this!” “I know what I saw!” Those shouts, high and shattered with fury, had resounded from the walls behind Dedue for a long time, and more besides. Dimitri fought alone in a room where men too important to look at Dedue discussed whether Faerghus would end the retaliation against Duscur now or throw the full weight of the crown’s knights into it. Eventually, there came a wooden cracking noise like a tree collapsing and a great clatter from inside — metal, glass, wood tumbling down onto the stone. The regent’s council shouted in frustration and disgust, their words muffled until only tone remained.

The lady Cornelia had seen Dimitri out after that sound, with Dimitri clutching his left arm as a nasty bruise welled up through it, still shouting. She’d handed Dimitri over with a reminder not to get too worked up; if the arm continued to hurt, she’d have to check it for re-fracturing. 

“I understand you’re upset, Your Highness, but you will have to apologize for the table when you calm down, okay?” She’d said, patting him on the shoulder. She glanced at Dedue, cold and dismissive. Dedue glared back, but she tossed out her order without regard. “You. Keep an eye on him.”

 Dimitri hadn’t responded sensibly. He’d cried and he’d shouted, still carrying out his arguments. His apologies and shouts had given Dedue time to sit them both down on the steps, try and recover his own wits. He felt at once stunned and a gnawing cold misery: He should have known.

 Dimitri’s words had been barely coherent enough for Dedue to assemble what had gone on. They’d said Dimitri was confused. That he hadn’t seen what he said he’d seen — he hadn’t seen his father’s killers the way he thought he had. Not if he said they weren’t from Duscur. The king’s life must be paid for. So the war would not be postponed, would not be stopped, not if he could not produce names for the regent that showed the people of Duscur innocent. 

But he could not produce names. So all he could do was insist and shout and plead until he was like this, his voice worn to shreds, his arm aching, his whole being unfocused and unraveled. The blood would be spilled. That was all there was to it: what other price for a king was there?

“I don’t know who they were... Father, how can this be for you, when it has nothing to do with your killers?! How can you want innocent people to die?!” Dimitri muttered into the echoing expanse. The stairway stretched out before them, descending away from the formal council room into an open hall. The sounds of people were distant, muffled by stone walls. Dedue didn’t attempt to answer him yet. He wasn’t sure he could have. And so Dimitri went on. “...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll get it right. I will. I’m....” He shut his eyes, lowering his head into his hands. “I’m sorry, Dedue.”

This was the first time Dimitri had acknowledged him, and so Dedue had to finally try and find something to say. Everything in him was squeezed tense — his shoulders, his gut, his jaw were all tight, and it was hard to find a way around it.

“It is not your war,” he answered, eventually. A sigh parted his lips. Dedue could only stare upwards at the great, vaulted ceiling. He was not used to feeling small.

 “If I’d only been calmer, would they have believed me?” Dimitri asked, the fury of his voice inward. Dedue was not sure if he entirely believed Dimitri, either. He would have liked to, but Dedue wasn’t entirely sure how to trust his mind; in moments like these, when everything was so close to the surface, it seemed like a ship tossed on the waves. Everything that day had been so confused. Instead, he shrugged. His feet descended down another step, his long legs slipping from their fold. The floor was a great way down.

“Not if they would not think about you when you are...hurt,” is what he said, his voice deliberate, stiff, quiet. He couldn’t say what he was feeling; he didn’t want to. Just let it flatten like a plain until he could build something useful on it. “Perhaps once they have had a battle, they will be tired of it. It will stop.”

“It shouldn’t be happening at all!” Dimitri answered. Obviously, but that wasn’t helpful, save spiritually. “If we could stop it before a true war breaks out, then it’d be OK!” He lifted himself back up to his feet, wincing from his arm. Dedue half-turned to watch the prince pace.”What if I ran away?”

“Where?” Dedue raised an eyebrow.

“To the border, of course! My uncle might be in charge here, but I am the crown prince… And the common soldiers and knights agitate for my father’s sake. The fools,” Dimitri’s eyes narrowed, bitter words breaking through his clenched jaw. His footfalls bounced off the stone. “But surely, they’d listen?” 

The idea had allure; it shimmered between them as a gossamer dream, intangible as light, but just as real. 

“Perhaps…” Their eyes met and held one another, hope sparking for a moment; they’d pack in the dead of night. They’d hurry there, as swiftly as they could, carried on the wind; speak with passion and valor; be heard by people who must have been, in their own ways, simply trying to do what seemed just. 

Dedue tore his eyes away from it. It hurt more than he wanted it to.

“No, you should not.” It stung to say, but the truth had sunk in.

“Why not?” Dimitri’s voice lifted, his footsteps coming to a halt.

“You are not well enough to travel alone. We would be slow and caught together.” Dimitri was much recovered now, at least physically, but a country away was too far. Dimitri knew that and sagged with a shake of his head. 

“...If we were caught, you would certainly bear the brunt of consequences as if you’d kidnapped me,” he said, to Dedue’s surprise. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to him . “I don’t want to imagine what would happen to you, or to everyone else as a result.”

“Hm. Second, even if you managed to move the soldiers and knights… If you cannot move their leaders, they will find more soldiers,” Faerghus was a rack of swords; Faerghus was a place where they said children of their high families learned to fight from the time they were born. The leaders themselves could fight best of all. So there would always be more until there was no one left. 

 “I hate this.” Dimitri’s gaze eventually broke, and he dropped himself back down onto the steps next to Dedue. It should have been a relief to hear — it prickled up against him instead, like a leg half-asleep. Tears weren’t dripping down Dimitri’s face, but they bubbled through as he spoke, his hands covering his face. When his hands dropped, slowly, they left red, scratchy trails. “I hate being so weak. People are going to die — not just soldiers, but fathers and mothers and —! Doesn’t anyone care?”

Part of Dedue was glad Dimitri cared, even if it meant watching him tearing himself to pieces like this. Part of Dedue felt Dimitri’s hands, only closing on air, grabbing him and pulling his heart, and he didn’t want that. He wanted nothing. Dedue’s teeth found his inner lip and bit down on it, unsure which part should win. It was a tiring battle. 

“You do,” he answered, unable to catch what feeling with which he meant it. The feeling in his voice wasn’t relieved, but he went on, “And I need this of you.” He reached out to grab Dimitri’s hands, take them back from the edge before they did more damage. 

“Of course,” Dimitri’s answer was more confused than confident. The hands in Dedue’s grip went slack, stopped resisting. They were limp and lost and defeated. Dedue let them retreat back to Dimitri’s lap. Dimitri had turned to watch Dedue’s face. His eyes looked clearer than they had since he’d gone in the other room — clear enough to see the way Dedue’s jaw was clenched tight and how Dedue hated it, clear enough to see the way his eyelids trembled with what he could not keep holding back. Things clicked, it seemed, and Dedue was surprised to hear Dimitri sniffle back a tear. “I’m sorry; it’s selfish of me to go on like this, when it’s so hard on you. But I refuse to surrender, and neither should you.”

“So what will you do? Will you continue to ask?” He tried to ignore the matter of himself, of how hard it was . He rested his hand on the stone, shutting his eyes and feeling its polished surface under his hand. His fingertips brushed over little pits and light flecks marring the darker shades. Dedue envied it — cold and quiet and stable; it hadn’t so much as warmed under him. It endured everything, and it felt nothing. It didn’t wonder if that place was home, even with nothing left for him but memories that toyed with comforting and hurting him. It didn’t have to remember. It didn’t clench itself, toes to teeth, when the memories of swords and fire still echoed, summoned by the flames burning miles away, summoned by the sound of knights, summoned by the knowledge that right behind him, at that moment, were men who would toss a world into that fire if it only satisfied their blood. It could simply not have those feelings when it couldn’t do anything about them. 

“If I can start by clearing the names of the people of Duscur…  Then there surely everyone will see sense. I know there are people who don’t want this — they can’t . But everyone is hurt and frightened. If they understand, then we can make peace and make things right!” He insisted, clenching his hands over the air. But he didn’t begin to scratch himself again. “I owe it to you, and everyone who died, and everyone who will die. I will… try to remember anything that could point to their true identities. I know it might not be heard at all. Fools. Fools.” Dimitri shook his head, his eyes tightening. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists, tremors running through them. Dedue pressed his hand harder onto the stone, trying to block out what was creeping in him like the first freeze. How hopeless it all was — someone who had actual courage, trying to plead for human lives with men like that.  “But I can’t stand for Faerghus’ justice to be used as nothing but a cudgel.”

And Dedue’s hand slipped off the step. His knuckles, so tense they could have burst through his skin, scraped against it. The tendons in his neck froze into place, wound like a clock whose springs went tighter and tighter, until finally — he snapped. 

“That is what it is,” he said, voice plain and simple, and finally dropping a weight. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Why was he saying this? It would be easier if he didn’t. His throat tightened like it might choke him. “They do not want your words to matter, and so, they will not work. What they wish for is battle. What happens next is of no consequence to them. 

“Perhaps some it is just.” He almost tossed the words at Dimitri, whose eyes were wide and staring, wounded at not being believed even by Dedue. Then they drew nearly to a close, softly, which was worse. He must have seen how misty Dedue looked. He felt like an avalanche, moving downhill — his words came with a building momentum, inexorable.“I cannot judge. I know that Duscur is like anywhere, maybe even here… There are good and bad people. Murderers. Children. But it is all the same to them. How could it ever stop?”

 He took a long breath, found it harder than he expected; it sputtered and broke before becoming deep enough. He was not yet crying — but he understood, he would. He couldn’t stop anymore; he’d broken at last, and now he could simply keep sliding down into his own depths. Part of him wanted to stop. To keep going on with the life he’d found worth living after the people who’d made his life before were gone, pretending he’d never felt like this. He shut his hands tight. They were shaking with bottled-up feeling.

“I truly...hate it. All of it. I hate knowing what Faerghus can do, will do, has done . I hate being looked at the same as if I had killed your father myself.” But going on as if it weren’t true wouldn’t make it untrue — still. He felt like as he pulled and pulled, it just went deeper. Feelings dark as night he hadn’t named , had put aside. It wasn’t hot — it was cold, so cold. It was drowning and freezing at once. He envied the stones, he really did: stones didn’t turn themselves over and see something they hated. “I hate the way I am spoken of… They way only I could not be let by your side when you were hurt, because of them… And —”  His eyes fell on Dimitri, then, and he understood. There was nothing that feeling did not touch. He recalled the way Dimitri’s feelings could drag his own out of him, and now — now that face, lips tense, eyebrows set gravely, and eyes red-rimmed and so, so sad for him — so uninjured by all Dedue had said, save that he didn’t believe. So undefended, like Dedue could plunge in a knife.

 “...I hate how ugly I am, to feel the way I do,” Dedue croaked, unable to look at that gods-cursed face a moment longer. He couldn’t change how he felt, not anymore, but he could stop. He could turn away; it would just have to be bolted up inside of him, turning his innards black with frostbite. 

“I think you’re right to be angry,” Dimitri answered, which made it all worse. “You’re right to hate all of this...What happened that day, what’s happened since, is monstrous, and nothing else. Even if no one else sees that right now, I…” His voice was shaking. Still somehow, Dedue was the one with the knife in him when Dimitri said, “feel like that, too. I don’t mean to say they compare, but… I think your fury just.”

“Dimitri, you do not understand.” He was unable to bolt it in if Dimitri kept dragging it out — stop, just stop. “It is still uglier than that… To hate all that I hate.”

“Oh.” Dimitri’s face briefly slackened, until it somehow — worse than anything — masked itself in a bland little smile, the smile of the Prince of Faerghus. Even if it collapsed almost instantly, it had been placed. The eyebrows drawn sadly together, the smile reaching his eyes not happily, but with soft self-deprecation. ”Me.”

“...I do not know if it is hate. I do not know the right word.” He knew just the right word in his own language, and said it aloud then — a word that meant something that ground you like wheat in a mill until you were bitter and tired.

 It hung there in the air, waiting for something, but all Dimitri could do was shake his head. He couldn’t translate that one, either. Before Dimitri could say anything, Dedue held up his hand. The feeling was awake, alive, trapped under his ribs and locked up in his lungs, his neck, his closed-off teeth. The borrowed tongue fell away from him, then he returned to his own. Dimitri would have to keep up, to guess over gaps in his knowledge of the language, as Dedue so often had to with him. He couldn’t say it any other way. 

“<I am… mad at you, sometimes. Something like that, anyway. I’m mad at who you are and what you mean.

“<You are the ‘prince’ of Faerghus. And this is so important that I’m unworthy of you to everyone . You bear their name! They kill for that name, for your father’s name, for that title I barely understand! Your good name is… so precious to them. But when the time comes…>” Turning this on Dimitri hurt. But that truth also hounded him — it leapt up his closed-off throat.  He hurried over the words, not looking to see if he was understood. Dimitri did not try to stop him — good enough. “<It’s all meaningless. It’s all useless . It’s cruel to ask you to carry this, but if you can’t, then no one will. I see that, now. It’s cruel that you’re the only one there is to ask.

“<And…Sometimes, I’m mad at you because I think…>”Dedue’s feelings crested, swelling up in his chest until they pounded against him, and came out the only way they could. Hot tears pooled in his eyes and dropped smoothly down. His voice was small and hoarse, a pained whisper. “<Why me, Dimitri? Why not save someone else?>” 

The bit of Dedue that pounded against his breastbone like a maddened, captured bird wanted Dimitri to not understand. Or more; say Dedue had no right to feel that way about his savior, or to say he did the best he could, or to say there was some reason for it to be him — some divine reason, some calculated reason, some reason less or more than that even the life of a stranger could be precious. Then Dedue could be truly mad at him, truly angry, then he could admire Dimitri a little less, care for him a little less, cut Faerghus into one great bloody clump and hate it all with a chill he’d hardly known was there until this moment, when he looked it in that hollow-eyed face. 

And when the hate had wrung out of him like tears, he really could turn his heart into stone.

But Dimitri didn’t say that. Not a word of it. Instead, he frowned, his eyes gone soft teardrop blue. He almost reached out a hand, but though it hovered in the space between them for a moment, it retreated to fall back onto his lap.

“I know that, for everyone I could not save then and cannot save now, there is neither excuse nor forgiveness. It would be mad, not to hate me after how much we’ve hurt you...There’s nothing ugly about it.” Dimitri stared at the hand he had almost reached out, his expression still somewhere far away from it. The silence stretched until he looked Dedue head-on again, a sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he whispered, small and hoarse,  “It’s OK.”

 Something thawed out inside him at those words, easing into the shelter they gave him.  It was OK. Nothing could make its way out of Dedue save tears. Silent, marked only by the faintest tremor that ran through him. It was OK. That black frost was still somewhere inside of him, and that was OK. Dimitri’s answer took him by the hand and warmed him, piece by piece, massaging his jaw until it let go, until his fingers and toes unclenched, until that feeling had surrendered him. All the things he’d gambled on Dimitri’s answer, all the things he’d considering throwing aside, all the rest of him came back to meet him, shocking as a spring flood — his heart, his hope, his life. 

His shoulders shook; his throat worked to make a breathless whine. Dimitri’s hand reached for him, and Dedue slumped into the touch wordlessly. Stone could never be warmed like this, not if it sat in the sun a million years.

“I won’t give up. I swear. I swear. I...I’m sorry you have to ask that. I’m so sorry.” Dimitri murmured, voice bare. And this, too, was a hurt stone couldn’t know. He had survived. They had survived, and this was all the reason that there was for it. Dimitri’s body heat was added to Dedue’s side as he, all the parts of the Prince of Faerghus that were simply Dimitri, leaned his head against Dedue’s shoulders. When Dedue didn’t shift away, a sob tore from him. He looked up through lashes only a little darker gold than the rest of him, blue summer skies streaked through with cloudy tears. He whispered something from the back of his throat. . “It really is a painful thing to wonder, isn’t it?”

 All Dedue could say for his understanding was in the way he leaned his own weight against Dimitri’s side. The smaller boy didn’t fold or crumple, but stayed, their figures leaned close to one another. His tears fell onto Dimitri’s hair as they slid down his face; Dimitri’s tears pooled against Dedue’s neck. It was regret and hurt in them, hate and frustration. They were surprisingly warm. The boys huddled on each other’s shoulder, there on the steps before the regent’s council chamber. When the adults exited, they would have to go around. The two of them wouldn’t be moved just yet. He didn’t have to move. He didn’t have to attempt to stop. For a long time, they simply wept for a world they could not change. They didn’t speak another word until all the tears had been wrung out from the bottom of Dedue’s heart, from Dimitri’s heart, from the burning plains of Duscur, miles and miles away.

the secret gift exchange - a brooklyn boy drabble

hope you guys don’t mind getting introduced to a few characters a bit early before the story is posted! this is just a little insight into their lives, so i hope you enjoy the kind of sneak peek into the story with a canon drabble. <3

There were few people in their circle of friends that would willingly go shopping with Rowan. Even her best friend and roommate Dominique refused to go to any store besides their weekly trip to grocery shop. Even a trip to Duane Reade was risky and required at least twenty minutes of browsing, hemming and hawing over whether or not she should pick up a load of new drugstore beauty products to try out. For the blog, of course. That was always her excuse whilst shopping and nobody could argue.

With the promise of a nice lunch, Rowan managed to convince Niall to go holiday shopping with her on a Saturday afternoon. A few days prior, they were lounging on her couch while Dominique was out of the apartment on a date with her boyfriend Liam. Niall was a few beers deep, distracted by the movie that they’d somewhat agreed on watching (though Rowan spent most of the time copy-editing her blog posts for the next week to ensure there were no errors and everything was linked properly).

While he was relaxed and his guard was down, Rowan took advantage and asked if he would tag along so she could pick up gifts for her family when she went home for Christmas. She watched him hesitate, his mouth agape while he surely tried to think of any excuse to give to get himself out of it. Before he could say anything, Rowan then reminded him that he had blown her off the week before for a date, leaving her to attend an event alone. Reluctantly, he agreed, but at least he showed up at her apartment the morning of their shopping excursion with a smile on his face, albeit a forced one.

“Why are you even buying gifts?” Niall asked, incessantly touching items on the shelves as they walked through Anthropologie. “Can’t you just re-gift some of your PR samples?”

“That, Niall, would be rude,” Rowan scoffed, picking up one of the monogrammed mugs. “I don’t re-gift the products I don’t use. I happily give them to friends and family without any ulterior reasons.”

Niall pouted. “I never get anything,” he whined.

“I’ll give you some skincare next time,” Rowan commented, staring at the mug in her hands for a few more seconds before placing it back on the shelf. “You could do with a little bit of a routine.”

“You already have me on a routine!” he argued, no doubt furrowing his brows at Rowan. Her back was faced to him as she examined a different mug that was eye level with her on the shelf. “I cleanse, exfoliate, and do those dumb masks too.”

“Do you use your serums and moisturize?” she asked, smirking before she even heard his loud groan. “I’m only joking. Niall. Your skin is great. I’m just helping you try to prevent any early on-set aging. I’m merely trying to keep you glowing and youthful forever.”

Rowan jumped when she felt the back of Niall’s hand smacking her in the back of the shoulder. She craned her neck to look behind her, narrowing her eyes at Niall while he grinned back at her. “You’re a menace,” she finally said, walking away from the mugs to a new section of the store. “C’mon, I need to get some bits for my sisters.”

“All of them?” Niall asked, his footsteps not far behind Rowan’s.

“Just Chloe,” Rowan replied. “Kennedy and Fallon are a bit too young for Anthro.”

“What about Sammy and Porter?”

“Porter is still going through his gaming phase, so I’ve already ordered four games to the house for my mom to hide,” Rowan explained. “And then I have another order with some cool joggers that he and Sammy basically live in.”

“What’d you spoil Sammy with?” Niall joked. Rowan didn’t have favorite siblings, but Niall always teased her that her brother Sam was her favorite. She’d deny it, of course, but she couldn’t lie that she was closer to Sammy than the rest of her younger siblings.

Rowan mumbled something under her breath, trying to avoid answering the question. She had spoiled Sammy, but she hadn’t gone as over the top as she could have. Rowan had, admittedly, started to go a little overboard for the holidays and birthdays in the prior couple of years. She was torn between feeling lucky and not wanting to diminish all of the hard work that she had put into her blog she started as a hobby her freshman year of college as her creative outlet and digital diary.

“I only got him a hoodie and sneakers,” she finally said, realizing Niall wasn’t going to take her silence and mumbles as an answer.

“Was that the Supreme hoodie that I saw in your room the other week?” Niall asked. Rowan didn’t answer, merely nodding while she sorted through a rack of blouses. “You’re a generous older sister.”

“He’s my brother,” Rowan replied. “I know gifts aren’t important, but when I can’t be with them all of the time, I have to do something.”

“You could call him more,” Niall pointed out.

Rowan winced, her hand freezing as she grabbed onto the shoulder of one of the shirts. “You know my schedule, Niall,” Rowan mumbled, letting her grasp on the top loosen on the top before she turned on her heel and away from the display. Rowan wandered through the store with the bridge of her nose pinched between two fingers, keeping her head down while she tried to find an isolated corner.

“Rowan, come back,” Niall said, keeping his voice as low as he could so he didn’t draw attention to them. They found themselves sandwiched between a display of doorknobs and a dish towels, face to face even if Rowan spent more time staring at her feet. “Rowan, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, trying to snap out of her mood. “No, no, it’s fine,” she assured him, letting out a long sigh before she looked at him. “Sorry, it’s just…I must be tired, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he said. “Do you want to stay here?”

“I’m not seeing anything for Chloe,” Rowan replied. “I think that I’ll be able to find something for her at Bloomingdale’s. And if I can’t, then one of my girls there will!”

Niall snorted. “Alright Rowan, well at least we tried here,” he said. “Where else do we need to go today?”

“Just a few more places,” she replied. “I need to get more gifts for Fallon and Kennedy, a couple of more things for Dominique, and one little thing for Liam.”

“Already picked out your gift exchange present?” he asked. “It’s next Friday, you know.”

“Of course I know,” Rowan replied. “I’ve had everything for my gift exchange since I found out who I got.”

“Really?” he asked, raising his brows. “Who’d you get?”

“As if I’d tell you,” she replied. “It’s supposed to be a secret. All I’m going to say is that I knew exactly what I was going to get when I found out who I got.”

Niall furrowed his brows, lines creasing deep into his forehead. “Louis told me who he got,” Niall complained. “Why can’t you cave?”

“Because I cherish the element of surprise when it comes to gift exchanges, especially when that was rule number one,” Rowan replied. “Now stop pouting and maybe if you’re lucky, you can help pick out outfits for some upcoming blog posts.”

“I thought we were gift shopping?” he asked.

“I deserve gifts from myself, too,” Rowan replied with a casual shrug.

***********

Rowan stayed up until three o’clock in the morning working to ensure that her schedule after noon (or at least two) was free to clean her apartment for the gift exchange. Other than the usual group of Niall, Rowan, Dominique, and Liam, Rowan had also included their favorite bartender from the pub near her apartment. Louis, a few of her blogger friends that had gone out quite a few times with the group, and her main photographer Harry. It made the whole secret element of the gift exchange that much more exciting, expanding the pool of possible gift-givers.

Beyond tidying the apartment and clearing it from all of her props from a few photo spreads she set-up throughout the apartment for various posts about interiors, Rowan had the exciting task of adding decorations. She and Dominique kept the decorating to a minimum, mostly because Rowan preferred simple gold and silver motifs and tiny touches through home décor. But for their miniature party, she scoured Etsy for as many cute and crafty décor pieces she could find, filling in the gaps where her normal decorations lacked.

Dominique and Liam were going to pick up the food when they both got out of work, Harry was bringing his camera to capture the moment, and her friends each offered to make some kind of dessert or drink (no doubt as an excuse to do a post about it, an ongoing joke every time they got together). All Rowan had to do was make sure that the apartment was ready to host the gift exchange and holiday party before everyone dispersed to go back home with their families or significant others.

She had festive music on the set the mood while she put the finishing touches on the apartment before everyone arrived. There was about an hour until Dominique got back and two until everyone would start to arrive (assuming they wouldn’t come late, which was also a common occurrence). The music drowned out the silence, Rowan’s go-to to make working from home more tolerable. This was no different, the soft hum of music filling the gaps where Dominique’s chatter or their favorite television shows would be. Sometimes she put on shows that she’d seen a dozen times just so she could hear familiar voices, but that was typically when she was absolutely swamped with deadlines and didn’t have as much leniency with her free time.

Dominique and Liam added the finishing touches to Rowan’s set-up when they got back to the apartment, giving her about thirty minutes to get ready. She rushed through her foolproof ten-minute makeup routine, leaving her hair in its natural wavy state to avoid the hassle of trying to curl it. She’d had an outfit picked out since she suggested the gift exchange party, pulling the garish red turtleneck sweater dress from its section in her closet. It complimented her opaque black tights and white and silver embellished statement headband, one that got her called Blair Waldorf every single time she wore it.

Rowan was in the middle of choosing a lipstick color when she heard a knock at her door. Before she could even turn around to respond, she heard her door creak open followed by footsteps on the hardwood floor. “Dom?” she asked, plunging her hand into her lipstick drawer to find a suitable shade of red.

“Sub?” Niall replied, cackling at his own joke. Rowan rolled her eyes, continuing on her hunt rather than turning around to face him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Looking for lipstick,” she replied, pulling out two of her possible choices. She held them up towards the light, examining which would be the perfect match for her dress. “Which one?”

Niall took a few steps forward, squinting his eyes to look at the two tubes of liquid lipstick that Rowan chose. “Well, don’t you always complain that these ones dry darker than they look?” Niall asked, pointing to the tube in her left hand. “I like the one on the right anyway.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Rowan replied, turning around to put the losing lipstick away. She sat down in front of her vanity, scooting closer to the mirror so she could apply the lipstick precisely around her lips. Neither of them spoke as Rowan perfected the edges, ensuring that there wasn’t a line out of place. She used her hand to fan her lips after she applied a second layer, waiting for it to dry before she let her lips touch.

“The apartment looks great,” Niall said, sitting down on Rowan’s bed while she fixed her hair in the mirror. “I’m assuming it was partially for the blog?”

“I do things that don’t have to do with the blog, you know,” Rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes at Niall’s reflection in the corner of her mirror. “I just wanted to spread the holiday spirit a little more, that’s all. Jerk.”

“Not sure how Santa is going to feel about the name-calling, but to each their own,” Niall said, pushing himself off of her bed. “I’m going to go keep Liam company because you know how he gets when there’s a lot of people that he doesn’t know.”

“It’s only a few girls!” Rowan argued.

“It’s eight girls,” Niall corrected Rowan. “They’re all very sweet, but I think Liam would appreciate the extra familiar face.”

Rowan sighed. “Thank you, Ni.”

“Of course, Row,” he replied. “Now come on, can’t spend your gift exchange party in your room.”

In retrospect, having eight of the girls over along with their usual group was probably not the greatest idea. It made the gift exchange a little more thrilling, but fourteen people crowded into the apartment in the presence of alcohol made things a little hectic. Rowan felt like she was on her feet the entire time, trying to clean up and organize while everyone else mingled. The first time she sat and chatted for more than a few minutes at a time was when they finally decided to gather around in the living room for the main event: the gift exchange.

Everyone went around in a circle, choosing the boxes or bags from the middle with their names on the tags. It was fun watching everybody’s reactions, especially to who got the gift for them. It involved a lot of squealing and hugging, acts of pure excitement that nearly caused four wine spillages on Rowan’s carpet. Niall was one of the last people to go, leaving Rowan’s knees knocking together as she sat on the couch across from the chair he was sitting in.

Rowan chewed on her bottom lip as she watched Niall open the small box. She knew what was in the box, of course. She was the one who’d spent far too long trying to pick out the perfect wrapping paper for the gift. Or rather, the fake gift. She abided by the $50 limit, filling the box with new strings, picks, and a book about Bruce Springsteen that he had been eyeing in the bookstore two months before. But she also knew that there was a note attached inside written in her sloppy attempt at calligraphy that told him to hang around after everyone left for a fourth part to the gift.

Niall tilted his head to the side as she folded the note back up, tucking it behind the cover of the book. Rowan merely shrugged when he looked across the table at her, turning to her right so she could see what her friend Marisol got. She could feel his stare on the side of her face, but she ignored him for the time being, trying to remain blasé about the entire situation.

After everyone got their presents, the party seemed to die down. The girls started to leave one by one, hugging Rowan tightly before they exchanged wishes for a happy holiday and vague plans for the next time they would hang out. Even Dominique and Liam left, choosing to spend the night at Liam’s apartment before they split up for the holidays. Niall was the last person to leave, busying himself by picking up glasses from around the living room and kitchen, dumping whatever liquid was left in them before placing them in the dishwasher. Rowan was scrubbing down surfaces and mopping up some of the muddy snow that had melted near the door from people’s shoes.

They worked in silence as if they were too scared to acknowledge the note in Rowan’s gift to Niall. Sometimes they just functioned better in silence.

“Rowan.”

She looked up from the kitchen table where the food had been laid out, quirking her brows at Niall as he leaned against the closed dishwasher. “What’s up?” she asked, her hand stopped mid-wipe, hands clenched around the cloth.

“Not to sound greedy, but what was that note about?” he asked.

“Oh,” she breathed out. “I suppose the apartment is clean enough now. C’mon.”

She abandoned the cloth in the center of the table, motioning for Niall to follow her down the hall to her bedroom. She wrung her hands together, hiding her nervousness from Niall. It was silly to be nervous about giving him a present, but she could easily imagine his reaction. It didn’t seem fair to not treat Niall the same way she’d treat her family. She didn’t see him as a brother, not like she saw Dominique as a sister, but he felt just as much a part of her family as her actual siblings did. It seemed wrong to not do something extra for him, especially during the season of giving.

“Rowan, please tell me that you’re not going to wrap a bow around yourself and declare yourself my present,” Niall commented, stopping in her doorway while Rowan continued to wander inside her bedroom.

“Oh my god, get over yourself,” she groaned, spinning around to flip Niall off. “I should revoke your final present.”

“Row, what you got for me was plenty,” Niall said, leaning against her doorway. “I don’t need anything else.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I couldn’t help myself and I think you’ll like it.”

“Rowan, what did you do?” he asked.

She shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Check inside my closet,” she said, pointing towards the set of doors to her right. “Look, I’m leaving to go back home in two days and I wanted to make sure you got your present before I left, that’s all.”

Rowan wiped her sweaty palms on the comforter, her knees jittering in anticipation as Niall walked from the doorway to her closet. Dominique would’ve told her it was an impulse buy if she had known that Rowan got it for Niall. She was shopping on Broome Street between meetings when she wandered into Rudy’s Music Shop between Isabel Marant and James Perse. Her eyes locked on the guitars in the window and all plans to shop for herself disappeared.

She spent nearly an hour talking to a few of the employees to try to find the best option for Niall. She told them what he usually played, what he did, and what he’d probably want. She tried to recite some of his exact quotes about his guitar, but it wasn’t her strong suit. They’d all settled on the Martin Black Smoke with a bigger body, the clear winner out of their final three choices. Rowan didn’t care what it cost or that she’d somehow have to lug the guitar from the store back to her apartment in the Upper West Side after her meeting. She could instantly see it on display in Niall’s apartment, a guitar far different than the few he already had. He would say it was too much, but she shook his reaction out of her head as she told the employees that she’d take it.

“What the?” Niall asked, clearly spotting the guitar case sitting on the floor of her closet. “Rowan, what is this?”

“Just open it, Niall,” she said.

She swallowed the lump in her throat while she watched him kneel down, anticipation setting in as she heard him fumbling with the lock and closure on the side. The hinges creaked quietly as Niall opened it, slowly revealing what was hidden beneath the top of the case.

“Rowan…” Niall breathed out. “This is too much.”

“No it’s not,” she replied. “I hope it’s okay. I try to listen to you when you talk about guitars, but you’re just so much better at musical knowledge than I am. So I asked the people at Rudy’s to help and I spent like an hour in there but that one really seemed like one that you’d like so–”

“Rowan,” Niall interjected, keeping her from rambling further. “This guitar is amazing, but I can’t take it. I know it must’ve cost a fortune and it’d be wr–”

“Niall,” Rowan sighed, sliding off the edge of the bed until her feet were flat on the ground. “This is my gift to you, my best friend and favorite musician.”

He snorted. “You have some shit taste in music,” he commented.

“Hush, my music taste is just an impeccable as my taste in handbags, shoes, and coats,” Rowan replied, walking up behind Niall so she could flick him in the back of the head. “So it’s okay?”

Niall shut the top, locking it back up so the guitar was secure in its case. He stood up slowly, turning around on his heel so he was finally facing Rowan. “It’s incredible, Row,” he said, locking eyes with her. “I…don’t even know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” she replied. “I’m really happy you like it and I cannot wait to see you playing this at your next gig.”

“Are you my official biggest fan now?” Niall joked.

“I’ve always been your biggest fan,” she replied. “This isn’t a recent thing.”

Niall pressed his lips together, immediately wrapping his arms around Rowan. He hugged her close, making it easy for her to tuck her chin into the crook of his neck. She could feel his arms squeeze tighter around her waist, holding her closer for a moment. “Thank you, Rowan,” he murmured as he let go, taking a step back. “I…just thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Niall,” she replied. “Can you stay tonight or do you need to go back to your apartment?”

“I have tomorrow off, I can stay,” Niall replied. “Plus, I’m not going very far for the holidays so no packing necessary.”

Rowan snorted. “Another Christmas in Brooklyn for Niall and Maura,” Rowan commented. “You two are always more than welcome to go across the state to spend Christmas with the Walshes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the…sixth year in a row? Does that sound right?” Niall asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Shush, I’m just trying to offer my obnoxious family to you,” Rowan replied. “Just for that, I’m picking the Christmas movies we’re watching tonight.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked.

“It’s a few days until Christmas, of course that’s what we’re doing,” Rowan replied, rolling her eyes at Niall. “Now c’mon, I know exactly which one we’re going to start with.”

Best camera 2019: 10 of the best cameras you can buy right now What's the best camera you can buy right now? Okay, we admit it – it's an impossible question to answer, but we'll do our best to make sure you end up buying the right camera for you. You see, the best camera for a pro photographer is a million miles away from the best camera for an adventure sports nut or a novice shooter just making their first steps in photography. But if you just want to know what we think are the top ten cameras that are available right now – regardless of user level or price point – then keep on reading. What we've done then is to pick out what we think are the standout cameras in their fields, so you'll find everything here from cheap and cheerful compact cameras to advanced full-frame DSLRs. This will mean that while some have some mouthwatering features and performance, others make the grade because they're amazing value for what they offer or because they are just brilliant at the job they've been designed for. All these are cameras have been extensively tried and tested by ourselves, so if you want to know any more about any of them as well as check out sample images, just click the link to the full review. Along the way we'll explain some of the jargon and the differences between cameras, though if you need a bit more help deciding what kind of camera you need, you can get a lot more information from our special step-by-step guide: What camera should I buy? On the other hand, you may already have a clear idea of the kind of camera you want, in which case you could go straight to one of our more specific camera buying guides at the bottom of the page. Otherwise read on to find out our picks of the best cameras available right now... Best cameras in 2019 Our top mirrorless camera until recently was the brilliant Alpha A7 III from Sony, but the arrival of Nikon's new Z6 means it now just misses out, though it's very close. Nikon has been late to the full-frame mirrorless party, but the wait's been worth it. Launching alongside the 45.7MP Z7, the Z6 is hard to beat for the price and offers a stunning blend of features and performance that makes its a brilliant choice for the enthusiast photographer or pro looking for a second body. The 24.5MP full-frame sensor is excellent, while the 273-point AF system (while not quite as sophisticated as the 693-point AF in the A7 III) and 12fps burst shooting should mean you'll never miss another shot. Handling is polished too, while the large and bright electronic viewfinder is a joy to use. Excellent. Read our in-depth Nikon Z6 review Also consider: Sony Alpha A7 III Buying guide: Best mirrorless camera Fujifilm has made a habit of squishing the best bits from its senior models into cheaper offerings once some time has passed, and the X-T30 is the latest camera to arrive with that idea. With so much from the X-T3 inside a more compact body – including the same sensor and processing engine, and largely the same AF system and video capabilities – you really can't argue with what you're getting for the money. No other mirrorless camera at this level can touch it right now, and while the more senior X-T3 holds a number of advantages, the X-T30's small size, feature set and price point makes it that little bit stronger overall. Read our in-depth Fujifilm X-T30 hands-on review Also consider: Fujifilm X-T3 Buying guide: Best mirrorless camera It may be expensive, but if you're looking for the best DSLR money can buy right now, then Nikon's fabulous D850 DSLR pretty much ticks every box. Packing in a brilliant 45.4MP full-frame sensor, image quality is simply stunning. But that's just half the story. Thanks to a sophisticated 153-point AF system and 9fps burst shooting speed, the D850 is and incredibly versatile piece of kit, just a home shooting action and wildlife as it is landscapes and portraits. The arrival of the Z6 and Z7 might overshadow the D850, but this is still a brilliant camera. Read our in-depth Nikon D850 review Buying guide: Best full-frame camera Buying guide: Best DSLR While the main specification of the OM-D E-M10 Mark III doesn't offer a huge upgrade from the Mark II, Olympus has refined and tweaked one of our favorite mirrorless cameras to make it an even more tempting proposition for new users and enthusiasts alike. Some will criticise the smaller Micro Four Thirds sensor format (roughly half the area of APS-C) but the effect on image quality is minor and it means that the lenses are as compact and lightweight as the camera itself. Sporting a 5-axis image stabilization system, decent electronic viewfinder, an impressive 8.6fps burst shooting speed and 4K video, it's no toy – the E-M10 Mark III is a properly powerful camera. If you can wait a little be longer, then Fujifilm's X-T30 looks like it might be the camera to dislodge the E-M10 Mark III. However, we won't know until we've fully tested it. Read our in-depth Olympus OM-D E-M10 Mark III review Also consider: Fujifilm X-T100 Buying guide: Best entry-level mirrorless camera Nikon's D3500 is our top pick when it comes to entry-level DSLRs. While it shares quite a few features with the D3400, upgrades for the D3500 include a new 24.2MP sensor, better battery life (to a staggering 1,550 shots) and refined exterior controls. The D3500 is a great camera to pick up and use if this is your first DSLR, with its clever Guide Mode a useful learning tool that gives real-time explanations of important features. There's no touchscreen, but otherwise, this is our favorite entry-level DSLR right now. Read our in-depth Nikon D3500 review Also consider: Canon EOS Rebel T7i / EOS 800D Buying guide: Best entry-level DSLR We love the A7 III. The original A7 and A7 II showed Sony was moving in the right direction and making all the right noises, but it's this third iteration that has particularly stood out in the mid-range mirrorless market. The core of the camera – namely a 24MP full-frame sensor, 4K video, sensor-based image stabilisation, 10fps burst shooting and a 693-point hybrid AF system – is strong enough, but with two card slots and a 710-shot battery life on top of that, you're getting excellent value for money as well as top performance. We have some reservations with the viewfinder and weather-sealing, but this is still one of the most versatile cameras around right now, mirrorless or otherwise. Read our in-depth Sony Alpha A7 III review Also consider: Nikon Z6 Buying guide: Best mirrorless camera The Panasonic Lumix ZS200 (known as the Lumix TZ200 outside the US) is the best travel zoom camera right now. This is thanks in part to the camera using a large 1.0-inch sized sensor that enables the pixels to be about 2.4x bigger than they are in models like the Lumix ZS70 / TZ90, and this helps the ZS200 produce much higher quality images. The zoom isn't quite as broad as some though, but the 15x zoom should be more than enough for most shooting situations, while there's a built-in electronic viewfinder that makes it easier to compose images in bright sunny conditions. Add 4K video recording, along with Panasonic's 4K Photo mode to help capture 8MP images of fleeting moments, and you've got a very capable travel companion. If you're looking for even more performance (and have deeper pockets), check out Sony's brilliant Cyber-shot RX100 VI. Read our in-depth Panasonic Lumix ZS200 / TZ200 review Also consider: Sony Cyber-shot RX100 VI Buying guide: Best travel camera While it can shoot stills quite happily (although at a pretty limited 10.2MP resolution), the Lumix GH5S should be seen first and foremost as a video camera – if you want to do both you've got the Lumix GH5 to fill that brief, thanks to it's 20.3MP sensor and built-in image stabilization system. The GH5S's breadth of video features is incredibly impressive, including the ability to shoot cinematic 4K footage at up to 60fps. If you want to shoot professional-quality footage without remortgaging your house to buy a pro video camera, you won't find a better video-focused camera right now. Read our in-depth Panasonic Lumix GH5S review Buying guide: Best 4K camera Buying guide: Best camera for vlogging The Tough TG-5 from Olympus is built to survive pretty much anything you could throw at it, literally. Waterproof down to depths of 15m, don't mistake it for being merely an underwater camera; being waterproof is also useful for hikers, bikers, kayakers, and skiers. In fact, any outdoor pursuit is game for the TG-5, which is crushproof to 100kg and drop-proof from 2.1m. It can even be used in temperatures as low as -10°C. Olympus has taken the unusual step of actually dropping the pixel count from 16MP on the TG-4 to 12MP on the TG-5. Add in raw file support and this makes image quality that bit better than its predecessor, while it can shoot 4K video at 30p or high speed footage at 120p in Full HD. Our pick of the waterproof bunch. Read our in-depth Olympus Tough TG-5 review Also consider: GoPro Hero7 Black Buying guide: Best waterproof camera We don't normally like bridge camera very much because the ultra-zoom design forces the makers to use titchy 1/2.3-inch sensors the same size as those in point-and-shoot cameras. You get the look and feel of a DSLR, but you certainly don't get the image quality. But the Panasonic Lumix FZ2000 (known as the FZ2500 in the US) is different. It sacrifices a huge zoom range in favour of a much larger 1.0-inch sensor - a compromise most serious photographers will applaud. While the zoom tops out at 480mm equivalent, which is relatively short for a bridge camera, that's still plenty for all but the most extreme everyday use. We'd certainly sacrifice a little for of zoom range for better and faster optics. We love the FZ2000 because it delivers both image quality and zoom range, while also offering full manual and semi-manual controls, the ability to shoot raw files and 4K video. Read our in-depth Panasonic Lumix FZ2000 / FZ2500 review Also consider: Sony Cyber-shot RX10 IV Buying guide: Best bridge camera Our main reservation with the Sony RX100 IV when it first launched was its high price, but now that some time has passed it's dropped down to a much more sensible level. And while it's still far from the cheapest compact around, you get bags for the money. No other manufacturer can match the camera for its combination of a 1in sensor, 4K video recording, excellent pop-up EVF and 16fps burst mode, while the further pleasures of a tilting LCD screen, wireless connectivity and the option to shoot at up 960fps for slow-motion output on top of all that to make it even more fun to shoot with. If you can live without the 4K video option and you're happy with 10fps burst shooting, you may also want to check out the slightly cheaper RX100 III. Read our in-depth Sony RX100 IV review Also consider: Sony Cyber-shot RX100 III Buying guide: Best compact camera Best camera Best entry-level DSLR Best DSLR Best mirrorless camera Best 4K camera Best full-frame camera Best compact camera What camera should I buy? Mirrorless vs DSLR: 10 key differences Camera rumors #Newsytechno.com #Latest_Technology_Trends #Cool_Gadgets

Throwback Thursday: Our first cameras

What was your first camera?

For this week's Throwback Thursday, I asked fellow DPReview staffers to write a few paragraphs about their first cameras, film and digital. I'll go first.

Jeff Keller

Unlike most of my colleagues, I wasn't a huge film photographer. I recall owning one of those flat 110 cameras, followed by a standard-issue clamshell compact, which was promptly stolen by someone in the baggage department at London's Heathrow airport. I ended up running to Harrods to pick up something similar. I probably paid way too much.

I was lucky enough to get my hands on digital cameras really early – like 1996 early. After toying around with early Kodak, Casio and Apple cameras, I finally bit the bullet and dropped $900 on the Olympus D-300L, also known as the Camedia C-800L. This powerhouse had an F2.8, 36mm-equivalent lens and a sensor with XGA resolution. 

My real pride and joy was the Olympus D-600L (Camedia C-1400L), which cost me $1300 in 1997. It had an unusual design, large-ish 2/3" 1.4MP sensor, and a 36-110mm equivalent F2.8-3.9 lens. Its optical viewfinder had 95% coverage and was supplemented by a 1.8" LCD. I don't know what I did with it, but I wish I still had the D-600L in my possession!

Olympus C-800L photo by Erkaha

Allison Johnson

I’m counting my first camera as one that I used early on, and am now entrusted with, but isn’t strictly mine. I had some kind of point-and-shoot film camera of my own when I was young, and shared a Game Boy Camera with my sister, but Dad’s Nikkormat FT3 was the first 'real camera' I shot with. Let me tell you, that camera is built for the ages. It’s heavy and indestructible and as far as I can tell, still works like the day it was born. I take it out with me nowadays when I know I’ll be able to slow down and think about what I’m doing, and when I know I won’t be devastated if I screw it all up and come back with nothing. I haven’t been disappointed yet.

The very first digital camera I bought is slightly embarrassing: a Sony Cyber-shot DSC-T700. It was one of the super-slim Cyber-shots of the late 2000s that was all touchscreen. What can I say? I was taken in by its sleek looks and pocketability. It started up when you slid the front panel down to reveal the lens, and there was a real risk of the whole camera flying out of your hands every time you did that. It also had the world’s tiniest zoom lever in one corner on the top, which was pretty annoying to operate. The photos were fine in daylight, though I was just taking casual snapshots and didn’t exactly stress test it. I can confidently say my smartphone now does a fine job of everything that I was using this camera for. Therein lies the whole compact camera market, I guess.

Nikkormat FT3 photo by BastienM

Barney Britton

My first camera was a Pentax MX, inherited from my Dad (who is still very much alive), along with a 50mm F1.7 prime and a couple of Tamron Adaptall-2 zooms. It was the camera I learned photography with, and the only camera I took on a round-Europe rail trip when I was 18. I sold it when I went to university to fund a Canon EOS-3, and always regretted it. I found an MX in a junk shop last year, and I’m not going to sell this one.

My first digital camera was the Canon EOS 10D. I saved up for an entire year, working in a hotel restaurant during university holidays to pay for it (a story told in part, here) and it was my main camera for a couple of years.

The EOS 10D was the first ‘affordable’ DSLR that really stacked up against high-end film models in terms of build quality and functionality. Although its AF system was primitive compared to the EOS 3, it was extremely well-built, and very reliable. At the time, the 10D also offered the best image quality of any enthusiast DSLR (and arguably, the best image quality of any DSLR, period). Noise levels were low across its standard ISO range, and an extension setting of ISO 3200 offered filmlike grain, which looked great in black and white. I still see 10Ds 'in the wild' occasionally, and for a long time, we used an EOS 10D as our main studio camera at DPReview.

The EOS 10D had a magnesium-alloy body.

I shot my first published work on the EOS 10D, which felt like quite an achievement given how poorly its autofocus system performed in low light. If I’d never become a professional performance photographer, I might still have it. After the 10D I upgraded to an EOS-1D Mark II, when I started getting more serious about theatre and music photography.

Pentax MX photo by Alf Sigaro

Dale Baskin

I truly have no idea what my first camera was. When I go back and look at old family photos, even ones in which I’m barely a toddler, I always seem to have a camera in my hands, running the gamut from my Dad’s rangefinder to a free plastic camera someone chose over a toaster when opening a bank account. When I got serious about learning photography, however, there was one camera that appealed to me like no other: the Miranda Sensorex.

Why? Probably for the same reasons a lot of people started photography with a particular camera: it was available to me. I didn’t care that the camera was older than I was and heavier than a rock. It looked the way a camera was supposed to look, and it had the latest in sensor technology. (For the youngsters out there, this technology was called ‘film’, and my Dad insisted on the Kodachrome or Ektachrome varieties).

It was a great camera to learn on as there was no auto, no program and no aperture priority mode to fall back on. I recall reading somewhere that the Sensorex was the first 35mm SLR with TTL metering, and to this day I love the match-needle method of setting exposure. It may be a dinosaur by today’s standards, but it still works and will probably continue to do so for decades.

My first digital camera was the Canon PowerShot S300, a 2.1MP point and shoot. (Back then, that extra 0.1MP was important!). I agonized for weeks over whether or not I should spend literally hundreds of dollars more to get a 3MP camera, but in the end couldn’t justify the spend. I immediately fell in love with digital photography, especially the the ability for easy sharing on social networks. (Social network being defined as someone in your personal social network to whom you could snail-mail a CD-ROM of photos they were never going to look at anyway.)

As fun as digital was, it still didn’t give me the same quality as scanned slides, so I stuck with film for a few more years until the Canon EOS 20D came out, and the rest is history.

Carey Rose

The first camera I have any sort of memory of actually using (besides disposable cameras and my Grandpa's Canon EOS 650 film camera, which was so cool) was a PowerShot A75. It was a hand-me-down from my dad, and the perfect 'first digital camera' for a socially awkward high-schooler. It was fairly small (though that didn’t stop me from wanting a camera phone as soon as such things became practical and available), ran on easy-to-find AA batteries, and the photo quality was great for the time.

It was also called 'PowerShot,' a brand name that, to this day, sounds way cooler than competing models like such as FinePix, Easyshare and Coolpix, all of which should have died out along with animated backgrounds and auto-play music on your favorite Geocities ‘links’ page. It even survived a tumble onto concrete for a while, though eventually it succumbed to the dreaded ‘lens error’ where the lens wouldn’t properly extend or contract.

It was superseded by a Samsung NV10, a camera which looked cooler, was a lot smaller and had a lot more megapixels (plus a funky Smart Touch control system with soft keys surrounding two sides of the display,) but I ended up preferring the overall ‘look’ of the PowerShot images I used to get. So when I left the NV10 on a train while traveling across Europe, I replaced it with another PowerShot, the S3 IS, and never looked back.

Sam Spencer

The first camera I used was probably the same as anyone born before 1990-something: a disposable point and shoot. Being six years old, I had no idea about focus, flash, or anything of the sort and tried to take a macro picture of a spider at less than six inches away….

A couple years later my father proudly came home one evening with a Ricoh RDC-2. I wasn’t allowed to get my prepubescent mitts on it until later when computer monitors grew to 1,024 pixels on the long side, making the VGA Ricoh obsolete. I remember using the AC adaptor for it almost exclusively since it ate through AA’s almost as often as its now-diminutive memory filled. I also seem to remember using its OVF more often than the (optional) flip-up screen on top. I mostly used it to try and capture various members of my remote control car collection airborne after launching off jumps I made out of tape and cardboard. Remember, I was about 8 or 9.

The Sony Cyber-shot DSC-S75 had a 3MP CCD, 34-102mm equiv. lens, a rear LCD info display and plenty of manual controls. Its lens, labeled 'Carl Zeiss,' could be found on numerous other cameras under different names (e.g. Canon, Epson).

That camera was replaced with a Sony Cyber-shot DSC-S75, which was the first time I had ever seen or heard the name ‘Zeiss’. That camera offered a bit more manual control (like focus!) than the Ricoh, was what got me truly enthusiastic about photography in Junior High, leading to signing up for darkroom photography my freshman year. Then I was handed a ‘real’ camera, a Minolta SRT200, which worked well until Nikon released the D50, a DSLR affordable enough to convince my generous father to help me purchase (he definitely paid for the majority).

Simon Joinson

The Fujica ST605N was an M42 screw-mount SLR made in the 70's and 80's. Photo by Alf Sigaro.

I have my father to blame for my lifelong love affair with photography. Not because he was a particularly accomplished or prolific photographer (based on the wallets of photos I have from my childhood I’d characterize his technique as a bit hit and miss, with a lot more ‘miss’ than ‘hit’), but because he gave me my first camera at age 12 or 13. I got this hand-me-down because he was replacing his camera – a Fujica ST 605N – with something a lot fancier (a Minolta X500, chosen after an excruciating amount of research including, much to my mother’s consternation, two visits to a camera show from which he returned with a roll full of pictures of semi-naked models on motorbikes).

Anyway, I didn’t care because I now had my own real camera, complete with 35mm, 55mm and 135mm lenses packed into an ancient gadget bag that released a heady aroma of moldy old leather and film every time I creaked open its lid, and whose numerous pockets were home to a fascinating collection of dusty accessories and starburst filters. It was the most amazing thing I had ever owned.

The Fujica ST605N was one of dozens of similar no-frills M42 screw mount SLRs made during the 70s and early 80s (although it appears that the mere fact you could see the currently selected shutter speed in the viewfinder was quite the selling point in 1978), but it was compact, nicely made and had a decent focus screen and a fast (at the time) silicon exposure meter.

And I loved it. And, like all photographers who started with a fully manual camera and a small selection of prime lenses that took about 10 minutes to change (thanks to the screw mount), I quickly learned the basics of photography (specifically apertures and shutter speeds), partly by reading but mostly through trial and error. 

I can still remember the first roll of I put through it, at the local zoo, and the thrill of getting the prints back only 5 days and 2 weeks' worth of allowance later (on this point my father made it clear I would need to reign in my enthusiasm and that a 36-exposure roll normally lasted him for at least a few months).

After many years of enjoying his Fujica, Simon moved on to the Nikon F-301, known as the N2000 in the United States. Photo by John Nuttall.

I kept - and used - the Fujica all my teen years, adding an old flashgun that took 5 minutes of high-pitched wheezing to charge up, a slightly moldy 70-200mm Vivitar zoom I found in a junk shop, and a sizeable collection of blower brushes and cap-keepers that came free on the covers of photography magazines. My time with her only ended when I went to college – all students were required to arrive on the first day with a Nikon SLR, so I had to trade-in my trusty old ST605N for a Nikon F301 (aka N2000), which seemed like something out of Knight Rider by comparison. But that’s another story…

The Casio QV-10, with its low resolution CCD and rotating lens, was one of the world's first consumer digital cameras.

My first digital camera? Well, the first I used was a Casio QV10, but since I started writing about digital cameras in 1995, I never really had to buy one (we had a house full of them), and I just borrowed what I wanted when I wasn’t shooting for work. I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I didn’t actually buy a digital camera for myself until 2011 (funnily enough it too was a Fuji – a first generation X100).

So what was your first camera (film or digital – both are fair game)?  Let us know in the comments below! Suggestions for future Throwback Thursday articles are also welcome.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2m3TR9N

Throwback Thursday: Our first cameras

What was your first camera?

For this week's Throwback Thursday, I asked fellow DPReview staffers to write a few paragraphs about their first cameras, film and digital. I'll go first.

Jeff Keller

Unlike most of my colleagues, I wasn't a huge film photographer. I recall owning one of those flat 110 cameras, followed by a standard-issue clamshell compact, which was promptly stolen by someone in the baggage department at London's Heathrow airport. I ended up running to Harrods to pick up something similar. I probably paid way too much.

I was lucky enough to get my hands on digital cameras really early – like 1996 early. After toying around with early Kodak, Casio and Apple cameras, I finally bit the bullet and dropped $900 on the Olympus D-300L, also known as the Camedia C-800L. This powerhouse had an F2.8, 36mm-equivalent lens and a sensor with XGA resolution. 

My real pride and joy was the Olympus D-600L (Camedia C-1400L), which cost me $1300 in 1997. It had an unusual design, large-ish 2/3" 1.4MP sensor, and a 36-110mm equivalent F2.8-3.9 lens. Its optical viewfinder had 95% coverage and was supplemented by a 1.8" LCD. I don't know what I did with it, but I wish I still had the D-600L in my possession!

Olympus C-800L photo by Erkaha

Allison Johnson

I’m counting my first camera as one that I used early on, and am now entrusted with, but isn’t strictly mine. I had some kind of point-and-shoot film camera of my own when I was young, and shared a Game Boy Camera with my sister, but Dad’s Nikkormat FT3 was the first 'real camera' I shot with. Let me tell you, that camera is built for the ages. It’s heavy and indestructible and as far as I can tell, still works like the day it was born. I take it out with me nowadays when I know I’ll be able to slow down and think about what I’m doing, and when I know I won’t be devastated if I screw it all up and come back with nothing. I haven’t been disappointed yet.

The very first digital camera I bought is slightly embarrassing: a Sony Cyber-shot DSC-T700. It was one of the super-slim Cyber-shots of the late 2000s that was all touchscreen. What can I say? I was taken in by its sleek looks and pocketability. It started up when you slid the front panel down to reveal the lens, and there was a real risk of the whole camera flying out of your hands every time you did that. It also had the world’s tiniest zoom lever in one corner on the top, which was pretty annoying to operate. The photos were fine in daylight, though I was just taking casual snapshots and didn’t exactly stress test it. I can confidently say my smartphone now does a fine job of everything that I was using this camera for. Therein lies the whole compact camera market, I guess.

Nikkormat FT3 photo by BastienM

Barney Britton

My first camera was a Pentax MX, inherited from my Dad (who is still very much alive), along with a 50mm F1.7 prime and a couple of Tamron Adaptall-2 zooms. It was the camera I learned photography with, and the only camera I took on a round-Europe rail trip when I was 18. I sold it when I went to university to fund a Canon EOS-3, and always regretted it. I found an MX in a junk shop last year, and I’m not going to sell this one.

My first digital camera was the Canon EOS 10D. I saved up for an entire year, working in a hotel restaurant during university holidays to pay for it (a story told in part, here) and it was my main camera for a couple of years.

The EOS 10D was the first ‘affordable’ DSLR that really stacked up against high-end film models in terms of build quality and functionality. Although its AF system was primitive compared to the EOS 3, it was extremely well-built, and very reliable. At the time, the 10D also offered the best image quality of any enthusiast DSLR (and arguably, the best image quality of any DSLR, period). Noise levels were low across its standard ISO range, and an extension setting of ISO 3200 offered filmlike grain, which looked great in black and white. I still see 10Ds 'in the wild' occasionally, and for a long time, we used an EOS 10D as our main studio camera at DPReview.

The EOS 10D had a magnesium-alloy body.

I shot my first published work on the EOS 10D, which felt like quite an achievement given how poorly its autofocus system performed in low light. If I’d never become a professional performance photographer, I might still have it. After the 10D I upgraded to an EOS-1D Mark II, when I started getting more serious about theatre and music photography.

Pentax MX photo by Alf Sigaro

Dale Baskin

I truly have no idea what my first camera was. When I go back and look at old family photos, even ones in which I’m barely a toddler, I always seem to have a camera in my hands, running the gamut from my Dad’s rangefinder to a free plastic camera someone chose over a toaster when opening a bank account. When I got serious about learning photography, however, there was one camera that appealed to me like no other: the Miranda Sensorex.

Why? Probably for the same reasons a lot of people started photography with a particular camera: it was available to me. I didn’t care that the camera was older than I was and heavier than a rock. It looked the way a camera was supposed to look, and it had the latest in sensor technology. (For the youngsters out there, this technology was called ‘film’, and my Dad insisted on the Kodachrome or Ektachrome varieties).

It was a great camera to learn on as there was no auto, no program and no aperture priority mode to fall back on. I recall reading somewhere that the Sensorex was the first 35mm SLR with TTL metering, and to this day I love the match-needle method of setting exposure. It may be a dinosaur by today’s standards, but it still works and will probably continue to do so for decades.

My first digital camera was the Canon PowerShot S300, a 2.1MP point and shoot. (Back then, that extra 0.1MP was important!). I agonized for weeks over whether or not I should spend literally hundreds of dollars more to get a 3MP camera, but in the end couldn’t justify the spend. I immediately fell in love with digital photography, especially the the ability for easy sharing on social networks. (Social network being defined as someone in your personal social network to whom you could snail-mail a CD-ROM of photos they were never going to look at anyway.)

As fun as digital was, it still didn’t give me the same quality as scanned slides, so I stuck with film for a few more years until the Canon EOS 20D came out, and the rest is history.

Carey Rose

The first camera I have any sort of memory of actually using (besides disposable cameras and my Grandpa's Canon EOS 650 film camera, which was so cool) was a PowerShot A75. It was a hand-me-down from my dad, and the perfect 'first digital camera' for a socially awkward high-schooler. It was fairly small (though that didn’t stop me from wanting a camera phone as soon as such things became practical and available), ran on easy-to-find AA batteries, and the photo quality was great for the time.

It was also called 'PowerShot,' a brand name that, to this day, sounds way cooler than competing models like such as FinePix, Easyshare and Coolpix, all of which should have died out along with animated backgrounds and auto-play music on your favorite Geocities ‘links’ page. It even survived a tumble onto concrete for a while, though eventually it succumbed to the dreaded ‘lens error’ where the lens wouldn’t properly extend or contract.

It was superseded by a Samsung NV10, a camera which looked cooler, was a lot smaller and had a lot more megapixels (plus a funky Smart Touch control system with soft keys surrounding two sides of the display,) but I ended up preferring the overall ‘look’ of the PowerShot images I used to get. So when I left the NV10 on a train while traveling across Europe, I replaced it with another PowerShot, the S3 IS, and never looked back.

Sam Spencer

The first camera I used was probably the same as anyone born before 1990-something: a disposable point and shoot. Being six years old, I had no idea about focus, flash, or anything of the sort and tried to take a macro picture of a spider at less than six inches away….

A couple years later my father proudly came home one evening with a Ricoh RDC-2. I wasn’t allowed to get my prepubescent mitts on it until later when computer monitors grew to 1,024 pixels on the long side, making the VGA Ricoh obsolete. I remember using the AC adaptor for it almost exclusively since it ate through AA’s almost as often as its now-diminutive memory filled. I also seem to remember using its OVF more often than the (optional) flip-up screen on top. I mostly used it to try and capture various members of my remote control car collection airborne after launching off jumps I made out of tape and cardboard. Remember, I was about 8 or 9.

The Sony Cyber-shot DSC-S75 had a 3MP CCD, 34-102mm equiv. lens, a rear LCD info display and plenty of manual controls. Its lens, labeled 'Carl Zeiss,' could be found on numerous other cameras under different names (e.g. Canon, Epson).

That camera was replaced with a Sony Cyber-shot DSC-S75, which was the first time I had ever seen or heard the name ‘Zeiss’. That camera offered a bit more manual control (like focus!) than the Ricoh, was what got me truly enthusiastic about photography in Junior High, leading to signing up for darkroom photography my freshman year. Then I was handed a ‘real’ camera, a Minolta SRT200, which worked well until Nikon released the D50, a DSLR affordable enough to convince my generous father to help me purchase (he definitely paid for the majority).

Simon Joinson

The Fujica ST605N was an M42 screw-mount SLR made in the 70's and 80's. Photo by Alf Sigaro.

I have my father to blame for my lifelong love affair with photography. Not because he was a particularly accomplished or prolific photographer (based on the wallets of photos I have from my childhood I’d characterize his technique as a bit hit and miss, with a lot more ‘miss’ than ‘hit’), but because he gave me my first camera at age 12 or 13. I got this hand-me-down because he was replacing his camera – a Fujica ST 605N – with something a lot fancier (a Minolta X500, chosen after an excruciating amount of research including, much to my mother’s consternation, two visits to a camera show from which he returned with a roll full of pictures of semi-naked models on motorbikes).

Anyway, I didn’t care because I now had my own real camera, complete with 35mm, 55mm and 135mm lenses packed into an ancient gadget bag that released a heady aroma of moldy old leather and film every time I creaked open its lid, and whose numerous pockets were home to a fascinating collection of dusty accessories and starburst filters. It was the most amazing thing I had ever owned.

The Fujica ST605N was one of dozens of similar no-frills M42 screw mount SLRs made during the 70s and early 80s (although it appears that the mere fact you could see the currently selected shutter speed in the viewfinder was quite the selling point in 1978), but it was compact, nicely made and had a decent focus screen and a fast (at the time) silicon exposure meter.

And I loved it. And, like all photographers who started with a fully manual camera and a small selection of prime lenses that took about 10 minutes to change (thanks to the screw mount), I quickly learned the basics of photography (specifically apertures and shutter speeds), partly by reading but mostly through trial and error. 

I can still remember the first roll of I put through it, at the local zoo, and the thrill of getting the prints back only 5 days and 2 weeks' worth of allowance later (on this point my father made it clear I would need to reign in my enthusiasm and that a 36-exposure roll normally lasted him for at least a few months).

After many years of enjoying his Fujica, Simon moved on to the Nikon F-301, known as the N2000 in the United States. Photo by John Nuttall.

I kept - and used - the Fujica all my teen years, adding an old flashgun that took 5 minutes of high-pitched wheezing to charge up, a slightly moldy 70-200mm Vivitar zoom I found in a junk shop, and a sizeable collection of blower brushes and cap-keepers that came free on the covers of photography magazines. My time with her only ended when I went to college – all students were required to arrive on the first day with a Nikon SLR, so I had to trade-in my trusty old ST605N for a Nikon F301 (aka N2000), which seemed like something out of Knight Rider by comparison. But that’s another story…

The Casio QV-10, with its low resolution CCD and rotating lens, was one of the world's first consumer digital cameras.

My first digital camera? Well, the first I used was a Casio QV10, but since I started writing about digital cameras in 1995, I never really had to buy one (we had a house full of them), and I just borrowed what I wanted when I wasn’t shooting for work. I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I didn’t actually buy a digital camera for myself until 2011 (funnily enough it too was a Fuji – a first generation X100).

So what was your first camera (film or digital – both are fair game)?  Let us know in the comments below! Suggestions for future Throwback Thursday articles are also welcome.

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Rant: Why I Gave Up on Micro Four Thirds Once and for All

If you’re thinking about moving to Micro Four Thirds or buying the E-M1 Mark II, read this first… it may actually save you money and headaches down the line.

For the past year and a half I have been shooting both the top of the range MFT and A7RII on professional assignments. Sadly, I often ended up frustrated by the poor low-light performance of Olympus’ cameras as well as the lack of 4K, which most of my clients ask from me when I shoot, for example, cinemagraphs.

Therefore, since December 2016, I’ve gone 100% for the Sony and dropped MFT altogether to cut my losses invested in this system as well as my cherished Ambassador status (which in reality meant very little). MFT cameras are useful; for street photography in particular, there’s no denying it. They’re light, compact, and generally they get the job done.

Part of the job anyway.

Full Frame or Micro Four Thirds

It’s an old debate, but I have a bit of an edge since I have used both in a professional setting and extensively for a quite a bit now. It’s all about learning, and hopefully I can help others avoid making the same mistakes I did.

I had great hopes for the Micro Four Thirds format, I really did. So much so that initially I sold my Canon DSLR and “downgraded” to MFT. That was pre-OMD. I say “downgraded” as indeed at the time mirrorless cameras were not quite ready.

Yet I could see the potential, or the marketing made me see it anyway.

Then came the OMD system with the E-M5, and that really upped the game. It was then followed by the E-M10, E-M1 and the rest. Last year I shot some photos for Olympus’ print brochure of the E-M10 MKII, I was in Prague for the release of the E-M5 MkII and my last Olympus camera was the Pen-F, which I just sold this week.

I really have used all of them.

As new cameras were released, as much as I was excited and saw plenty of improvements, there were still some major issues that didn’t really get solved for a while, and felt like a simple lack of listening to its users. As an ambassador I’ve never been consulted in over three years, or asked by Olympus “What would you improve, or what are your suggestions as a user?”

I think that’s a big omission from them, after all it’s free market research to ask your biggest and most faithful users. Or you could ask your users on Twitter or Facebook… I don’t know, just freaking ask.

1) How long did we wait for 4K?

This has been talked about a lot, but if a system is trying to attract the pros, it needs to offer what other pro systems offer. Tired of waiting, this was one of the main reasons I went for the A7RII in July 2015.

When a client asks if you can shoot 4K, you want to say yes. Trust me. It’s a bit embarrassing otherwise.

Sure, some would ask why not go for Panasonic instead, who have been offering 4K for a while now. The reason is simple: other MFT failings, which I’ll get to, mean Panasonic would be no better.

Yes, it’s 2017, and the E-M1 MKII will have 4K. Great news Olympus, just in time for other brands to release 8K (aka “I was late at the 4K party”).

2) The high ISO performance has always sucked and still sucks

It’s easy to keep claiming MFT low light performance is good or improved, but it isn’t once you try a full-frame camera. I can shoot at ISO 3200 or even 6400 on the Sony (it’s not even the A7S) and be more than happy with the results… they’re impressive.

With Olympus, I am seriously reluctant going over ISO 1000 (dare I say even 800) as all the detail is lost.

3) The auto-focus just isn’t good enough

Alright alright, the EM1 MkII is out soon and apparently it’s got the best AF in the universe. Similar claims were made with all previous models, beginning with the E-M5… I’m bored of waiting.

Try focusing in low light or on anything without a clearly defined contrast and you will be pulling your hair out. I lost my cool recently trying to focus on a simple berry on a branch that was 40cm away, so I won’t even try to explain how many shots I lost in the street from slow focusing.

It says a lot when manual focus is the best option.

4) The image quality

I know the Sony costs quite a bit more, and that I’m basically comparing a Ferrari with a Ford Focus here. Obviously, you get what you pay for. But as photographers we all want the truest representation of what we saw when we pressed the shutter.

The Sony A7RII allows that, hence this article and my decision to move on.

5) The dynamic range is far superior on the Sony

If a camera can help reduce the time I spend in Photoshop pulling out shadows and fixing what it didn’t get properly, it’s a winner.

Not only does the Sony capture more details in the shadows without the need to over-expose your highlights, but it also allows you in “worse case scenarios” to pull an incredible amount of details from shadows if really needed from the RAW files and even the JPEGs.

6) The endless choice of compatible lenses for the Sony system

Being able to use Canon, Voigtlander, Leica lenses and many more on it with an adaptor is just perfect. Whilst Sony full-frame lenses are pricier and, yes, pretty big, you can still find great deals online for second hand third party lenses.

I particularly like the Voigtlander Nokton 50mm f/1.5, as it’s tiny.

7) You’ll make new friends

Okay, I can’t honestly claim this BUT… people do know that camera! I spent one morning in Shoreditch and three people stopped me to talk about the A7RII.

You know why that matters? Not for your popularity it doesn’t matter. But if so many people know about it, I tend to associate this with the good reputation this camera has.

8) Build quality

This reason should actually go straight to number one. I have had three main problems with Olympus cameras:

(1) If you know me you’ll know I am the most freakishly careful with my gear. I never scratch a camera. (I have never in my life broken a mobile phone screen. Enough said). And yet, each time I have a new Oly camera, it gets scratched in days. Sometimes I fear if I look at it it may get damaged. And after enough cameras I’ve logically deducted that the paint job is rubbish.

I’ve had my Sony for nearly one and half years: NOT ONE SINGLE SCRATCH.

(2) I also had a sensor issue very early on my E-M5 Mark II. The camera had to be sent out and the sensor was replaced but no explanation was given as to why exactly it did fail.

(3) Finally, on the Pen-F the battery door is made of the cheapest plastic on a super flimsy hinge and falls off quite easily. Not what I expect from a thousand pound camera.

9) Who is the genius who placed the tripod screw on the PEN-F?

Just a last one for the road. Seriously though Olympus??? I challenge anyone to mount the Pen-F on a tripod with the M.Zuiko 12‑40mm f2.8 PRO or most other lenses and not damage them! The screw is wayyyyyy too far at the front of the camera.

What that means is the lenses get damaged by the tripod plate. It’s a perfect example of designers that are too detached and don’t actually use cameras.

I know some of you will be surprised by what may seem like a 180 degree change of mind on Olympus cameras, others who know me well will be less surprised. I’ve owned the A7RII since July 2015 so I’ve had time to write this article and think about it.

Olympus has had it coming. They were not interested in hearing my opinion so here it is anyway.

I’ve been biting my tongue for about two years now, still enjoying Olympus cameras but knowing deep inside that my time using that system was coming to an end. It’s not so much dislike as a realization that I need to move on and choose what’s best for me, for my photography, and for the work I deliver to clients.

If you still doubt what I am saying here, ask yourself this question:

Would a professional photographer move to a new system, lose money reselling camera and lenses, buy a new camera and set of lenses that costs so much more etc… for no valid reason? I own a business. Trust me, I have to make very careful decisions. I sadly have no money to throw out the window!

I now know Olympus specifically, and Micro Four Thirds in general, will just never cut it versus full frame. You only need to use both to understand why.

I actually predict Olympus will possibly pull-out of this format (they’ll deny it of course) which will eventually disappear as full frame and medium format mirrorless cameras will be reduced in size close to MFT. Size is (or was) MFT’s biggest selling point.

I’m more confident now delivering photos to clients and when I actually compare the results it’s an improvement. The camera may not matter, it’s our vision that does, but I want a tool that at the very least doesn’t make it difficult for me and is faithful in the reproducing what I see.

Olympus, if you care, next time listen to your users and people you list as ambassadors—they’ll no doubt help you get it right.

Full Frame or Micro Four Thirds? I’ve made my decision.

About the author: Nicholas “Nico” Goodden is a London-based professional photographer specializing in urban photography, street photography, and attention-grabbing micro video content such as cinemagraphs and timelapse. You can find more of his work on his website or by following him on Instagram. This post was also published here.

Image credits: Voigtlander 42.5mm Test Shots by Zhao !

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