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im-smart-i-swear · 1 year

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If it is alright if i ask, but what is Eenek's (they are the Galran kid right) relationship with the funky guys like?

oh i havent really had a chance to talk about Eenek yet!

their relationship w/ the clones is complicated - these people kept them safe and took care of them for years, and eenek slowly grew to see them as family - but the road to get there was long and winding.

at the beggining they were definetly distrustful and agressive, but also these weirdos were literally the only other people on this shithole of a planet, so they didnt really have a choice but to stick with them. (they tried very hard to look intimidating and serious but theyre literally the galran equivalent of 13. and also very small for a galran, so really they just ended up looking like an scared angry cat)

they are propably the closest with the other kids - Pal, Taks and Taka. technically pal is the oldest, but hes not a very responsible older brother(hes trying tho!!). neither is eenek but beggars cant be choosers, so they ended up as the oldest sibling.

beacuse of the language barrier pal was the only person they could have a real conversation with for years, and after a rocky start they became really great friends! they try to be responsible older siblings(with varying degrees of sucess), take turns rambling about random stuff and help each other process the trauma of growing up surrounded by people telling them to sacrafice themselves for the greater good :)

dont leave eenek and taks alone for too long or theyll wreck your shit and steal all your valuables. even though they couldnt freely communicate w/ each other for a big chunk of their relationship, they still manage to wreck havoc<3 seperately theyre smart young people but toghether they come up with the dumbest most recless ideas and execute them flawlessly. when taks saw eenek for the first time she decided shes going to befriend that cool purple alien no matter what and eenek could do nothing about it.

taka is The Baby TM and to be protected by all costs.

to say tashi was freaked out when he first saw eenek is a huge understatement - what the fuck?? is this??? an alien????? he barely knew how to aproach scared human kids, so a very scared, very confused purple alien teenager was not ideal. he did his best(as always) - made sure to give them space and patiently waited for them to get more comfortable. in the beginning eenek thought tashi was the worst choice for a leader, but he proved them wrong many times. they actually grew to respect him quite a lot beacuse of how he manages to keep everyone(mostly) under control not by force or threats, but rather by finding compromises and admitting when hes wrong. also hes funny and taught them how to sew!

at first eenek tried to avoid soup - shes imposing and can look threatning - but she would never hurt them. since theyre stuck on a wild planet they have to hunt for food, and soup is the main hunter of their little family. eenek helps her a lot, setting up traps and scaring the animals in her direction(they are a bit queasy though so they leave the kills and preparation to her and tashi). they also like just sitting toghether in silence to calm down :)

them and buddy have a really weird relationship. for the first weeks/months(before buddy explained the clone situation to everyone) eenek was terrified of him beacuse they knew who he was - the black paladin of voltron. they stayed as far away from them as possible... until they realised the only thing he was worried about was them talking about his past and other than that left them alone. later on, after buddy came clean, they started to try and convince eenek that maybe the galran empire isnt that cool after all - but theres only so much you can do when the person youre talking to is a kid desperately clinging to the remnants of their childhood and also spent the last few years of their life with 'vrepit sa' as their defining personality trait. buddy drops the topic eventually(for now. they havent given up, hes just waiting for the right opportunity). after that they actually start to get along pretty well! buddy helps them improve their fighting skills a lot, and also it turns out theyre both painfully stubborn dumasses(it gets even worse when you throw taks into the mix)

jesus fuck. thats a lot of words..

heres some drawing of them and taks! (these are a bit old tho, their design looks a little diffrent now)

uhhh i also wrote like 4 paragraphs about eeneks childhood and motivations but this is long enough alreadyyyy(maybe ill edit it in later if anyone wants to read it)

#ask #thank you so frickin much for the ask i rlly apriciate it!!#my funky guys #i have this loose painting i did of em and never got around to posting it #uhhhhh this is so longggg #i put more effort into these rambles than my school essays #the sheer amount of information about these mfers i have in my head is honestly amazing #eenek based their entire personality on being loyal to zarkon and the empire #and then he fucking dies #they KNOW there are things wrong in the empire but theyr so desperate for #idk. something thats everpresent and doesnt change #and zarkon was that #until he wasnt #i mean they never met him or anything #they just really idolised him #god i hope this post isnt super boring #theres SO MUCH of this and i dont know what information are the most importrant #but i still had fun writing this!!

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reconnecting · 3 years

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been thinking about being disconnected lately.

its mostly a rambling vent, i kind of lost what i was saying for a bit.

years ago, we did this almost same thing. we tried, for years, to reconnect with our Breton people, because the body is part that.

its a dying culture? okay, well lets see what i can find. mostly christianized things, but some other stuff, so lets focus on that. its all in french or breton, okay, let me try to learn some of that so i can read. how do the dances work, what are the instruments, who did we worship before, wheres our music, whats our culture, who am i who am i who am i?? can i learn? can i join? how does it work tell me tell me tell me who i am even though you cant.

the information is almost all gone. the older generations are pretty much the only ones to know about it, and i cant talk to them because they speak breton and nobody speaks breton. okay where can i find out more, how do i find out more? traditional clothes? music? the music is almost only in france because celtic festivals dont include breton normally.

and now?

i work up the courage to work past an abusive grandfather and find out about the other side. puerto rico, okay. things dont fit let me keep looking this doesnt match what we know. taino, okay. that matches things better, but... orphaned family means we were cut off. who knows things? nobody. ill keep asking, new questions, different questions. check a dna test, find relatives on that side, ask them. what do they know? finally find someone who does, has family the same age, same generation as the one we got cut off at, and they look so similar in photos.

okay lets go off this what do you know what can you tell me im sorry to ask im so sorry i have nothing to give you but can you help??

they will, they do. they tell me our tribe doesnt exist anymore, that so few do. that they still practice. they have the clothes, the names, the dances, the music. they have the traditions still and no tribe name because there werent enough to be a tribe a few generations back. i ask if they ever knew the name, they say theyll ask, i hope for the best. their family has dementia in it too. what else can even be done about that? nothing. im sorry for asking, thank you for answering. i have so many more questions.

the elders i speak to have no answers. i ask them the questions and they respond until i say what i know, and they have no answers either. how can they? i hope they still help, i hope theyll teach me, but they cant have all the answers either. i know this. hopefully they have some. hopefully its not too much, too much asking.

i look on my own. i ask others. they offer to help, to find my familys tribe if they can, but if theyre gone... what then? the family says theyre gone. been nameless for too long, will there be anything else to find? i cant ask the person who offered to help, the language barrier confuses both of us, and this issue is too complicated for me to explain to him. i look up information. the things weve been saying for years, the same things, theyre things my ancestors did, things connected to my culture.

i wonder how it is that i got these things, if its coincidence, if a coincidence like that is even possible with how many similarities there are.

i feel like im eating my own tail.

i ask my friends what to do, they have no answers except to learn, hope that itll work out. they tell me it should, its not that uncommon a situation. it should be fine, keep up hope, im not alone, we arent alone, were family, theyll teach us what they know. theyre right but it doesnt stop the knowledge that their nations aren’t mine. ill learn. ill learn whatever im taught but its not Mine to learn, to pass on.

i ask my friends about my grandfather, the other one, if its polite to try and learn about his culture as well if i dont claim it. they say yes, yes, i Should know, I should learn Something about it. i ask, his grandmother was cherokee, they dont know the tribe, the family is all dead already. i dont ask why. the dementia hits hard, he doesnt remember, there are happier things to remember, dont trigger an episode.

connected on so many sides to different cultures, what should be recently. just a few generations away. i met my great great grandmother, i could have met the others, they could have been alive, they could have taught me. it wasnt that long ago and i didnt meet them, i didnt know. nobody knew. nobody connected though.

why did nobody connect? i cant understand that but i have to. i understand one grandfather, he is racist, is abusive. its a tactic. i understand that, even if i hate him. i understand another grandfather, the generational gap, the timing, the ages of them all. i understand that it was probably for safety. i understand my grandmother. it wasnt her interest to ask, past what she grew up with. nobody asked past what they grew up with.

i cant understand why they didnt ask. why do i have to be the one to ask, to do this legwork? it would have been easier for my mother, for my grandparents, to do this. it would have been easier. more recent, more connected, more resources. and they didnt. should i be upset? am i allowed to be?

my friends say i am. ‘youve just found out your family is almost all gone, youre allowed to be upset.’ “its a hard thing to know your culture and not be able to grasp it. its okay.”

my mother doesnt. when i bring it up she looks disappointed. i get it. the family that she connects to it is abusive, ruined her life. i understand. but this isnt them, theres more beyond it. she looks with those eyes. “why would you want to know? you grew up without it, isnt this enough? arent we enough?”

i have no response. how can i explain the feeling of someone standing behind me, shoving, pushing, saying i have to? how can i explain the feeling like if i dont, something will go horribly wrong, that i need to connect now or itll be gone forever? how do i explain that im the last chance we have to connect, to learn? im the last generation that could do this? how do i explain that to people who dont care, who gave that chance up?

my sister doesnt understand. i ask if she wants to learn, wants to try, and she sounds interested until i explain it will take work. shes interested in the claim, but when i say that shed have to study, have to catch up with the knowledge of the people who lived their lives in it, she drops it, stops asking questions. what do i do with that? she should be interested, shouldnt she? why would you not want to know, or only want to know up until i say it takes work? ive put in over a full days worth of work this week alone, just on this topic, on finding out the little that i know now, and could never regret it, but i say it takes works and she leaves the room with a polite dismissal.

i want to connect. i want to know, what are the cultures that should be in my family like? how do i find them? how do i learn, what do i do, who will teach me, will anyone? why is nobody interested in connecting except for me?

why is it only something they care about when its convenient?

#vent #rant

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tobebugjewce · 3 years

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nightmare log

i dont remember the exact night i had this nightmare but strap in because its very detailed;

it starts off with me traversing an old crumbling building, it only has two or three floors, and me and my sister are leading a group of strangers. we’re all carrying flashlights, either its night time or the building interior is very poorly lit. its dusty, old-smelling and nearly every other surface is covered in thick cobwebs. we barely get a couple minutes into exploring until something happens; it feels like a bomb strikes the building, i dont know for sure but all i do know is the ground shook and there was smoke everywhere, and there was a really really faint small sounding alarm, almost as if it was coming from a long distance away. it was still audible though. my sister and i traverse the even worse state of this building, its now blocked up more than it was before, some rooms are impossible to enter or you have to crouch down to crawl underneath the collapsing walls. we move forward and the group of people that were following us stay behind, theyre very adamant about staying and NOT going further, theyre scared, terrified. we have no idea what for, so we keep going. we go up into a second floor, i think, but all i know is in the dusty, old, wooden floorboards match the doors of the rooms in the second floor. i crack open a door and it creaks so loudly, its so so dark in the room i look into, and in the room is a small wire framed metal bed, like ones you woudl see in an orphanage or an asylum. or a prison. i see a huge lump on the bed, wrapped in a linen blanket, it looks like a body. it is a body. its a frail, old old woman. she sits up and looks around, shes confused. lost. her eyes are sunken and she looks like shes been alive for more than a human should be. she blindly looks around, and she asks me “natalia?” its all she says. i say no, im sorry. im not natalia. my sister looks into another room as i close the door to the old womans room. she finds an empty room, and i go to the last one, its a weirdly small upper floor considering the downstairs areas were much much larger. theres only 3 rooms in this upper floor. i go to the other door that my sister isnt looking in, and i see the exact same layout as the old womans, except this time its an old man, just as old, just as frail and skeletal. he asks the same thing, “natalia???” i say no again, and that im sorry, im not her. i walk down the stairs, which feels like im in a different area, like the path behind me is an opposite staircase, but i walk down and go towards a door, one i assume to be the exit. its not. or at least i wouldnt have known because i hear my sister screaming for me, shes shouting so i turn around, but as soon as i turn my head, the building is different. its stark white. its clean, bright, too bright. there’s people walking around, in business clothing. dress shirts, slacks, pencil skirts, ties, holding clipboards wtih papers on them. there’s a woman that stands out, because not only is she dressed in an all white jumpsuit, shes frantically scribbling on the wall, which is a chalkboard, whcih i only noticed when i stepped closer. its like i was suddenly transported into an optical illusion. i tried stepping closer to the scraggly looking woman, her hair was frizzy, and she had a lot of it. she looked like she got struck by lightning because of how much her hair was sticking up and around and looking frazzled. she looked frazzled. i feel like i was looking at someone who wasnt natalia, but maybe knew her. or knew what was going to happen. she was scribbling nonsense on the walls, not words, not drawings, just sprawling lines and circles. i could sense that she felt like the only sane person in the building, despite looking like the most deranged one. i blink and suddenly the building is crumbled again. im back. i dont hear my sister anymore. the door i thought was the exit hasnt changed, but i was right, it was an exit. and i think now this is perfect, we can get the group out. we can get out. we go back up to see the old people again, it was exactly the same as last time. i open a door and i see the old woman again, she sits up again, she asks the same thing again. “natalia?” i dont answer her, i just close the door. i can still hear her frantically asking “natalia? natalia?” through the wall. the old man is exactly the same. i open the door, he sits up, he asks “natalia?” i close the door. i feel weirdly angered. my sister and i go back down to where the group was hiding, we have to go through a small hole in a closet to find them. we move to get them out, but i open the “exit” door, and suddenly im outside. im on a street, farther away from the building. it looks weirdly new again. like im back to where it was before it was a crumbled abandoned mess. i apparently was running, i feel like im escaping something. someone. im suddenly back inside the building. right in front of the door again. i step forward to try to leave, but i physically feel a restriction. i step back and feel warbled as im realizing im not in the pristine white building anymore, its rubble again. i step forward and feel like im pushing past a barrier, the more force i exude, the whiter and newer the building becomes. like im stepping into an illusion, a false reality where this building is back to its glory days, not a broken abandoned mess that only contains two living, old, old “humans”.

i dont want to write this post anymore.

but im going to continue.

its getting irritating now, but im back outside. i decide i want to escape this horrid building, i run. i keep running. im at a 4 way stop in this street, i cant tell what time it is because each direction i look its a different time of day. i run left and down, the road is watery, it then appears im standing in water that reaches up to half of my shin. its running but slowly, like a small creek. the asphalt below the water is cracked and crumbling, its no longer a road that cars drive on. i look to my left and see it flow into a lake, or an ocean. to my right is a collection of trees that are growing in this river road. the roots of these trees stretch out very very far. in between two trees are two women, they look like theyre just a little bit older than me. theyre so gorgeous. one is in all black, but has white hair, and the other is wearing all white, but has black hair. theyre holding hands. they refuse to separate the entire time they talk to me. they ask me if im lost, where i need to go, who or what im looking for. i can barely answer. i feel like im going to cry. but not of fear, not of anger, just the feeling of water swelling up in my eyelids and pouring down my face just feels like a separate emotion i wanted to happen as i kept talking to these two beings. i close my eyes and suddenly im walking down a steet into a neighborhood. it looks rich. i dont belong. the houses are all painted white and are disproportionately tall, too too tall and not wide enough. they look like huge cheese sticks. weirdly skinny. small black windows. even starker white window frames. im shaking. an old man walking his dog walks past me, telling me if i need anything hes got it. he tells me to have a good day, i try to say something polite back but i dont know what language im speaking in. i get frustrated trying to find my way out, the houses are so packed together and they spiral, i keep ending up in tiny backyards. i look down at the white tiles im stepping on, i look up and im back in the river road. the women ask me to follow them. we swim into the lake and i try grabbing onto the wood pillars of a rotting, broken pier. there’s heads on top of the wooden posts. theyre all talking, laughing, some trying to get my attention, one telling me i might beat a new record time for swiming fast. i try not to look at them. my eyes are filling up with lake water and salt-less tears. i see a figure, but my vision is so blurry the person standing at the end of the pier almost doesnt seem real. all i know is she has red hair, its short, she looks placid, she looks like a mannequin in uncomfortable clothes. its natalia.

i wake up.

#weird dreams #nightmares #lucid dreaming #confusing dreams #alternate reality #horror

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deadlyunicornsofspace · 7 years

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My Podcast Idea: take 2

okay, so this is the second post I’ve made about it, because my first was all over the place and I missed a bunch of stuff. a few points to make first though so the rest is easier to read.

1) I won’t cover everything I’ve figured out in case I ever do make this into a real thing, and I don’t want to tell you guys everything that happens right now

2) I'm going to call humans two different things, humans (obviously) and deathworlders. the reason for this is that Aliens don’t refer to humans as humans, simply because that is not what they named them. Aliens refer to this insane species as “deathworlders”

3) I am going to refer to the main human character as TH (tiny human)

Okay now that I’ve covered that, time to talk about the rest of it.

Premise

So basically, the first idea I had was just this human being raised by these aliens who don’t know that this kid is a human, and humans are some mythical creature in that universe. obviously a lot has changed since then.

First off, I have TH actually living on this spaceship for most their life (Specific age isn’t hugely important, but I've decided that they've been on it since they were about four) and they can’t remember anything from before they were on the ship.

The spaceship basically has the entire internet on it (Minus all the viruses I guess) up until the ship was sent into space. (So like when Tumblr has already loaded a whole bunch of posts, but then your internet crashes and you can look at all the already loaded posts but not any new ones) So TH knows a whole bunch about earth, they’ve seen tv shows, read books etc etc. so they know they’re human and a lot about earth. (However of course their perspective is skewed of course because they learned everything from the internet)

So I have no idea how spending all this time with no other humans around is going to affect this kid (obviously they’re going to be fucked up from lack of human contact) then I decided I didn’t want this kid to be completely alone (Because come on, the podcast doesn’t even start until they're fourteen, that’s like ten years alone) so I gave them robots. the robots are on the ship with them, they take care of stuff, but they also have AIs so TH can sort of talk to them, but still not the same as having real humans around.

On that note, if you know anything about psychology and how this might effect them, please message me or something, I don’t want to mess it up I’d love to talk to someone who knows what they’re talking about

okay, so next event is first contact. so TH lands on this planet. (I can’t decide if it’s a crash landing or not, because it seems weird not to have it be able to land, but I’m also pretty sure they were expecting it to be flown by someone trained to do this you know?) So anyway TH is on the planet and is found by this pair of aliens.

time for the Obvious Problem.

communication. because, don’t get me wrong, whilst I love Voltron, the whole meeting aliens and of course they speak English, why wouldn’t they? is kind of ridiculous. I can only assume that the castle has a translator (Which does raise the question of why English would be in their data base, or any human language for that matter, but that is a long post for another time and on my main account.) so I need to figure out this language barrier quick

So after a long time of pondering, I figured it out. All aliens have translators, because while the optimal world would be where everyone spoke everyone’s language, it’s not happening. so when they meet this strange species they’ve never seen before they open up their translator and try to translate what they’re saying, and it works, TH seems to speaking a strange variant of an archaic language that they cannot identify the planet of (Yes I realise this is shady af, but I'm going to have an explanation for it, but not in this post.) So they’re just about barely able to communicate the bare essentials.

so they manage to get across that they’re friendly, and that they’re going to going to help fix their ship etc. the issue is that they seem to have a really old version of English, so they use the ships data base to update their translator. now do you remember what I said earlier about the internet not being the best way to learn stuff. these aliens cannot tell fact from fiction, they do not know the difference between slang and not.

So that’s gonna be a real wild ride

Anyways, back to plot

So TH is going to stay with Aliens while they fix up ship and figure out what’s going on with them

At one point I think they’ll be telling TH about deathworlders, maybe TH will be telling them about horror stories and stuff like that and they jus, “Oh, you mean like deathworlders?” and they just, “What the heck is a deathworlder?” and there I could have a spooky campfire stories sort of scene.

They start talking about what they want to do

TH says they want to find other humans and figure out where they came from

Aliens want to explore space

anyway long story short they find this map with a whole bunch of places marked down

they cross reference it with a map of all the planets they know of and some of the marked places are planets, both inhabited and not, and some are in unrecorded territory

Long story short they go fuck it, and leave in TH’s spaceship to explore the cosmos. Idk if they’ll pick up others to join their crew along the way

I definitely want them to have a person on their crew that is a human conspiracist. like how we have conspiracies about aliens, they have conspiracies that deathworlders exist

anyway along the journey they’re gradually going to piece together that TH is a deathworlder. theres gonna be a whole bunch of little bits that Ima put under another section.

“The real conspiracy was the friends you made along the way”

Anyway that’s pretty much all I've got for plot to share with you, so

TH is a deathworlder?

early clues:

TH has an astounding pain threshold. Like they injure themselves and it sounds excruciatingly painful and like they should see a doctor if what they say is anything to go by, but insist on just walking it off

Their ability to multitask is astounding, like they’re doing three things at once while also consuming their daily required nutrients

TH threw a piece of paper into a bin while not looking and acted like it was no big deal WHAT THE ACTUAL

As they start to question it:

“Dude, you said deathworlders digest poison to build an immunity and weed out the weak”

“YOU HAVE PEPPERS GROWING IN YOUR GARDEN!”

“They’re for flavour.”

“THEY’RE POISONOUS!”

“I thought you said that deathworlders are so eager to fight they even fight their own genetics”

“PUNCHING THINGS AND SPRINTING IS NOT SOMETHING YOUR SPECIES SHOULD BE CAPABLE OF”

“and?”

“YOU HAVE ENTIRE RITUALS AND CEREMONIES DEDICATED TO THEM”

About the world

so basically whenever what I am going to refer to as the alien government (AG)discovers a likely place for an inhabitable planet to be they send out an exploration squad to see is there is one, they then send another group to go visit the planet and speak to them and ask if they wish to join their big group of planets, idk what to call it.

Nobody ever refuses, because why would they?

Communication and transport is established and they are now a part of their clique.

so all of the aliens are very peaceful

so the priority in tech is communication, transport, and exploration.

there isn’t really anything in the way of weapons

it’s hard to get clearance to explore

Well more specifically it’s hard to get clearance for an exploration ship. TH’s spaceship is a loophole, because they aren’t a part of their government so they can't stop them.

which is why the aliens wanted to explore so bad, because no proper exploring is really done, it’s all just science and there should be a planet here, check it out.

you can get little ships for singular planet use about as easily as a car, but they’re effectively just used as cars because that’s the kind of thing they’re made for. you can also get ships for interplanetary travel, but only through established routes. that’s kind of the equivalent of getting an airplane.

That’s all I can think of to put in this post, I’d love to hear back from you guys with your thoughts, as I said, if you know anything about psychology and how TH might be affected by their situation please message me or something, I need help. also just feel free to message me, about this, about anything to do with my whole blog, or anything at all. or if you just want to talk.

see you guys next time! And hey,

you’re beautiful

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gooeyguy · 7 years

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Fibromyalgia linked to ptsd?

Fibromyalgia, what is it?

You might have heard this word before, either from a family member or a friend but you probably don’t know exactly what it is and how it affects the people diagnosed.

So hey guess what homie? today i’m here to tell you all about it and my experiences with it, if you decide to keep reading of course.

Fibromyalgia is a relatively recently-known disease, so there is still much to be learned about it. More and more research is being done on it and there are now set diagnostic tests. It seems part of the disease is caused by the pain nerves misfiring and interpreting every sensation as pain. Fibromyalgia more commonly affects women than men, and often shows up during young adulthood. There are many symptoms that can occur with fibro, but i’m gonna do my best to narrow it down as much as possible, as to not run my mouth all over an assignment for class.

Chronic widespread body pain is the primary symptom of fibromyalgia. You may have heard this and thought that’s all there is to it, unfortunately most people with fibromyalgia also experience moderate to extreme fatigue, sleep disturbances, sensitivity to touch, light, sound, and cognitive difficulties. Many individuals also experience a number of other symptoms and overlapping conditions, such as irritable bowel syndrome, sleep disorders, anxiety, depression, chronic headaches, joint hypermobility/ Ehlers danlos syndrome, lupus and arthritis. I cannot begin to elaborate on the extended side affects of these side effects, but the most important to note is PTSD or C-PTSD, it is believed to be a huge cause of fibromyalgia and symptoms of the illness, but we’ll get to that in a second.

Many of these symptoms are also found in other chronic illnesses. A person most likely won’t experience all of these at once but can. Symptoms might be constant or they might wax and wane. New symptoms may develop any time. Everyone is affected by fibro differently.

Fibromyalgia is very hard to cope with and will affect so much more of your life than you’d expect.

Here are some personal symptoms i experience to help explain.

WIDESPREAD PAIN AND STIFFNESS: Fibro people experience many types of pain. Muscle and joint stiffness is also common, especially after sitting for a period of time. I always am feeling some level of pain, but the type and intensity and sometimes location varies: flu-like ache all over the body, burning pain as though my whole back is on fire, sharp pain as though someone stuck a dagger behind my shoulder blade, joint weakness and pain--almost like a light sprain, and others. For me, getting dressed, repeated bending (such as laundry or loading the dishwasher), and standing still are three of the biggest basic function pain triggers. But even tiny things like wearing jewelry or using a fork can cause more pain on bad days.

FATIGUE: This can be anything from a constant tiredness to a debilitating fatigue so bad I can’t do much but sit and stare (or cry). This clashes with the pain/night terrors i experience making it difficult for me to sleep. It can mean I have trouble staying awake during lectures or class, or even a chat with a friend, no matter how much I want to hear it. If I'm having a worse fatigue flare, I will start having trouble walking straight, much less thinking straight, and often notice myself talking very slowly.

I am currently taking a stimulant called adderall that helps me stay awake but unfortunately gives me a bad crash after wearing off.

SLEEP DISTURBANCES: Fibro causes an alpha wave sleep disorder where the brain experiences bursts of alpha waves (normally only experienced during awake times) throughout the night. These bursts either fully wake me up, or at least bring me out of deep sleep. On a good night I’ll wake up fully two or three times and on a bad night I wake up as often as every twenty minutes, if I sleep at all. The frequent awakenings not only mean a loss of sleep, but also interrupt the important sleep cycles of the body. The time of deep sleep is vital for your body to repair itself and prepare for the next day. Fibromyalgic’s get very little deep sleep, and often another important sleep cycle, REM sleep, is minimized as well. Sleeping better or worse is not typically related to emotional stress.

COGNITIVE PROBLEMS: This includes memory and concentration problems, as well as language use problems, commonly called brain fog or FibroFog. It’s called that for a good reason. It’s as though you’re having to grope through a heavy fog to try to grasp thoughts, and as soon as you latch onto one, it slips away again. The short-term memory problems mean I don't always remember the answer to the question I just asked--or even what the question was! Or I'll be listening to someone and can't quite understand and connect all the words together into something that makes sense. Sometimes I have trouble talking clearly, or will use a random wrong word, or simply be unable to think of common words. This makes me feel as if i come off stupid and does not help my self esteem. Dissociation ties into this and is linked to my C-PTSD. More than simple detachment or loneliness, C-PTSD sufferers tend to experience themselves as "outside looking in," as though they are no longer a part of life's events but are beyond a transparent barrier, restricted to the role of an observer. Making everyday feel unreal.

HEIGHTENED SENSITIVITY: to bright light, touch, sound, and smell. The feeling of clothes can be painful, but to describe what i mean a bit better, the running of my finger along the skin of the top of my arm is irritating. Its as if i’ve gotten a fresh rugburn after getting my arm numbed for a surgery. So theres an ache in the muscle as if it’s bruised and an irritation to the skin but in the same instance a partial numb feeling. Any flashing, flickering, or bright lights or loud sounds can be very painful to the eyes and ears. On a bad day even quiet sounds like someone walking or ruffling through papers can be painful. Certain smells can be painful, as well as certain cleaning products, triggering smells and even perfumes. DIZZINESS: I sometimes have a slight balance problem, especially if there are other people milling about close to me, on a staircase, or if it is not well lit. I have fallen numerous times, but when I don’t I have to take a sudden step to catch myself, quickly grasp the stair beam, or touch a wall or friend’s shoulder to balance myself. It’s not uncommon for me to try to walk through the doorframe or look a tad tipsy if I’m particularly exhausted. Other symptoms of Fibromyalgia are Irritable Bowel Syndrome, muscle tremors, numbness or tingling in hands and feet, mood changes, chest pain, painful menstruation, and dry eyes, skin, and mouth. Many people also struggle with anxiety and depression.

Fibromyalgia is a newly studied illness and there isn’t much to find as to what causes it, Although, talking to my doctor has really brought a new light to this issue. So bear with me while i try to explain.

I had been diagnosed with ptsd as a young child but was never followed up with therapy. And to be more specific I am now diagnosed with C-PTSD (Complex Post traumatic stress disorder) The difference between the two is PTSD is caused by a single event whereas C-PTSD is caused by prolonged or recurring events.

C-PTSD symptoms are believed to be the cause of the symptoms I have regarding fibromyalgia, here is a list and explanation of some of them.

FIGHT OR FLIGHT: You’ve probably heard of this term. The fight or flight response refers to a specific biochemical reaction that both humans and animals experience during intense stress or fear. The sympathetic nervous system releases hormones that cause changes to occur throughout the body. When you are in a stressful or dangerous situation and experience fear and anxiety, your body goes through a number of changes: Your heart rate may increase. Your vision may narrow (sometimes called "tunnel vision"). You may notice that your muscles become tense. You may begin to sweat. And your hearing may become more sensitive.

Now i want you to think about what would happen if someone was in a constant state of “Fight or Flight”. Eventually you’d be exhausted right? If your body is in a constant state of fear and anxiety eventually the tensing of muscles is going to take a toll on your body.

And that is exactly what C-PTSD does.

Re-experiencing the past: In the form of nightmares and flashbacks. While in PTSD flashbacks tend to be visual, in C-PTSD they are often emotional. That is, a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotions such as anger, shame, humiliation, abandonment, and of being small and powerless much like a child would feel when abused. These are referred to as Emotional Flashbacks (EFs) and can last for minutes, hours or even days. Avoidance: of thoughts, feelings, people, places, activities relating to the trauma (e.g., dissociation, derealization) Emotion regulation: Emotional sensitivity; reduced ability to respond to situations in an emotionally appropriate and flexible manner. Negative self-concept: Feeling of worthlessness and defectiveness. Doctors suggest that those with C-PTSD suffer from toxic shame and have a virulent Inner and Outer Critic. Interpersonal problems - Difficulty feeling close to another person; feeling disconnected, distant or cut off from other people (depersonalization, social anxiety and reactive attachment). So overall is it understandable to see where a lot of this shows C-PTSD could be the cause of Fibromyalgia?

Long-term prognosis of Fibromyalgia, what is it? Fibromyalgia is a chronic illness that goes in cycles of severe flares and milder symptoms. It typically never goes away completely and can be debilitating. Thankfully, it is not believed to be degenerative and does not actually damage muscles, joints, or organs, although it is linked to heart issues.

About 2 percent of the U.S. population suffer from widespread pain and have tender points that are painful to the touch. There is no cure for fibromyalgia, and pain medications often aren't very helpful, so patients can have pain that is bad enough to disrupt their everyday lives for the rest of their life. People with fibromyalgia also have higher rates of psychiatric illness than the general population, and about 90 percent of those with the condition are women. Some with fibro learn to have successful lives, though they typically will be able to do less activity than a healthy person, and less than they were previously able to do.

Unfortunately the rate of suicide from people with this illness is quite high. Each year, about 30,000 people in the United States take their own lives total. It is the 11th leading cause of death in our country and accounts for about 1.5% of all deaths in the US. Three out of four people with this illness will commit suicide.

As said earlier, chronic widespread pain is the main symptom of fibromyalgia. And to de diagnosed it must include: Pain for at least three months Pain above and below the waist Pain on both sides of the body

Pain in more than 11 of 18 the following points in the following image

This could include combinations of neck pain, shoulder pain, back pain, hip pain, knee pain, feet pain, and pain in just about every part of the body. People with fibromyalgia may also have: Hyperaglasia (increased pain in response to normally painful contact) Allodynia (pain in response to normally nonpainful contact) None of this pain will show up on an x-ray or blood test. That’s one reason why getting a diagnosis of fibromyalgia from your doctor may take so long. In fact, it takes an average of more than 2 years to get an accurate diagnosis of fibromyalgia. Leaving sufferers confused and more likely to lose their job, fail school, or even commit suicide. What is the long-term prognosis? Fibromyalgia is a chronic illness that goes in cycles of severe flares and milder symptoms. It typically never goes away completely and can be debilitating. Thankfully, it is not believed to be degenerative and does not actually damage muscles, joints, or organs. Most people with fibro learn to have successful lives, though they typically will be able to do less activity than a healthy person, and less than they were previously able to do. What treatments can help? The most effective help for fibro is pacing, that is doing a small bit of activity and then resting. Those with Fibromyalgia need to learn how to listen to their body and know when to stop and when to say no to things, including others. This can be difficult because what may be fine one day may be too much another day, and often the effects of overdoing it aren’t fully felt until the next day. This to others can be marked as laziness and can also greatly affect child to parent relationships. Self help pain management such as ice and heat, special back supports, hot showers or baths, and naps can be used to calm the pain. Walking or other light exercise is also helpful, as is stretching. Sensory issues can make some of these uncomfortable but some work.

There are a number of medications that can also help control some of the symptoms of fibro, especially the pain. Most medications pain related are addictive and aren’t advised to be used by doctors though. There are also antidepressant,anxiety and sleep medications. But of course the meds i’ve personally tried haven’t had much of an effect on me or have given me an allergic reaction. Alternative treatments such as chiropractic, naturopathy, acupuncture, light massage, and avoiding certain foods or household chemicals (cleaners, body and hair care products, etc.) can be helpful. How you can help a friend/family member who has fibro or another chronic illness. There are many ways to reach out to help, and of course the needs will change for each person. Big things like helping clean the house or cooking meals can help, but often it’s the little things that are the best, like opening the door for them, or remembering to ask for permission when touching you. Here’s a list of a few things that can help (with thanks to many other websites I‘ve read similar lists on over the past year): ~ Don’t be afraid to hug them gently (with permission), but please no bear hugs. ~ Understand that just because the person looks fine or is laughing and talking, doesn't mean they are not experiencing symptoms. And even if they feel halfway okay while they’re with you, they may pay the consequences of the outing later. ~ Invite them to join you on outings, but if they say no don’t be offended, and don’t be afraid to keep asking in the future in case they are having a good day. Let them know what to expect--if there will be a lot of sitting or standing, a long walk, bright or flashing lights, etc. ~ Be willing to make plans for activities and to be the first to phone or email. It may be hard for them to put energy into contacting you and making plans, even though they’d probably like to get together. This goes for overall conversation as well, don’t be upset if they don’t feel up to talking. ~ Realize that just because they come to an event doesn't necessarily mean they are feeling great. ~ Offer to drop them off at the front door before you go to park. ~ Hold the door for them--I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hurt my wrist just opening a door man. ~ Ask if you can carry anything for them. ~ Warn them before you turn on the light or something that makes noise-- Any sudden noise, light, touch i’m not expecting will make me jump and it’s not comfortable, it in fact can cause me to dissociate. ~ Don't yell or scream in their ear. ~ Realize that a normal poke or elbow dig might cause pain. You can touch them gently on the arm or back, but be soft and don’t surprise them. Try not to jiggle their chair. ~ Let them set the pace when you are walking. ~ Don't be annoyed if you have to repeat yourself several times, or think of a different way to say something. ~ Don’t be afraid to laugh with them about the quirks of fibro. ~ Ask if you can come over and help with housework, or if you can bring over some frozen meals (if they has food allergies, check what they can safely eat). ~ Ask them how they’re doing, and listen to the answer-- do not get upset with them please. ~ If they’re having a bad day, don’t just tell them you’ll pray for them, but ask if you can do anything for them, and if they respond with “not really” stay calm and reassuring.

~ Ask if they are okay every once in awhile. ~ Don’t tell them to try harder and give unreasonable goals that they don’t have faith in reaching, encourage them instead of bringing them down about it.

~ Don’t be afraid to complain about the little things in your life. Tell them about your problems too, everyone wants to feel included. Sure, a stubbed toe may not seem that bad compared to a lifetime of chronic pain, but that sure doesn’t make it not hurt when it happens! Thank you for reading if you’ve gotten this far, i’m sure the person who sent it to you or the person in your life with Fibromyalgia, really appreciates that you took the time to read about their illness.

-Phoenix S.

#fibromyalgia #EDS #ED #PTSD #C-PTSD #Assignment #Mine #Disorder #illness

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georgiabread · 7 years

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falling for you ; phan | chapter thirty five

Full summary ; Dan Howell is dead. Well, sort of. He’s a guardian angel, forced to protect only one human, and that human is Cat. But when he accompanies Cat to school, he can’t help but be intrigued by the broken boy with the black hair who sits by the window in class and disappears at lunch times. Dan realises this boy needs more protection than Cat will ever need, so he takes on human form to save him. But soon he finds himself falling in love, which is something he definitely can’t do. Dan Howell is an angel, and he’s falling for Phil.

Tags ; highschool!phan, teenage!phan, plantboy!phil, spaceboy!dan, angel!dan, phan, phan au, phan fluff, phan angst, chaptered

TWs ; bullying, violence, mentions of self-harm, mentions of death/suicide, depression, panic attacks, physical and verbal abuse, homophobia, foul language and supernatural themes.

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"And I don't want to let this go, I don't want to lose control, I just want to see the stars with you—"

dan ;

True to Phil's words, five minutes did pass before the black-haired boy arrived – but the rate at which the seconds dragged on made it seem like 5 hours. Dan focused on taking calming breaths as he waited, resting his head on his arms and shutting his eyes. He needed to relax. Regulate his breathing and heartbeat. But it wasn't fucking working. Every deep breath he took stammered and broke, every time he blinked away his tears new ones would jump in, stinging his eyes. Dan bit down hard on his bottom lip and looked up. The park had been overrun with shadows in the time he was gone, so dark it seemed they were flooding his own vision, creating an illusion of total blackness. It was terrifying.

Dan could feel it building in his chest as it usually did. The panic, the terror, crawling through his body like an uncontrollable disease. It yanked his intestines into tight knots, crushed and compressed his lungs until there was no air left to breathe, closed over his throat till it felt as if hands were wrapping around it and squeezing. His vision clouded over, distorting the world around him but not like before. Don't cry, he told himself desperately. If you do, you'll fucking suffocate. He reached up to wipe at his eyes, but the movement in his shoulder sent spasms jolting under his skin and he grimaced.

Even though the pain in his back had faded to a dull ache, he still felt a vicious jab every time he moved. By now the blood had glued his jumper to his wounds, and the wool caught on the torn skin every now and then. He had to remove it. But he couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't fucking breathe.

But he tried to. Dan spat out a strangled sob and braced his hands gently against the bark. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. In and out. I swear to god, just breathe. The brown-haired boy shut his eyes and sucked air through his nose, willing his heart to slow down and the panic to unravel itself from around his gut. Slowly, painfully, he began to gain control of his terror, forcing it away with deep, lingering breaths and holding steady against the ground. Grounding himself.

Finally, he slumped into the bark with a wince, sucking in his lips as he attempted to suppress another sob. But then he had nothing else to distract him from his thoughts, and they swamped his mind.

He was going to hell. That one sentence tumbled about in his brain, unable to be contained. You're going to hell you're going to hell you're going to hell.

Sure, it might be a while before that, but Dan almost panicked again simply knowing it was inevitable.

He kept remembering the forlorn look in the Keeper's dark eyes. Did Dan really mean that much to him? Would he ever see him again? Dan doubted both heavily. The Keeper was stoic and emotionless, and once again, Dan was going to hell when he died. His business with the mysterious man had come to an end, he was sure of it.

And Phil...Dan was stuck back on Earth until death, but would he ever make things right with his best friend? He wanted to, god he wanted to so bad. But Phil had fought him, been abandoned by him, seen him with wings protruding unnaturally from his back. Dan wouldn't blame him if the dark-haired boy wanted nothing more to do with him – even feared him.

and almost broke down then and there, burying his face into his arms. For now, it seemed Phil wasn't too terrified of him.

"Dan? Dan, oh my god."

Dan glanced up and caught sight of the ghostly hue of Phil's cheeks, the horror shimmering behind his eyes as he entered the gloomy park. He absorbed Dan's pitiful form slumped in the dirt, scanning over his face and arms and then faltering a bit when he noticed the state of Dan's back.

Dan wanted to cry. "P-Phil," he croaked, the single word stumbling in his throat.

Phil's footsteps slowed as he reached the low barrier encircling the play equipment, and Dan noticed how hesitant he was to move closer. It hurt, just a little. Phil didn't meet his eyes when he blurted, "You...you're bleeding."

Dan sniffed and nodded, raising his eyebrows as he looked up at Phil. Even something as small as that sent agony shooting from his wounds. "I think I've noticed. I'm also in a lot of p-pain," he muttered bitterly.

"What happened?" Phil asked quietly. He sounded like the answer to that question was the last thing he wanted to know. Dan wondered if begging him to come here had been the right idea.

He simply shrugged, the pain clearly showing on his face. Then he blurted an empty laugh, wiped his nose and mumbled, "I got what was coming for me."

Phil remained still and speechless, unsure how to respond. "Dan, I don't..."

"F-Forget it. I don't expect you to understand, Phil," Dan interrupted, sounding choked up as he looked away.

"Wait," Phil breathed suddenly, almost deaf to Dan's words. "Your w-wings...they... suddenly turning his vision hazy again as Phil stared into his own tired brown eyes.

Dan looked down, eyelids fluttering shut. He cursed the moisture that trickled onto his cheeks, unable to hold back the waves of sorrow and hopelessness crashing against the dam he'd built to keep them in. He couldn't continue. He couldn't keep hiding. Here he was, lying on the ground in the dead of night, his wings just having been wrenched from his very skin. And all he wanted was to tell Phil everything.

All he wanted was for Phil to hold him again.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, afraid to look up in case the black-haired boy looked at him with disgust, moved away, left him.

But instead Phil sighed shakily and stepped forward, gently lowering to the ground and resting two fingers against Dan's jaw. He tilted his head upwards, and Dan reluctantly opened his eyes, chin wobbling as he saw the sadness pulling on Phil's face. Phil swallowed, wordlessly wiping the tears from Dan's cheeks with his thumbs before placing their foreheads together. "It's okay," he whispered.

Dan had been falling for a long time now. But just as the words left Phil's lips, he hit the ground. A wet sob tore from his throat and the dam broke, tears spilling from his eyes as Phil gathered him into his arms, surrounding him with warmth and thereness and love. Dan took no notice as pain erupted fiercely from his injuries. He He sobbed into Phil's chest, squeezing the material into his fists as if that jumper could somehow ground him to reality.

Phil held him tight and secure, burying his nose into Dan's hair and simply letting the brown-haired boy cry. He was still bewildered and slightly scared, but Dan needed him, and so Phil was there. And that was all he had to be. He made sure to avoid the gashes he'd finally recognised under Dan's shirt as he gently drew his fingers up and down his back, hoping to god he wasn't hurting him in any way.

Dan could taste salt on his lips and a lump had been shoved down his throat and he could barely see as his eyelids grew puffy, but he didn't care. He didn't care for the stuttering in his breath when he gasped for air. He didn't care that he sounded ugly and unpleasant with snot running from his nose. Phil hadn't left him. Phil was here, hugging him and making him feel safe and that was all that mattered. He was here. And Dan had to tell him, he had to explain, Phil had to know who – what he had been. "Ph-Phil, I'm s-so-sorry," he blubbered, now almost curled in the boy's lap. "I – I'm – I need to...because – you – I'm sorry, I–"

"No, no, Dan, stop. It's okay," Phil interrupted softly, silencing him with a firm kiss to his hair. "Everything's okay. Don't speak. Tell me later. It's alright."

"It's not, Phil...I love you," Dan sobbed. "I love you s-so much. And I have to...t-tell you...everything."

"No, you don't. You don't. I don't care, I still – I still love you too, Dan. I never stopped loving you." Phil brushed his fingers through Dan's hair and gently pulled away only to take Dan's face his hands.

Dan bit his bottom lip, staring at his best friend through hazy tears and feeling a mixture of relief and despair and guilt tugging at his stomach. His fingers lifted to curl around Phil's arms, and he wasn't sure whether to kiss him or keep crying or just blurt all that was trapped in his mind.

Gazing at Dan with a mountain of care and affection, Phil moved closer until their noses were inches apart and sniffled a bit. "Dan, I...I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you still mean everything to me and I think we should get you home before we try and figure all this out, okay?" he told him.

"But–" Dan started quietly.

"Shh. You need rest, and a few bandages. Your back is a bloody mess, no pun intended."

For a moment they both chuckled softly, a bit of warmth flickering to life in Dan's heart. Phil was right, a part of him knew. The pain in his back continued to sear him the more he moved, and he didn't want to die of blood-loss now. He wasn't ready to go to hell just yet.

Dan's sniffle seemed to bounce off the trees and rusted play equipment as he blearily rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. Phil's hands fell away, but Dan only had time to be disappointed for one second before the dark-haired boy knitted their fingers together, Dan's cold and Phil's warm. It seemed years since Dan had held his hand; he relished in the familiar feeling that sent scattered pinpricks up his arm. But it saddened him as well, only slightly. How had he let the tension between them fester for so long that he was happy simply to hold Phil's hand?

"Hey." Dan glanced up at the softness in Phil's tone. "It's gonna be alright. I think it's time we head back to my place and fix you up, how does that sound?" Phil asked.

Dan let out a small sigh, before perking up when a thought occurred to him. "What about–?"

"Stephen's gone out," Phil cut in. "He even called Mum – he won't be back until sometime tomorrow."

"Okay," Dan whispered, and then nodded. "Yeah, okay, that's good."

Phil remained silent for a moment before breathing out, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Dan's hairline. "Come on. I'll help you stand. We're just going to take small steps to the car, okay?"

"Okay," Dan said again, steeling himself for the pain he was about to feel.

Sure enough, he felt it when Phil steadied his arm under his shoulders and gradually lifted Dan to his feet. Dan couldn't help but flop a little against the boy as he clung to his waist, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ward off the flames surging through his back. ear like the beat of a butterfly's wings, in sync with the fluttering of his heart. Simple whispers of, "You're doing wonderful, Dan," or, "Nearly there," or, "Everything's gonna be alright," were enough to send his emotions into a frenzy.

Phil still cared. After everything, he still cared.

They reached the car. Dan slumped forward and rested his arms on the roof of the old white Toyota, lungs heaving and eyes closing for a moment. He felt Phil's hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over the material there.

"Dan," Phil mumbled, "we need to get you in the car."

"I know, I know." As soon as Dan straightened a little, Phil's hands were there to guide him. It took a little manoeuvring, but eventually he was hunched in the passenger seat, leaning forward to stop his gashes from brushing up against the cracked leather. The driver's door thudded shut. Phil shoved his keys into the ignition, fumbling a bit. Dan closed his eyes again, mind whirring like the engine of the car.

...How much blood had he lost in the time between the removal of his wings and now? He must've spent heaps – that would explain the droopiness of his eyelids, the effort it took just to fill his lungs with a little air. His arms felt like limp bodies, dangling off his larger one. So what would happen to him? Would he need to go to the hospital? God, how would he explain his wounds to the doctors without getting shipped off to the government to be experimented on? Dan shuddered at the thought. He couldn't tell anyone. At least, no one but Phil.

Dan tried to clear his mind, tuning in only to the thrum of the engine and Phil's quiet breathing. Really, all he wanted was to sleep. Maybe he should. Maybe it would only be a few minutes of rest, but it would be something, right?

The gentle murmurs of noise around him faded, and suddenly he was aware of nothing.

"...can't carry you when you're asleep, Dan, come on. Wake up. You fell asleep literally two minutes from my house, you spork..."

Dan groaned a little, stirring in his sleep to the exasperated mutterings of Phil Lester as the guy tried to shift him gently out of the car. It took him a few moments to distinguish where he was, glancing groggily at the dashboard in front of him, Phil awkwardly leaning over him and the driveway the car was parked in. "Um...wait," Dan mumbled, whacking Phil's hands away and moving around himself. Amazingly, his wounds had cooled down slightly, so it didn't feel like his back had fallen into the pits of hell every time he shifted a muscle.

"You good?" Phil asked, stepping back a bit as Dan swung his legs over and out onto the path. "Here, lean on me again. God, you're actually quite pale. Let's get inside."

After a few struggles and a lot of Dan acting like a wobbly drunkard, they made it to the front door of Phil's house. Dan could see lights on through the curtains, and suddenly frowned. He didn't know what time it was.

At last the door was opened, and a warm glow spilled out onto the unreadable welcome mat. Dan peered inside, frowning at the stillness of the house.

"Mum's out as well, by the way," Phil said, answering his unspoken questions. "Gone to...see a friend or something. She'll be back later. And Daisy's at a sleepover I think."

Dan only frowned harder. "So, you're just left here? By yourself?" he asked worriedly.

"It's fine, Dan," Phil replied, glancing down at him. "I prefer being alone here, really."

Dan didn't believe him, sighing softly.

"Dan, I do," Phil insisted. "Let's just get you upstairs to the bathroom, okay?"

Several moments later Dan found himself seated precariously on the edge of the bath, eyes glued to the floor and heart palpitating at the thought of finally having to explain himself to Phil. His fingers quivered in his lap as the dark-haired boy swung the bathroom door shut.

"Okay Dan," Phil started, walking towards him. "I'm gonna take off your jumper so I can see those gashes, so could you turn around for me?"

Dan nodded and did as he was told, moving so his feet flattened out against the bottom of the bath. He sucked on his lower lip as Phil placed his fingers under the thin material and slowly peeled the jumper off his back; Dan's knuckles turned white and blotchy gripping the side of the bath when threads of wool came loose from the torn skin. Eventually the gashes were fully exposed and Dan didn't miss the sharp intake of breath behind him. Phil pulled his jumper all the way off and discarded it to one side.

"Shit," Phil muttered. Dan felt his fingers ghosting over his skin. "These cuts are quite deep. And the skin is so red. I'll need to clean the blood off, but...I think we should take you to the hospital just to be safe–"

"No," Dan snapped immediately, whipping his head around to glare at Phil. "I can't go there. Please, don't make me go. I...I can't..." He trailed off and lowered his head, hurriedly blinking back tears.

There was a pause, and then the bath creaked as Phil tentatively sat beside him, resting a hand on his arm. "Dan..." he said softly, waiting until the boy met his eyes before he continued. "...Why don't you want to go? What happened?"

Staring into those swirling pools of blue, Dan found he couldn't tell him. The words lingered on his tongue, but he simply would not open his mouth. Because Phil wasn't just asking how he'd received his wounds – he was asking what had happened to him, to both of them...what had happened for them to reach this point. Dan glanced away, heart thudding heavily in his chest.

Phil sighed, his eyes still boring into Dan's face even when the boy wouldn't look at him. "You know you'll have to tell me sometime," he said, voicing Dan's thoughts. The pad of his thumb swirled over Dan's skin.

"I know," Dan whispered weakly. And that was it.

Through his peripherals, he saw Phil stand and heard water gushing into the sink seconds later. Phil was right. He couldn't keep hiding this. His best friend deserved the whole truth – real and unadulterated.

"I'm just washing off the blood now," Phil told him, before pressing a warm, wet towel carefully against his skin. "This might hurt a bit."

It did, but Dan swallowed it and refused to let it show on his face as Phil scrubbed softly around his gashes. The bathroom was silent, save for the squelch of the towel every now and then. But it wasn't a comfortable silence. It was stifling and uneasy, a thundercloud drooping above them ready to break open.

Where would he even start? With his death, or all the way back to his old life? Or what if he worked his way back from now? Dan had no idea how to tell this story to Phil, but he wanted to now, at least to make things less awkward between them. He let out a gentle breath, afraid to make the slightest of noises, and cursed how hyperaware he was of Phil's fingers pressed against his bare skin as the boy ran the towel slowly down his back.

"Um, so, medical assessment," Phil uttered after a while. "The bleeding seems to have slowed, and I'm not a doctor but I don't think you'll need stitches. Just a few bandages and some ointment."

Dan frowned, incredulous, wondering how deep his wings really had been buried under his skin. "You sure I won't need them?" he asked.

"Well...I can't see any bone or muscle, and that's usually when you need stitches. Even so..."

"I'm not going to the hospital."

"Dan, it's okay. I won't take you." Phil turned away and rummaged through the cabinets below the sink, uncovering a few extra-large Band-Aids, some gauze and an antibiotic ointment.

Phil didn't warn him when he started applying the antibiotic to his gashes, and its sudden sting was malicious. Dan gritted his teeth and braced himself against the bath again, taking in slow breaths as he gradually grew used to the burn. "I'm sorry you have to do all this..." he blurted as Phil started plastering on the first Band-Aid on one of his cuts

"Don't be silly," Phil said softly. He smoothed the bandage over his torn skin. "You can't even reach your back, let alone move properly. And besides, this is a 'want to' thing, not a 'have to'."

The words brought a gentle pink hue to Dan's cheeks – still, he didn't relent. "But...but I forced you to come and drag me here and you don't even know what's going on. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for any of this t-to happen."

Dan heard a small sigh from Phil and the tear of another Band-Aid. "I know you didn't," Phil replied simply as he set to work on the second gash. "But you're my best friend. I think best friends are always supposed to be there for each other, even when...you know...one of them is lying in a park at night with wounds in their back that look suspiciously like wing holes."

Dan could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head, and a different kind of blush settled on his cheeks. He glanced down to his lap. "Yeah...well, thank you."

A moment of silence passed before Phil sighed again, expecting some kind of explanation this time but not getting one. He started unravelling a roll of gauze. "I just hope things will be okay for you after this," he murmured.

Dan swiped his tongue over his chapped lips. "So do I."

They didn't speak again until Phil had wound his chest in the dressing, packing it tightly against his gashes and holding the end down with a stripe of tape. Ten minutes later Dan was sinking into a chair at the dining table, huddled in Phil's green hoodie and hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. And Phil was sitting down right beside him.

The dining room had been stuffed with cotton balls. The silence was hot and suffocating, tension suspended above them like rain clouds ready to burst. Dan sat motionless, fully invested in the gently rippling liquid in his mug with no intent of drinking it as of that moment. His thoughts were like that too – following one after the other in a continuous circle, stretching on with no clear result. He was terrified. That was just it. Fear engulfed him like a tidal wave, drowning out his words and common sense. Phil had to know. Dan couldn't tell him. So he simply sat there, pretending to ignore Phil's impatient gaze, thumb swirling over the ceramic handle of his cup. Because there was so absolutely no way he could explain things without scaring his best friend, or worse. Even when Phil finally broke the silence, Dan still avoided the topic.

"Dan, I'm not gonna sit here all night waiting for you to tell me what the fuck is going on," Phil muttered eventually, spite laced through his words.

Dan flinched at the swear word he used, fingers tightening around the mug. The hot chocolate trembled within it, and he continued to stare, searching for a response in the wrinkles of the liquid cocoa. "Why did you have Advil on you when I found you in the alley?" he blurted after a while, turning his head to meet the startled look in Phil's eyes. He didn't want to know the answer.

Lungs heavily deflating, Phil glanced away at his own mug, falling quiet. Dan watched him carefully, desperate for yet dreading what the boy would say next. "Why the hell do you think?" Phil muttered.

"Phil–" Dan started.

"I was going to overdose, alright?" Phil snapped, causing Dan to jump as he whirled around violently in his chair. "Stephen came home and told me to kill myself, so that's just what I was gonna do. I thought – I thought, you know, my shitty hideout in the forest would be an alright place to go. But instead life decides to fuck me over and let Finn and everyone else beat me to death. That is, until you showed up, used the fucking force on them and grew wings. And now – now I just wish I'd...swallowed the fucking p-pills in the b-b-bathroom..."

Dan's heart tore open He blinked away the sting in his own eyes and shuffled his chair closer to the boy, before wrapping his arms around him and pushing Phil's face into his shoulder. Phil's fragile frame shuddered with sobs as he crumbled in Dan's arms. The hoodie was quickly soaked but Dan didn't care, knowing he just needed to hold his best friend and never let go. He dug his nose into Phil's hair and rubbed patterns on Phil's back, trying not to think of him lying lifeless on a bathroom floor. By the time Phil had calmed down enough for Dan to talk, their hot chocolates had gone cold.

"I'm sorry," Dan murmured as Phil tightened his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry for cutting you off and confusing you and being such a shitty person and – and making you feel like you had to do this. But you don't, Phil. God, don't you ever for a second think about ending it like that because you're worth so much more than you realise and I want you to grow old." With me, he thought. "And I need you. I can't even think about you...d-doing that, because you're everything to me and if you were gone, all of this would be for nothing."

Phil had remained silent throughout the small speech, but now he sniffed and raised his head, frowning at Dan. "What do you mean?" he asked nervously. "What would be for nothing?"

Staring into Phil's eyes after hearing those words, Dan thought the terror would consume him once again because finally, he knew the time had come. But all he felt was a sense of tranquility as he sighed and intertwined his fingers with Phil's before looking into his eyes. And then he opened his mouth.

#highschool!phan #teenage!phan #plantboy!phil #spaceboy!dan #angel!dan #phan #phan au #phan fluff #phan angst #chaptered #dan and phil #phanfiction

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high-liters-and-tea-blog · 7 years

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Story time: My locker was broken into 3 times in 2 weeks and my school is doing nothing about it???

Alright it’s been a while since I posted some original content so here’s a story to make you laugh (possibly) and think, let me know your opinions in a reply or in my messages and asks!

So just a bit of background info, feel free to skip this paragraph; idk about other uni’s but at mine we have the option to rent lockers and I always go for that because I spend so much of my life at school. I take a lot of late afternoon/ evening classes too so I rly need the extra space so i’m not lugging around 50lbs of textbooks all day. I kept my textbooks in there as well as notebooks, binders, and stationary/ supplies (sticky notes, white out, sooooooo many pens bc all i take to class is a black, blue, and red pen, etc.) Since i’m at school a lot for reason beyond class, I had other things in there like my name tag for the student association i’m part of, a change of clothes, protein powder, body spray, and body lotion for the gym, an extra sweater, not to mention things like my locker mirror and shelves, etc. Since I’m there until later at night, sometimes spending 10-12hrs at school, I often buy groceries and keep some snacks in there (boxes of tea, oatmeal, microwave popcorn, cheerios, trail mix, other non-perishables) as well as mugs and cutlery.

BUT MOVING ON TO THE STORY, I came to school on the 1st of February to find that something was wrong with my lock. This is the lock i’ve used since middle school and as soon as I turned it I was like hmmm yeah this isn’t right. I immediately went to student services where they said I could have simply forgotten the combination, I told them this is wrong because, again, i’ve had this lock since middle school and used it from the 6th grade, through high school, and university. The only other option they suggested was that it sounded like an attempt to break into my locker had left my lock damaged and the combination would no longer work. They told me to go to security and gave me a note to have the lock cut off. So I took the note, first went to the office supply store to find a new lock, then went to security.

So on the 3rd of February, a mere two days later, I came to find my lock a little beaten up and slightly ajar. I touched it ever so slightly, and the lock came right off. I guess the culprit gave up just a second too early and didn’t get it open but it was rly close. I ran to the office supply store, got another lock, and carried about my day. Again it was just an attempt and nothing was stolen. This time I didnt report it to security since last time they told me nothing was stolen and they just note the complaint but wouldn’t need to do anything.

ON THE 15TH OF FEBRUARY, I come to school and see my other brand new lock has been like cut and forced open and left hanging on my locker door. I quickly checked inside, all my stuff was still in there, but I couldn’t get to security because I had 3 classes coming up back to back. I replaced the lock to make it look like it was still locked, but I didn’t actually lock it because it was just too damaged it wouldn’t stay, and even if it did stay, student services would be closed by the time I get out of class and I wouldn’t be able to get the note to have the lock cut off and get my stuff until the following day.

Instead, on my way to class, I called security to see if I could at least start the complaint over the phone. They apologized for my locker being broken into and said I would have to come in person. Fast forward to after my classes, just hours later, I went to my locker to take some pictures of the damages and grab my stuff. Since this was the third break in I decided I wasn’t comfortable leaving my stuff in there, I just wanted to find a way to take everything home and then speak to student services about the next steps to possibly getting a locker in a more high traffic area with higher visibility. So as I was approaching my locker, I saw my lock was gone. I bolted over there, opened it up, and EVERYTHING was gone. Everything but 1 textbook. Now I was heated. I grabbed the surviving textbook and the 3 broken locks, which they graciously left inside, and went to security fuming.

At the security office, the woman there barely spoke English (I have no problem with accents and im generally pretty understanding about language barriers and that kind of stuff but this woman was literally making up words and I had no idea what she could have been trying to say) and it was a rly frustrating experience. When I finally managed to do the report with them they’re like “yeah just make a police report” I asked about the safety and security regarding the lockers, this being the third break in within a 2 week span, and they just redirected me to student services who deal with all the locker stuff.

So I did call student services earlier between classes to report my third break in and express how I wasn’t comfortable. They’re like “yeah that’s understandable but we can’t do anything over the phone, you would have to come in for us to help you” and the next day, on the 16th of February I went to student services and after all that they’re like “Oh well theres nothing we can do for you so you just have to contact security.” by now I was livid. One thing I hate, especially working in customer service, is when everyones just like nothing I can do speak to these people until you’ve spoken to half the organization and still dont have a solution. Anyway, to cut this part short, the woman I was speaking with said that she would speak to her manager and see if they could get me a partial refund of up to $20, since the semester is almost over. The manager wasn’t in that day but they passed forward my phone number and I’m still expecting a phone call, hopefully this will all get sorted out soon.

#studyblr #new studyblr #small studyblr #student #rant #school problems #story time

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alka-di-kijarr · 3 years

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Hunters Journey - 014

Disclaimer. The following part of the hunters journey was connected to my #CallOfThePharah on deviantArt in april2020. English is still not my native language, but I wish you a lot of fun reading the next adventure of Nero, Vaas and all the other hunters.

Grimwolf species is a closed species. If you want to get your own, please contact me.

The winner of this design - and so the new owner is - HashtagOctothorpe

Hunters Journey - 014

A few days were spent into the eager tries of finally finding some peace, after Nero had encountered this weird flower-fox-thing. He felt the warmth of the midday sun on his skin, while the wind stroke his blonde hair and a smell of sweet flowers tickled his nose. Every day since the event Nero came back to the garden, sat down on a bench and tried to remember what he had seen in this night. Or felt.

Unexpectedly his memories had gone blurry, with each hour passing after the creature had left the place again. Sighing from exhaustion and frustration Nero laid his face in his hands, trying to slow down the storm of thoughts in his head. What happened to him?

A rarely heard voice appeared next to the young hunter and a shadow covered him, squeezing between him and the sun. He lifted his face and found himself fixated by the gaze of Avon. The greatest medic of the guild was standing beside him, despite the fact that he hated the burning sun, the dazzling light and the heat. A chamber-crawler far away from his very chamber.

"Master Avon, wha-"

"Are you the hunter who got touched by the Flowki?"

"Y-yeah, I guess, what exactly is a Flow-"

"Follow me."

Without further explanations, the oldtimer turned around and left with flying steps in the direction of the medic quarters. It took Nero a moment, but finally, he jumped up of the bench and tried to catch up with Avon. This old man was really fast, contrary to his age and his appearance. Together they walked through the corridors, passed by different nurses and young medics who cared for whomever was in need of help. Nero always had a fascination for people who joined the medics, but he would never switch the place with one of them. Invisible enemies, bringing pain and death, no chance to either catch them or destroy them easily. Tons of elixirs, potions and poisons, which can cure, but also kill. The line between those attributes is just a milligram of the dose. A whiff between wonder and failure. Deadly failure. Until this very day Nero had not made up his mind on the question of who had the more thrilling and more dangerous job. The medics, or the nurses...

Caught in his own thoughts, Nero nearly ran into Avon, who stopped in front of a giant door. Nero had passed this door several times, but never had anyone entered or left the room behind it. Somehow the feeling of a giant rock in his stomach, dragging down his curiosity and his hope, appeared as Avon opened the gigantic door with a heavy key, slipped through the gab and ordered Nero to follow him.

The door made a deep, scratching sound when Avon closed it behind the young hunter.

"Follow me. Fast." The old man took a lantern, inflamed it and walked down a spiral staircase.

If Nero wouldn't know it any better, he would have said Avon was running. Was this some kind of weird panic attack of his? From all the sun and the outside climate? Nero had heard plenty of rumours about the greatest medic of the BlackBestia-Guild, but never had a chance to build an opinion of his own about Avon. After they reached the end of the stairs, a long - really damn long - corridor lead them through the darkness.

It was more like a tunnel, but Nero had no time to think about his fear of narrow paths, slippery stones under his shoes and the smell of rotting material swimming in ancient water. At least it was what it smelled like. Without any word they followed the tunnel, turned right once, and left it behind shortly after. Nero saw many other tunnels splitting away and vanishing in the deepest darkness he had ever seen. His heart raced and at one point he nearly passed Avon. But trying not to be rude, he stayed behind the old man - but as close to his lantern, as Nero could.

Eventually, they reached the beginning of another spiral staircase, leading upwards. Avon suddenly stopped. Nero could hear his rapid breathing as the old man smoothed out his clothings and walked upwards. Slowly. As if there had been no rush or pressure before, Avon took the stairs one after the other.

It felt likes ages, before the stairs finally found an end and Avon stopped in front of a door. This time the door made no noise, and Nero saw Avon turning to him, meaningful laying a finger on his lips, before he passed the threshold. Nero felt a dumpling hanging in his throat, but didn't dare to clear it.

Together they entered a room, broad walls, filled with hanging fabric. Nero touched one of them, it was made from the softest silk he had ever felt between his fingers. The room was litten up by huge windows with thin paper glued onto them. It gave the place a calm atmosphere. Somewhere in the room Nero could hear the lapping of water and the discreet scent of flowers filled the air. The young hunter felt the soft touch of a slowly flowing wind, but there was no open window anywhere.

"Avon. It has been a long time."

"Lady Eyrie." Nero saw how Avon bowed down, so he did the same - more out of reflex than anything else - even though he didn't see the person Avon talked to. After they rose again, Nero followed Avon through the labyrinth of flowing fabrics. One moment he saw nothing, the other, one of the fabrics turned to the side, and his eyes found a woman sitting on a big pillow in the middle of...well everything.

"What brings you to me, Avon?"

"Lady Eyrie, you know I would never invade your space or steal your precious time, if it was not for a very important reason."

Neros brain was still digesting what he encountered here, so the talk between the two nearly passed him entirely. The woman in front of them had dark hair with a soft blue shimmer.

"I know, Avon. I have felt it."

"What have you felt, Lady Eyrie?"

The woman arose from her pillow, soft feathers forming a dress, shining in the reflection of the warm light. She walked down the stairs in front of her, and two long, entirely black wings, formed in front of Nero. As if they had been hidden in nowhere. Exactly like the creature in the garden.

Neros heart raced. His throat was dry and his legs felt incredibly weak. Now the woman turned her ice-blue eyes to him.

"He has been touched."

"Y-yes, Mylady."

She walked towards him and a strong grasp around Neros heart nearly made him jump off and leave, but Avon formed a sign with his hands. Everything is okay. The woman came closer and Nero could sense the same kind of aura that Gemini had. Pushing him away, strongly, but not as strict as Geminis. More like flowing water, capturing him kindly in the middle, but also showing strength and straining him a little. She layed her hand on Neros chest and the poor young hunter nearly lost his breath, his eyes fixating the wide wings this woman had. Just now he realized that her hands were covered in scales, with long talons on the end of each finger.

Avon came close and laid one hand on Neros back.

"Excuse me, Lady Eyrie, the young hunter has never made an encounter with a Theres-Harpy."

"Oh, I don't blame him, Avon. My species is hiding for a purpose. I would have been more perplexed if he had known me...or my kind."

"Young man, Lady Eyrie is not only a Harpy, she is a weaver."

A weaver. A WEAVER?! Neros eyes jumped between the two figures who seemed to fixate him. He felt a little betrayed by Avon, but also felt a bit of ease, to know that he was here.

"Why am I here?" It was his first sentence, since they had started their journey from the garden.

"You are here, so Lady Eyrie can see if she finds the reason for your unstable health, since you have been touched by the Flowki."

"This again, what is a Flowki?" Lady Eyrie rose her eyebrows, giggling a bit into Avons direction.

"So Seth is still not teaching the hunters about the Kahoré realm?"

Avon seemed to turn red on his cheeks, turning his eyes down.

"No, Mylady."

"I haven't expected anything else. Now, Nero-" How did she know his name?! He hadn't told her.

"A Flowki is a creature of the spirit dimension, Kahoré. The fact that is was able to touch you, as well as the fact that you and the others could see it, tells us a lot about the current situation."

"Does it?" Avon was in thoughts, leaving his guard down for a moment.

"Eh, Mylady, I apologise. What exactly does it tell us?"

The harpy smiled but her eyes felt like piercing needles of ice.

"The barrier between the dimensions got manipulated. I assume the dark creatures are the reason for it."

"But how can that be? They were made out of mass - they got hurt and they have hurt people by contact."

"You can touch me too, young Nero." The careless way Nero had talked got scolded with silent words by Avon, but the Harpy just smiled, when she took his hand and guided it onto the middle of her chest. Nero turned as red as a tomato, feeling her heartbeat. But there was more to it. A sparkling feeling. Like electric voltage. The moment felt like an eternity, yet like a fracture of a second.

"Flowkis are known to be shy, and they don't interact with your realm. Normally they don't even pay attention to your kind. Something seems to happen in the dimensions layers...and I am not sure whether if it's good or bad."

"Are there more creatures in the Kahoré,...Mylady?"

"Yes. A lot more. Some shy and peaceful. Some far more dangerous."

She let go of the hand, which was grasping Neros the entire time, and turned to leave.

"Do you know what a Grimwolf is?"

"N-no, I-I am sorry Lady Eyrie." The fascination was drawn all over Neros face and somehow he followed her a few steps, until Avon caught his arm, softly pulling him back.

"They are harbingers of plentiful deaths as a consequence of a contract someone made with them."

"A contract?"

"Yes. In Padunay there is a story which got told through the centuries: The prestige tale of Shamki the merchant. He sold humans, which he had caught before, to people with a lot of money and prestigue. But not only poor people from the streets fell into his arms. He robbed babies from their parents, children from their families. Leaving nothing behind but agony and despair. Some day, one of his "sells" got lifted out of his social standing and became the student of a magician. And how the fate plays, he found the book of summonings, which his master believed, was very well hidden." The harpy took place on her pillow, stretched the wings back and folded her hands in her lap.

"What happened then?" She just smiled.

"The young men was full of hate and rage. He searched for the most powerful spirit he could summon, together with a piece of clothing he had ripped off of Shamki and kept hidden for all the long years. The appearing Grimwolf was a monster among the beasts. His eyes, holding three pupils on each side, the tail with the head of a snake on the end, holding a lantern with screeching souls inside. Only those who are really eager to make a contract, survive the first encounter. If the Grimwolf decides that you are weak,...well, he will devour your soul without further questions. But the young men was strong-willed. So the Grimwolf took the piece of fabric and left to find its rightful owner. The story goes that Shamki the torturer suffered a horrible death."

Nero was pale and even Avon seemed to be sucked into the story Eyrie was telling.

"What did the grimwolf do to him?"

"You know...there is the weaver who can weave things into your soul and the one who can unweave things from your soul. And then there are creatures like the Grimwolf. Ripping your soul into parts before they mingle them together and start all over. At the end, your soul, your precious, shining, wonderful soul, is nothing more than a chunk of chewed up material. And you are awake and alive the entire time. Until they rip off the chunk of the last strain that holds it to your real body and vanishes. Depending on which culture you are living, people say you will have no chance to find a peaceful end, nor the chance to find your beloved ones in the afterlife."

"There is an afterlife?"

Again she smiled. Knowing, teasing, but silent. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Who knows, young hunter. Well....but, at the end, even the Grimwolf is no monster."

"H-how can it not be?"

"It is a scavenger, eating up the contaminated souls of lost creatures, before it will die one day and release nothing but cleansed energy to the Ao, so the great Ao can form new life again."

"We will leave you now, lady Eyrie." Avon grabbed Neros arm again. Nero was thrilled. Confused. Angry. Sad. Overexcited. He was everything but calm, nor ready to leave already.

"So will it be, Avon, old friend."

The old man nodded, turned with Nero, who wanted to stay so desperately.

"And Avon..." He stopped.

"...the Flowki caused no harm to our young hunter Nero. The symptoms will fade soon. But it might be...that your youngster will see the world differently now. And you should talk to Seth, about my thesis. If the layers are damaged, we can only hope there won't be other Atmas roaming and leaving their home dimension. None of you...would be ready."

Avon clenched his fist and Nero could see how hard he was pushing his jaws together. Without any further word, they left the place, left Lady Eyrie behind.

But what would stay, were all the questions.

So many questions. No answers.

For now.

#story time #fantasy story #worldbuilding #story idea #grimwolf #hunters #alka-di-kijarr #fantasy art #adoptable oc #adoptable design #adoptable #contest winner #writer #writing

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isaacathom · 6 years

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i dont /think/ the politics of the setting plays a huge role in the story, barring the effect it has on characters in a cultural sense (mostly re: Rien and Warzen). not unless the gang kidnaps a princess or something. it could play interestingly into the whole two gangs thing.

since most of the story is spent tracking down Rien’s gang (Gang A) and then after the revelation that Saval was a Huge Fucking Liar, it swaps to the group trying to track her down (both for answers and because shes still a criminal and she straight up escaped). and maybe even that was tied into the plot. That Saval’s whole point, really, was to sufficiently distract the city/royal guard from focusing on the Hounds of Fovenis and making out Gang A to be the big villains. so the guard devotes its resources to fucking over Gang A, while the Hounds get ready for the real heist - royalty. while the guards off fucking around with random Gang A necromancers, they can just waltz in and kidnap members of the royal family and demand that $$$. a flawless plan.

except then Saval get found out. because one of the members of Gang A turning themself over and helping bring them down was not on the cards. Rien was a complete unknown factor. Koci and her justice god were unknown factors (sort of). Warzen was definitely an unknown factor, because Saval didn’t know he existed (cause, yknow, separate jails). and Saval didn’t get any pre-knowledge about Rien being an issue until Rien was supposedly murdered (the Hounds had faulty information - they assumed Amali was Rien) and Rien was chucked in the guys jail anyway. so. yknow. cool.

so Saval gets found out to be a liar. That she’s not from Gang A. how they figure out she’s a Fovenis plant instead is... hmm. not sure on that front yet. maybe its just simple process of elimination - if she’s not a member of Gang A, but she had all of this information, she was probably a Hound, and so forth.

so Saval fucking bolts. she fucked up real bad. they were almost ready to get big, but now theyre going to be under scrutiny. so she thinks, a) save my own ass and b) save my gangs ass. she leaves a trail. she plans to lure them out of the city if she can. get as much of the royal guard trying to track her down as possible. commit a bunch of random and dangerous crimes to make her a credible threat to society, etc. what else can she do???

but Saval probably falters. she’s spent a solid while with this specific group, the main cast. theyre friendly. they trusted her. and that was stupid of them. theyre stupid. but they were like... genuine about it. yknow? like they were neat. she liked hanging out with them.

and so of course the people that end up finding her are her friends. and after some fighting, she cracks. she ““accidentally”” outs the Hounds plan to kidnap royalty, which would send the region into some reaaaal chaos. cause. yknow. royalty??? especially if theres an assassination involved. which there likely is. the hounds dont fuck around. like their plan is basically to murder most of the royal family and scarper with a princex or two. everyone scrambles. the south rises. all that fun shit. makes sense to me that the hounds might be southern aligned.

then i guess the group (preferably + saval, but the logistics of that are.... complicated? disguises are possible though) races back to foil it. i dont know if they were fully succeed in that. someone probably does get straight up murdered. but they manage to mostly foil it.

the alternative, at least in part, is to have Saval be directly betrayed by one of the Hounds. Flat out betrayed. set up. she was the fall guy. the plan, as far as she knew, was that the Hounds were going to break her out of jail just before the plan went into action, and she’d return into the fold seamlessly. that they’d put her back in her rightful spot. that she’d be back in control instead of at their whims (since her spot as the plant relies on the other hounds to do their jobs properly). and then they just dont? or something? she thought she’d be rewarded for her service to a gang she was literally born into, and that were her family, and they declined. they had no intention of breaking her out. she’d served her purpose. maybe before this mission she’d failed. she’d made mistakes. and they’d framed this mission, the long haul Gang A Plant, as a way for her to return to their good graces. but it was a suicide mission the whole time. a dead end. she wasn’t getting out.

the issue with that is that, while it basically makes sense, especially if they think lowly of Saval’s skills, is that idk how to like.... have that come up. as a way to fully convince Saval to help. without it, Saval’s only motive to urn on the Hounds is her friendship with the group, and that wouldn’t get them far enough as to convince her to fight with them against the Hounds. it would convince her to ““accidentally”” spoil the plot. which is tantamount to a full betrayal but idk, maybe they wouldnt figure out she’d done it. i mean she IS fucked either way. cause she failed. plus betrayal, ooh baby, she’s a dead ‘un, yknow? so maybe they could convince her. Rien would be a good candidate for doing that, since Rien is the only other person who is actually like, a Proper Crim (unlike Koci “i didnt want this” Farmer and Warzen “I just wanted to revive some friends” Eliodan) and would figure out how it works. besides, rien did basically experience what Saval will. if the Hounds let Saval back in, they’d execute her not long after. They’d send her to a routine job and then cap her in the head. Rien literally just had that happen (except Rien didn’t die, obviously, but the general event remains the same).

so Rien, presumably having basiiiically forgiven Saval for unwittingly setting up Rien to get murdered (its complicated), convinces Saval that if she thinks the Hounds will reward her for this, then shes the fucking idiot, not them. Because they won’t. If they don’t just kill her at the start, they’ll quietly dispose of her while she’s asleep, or while she’s on the open road. They’ll dispose of her. Failure is unacceptable to them, and Saval failed. So basically Saval’s only options are to Run, or to turn herself in and hope that the police can keep her safe.

Saval takes both. Saval agrees to help them get thwart the Hounds’ plan, and while everyone’s like, celebrating or some shit, she slips away. makes sense.

i think that would pretty much work? theres nothing wrong with the story being a smaller scale, but having Saval be the final boss would be.... weird. because she’d be really obviously less powerful than the other 4. they’d win. it wouldnt be challenging in any way. it would keep the story more.... like, personal, and thats fine too, right. i like that sometimes. but i feel like it needs a little more. plus, i could likely tie in the whole thing with the royalty with Koci. since she still has a pact in the air. the god fulfilled their end (p much), now its Koci’s turn. or something! im gonna have to think about it. esp since justice isnt omniscient and wouldnt know the royals are in danger for any certainty. maybe the pact is a bit more vague. like “if you enact justice. we’ll be good” “what the fuck does that mean” “uhhh do good things. protect people. right wrongs. save lives and shit” “arent i already doing that???” “yea but you gotta balance out what i did for you. equivalent and stuff” “huh.”

cause i guess the thing is that, without Koci knowing her pact, she probably would never do enough. its likely that if she switched too many times, they stop letting her leave, and now she cant even DO any justice. so she couldnt break her pact, and so forth. and if she knows her pact is to like. right wrongs and shit, or something, then she can convince them to let her keep coming along despite the risks, because it migh also set her free. and stuff? yea. especially as she communicates more w/ her god and they start working together more effectively. or something. again pacts are unclear as shit.

like i guess the issue with Koci’s pact is that not only was she brought back to life, BUT also that this happened so she could destroy the cultists. and then she went further. and it got a bit messy. and justice was lost. idk. maybe justice’s pact was basically ‘ill kill the cultists if you fuck over some people who have wronged me’ ‘do you know who they are?’ ‘not really’ ‘oh dude thanks youre a great help’.

idk. justice might be hard to work in to it in a way that feels satisfying or that couldnt happen without her knowing the pact. perhaps vengeance would be better? then its like, ok, i helped you get revenge. now help ME get revenge. but because Koci can’t talk to them (yknow, language barriers), Koci can’t do that. she can’t find the right people. but once they start talking, Koci figures out she can probably get what they want by continuing to do this whole main gang thing. the people they want fucked over are PROBABLY part of Gang A, right? she’ll work hard to keep fucking them up! and so the god agrees, because that makes sense, and gives her more control, which allows her to stay in the group (without the control, she’s a liability. with the control, she’s an asset) to work towards the goal.

except they arent part of Gang A. because Gang A just... doesnt do that? probably necromancy stuff. ok correction, they do, they do have a necromancer, but one who started doing that AFTER the Koci incident and therefore after the pact. and was not the goal. rather, their goal was someone from the Hounds. who i guess gets involved with the whole palace thing??? uh. ok this isnt Great. i do need to find a way to connect Koci’s pact to the story though. I’ll think more on that laaaaer??? hh

#story blogging #cano fe yula #for later - work on koci's pact

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mysterious-prophetess · 6 years

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allowthisfam

replied to your post

“The biggest lie this 1.16 update tries to get away with”

In response to mysterious-propostess or whatever ur tumblr name is right now, how do we know Marilith isnt the embodiment of Noctis’ mother, also why would Regis make another heir when at a young age it was revealed Noctis was the chosen one - theres a lot Comrades story did right, you and I don’t know exactly how the Kings of Yore power works, but it exists whether or not Regis or Noctis are awake, Noctis was inside the crystal, still alive, so the glaives had access to it

Firstly, it’s the same URL I’ve had on this Hell site since 2012. I don’t plan on changing it, so it’s “Prophetess.” A word that exists in the English language. Spellcheck can help you with it.

Secondly, this is why I wish Tumblr had dates on shit. I wrote most of this BEFORE Comrades was fully released.

BTW: I played the Beta and they kept the whole "how" of there being Glaives pretty close to the vest. It’s still not clear, all we know is they were back because they had to earn forgiveness for their betrayal and the Crystal (with Noctis inside) needed protecting. I suspect that Bahamut is the one behind it, though. This is the kind of thing he’d do.

Thirdly, you seem to be deliberately ignoring all of the points I brought up. I’ve had enough of people on the internet doing that to me recently so, I’m going to be blunt: You didn’t pay enough attention to what I was saying. I dared to bring reality and common real world practices into my rant, in addition to logic. Fantasy can be bonkers, but it still has to have SOME logic to it.

Also, who knows. Maybe your little “hypothesis” about the Marilith bear some thinking about. Or maybe you didn’t do any research into Noctis’s mother, Aulea, to know that SE has only let us know a few things about her: Her name (Aulea), the fact she and Regis were childhood friends, when they got married (ME 732 btw), and when they had Noctis (ME 736). We don’t know WHEN she died or how she died, only that she did and Noctis was too small to remember her.

The New Wall was up at the time, though, so I’m going to say it’s not likely she is the marilith since it would have been nearly impossible to infect the queen with scourge through a barrier that kept daemons at bay.

Furthermore, people in general DIDN’T know Noctis was the “Chosen One” until after people started talking about it in Comrades, the relatively recently released DLC which you seem so keen on using as evidence against my month’s old rant. Which, btw was written up to half a year ago but likely only five months. Again. Tumblr. Could you maybe put dates on shit instead of screwing up this site’s code when you do updates?

Anyway, so why wouldn’t they have pressured Regis to have another kid? They were at war with the Nifs and had been for a while? Are Lucii, like the Royals of the Moon Kingdom from Sailor Moon, only able to have one kid?

Fourthly,

Comrades Story mode? Again, all we really find out is that the Glaives are back to keep the Crystal safe while Noctis is in it and to earn their penance for their treason. That’s only one loop out of many closed.

And a few lines here or there about Iris and wanting to go daemon slaying, and Talcott’s flare for intel gathering and research, and less about Cor, Gladio, Ignis, and, Prompto, and surprise Aranea visits do not plot holes fill. What we know is nice but still a bit thin.

In conclusion, I think I’ve addressed everything and I’d like to remind you that my past rant was just that, a rant with some anger fueled analysis in it.

Have a nice night.

-Mysterious-Prophetess

#allowthisfam

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mavwrekmarketing · 7 years

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Its fair to say the smartphone camera has becomethe digital tool of most use, rendering the average persons camera roll essentially amemory buffer where carefully composed photographs rub up againstsnaps of receipts, funny stuff you saw on the street and fanciedsharing with friends, and, sometimes, snippetsof text you came acrossin a (paper) bookand wanted to make a note of. Snapping a photo in that moment isa stand in for the lack of real-world copy and paste.

And its the latter kind of photo (text quotations) that the founders ofsmartphone app Postepic want to liberate from this unstructured jumble of visual data. Indeed, the first version of the app, released last year as a bootstrapping side-project by a bunch of book-loving friendsafter they graduated from university in Poland, was just a basic way for them to organize and share photos of the quotationsthey had cluttering their camera rolls.

We started this project as we wanted to build something together, says co-founder ukasz Konofalski. We all share a passion for books and were used to sharing quotes and books recommendations between each other. We came across some reports that showed that in Poland in 2016 only half a book will be read on average, so we also wanted to support readership in general by building a bridge between traditional books and mobile world.

Two things really surprised us when we finally launched it in June 2016: the number of new books worth reading we discovered by simply sharing quotes with each other; and a very warm reception we received from the developers and users communities alike. We have received volumes of valuable feedback from them and got back to work.

Version 2 of the app, which launched this week, turns a basicideainto an app that has enough form and function to feel appealing to use. The coreadditional feature is optical character recognition (OCR) meaning that instead of uploading and sharing ugly-looking (and hard to read) chunks of raw page text, i.e. in their original photo form, Postepic users can now lift the wordsoff the page, capturing and editing the text and its visual presentation bychoosing fromaselection of fonts and backgrounds.

The final result presentsthe text snippetinside a square frame, in a way thats both easy to read andvisibly pleasing (for an example of how utilitarian quotes looked in v1 of the app see the image at the bottom of this post). So Postepicbasically lets people turn a favorite quote into an easily shareable unit of digital social currency. Aka,an Instagram for book quotes.

Last year Facebook added a feature aimed at enhancing the impact ofthe text statusesbeing shared via its platform, givingusers the ability to add colored backgrounds to their textupdates to makethem more visual. And with so much visual noise being injected into messaging and communications apps, this is hardly surprising. Point is, if you want something to stand out in the age of Instagram Stories (Snapchat Stories, Facebook Stories, WhatsApp Stories etc etc), it has to look right asthe bar for beingnoticed keeps getting higher.

And withall this visual noise clamoring for our attention, it can feel like the written word isbeing forgotten or overlooked as people ditcha thousand words in favor ofsharing a few photos. Yet a well-turned phrase has the power to be both arresting and enlightening, as well as a hint ofgreaterdepths lurking within the full work. Sogiven how much attention has been (and continues to be) lavished onvisual forms of communication from photo filters to selfie lenses to style transfer theres arguably spacefor a clever social sharing app that brings the power of the written word back into focus.

Notably, Apples new social video sharing app Clips includes an auto-captioning feature. Thats great for accessibility, but also a reminder that words-as-text still have powerand with a little technological automagic can be effortlessly edited back into the selfie frame.

Postepic is not the first app to take a shot at wordy snippets, though. Others have tried to buildan Instagram for book quotes Quotle, for example but no one has yet managed to generatesignificant momentum for the concept. It might be because sharing book snippetsis inherently more niche than sharing photos (its certainly more bounded, given language barriers). Or becauseno one has made a slick enough version to attract more mainstream appeal.

Postepics v2app seems to beatQuotle on OCR speed. And because itschosen to fix the sharing format as a square its content inherently feels bettergroomed for social sharing vs the more wordy/text-heavy Quotle. (Although, on the flip side, Postepics ease of use and more formulaic format might attract a flood of clich sharers and drive down the quality of discoverable quotes.) But clearly the founders hope is that the uniform sharingformat setsPostepic up to benefit from viral uplift if users sharewatermarkedquotes to their larger follower bases on platforms likeInstagram (as other apps have). Time will tell if they can make it catch on.

Its certainly stilla fairly unformed thing at this stage, especially given the size and nature of itsearly adopter community having only clocked a few thousand downloads for its MVP v1 via a launch onProduct Hunt. So even though the team has curated a bunch of quotations themselves to populate the app, youre more likely to find quotesabout scaling a startup than lines from a Shakespearean sonnet. But the core function of v2 has been executedwell, within a clearapp structure. So its super simple to capture, edit and share nicely presented quotes.

Quotation lengthis capped at 600characters to ensure readability (and curtail any copyright concerns). Photo backgrounds are also limited to a handful ofgeneric shots and textures offered within the app at least for now, to avoid users uploading inappropriate imagery, says Konofalski (on that front,remember Secret?). While the OCR tech supports ten languages at this point: Chinese, English, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Polish, Portuguese, Russian and Spanish.

The app also lets you tag quotations for subject matterand toadd sources (a requirement if youre making a quote public). Using these labelsyou can then browse and search quotes, while a favoritesfeature lets you curate a like-list if you spot quotes shared by others that you like.And if you dont want to share thequotes you create with the crowd you dont have to you can keep individual quotes private and just use the app to create an organized, visual library of the best bits from the books youre reading.

On the community front, the main feed of Postepic is an assorted jumble for now, showing a stream of non-topic sorted trending quotes that Konofalski says turns over every few hours based on what others are liking. Currently theres no way to follow other users to customize what you see here but thats down tohow nascent the community is. Our goal is to offer a solution that many content and photo sharing apps use: to give users a choice to pick their favorite genres and authors to adjust their feed, he says. Additionally, we want to launch a functionality of following other users, so their posts show up in users feed [but]decided to postpone the functionality until we reach a community size that would warrant this.

Postepic does also support social sharing to other platforms, as youd expect. Though this doesnt alwayswork as youd imagine.For example, testing sharing to WhatsApp the app merelycreated a generic text message with a link to view the quote in Postepic, rather than including the visual form of thequote in a WhatsApp message template (though this is likely a WhatsApp restriction on sharing from a third party app). A basic workaround is obviously to screengrab a quote and upload it manually where you like as a photo. Sharing to Twitter incorporated both the image and a text message with a link when I tested it. Konofalski says that with most well known apps it willautomatically import/drop an image intothe other app.

The appis free to download (and iOS only for now), and while the team says it has a fewideas for potential monetization down the line such as hostingpre-launch book campaigns, or offering writers a subscription-based platform to connect with fans the focus for nowis fully on building up the size of the community to try to reach a critical mass of readers.

Does generation Snapchat read books? I guess theyll soon find out