#This is my phlegm period

[chestcongestion]

More chest cold An/gel ft. Hu/sk's feline hearing coming in clutch

[sleepless-crows]

i am better !!!

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

~

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

~

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

~

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

~

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[literallys-illiteracy]

Theories and notes from HTP: Something is Wrong with Horse, and The Fueds of our Fathers

This will be both a compilation of notes and details, alongside various theories that I have seen regarding *that*, as well as my own theories on the subject.

This is being written on 15/12/24, following the "Disciplines" episode, and any theories may become obsolete with the release of future information

Ok lets start off with the first note(s) I had when first watching this episode.

Horse's name is, similar to the rest of our primary cast, a reference to If the Emperor had a TTS, specifically Horus being the favourite son. Despite this however, I doubt that this is anything more than an easter egg or red herring, as making this show a full transference of TTS is kind of lame, however "Horse's" eyes later in the log are also seemingly a reference to the eye of Horus (warhammer, not the Egypt one).

Horses cannot throw up, nor regurgitate. That being said, Horses can cough, and if undergoing pulmonary bleeding, may indeed cough up blood (or phlegm in the case of other infections).

Ok time for the actual prophecy.

What is it Thoust (thou hast; you've) see...? Doth (do) thine (thy; your) eyes... see it... Oracle? Gaze into... mine crimson miasma (pollution, in reference to horse's blood).

Ok once again, two notes. Horse is using archaic middle english, a trait common in a decent amount of prophecies, however, I am going to be a pretentious prick and try to pinpoint the time period Horse may be from given these words used.

Thy/Thine/Thou are between late-middle English and early-modern English, being used in the time frame of 1300-1800's.

Miasma comes from greek, and was used in medical theory between 400-1800's.

So with these time frames, I can say with certainty that Horse is at least 3, potentially older.

Ok now for the "oracle" part. An oracle, in MTA, is a mage who has undergone ascension (When the subtitle of the game is "The ascension" you can guess this is probably a big deal).

Ascension is poorly defined on purpose, lacking any strict mechanisms or mechanics, as it is the job of the ST to define for their game and players, however in essence Ascension is the absolute pinnacle of magedom.

An ascended is somewhere between a human and a divinity, usually, as the name implies, having transcended their mortal shell for that of pure spirit and power, though not all have.

In real life, oracle has two meanings for a noun. The first is the oracle themselves, being one who divines, seers, or prophecies the future in some way shape or form. The latter is an off note that in archaic use, Oracle is also a noun used to refer to the prophecy itself. eg. "Mine Oracle (person) hath gave this oracle (prediction) to the court."

My point is is that the running consensus (I hate talking about WoD because I have a compulsion to clarify stuff like this, the Consensus is a term in MTA for the standard agreement of reality) of Boy being in some way the reincarnated immortal soul of an ascended mage is not necessarily correct, as Boy's simple ability to see the images in the blood marks him as an "Oracle" in the non MTA sense, however it could go either way in this regard.

Thine (your) Faeder, laid bare... Dessicated upon the rocks, by thy hand... The Abbot will know

Faeder, meaning father (old english, 1055+) is most likely to refer to door, as any other character is by far stretching the meaning. Note that Boy is not adopted, stated by the HTP creators.

Laid bare is an interesting line, as it can be interpreted two ways, either physically laid bare in some way, having been defeated in some way, or being "Laid Bare" in the sense having his secrets come to light. Note that in the latter understanding, though we know little about door, it may make more sense for this section to refer to D, as "thy/thine" are used in the same manner as "Your", being applicable to a larger group that one is a part of, and as "Father" is the name both Door and Markus refer to D as -- This note is being made very specifically due to D's obvious secrecy towards the world of the supernatural.

Dessicated is an interesting word to use, as the literal meaning is in essence to "Make dry", though being a word often used in substitute of "kill". I am making the assumption this time that it is in reference to Boy specifically, though not directly being the person or creature who drains them (that would likely be... yknow, the vampire), Boy is responsible for either D or Door's state in this prophecy.

"The Abbot will Know"

This returns as a recurring phrase in the prophecy, marking the Abbott as some form of major figure in this series of events.

This use of a recurring phrase is also reminiscent of poems and songs within horror writing, such as Cassilda's song within The King in Yellow, each stanza ending with a mention of "Carcosa", or H.P Lovecraft's poems "The Bride of the sea" and "Nemesis", which use a similar technique, ending the poem with a phrase appearing close to the start, "my Unda, the Bride of the Sea.", and "And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright." respectively. That wasn't in any way related, I just think its neat.

"The Abbot" or "The Prior" (which is among the two reasons I have to stop myself from using prior in the other "before" sense.) is a member of the Sabbott who manages the permanent territory or "Haven" for cainite packs, in contrast to nomadic "Wandering packs of sabbott hooligans" as D puts it. Considering the fact that, when we found Peter and his pack in the tunnels it was referred to as "The Launchsite of the crusade" by Kevin, as well as the fact that Shitbeard later claims they need to "Build up their bases", we can safely assume that a somewhat permanent residence was planned for the tunnels.

QosmicVoid, in his, better, analysis of theories, posits that the "Abbot" referred to is potentially the Regent or Prince, which are both abjectly wrong, the Regent being a member of the Camarilla, and thus not the Sabbot, and the Prince being Caine, who... no. (This is not to say that the video is bad or wrong, it's almost certainly better than this in every way.)

The last option is a Vampire that we haven't seen yet, which I personally believe is also wrong. We have seen her. We go by the assumption that the Abbot is a woman, despite the term Abbot traditionally being masculine, for two main reasons, the first being that later in the prophecy there is a line regarding "Her Gullet", the second of which being

Uh. This.

She is referred to in the credits as "The Monk". Abbot is historically a term used to refer to the leader or owner of a monastery of monks/nuns.

Note before I sound hypocritical, I am more than fine with the characters being based on their TTS counterpart, just as long as they're not 1:1 imitations.

This is a character who *technically* lacks a TTS counterpart, instead being most directly parallelled by The Emperor's WFB character the "Shaman Queen". What make of this? no clue, as per usual.

Her placement as "the Abbot" is also reinforced by the fact that she is simply observing the hunters, "The Abbot will know", mayhaps not because she is directly involved in each instance, but instead because she is observing from a distance.

Also final note, the story of the tunnels itself begins with tales of a priory, alongside the monks within, making specific mention of "Bizzare alchemical experiments".

Ok back to Horse.

Of two, one falls... One rises. Damnation. The third eye opens. His suet will feed and warm her gullet. The Abbot, will know.

This line means everything and nothing with how it is written. I know whoever at Ogre Poppenang is laughing their ass off at people trying to discern meaning from whatever this is.

Of two, one falls, one rises.

This is the keystone line of this section, and it entirely depends on who the "Two" is referring to.

Boy and Markus, both implied to be mages. Blacklaw and D, ancestral blood fiend. Kitten and Mark Kitten and Grimal The Abbot and (anyone) D and Kevin Kevin and The Abbot

We know almost nothing. The only thing that I am basing this on in current is the lines following in this section.

"damnation" "third eye" and the mention of "His Suet (innards)" and "Her Gullet (mouth)".

From the third section, we can assume that the "of two" in some way refers to:

A vampire or creature, referred to as "She"

A person referred to just as "He" or His.

We can also assume vampire from the use of the term "Damnation", as in VTM, when someone is childed, their soul is forever forfeited by god due to being marked by Caine.

The only vampires that fit the bill (That we are aware of currently) are The Abbot and The Regent, with the potential for Grimal, Polydora, Carmilla, or any other unseen character, though it would be poor writing for it to be someone introduced too late, so i'm personally discounting anyone past the Markus pub audiolog.

As another, very odd note to make, the use of the word "falls". This *WILL* return in later theorycrafting closer to the end.

"The third eye opens". Another line that gives me an embolism.

"The third Eye" is a real life term, often used meaning the ability to perceive something others cannot in some way; some form of precognition, vision, or out of body experience; The pineal gland, responsible for creating melatonin, the eepy chemical; and more, which will be discussed in a bit.

The third eye has a unique symbology in Vampire. The Salubri are known as the "Cyclops", a bit of a misnomer considering they have three eyes, due to their clan's primary trait being their possession of a third eye on their forehead, one which cries vitae on using disciplines.

The Salubri were indirectly mentioned by D in the Kevin audiolog, more specifically their relation to Clan Tremere, as their antediluvian Saulot was diablerised by Tremere. Saulot is significance due to his (and his clan's) connection to the concept of Golconda, or freedom from "The beast", a path revealed by the angel (foreshadowing) Gabriel to Caine, and later achieved by Saulot himself.

The primary theory regarding Kevin is that D plans to being Kevin to this state of Golconda, which in Saulot resulted in his third eye forming, however at the same time, most (in universe) lore regarding achieving this state has been lost following Saulot's consumption.

This leads me in circles, because now we have two major links to who these "two" may be, but at the same time, due to the variable and potentially metaphorical meaning to each line of this section, there is no definite information gained.

The third eye does not need be in reference to Kevin, as it can be used in a less literal sense referring to Markus, Kitten or Door becoming viscerally aware of what D has been hiding; to Boy's seeming prophetic nature, (See Boy Audiolog); or to Markus's past encounter with a "??????????" creature. (foreshadowing is a literary device in which-)

The only reason that I am unsure about Golconda is because the Saulbri are incredibly rare, rarely accepted by the Camarilla nor the Anarchs, and being diametrically opposed to the Sabbot. Golconda is so strongly linked to the Salubri by its very nature, and I'm not sure if I like D being as aware of everything as he is, the most impactful moment in the series to me is the end of the second Kitten log for this same reason, D's first open moment of uncertainty. as all things, this entirely varies on how well it is written, but the one thing I am confident in is the fact that the writers have a plan, and I trust in their process.

The Patriarch, in mastering Luna, ends hamstrung... He will wish death upon his flesh... But no mercy shall be given, For none he hath gave.

This is the first time that the subject of the prophecies clause has been simply titled as "The" other than The Abbot. "The patriarch" can refer to a few people, the most likely from current information being either Door or D. Considering the fact that Horse refers to "The" patriarch, D is in my opinion more likely, however the following lines make me uncertain in this regard.

The odd theory is Blacklaw being the patriarch, and elaboration will come for that.

This line also mentions "Luna", which means moon. In werewolf, "Luna" is the name that the Garou use to refer to the spirit of the moon (which is also the physical actual moon, destroying the spirit would also destroy the literal moon).

Mastering Luna could have many meanings, about... 3 maybe. The only problem is the fact that it is very specifically "The patriarch" who masters Luna.

Luna is one of the many sources of the werewolves rage, potentially this patriarch is a character who calms down, mentors, or combats a werewolf (we'll get to werewolves later in the EP 4 discussion).

There is the potential that this patriarch is, in some way shape or form, a Fera in their own right. (note, Though the Garou (werewolves) are the most directly linked to Luna, she also acts as the patron for many and most Changeling (fera) breeds, which causes said changeling's shared weakness to silver, such as Werebears (foreshadowing). If a changeling breed is instead blessed by the sun, they are weak to Gold)

Third, the concept of moon paths or moon bridges could exist as "Mastering Luna", in some way, this patriarch could be seeking to utilise these moon pathways in order to transport themselves easier.

"ending hamstrung" just means that said patriarch becomes crippled in some way, if we take this literally, and if Ogre Poppenang does want to take the parallels further, then this could potentially be the crippling of D onto the throne, specifically by the "Lunar Wolves" as the Sons of Horus were named. I do not like this too much, but eh, once again, the literal meaning of hamstrung is cutting ones hamstrings, which would render someone chairbound or crippled.

The only thing that dissuades the concept of this being D is the latter lines, mentioning "No mercy he hath gave", when D's entire characterisation has been his mercy in comparison to the other hunters, having an honest conversation with Kevin while the others organise a death gauntlet for example.

The rising three shall signal wars end. Woe and triumph. The Abbot, will know.

This line is mostly filler, just the general "Bad shit happens" kind of line.

The rising three is weird, because it has the potential to refer to the triat? No comment to this, as there is the easy potential for this "three" to refer to someone else, especially as the Weaver and Wyrm are in direct conflict, so referring to them as the singular "Three" is odd, as the Wyld is, too, being consumed by the other Triat.

From them... bloodshed. Armageddon for all. Kine, Kindreds, Garou, Milklings, Elohim, In the light, they all will-

Ok so, there are like 5 notes in this section.

The first is the use of the term armageddon, as another term that has meaning in World of Darkness, being an "end times" scenario wherein forces of magic fight and destroy the entirety of existence. This is related to the Triat, but, once again, note that this may not refer to the actual MTA armageddon, and may instead be used as a term for "Bad shit happens".

In this list, Horse mentions "Kine, Kindred", which refers to humans and vampires respectfully, however, these are terms use **EXCLUSIVELY** by vampires, Kine being an archaic word for livestock, and Kindred/Kin being in reference to blood relation or being of the same "kind". The fact that Horse uses these terms might mean... something? I don't know what to make of this, especially considering the implications of what "else" he could be.

Garou means werewolves, Fera is the term for all changelings in whole, so this is directly targeting werewolves for some reason, likely for convenience or because it made a better sounding omen to anyone who doesn't know these terms.

Milklings means fae-creature, related to the folklore regarding Fae and milk, often used as an insult of sorts. I do not remember the full reasoning behind Fae being linked to milk in real life folklore, but I vaguely remember the fact that they are.

Finally. Elohim. Meaning "Godly being". Elohim in WoD is used to refer to Angels, more specifically, those who did not rebel against god, Elohim who rebelled against God are instead referred to as "Fallen".

Ok time to talk about "One falls, one rises". This line could very well be in reference to this, as the major meaning behind fallen is the fallen angel, however there is one other meaning which may be the case. Fallen mages are mages who, rather than ascending, "Descend", and act as forces of entropy and wish to destroy the entire existence.

Now, the mention of the Elohim here is VERY FUCKING CONCERNING. There are almost no people who are meant to be aware of the existence of the Angels, with only two true Elohim remaining (according to lucifer) (thanks satan), with both God and the rest of the Elohim simply not being present when the Fallen escaped the abyss (foreshadowing). More notably, this appears to be something that D himself is unaware of, as seen in later logs, disparaging the idea of "Creationism" "The god part (probably)" etc. Which is odd, considering that he acknowledges the existence of Cain, who is entirely a biblical character, alongside the use of Holy Water.

Basically only the fallen, and certain mages from what i remember, are aware of the Angel's existence, which leads to the primary theory as to what the fuck is a Horse.

Aside from the fact that Horses aren't real, there is clearly something wrong here, most likely a form of demon or demonic possession. Note that not all fallen are necessarily malevolent, as there exist Fallen who still refer to themselves as Elohim, seeing themselves wrongfully banished, and this could be the case.

The blood, alongside the fact that Horse is very clearly wrong, with his eyes being the same as the Warhammer Eye of Horus, I personally believe this is the case, but there are other possibilities, such as Horse just being like that, or a Fae fucking with Boy.

Ooook part 2:

The Feuds of Our Fathers:

ok lets start with the obvious, who's the ghoul?

I personally think that its Grimal, mostly due to her connection to the arcanum for a long time, alongside her mentioning of crawling through the vents, and her placement in the security room during the interlude.

Her connection, attachment, and friendship with many people in the arcanum is likely the reason that Occam was unharmed while Fatigue was detonated.

Occam's name is the only wrench in this theory, as it is of course a reference to Occams razor, which states that the simplest answer is likely the most accurate, alongside Spit's erratic behaviour through the episode.

However that being said, we are given an explanation, he was out of Ritalin (adhd meds). Ritalin is a stimulant which is in essence a less severe form of meth or cocaine, being used to treat narcolepsy and ADHD, which is highly addictive and can very easily cause major withdrawal symptoms (I'm not your psychiatrist but also it generally isn't good to have these symptoms for withdrawal, and dependency may be a sign to consider a different form of medication).

Due to it's high metabolism, one may suffer withdrawals faster than many other drugs which act as long term release.

Ok tangent over.

The only other note that I have about Grimal, and the only specific note I have against the theory of her being the Ghoul is her name itself and it's inspiration.

Grimal's name is inspired by the word Grimalkin, which is a word meaning Cat, but which also is used to refer to Fae creatures, most notably those which... are cats. I have seen the concept of Grimal being a Fae creature which is gaining Glamor from Anime, which theoretically makes sense, but narratively does not make as much sense, other than Kitten's past interactions with Fae, speaking of which.

In Horse Audiolog, Kitten tells the story of his induction into the world of the supernatural, and as far as I can tell given the information we have, the creature that Kitten fought was a Fae creature, rather than a Vampire.

Credits out to "World-Jumper575" on youtube for saving me the trouble of articulating my point as they have made a similar observation, specifically a Redcap.

Their points are as follows:

"Notice the poor girl was being eaten, not drained of blood. While there is one clan that eats flesh, Naharaja are extremely rare especially in England. Meanwhile redcaps love nothing more than eating red bloody chunks of a person. They have the ability to eat anything and widen their jaw as far as needed to do it. They are eternally hungry, always looking for the next meal, sometimes snapping and just killing someone if it's been too long."

Note that, while Changeling is not my expertise, from what I remember the eating of humans is shunned by most.

We have hints the bloke eating her was seen during the day, wich helps confirm that he's not a vampire; all of them burn in the sunlight.

Notice that the creature tried to talk and reason first, even to the point of baffling politeness over a gristly horrific murder. Due to the Masquerade, no vampire would ever think to kindly ask you to leave; that's a masquerade violation, they'd just kill the interloper. A Changeling still sees themselves as human (well, half human) and have no concept of the Masquerade. This bloke just interrupted my meal, so would you kindly leave me alone, I haven't quite finished yet, thank you. The fact the meal is another person might not even cross the Redcap's mind. He was hungry, so he ate. Simple as.

Finally, it's important to note that Kitten didn't just kill the creature by impaling on a fence: he impaled the monster on an iron fence. Fae famously are weak to cold iron, or wrought iron. It's one of the few ways to truly kill a changeling. When a changeling dies, it's fae soul is reborn into a new body with some memories intact. Cold iron can kill this fae soul and stop their ability to be reborn ever again. Kitten was lucky enough to have the one tool needed to kill off the exact thing he was fighting even with no knowledge of what he was facing.

Uuh now we talk about Fera.

Matilda is most likely some form of changeling breed, here to target Blacklaw, as he mentioned hunting werebears, which are notably docile if you aren't fighting with them, so this may be the case. there really isn't much to say that hasn't been discussed already by the community at large.

[mistytarot0919]

★~(◠‿◕✿)Tarot observations - Health indicators(Major Arcana session)

Hello, everyone! Misty - your tarot reader here✨🔮🌠🃏🌟!

©mistytarot0919 - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work.

Please REBLOG if you find this information useful! ༄˖°🪐.ೃ࿔*

In tarot, health can be represented by different cards depending on the context of the reading.

Overall, tarot readings can offer insight into potential health issues, as well as guidance on how to improve and maintain good physical and emotional well-being.

It is important to approach any health-related messages from tarot with an open mind and seek professional medical advice when needed.

For other posts like this, you can check here (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

For other tarot content you can find more over here(❁´◡`❁).

Misty ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

꧁ ༺ ── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ── ༻ ꧂꧁ ༺ ── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ── ༻ ꧂

Some key Major Arcana cards that may indicate health-related themes include:

Fool - High blood pressure

Magician - Intestinal issues eg: hernia

High Priestess - Anti-social personality disorders

Empress - Ovaries & female reproductive system. Pregnancy.

Emperor - Teeth, gums & jaw

Hierophant - Constipation

Lovers - Sexually transmitted disease

Chariot - Immobility, leg paralysis

Strength - Allergies

Hermit - Depression

Wheel of Fortune - Chiropractic issues eg: spinal disks

Justice - Sinusitis, phlegm on the chest

Hanged Man - Poor blood circulation, thrombosis

Death - Death

Temperance - Acne, boils

Devil - Addictions, heartburn, issues arising from poor personal hygiene

Tower - Memory loss

Star - Plantar warts (ingrown foot warts)

Moon - Moontime/menses (period pains)

Sun - Hamstring, pulled ligaments

Judgement - Throat, oesophagus, voice-box

World - Cholesterol

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

desperate times, desperate measures

Tonight is turning out to be my fifth night of sleep deprivation due to a nasty upper respiratory virus running its course through my system. Thankfully, it's not Covid (which I've already had twice), but I'm only getting about three hours of sleep each night due to excessive post nasal drip & phlegm that wakes me up from coughing and bad nausea. Unfortunately, I used up the last of my sick time to call out on Sunday (with Monday as my regular day off) and had to go back to work on Tuesday. Between the exhaustion, coughing, and nausea, it was pure misery.

If I call out again, I will reach my work limit (only 5 absences allowed in a rolling six month period) and will be subject to dismissal (sadly, that's the state of employment for most 'essential workers' in the US these days), so I'm going to have to apply for a 3-day leave of absence (minimum I can request) in order to save my job. Meaning I'll be short three days pay towards my lodging next week.

As much as I hate to ask for help once again, I have to try to raise $300 to cover the difference.

Donations of any amount will be immensely appreciated, and thank you in advance for any reblogs of this post!

[judaismandsuch]

Chanuka Problems:

As with many people in this time period I have developed a bit of a cough, without actually being sick*, and with it occasionaly comes the phlegm.

Now, I just got my first sufganiya of the season, my favourite type: Jam (raspberry I think, though if you told me it was strawberry I wouldn't argue the point).

After a few bites I was sent into a coughing fit due to inhaling the powdered sugar, and coughed up some phlegm into the sink, as one does.

Then I began to freak out: Holy shit, it is red. I have blood phlegm, I need to see a doctor...

Wait. Raspberry fucking Jam. Damn you sufganiyot and your mild health scares!

Almost as bad as beets!

*(for those of you who are about to dog pile me 'if you are coughing and don't have seasonal allergies, you are sick!', I was super sick with a lung based illness when I was younger, and since then I have coughing fits very frequently in cold and or dry weather. There are no other symptoms associated, so I can tell when it is that vs a cold).

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #70 - Werewolves in medical history + "clinical lycanthropy"

The results of the werewolf fact poll over on my Patreon are in, and now we have this month's werewolf fact: all about werewolves in historical medical treatises of the Renaissance/Early Modern period and the term "clinical lycanthropy," as well as what all that means and how it still impacts werewolf studies and werewolf pop culture today.

This post will make use of a lot of primary sources, which I always find fun, so buckle up!

I've done several posts touching upon subjects similar to this before, you might be familiar with them, such as how werewolves in folklore are the result of a curse instead of a disease, and my two-parter on when werewolves became associated with insanity (Part 1 and Part 2 are here). You can also read a whole lot more about that topic and my arguments regarding it in my thesis, which was on werewolves, and can be found here on Amazon.com (hardback coming soon!).

However, I have never really delved in detail into a few of the actual medical treatises written during the Renaissance/Early Modern Period - in other words, primary sources - of which we have several. In this post, I will cover a few, but not all. I'm also going to make mention of a few more modern ones in regard to clinical lycanthropy, but let's start with older first...

First of all, there was a lot of discussion of "melancholy" in the 1500s in regard to werewolves. This was even referenced in the play The Duchess of Malfi (and I actually have an academic article dedicated to the discussion of the lines involving werewolves in said play). This is, of course, related to the ancient Greek theory of humors, in which the composition of the human body and health required the balance of four humors: black bile (earth), blood (air), choler (fire), and phlegm (water), each related to one of the classic elements.

Throughout the Renaissance, "wolf-madness" was attributed to a case of melancholy, or an excess of black bile. There are many examples of this. And, of course, there are also many attributions to Satan... which was not a thing at all before this time period, as before this, werewolves were even sometimes associated with Christianity (see: werewolves of Ossory, among others).

An oft-referenced source in both werewolf studies at large as well as my own works is "Admirable and Memorable Histories" by I. Goulart, from around 1607 and translated from French by Ed Grimeston; I use this source from my book A Lycanthropy Reader by Charlotte F. Otten. Please note that the language of the piece is dated, so it will read funny to modern audiences.

Goulart discusses "Licanthropes and mad-men, the which wee will consider of two sorts," not necessarily equating those suffering from "lycanthropy" as mad-men, but as those "in whom the melancholike humor doth so rule, as they imagine themselves to be transformed into Wolves." He refers to them as "counterfet Wolves" and discusses how they "runne into Church-yardes, and about graves," something not uncommonly seen in the newfangled werewolf sources of the 1600s onward but not commonplace in werewolf legends of previous time periods.

Goulart also discusses men "tormented with an evill spirit, that at a certaine season of the yeare, hee imagined himselfe to bee a ravening Wolfe," and references other elements seen only in the later werewolf trials as opposed to previous werewolf legends. I also can't help but wonder if the "certain season" element is something Curt Siodmak saw and carried over into the original werewolf in The Wolf Man turning during a particular season (when wolfsbane blooms in autumn)...

Anyway, another of Goulart's sources is Job Fincel in 1541, who describes werewolves in ways we see around a lot when googling and finding garbage on the internet but not so much in legends previously, such as how those afflicted with the "disease" of believing themselves to become a wolf (but not actually turning into one) "are pale, their eyes are hollow, and they see ill, their tongue is drye, they are much altered, and are without much spittle in the mouth." This is consistent with particular illnesses rather than anything seen in werewolf legends, as these are not the people who truly become wolves, only those who believe that they do - and Goulart was still drawing lines between those with hallucinations, those who actually change shape, and those who are werewolves by other means. For example, Goulart also discusses the idea of people whose souls fly from their own bodies and enter into the forms of wolves instead.

There are other examples that discuss these same topics, of course, including but not at all limited to "Diseases of the Mind" by Robert Burton and "A Treatise" by Robert Bayfield, both of which are also featured in A Lycanthropy Reader, and there are plenty of others in assorted other werewolf studies publications.

Now, in addition to these older examples, we also have much more recent medical studies regarding what is known in modernity as "clinical lycanthropy."

Here's a fun fact: the term "lycanthropy" wasn't ever used in antiquity to refer to werewolf legends. It was created by the medical profession in the 1500s to refer specifically to a form of madness, not shapeshifting. It referred to what was recognized as a mental illness that they called lycanthropy: someone believing that they turned into a wolf, not to someone actually turning into a wolf (as in, not referring to the legends in which this happened).

Today, we call this "clinical lycanthropy," because the term "lycanthropy" was basically taken by werewolf media and werewolf studies and retroactively applied to werewolf legends. But the term "lycanthropy" was never actually used in said legends.

The term "lycanthropy" to refer to a "werewolf disease" is just another way in which medical studies and Renaissance writings turned werewolf legends into a "werewolf disease" instead of a magical curse, as it always used to be.

Now, of course, the medical world doesn't really recognize "clinical lycanthropy" anymore. It's considered to be a part of other mental conditions, the result of drug-induced hallucinations, or something entirely different. Several cases were attributed to schizophrenia instead, for example. So the term "clinical lycanthropy" in itself is all but outdated.

I won't be including or directly quoting from the case reports from the 1970s in this discussion, as this post is already enormous and, frankly, the case reports are not things that could be easily discussed in today's environment, as the language in the reports would certainly be considered offensive today, and that's not something I want to navigate. So I won't get into all that. They're out there if you want to read them, but I won't bother breaking them down here.

There are also certainly other examples of medical history relating to werewolves and werewolf legends, but I'll save all that for the werewolf facts book or another publication of mine!

Medical treatises are just another example from the Renaissance (and for quite a while after, into at least the 1800s and even early 1900s) of trying to rationalize and find "scientific explanations" for all manner of folklore and mythology. This also resulted in a considerable amount of condemnation for those who still believed in this sort of thing, as well as those who believed themselves to be experiencing it. As mentioned in some of my other werewolf facts, this didn't always include punishment (many victims of clinical lycanthropy at the time were actually well taken care of), but it did include things like being locked away from society for being declared insane. And, of course, if the victim in question was not a victim but a perpetrator, then it would result in a trial and punishment - and often execution. However, this was much more likely to happen to witches rather than werewolves. Just another way in which the trial of Peter Stubbe were very obviously witch/sorcerer trials and had nothing to do with werewolves at all.

Now, of course, you'll also recognize that a lot of the things you see in the treatises I used as examples don't follow up with many or even any werewolf legends you're very familiar with. Things were getting a bit weird at this point in history in regard to folklore and the like, and the reaching for rationalizing something like a person turning into a wolf or wolf-monster of any sort certainly resulted in some wild connections.

While this is far from the werewolf legends that personally fascinate me most, they are an important part of werewolf studies - hugely so. In fact, they're often discussed more than almost anything else, because unfortunately werewolf scholars are overly obsessed with later time periods that I personally find less fun and interesting than the Middle Ages and ancient times. But, hey, I love all of it.

Until next time!

And remember, if you want to vote on the next werewolf or vampire or other folklore fact, be sure to check out my Patreon. Thanks for reading!

( If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to follow me here and check out my other stuff!

Patreon — Personal Website (new and improved! Great starting point!)  — Wulfgard — Werewolf Fact Masterlist — Twitter — Vampire Fact Masterlist )

[megraen]

So, for the last three weeks, I have been dealing with a persistent cough that has only been getting worse.

It has been causing me to almost collapse because the fits are so bad and I’m been coughing up phlegm.

As it hasn’t been easing up, I decided to go to the doctors. My regular one wasn’t available, so I instead saw one I never encountered before.

I hated him.

He dismissed all my symptoms, telling me that I clearly just had a sore throat, when in fact, my throat is fine. He also lectured me on ‘wasting his time’ over a ‘simple cough’. He read my medical records in front of me and told me that they were incorrect, such as my previous period symptoms that’s were so bad I had to get a hysterectomy. He also had the gall to say I wasn’t anemic, and that anemia doesn’t cause fainting.

This man was so rude and clearly didn’t give a fuck about his role as a doctor.

[squalodinoappreciationsquad]

Anyway, Dino with the Customer Service voice now lives rent-free in my head.

Have a ficlet.

A/N: in my hc Dino is from Rimini. Squalo is from Bassano del Grappa.

It's the peak of summer. It's hot, it's humid and Rimini is swamped with tourists and in general people who are looking for fun.

And Dino - oh joy of all joys, he thinks sarcastically - has just finished his shift at the restaurant and has rushed immediately to an urgent meeting the Vongola family has called.

Not even the time to unwind and decompress.

Dino reminds himselff that he actively chose this, even after he paid off the debts, so there is really nothing he should complain about.

And yet.

The conference includes also several allies, including the Varia, and when he arrives he falls on the floor, barely missing the table corner, and then proceeds in standing up and slouch down on the nearest chair.

Romario will have to come and pick him up with a spoon, figuratively speaking.

Anyway, this conference appears to be about how to resolve some feud Tsuna, or his guardians, or whoever seems to have started due to a typical lack of tact that comes with being a teenager and also being raised by Reborn, and somehow Xanxus is finding a way to just throw verbal jabs at everyone.

And Dino is tired.

It has been a long period, he has done nothing but run on his feet for three consecutive weeks, he has had to deal with entitled Karens, he has had to deal with angry boyfriends throwing at him death glares because he dared asking what would they like to order to their other halves.

He has had to deal with screaming children and feral parents, sand and sea water and those coming back from a whole night of dancing and clubbing.

And he wants to be the nice guy, really, but at the umpteenth "Why is this my fault?" and "Can we not try to kill each other?" he has had enough.

It is by that time that everyone turns to him for an opinion, expecting him to be reasonable.

He takes a deep breath and with a phlegm that would make a stoic boil with rage he snaps.

"Would you like me to be fully honest?"

Everyone nods. Dino puts on a fake smile and speaks calmly.

"Well, you all have the patience of a feral raccoon, can't breathe the same air as each other for five minutes and it definitely shows, but I am certainly not here to judge you."

Everyone looks at him. "Come again?" Someone says and Dino keeps talking.

"Tsuna, you are like a little brother to me and I love you, but this whole debacle could have been an email and it would have had more effectiveness than whatever that was. And Xanxus, what you call 'confidence' is just a more evolved way of saying that you want to murder people and we know that it is your favourite way to deal with situations. Unfortunately you both have the same way of dealing with stuff as a dumpster fire and it shows, so now we have to find a good solution."

By then Squalo has gone right next to Dino showing the calm and serene expression of a man about to commit manslaughter and shouts: "VOOOOIIII CAVALLONE do you want to DIE??? THAT'S HOW YOU DIE YOU DUMBASS!"

But Dino does not relent. His tone is now unrecognizable, it's as if all humanity has just been sucked away from his body. "Now that we have established that, we have only one option. We apologize and try making amends, hoping that the other party will be willing to accept. Possibly sending someone who actually knows the meaning of 'diplomacy', unlike the ninety-percent of the people in this room."

Reborn is smirking from underneath his fedora, clearly he taught Dino well the art of morally destroying people's egos, but also Reborn is not really aware that Dino also works at a restaurant and he has to deal with people all the time and by the time he is there he becomes as patient as a trap.

Unfortunately Xanxus is about to murder Dino and Tsuna is about to go into hyperventilation and Squalo is forced to remove Dino from the room with Lussuria's help before the situation degenerates further.

Once outside Squalo points his sword at Dino, whilst Lussuria acts as a mediator of sort.

"VOOOI, do you want to DIE??? Because I can help you with that, RIGHT NOW!!!"

"Oh, I am certain you can and you will, Squalo, but am I wrong? Am. I. Wrong."

"You just called everyone a bitch about that whole fiasco, you fucking idiot!"

"How d-"

And then Dino realizes. With next to no time to decompress and unwind he has not switched off his Customer Service Inner Voice.

The bitchy voice he usually has for dealing with the requests of the particularly annoying customers at the restaurant.

"Oh no."

"Yes, Dino, and now you are going to be MURDERED by Xanxus."

"I am sorry?"

"Not. Fucking. Working. This time."

And Lussuria tries interjecting. "Aw, come on Squ-chan. He is not technically wrong."

Dino smiles sheepishly. "Maybe we can find a solution?"

Well, judging by the exasperated scream Squalo lets out, that is DEFINITELY NOT the right answer.

[sanguinaryrot]

I believe we’re entering into one of the two famous periods of the year when i feel like im doing Good. I’ve read that if you rate moods from 0 (suicidal depression) to 10 (psychotic mania) most bipolar people don’t actually live their nonepisodic lives at a 5 (euthymia, neither depressed or manic). Most live at a 3-4 (kind of depressed) or 6-7 (kind of hypomanic). I’m the type who exists largely as a 3-4 most of my life but like once or twice a year for a few weeks i enter an episode of 5ish bliss. Either im feeling the euphoria of not being plastered with phlegm or my mood is reaching that balance at which i am generally happy with my life

[patricia-von-arundel]

I have an ask I'm genuinely curious about and that you might also be able to speak to, given your other recent asks! I noticed in FE3H, in one of her support conversations, Hilda mentions metal allergies in the context of making jewelries. But.... I don't think allergies were known about at that time period? I'm curious how much this is an anachronism, if at all. Also can you even tell (as a person with a medieval history background) from context if there's a certain time or period that FE3H is trying to base itself in?

A lot of medical history is characterized by "well, they knew... but also they didn't." Basically: cause and effect, yes. Why something was cause, or something produced an effect, often not so much. Modern understanding of "allergies" only dates back to the mid-19th century, when it became more possible to use scientific advances to get a much more detailed idea of what and why. As far back as Ancient Egypt, and certainly documented extensively in Greek and Roman treatises, people knew that someone might have a negative reaction to something (whether it be a certain weather, foods, etc.), but not precisely why. Asthma and what we now call "hay fever," in particular, were well known (likely because they produced a clear pattern both of symptoms and causes, and didn't as often outright kill someone, like, say, am extreme allergy to foods or insect stings might). These things got worse in spring, plants are blooming in spring, there's something about plants causing this. But it wasn't until the 1800s that "pollen" could be truly tested as (one of) the culprit. You see the same in other areas of pre-modern medicine - things like "eating more red meat when showing weakness and easy bruising, because these are signs that your sanguine humor is out of balance." And it worked, because if those things were actually a sign of iron deficiency, and red meats are rich in iron, the effect was the same whether credit was given to vitamins or humors in balance: the symptoms got better.

Sooooo... I would assume an allergy to metal would certainly be recognized, because it would not have been fatal. I have a latex allergy - even if I didn't know that was what was causing it, I'd be able to see that if I slap a Bandaid on my arm and leave it too long, there are unfortunate results. 🤣 So if someone had an allergy to, say, copper or iron, they might not refer to it as an allergy, but they would be able to recognize "wearing jewelry of this make = a bad time," and avoid it. So: knowing you have to be careful with jewelry? Oh, yeah! Calling it an allergy? Less likely, but I also understand not throwing at a casual audience "ah, yes, copper is clearly causing the phlegm to collect in your wrists, and you can only rebalance it with liberal application of aloe leaves boiled in mare's urine under the new moon in April" (where the actual effect was entirely down to the aloe, and, uh... horse pee should be optional). It's anachronistic to be certain of why it was happening, but not to know such things happened to some people and how to avoid them (plus the horse pee). I'll let them have that one, especially since it means there isn't a monastery activity of "collect pegasus urine and boil it with blood collected from Sylvain's skull after Ingrid finally bashes it in." 😅

As for the time period - it says it right in the game! I'm almost certain the 1100s was quite deliberately chosen for a number of reasons.

1. It was the High Middle Ages - when you ask someone about "Middle Ages," and what they think happened then, all the common answers (kings and knights, ecclesiastical law, Crusades, heresy, wars on massive scale both time-wise and place-wise, even stuff like Ivanhoe and Robin Hood and Joan of Arc and all that fun stuff) are in the High Middle Ages (roughly 1000-1300 AD). (Well, okay, Joan was a bit later, but not much. Also, it's worth remembering that "Middle Ages" did not mean uniform developments even within Western Europe - Italy was already running like hell towards the Renaissance while some extremes of the North were still crossing their arms and closing their eyes and refusing to leave their pagan religions behind until people convinced them that they could still have trees and eggs and shit, just now for Jesus!) So - "medieval," someone says? They probably mean 1100-ish, whether they know it or not.

2. That period also matches pretty neatly with the major powers that existed in Europe (and a bit beyond) at that time. Without going into detail of every mentioned land in 3H, if we just consider Adrestia, Faerghus, Leicester, and Garreg Mach, we can still find parallels. (Not always geographically, but definitely culturally.)

(And I'll say here that this is my interpretation only. I've seen others mention differences here, and I respect that too! Unless we're told, any speculation has validity. I'm also basing this on the period I studied in the most depth, including for my dissertation: the twelfth century. 1100s for me and for Three Houses!)

(I studied Peter Abelard. He and Edelgard would either get along beautifully, or she'd bash his head in before the day was out. But he definitely knew a thing or two about being declared a heretic and excommunicated. And teachers sleeping with students. Er... anyway...)

Garreg Mach is clearly the Papal States, what remained of the Western Roman Empire. I don't think anyone would argue with that.

Adrestia is almost certainly the Holy Roman Empire, and particularly the Empire under Henry IV and Henry V. The twelfth century was all about conflict over ecclesiastical versus royal law, and what was called the investiture controversy: does the church allow kings, or do the kings allow the church? What happens when an emperor and the papacy are in conflict? This pops up again and again during this time, but the particular parallels between the HRE and Adrestia become very clear when considering the reign of Henry V, who, from 1098 until his father's death, co-ruled the Holy Roman Empire. Sound familiar, if on a truncated scale? (Also, without going into great detail, there was already conflict between the papacy and the empire over which was truly "the Inheritance of Rome.") Henry V ultimately sided against his father and forced him off the throne (again, sound familiar to the way Adrestia is presented in any route except Crimson Flower?)... and then took the pope hostage (I assume I don't even need to say it again 🤣).

Without going into aaaaaaall the complicated shit that went down during the cage match between Henry and the popes, let's consider another fly in the ointment of Fódlan, and of Europe: Matilda.

And this, as you'll see, is why I think Faerghus is based on France and Norman England. Matilda was actually married to Henry V, not Henry IV, but her life has several very interesting parallels to a certain Anselma. (Even the name issue - she was either Maud or Matilda, depending on where and when she was!) Her father was Henry I of England (whose own claim to the throne was a little iffy - he probably had his brother, William Rufus, shot so he could claim both Norman France and England). Again without going into great detail, Henry managed to, amongst his MANY, MANY CHILDREN, only have two who were legitimate. One was William, who was heir presumptive. The other was Matilda, who was shipped off to marry Henry in the HRE.

Then - oops - a ship went down in the English Channel. The White Ship. It had William on it.

Oops again.

Well - now Henry had a problem. But he decided to make it a problem for after he died: he got Matilda back to England and made everyone swear they'd recognize her as the heir. Then he died. Then shit really went down.

Over in France, there was a guy named Stephen, whose mother was Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror. And he had a penis, and therefore would be a better ruler than Matilda, who was also a grandchild of William the Conqueror, but a stinky female one. So Stephen trotted off to England, called himself king, and he and Matilda spent several years having a slap fight, before they agreed that Stephen's heir would be Matilda's son, who became Henry II, and everyone else rolled their eyes and were thankful they could mostly ignore the idiots in charge, as they had already been doing through Celtic, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Danish, and Norman rule, and essentially as most Brits still do to this day.

...And it's almost 9pm and I just realized I should probably have dinner. I'll get into Leicester tomorrow, but I think it's the Byzantine Empire, with Almyra being the near East/nascent Ottoman Empire. Watch this space! I can go into more detail on the others, too, if anyone is interested. Medieval shit is complicated. 😆

[browngurl99]

In the morning, I was shaking, crying sleep-deprived, unable to breath due to phlegm and swelling throat. Then I went to doctor. Somehow my afternoon was much peaceful, thanks to the medicines. And boom! In evening My friend calls me and tells me she's near to my place and our other friend is with her too. Then a surprise meet up at my place. All of this when I'm on my freaking period.

Life huh?

[wisdomrays]

THE SPIRIT and WHAT FOLLOWS: Part 5

Approaches from the Muslim World

Now, let us see how Muslim sages and scholars have approached the matter of spirit.

We do not have exact knowledge about how God informed the previous Prophets of the identity of the spirit. However, the Qur'an contains a specific declaration concerning it: They ask you about the spirit. Say: "The spirit is of my Lord's Command" (17: 85). That is, the spirit is a conscious entity that issues from the Realm of Pure Divine Commands or the Realm of the Transcendental Manifestation of Divine Commands.

The earliest Muslim scholars were content with the information given in the Qur'an and avoided going into details concerning the identity of the spirit. The considerations of such Western thinkers as Claude Bernard (1813–1878), Raymond, Spencer, and Hamilton are similar to that declaration from the Qur'an.

The attitudes of the earliest Muslim scholars were free from taking any risks. Just as with the spirit, they did not attempt to make any comments on other allegorical statements of the Qur'an. However, when the legacy of ancient philosophy began to be translated into Arabic and found its way into Muslim minds, "the scholars of later periods"—as they are called in Muslim sources—felt obliged to make explanations and interpretations concerning these statements, including the existence, nature, and functions of the spirit, and what awaits it after the death of its owner in the grave and Hereafter. They tried to correct the wrong concepts that originate from the legacy of ancient philosophy and other trends of thought and religions.

There were differences of views among those Muslim scholars concerning the spirit. A few approached it from the viewpoint of the atomism of Democritus (455–370 BCE), and there were some among them who thought like hylozoists. Some dealt with the matter like modern physiologists, while others discussed the existence of three souls and three varieties of soul, namely the animal (vital or natural) soul, the vegetable soul, and the human soul, seeming to be followers of Aristotle. There were some theologians who thought that the spirit was a fundamental dimension of the human form; while physicians regarded it, like Galen (129–200/216), as the manifestation of the balance of the four elements or fluids—blood, bile, phlegm, and black bile. Yet others considered it to be a "subtle entity" which is related to the body, like the relation of oil to olives, or the rose oil in roses; some avoided making any comparison or explanation and were content with describing it as "a sensitive, perceiving substance."

However, the overwhelming majority of Muslim theologians and Sufis have regarded the spirit as a basic, immaterial substance of human existence and nature, attributing human value to its perfection and stressing that while the body decomposes and rots away after death, the spirit remains alive and awaits the Resurrection, to meet either eternal happiness or punishment after the Resurrection. Thus, they have adopted a unique way, different from that of materialists, spiritualists, monists, and followers of reincarnation.

Except for a few who were influenced by Platonic thought, Muslim scholars believe that the spirit was created in time. But there is a difference of views concerning whether the spirit of every person is created before they come into the world, or whether it is created at the time when life is breathed into the embryo in the mother's womb. This difference of opinion has caused some to argue about whether the Resurrection will be only spiritual or both spiritual and bodily. Despite these differences, all Muslim scholars, philosophers, and Sufis agree on the existence of the spirit, and that it will remain alive after the death of the person by God's Self-Subsistence causing it to subsist.

Despite following different schools of thought in Islam, philosophers and thinkers such as al-Kindi, Ibn Sina, Ibn Bajja, Ibn Rushd, and Nasiru'd-Din at-Tusi, and verifying scholars such as Raghib al-Isfahani, Sadr ash-Shirazi, Abu Zayd ad-Dabusi, Imam al-Haramayn Juwayni, Imam al-Ghazzali, Fakhru'd-Din ar-Razi, Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, Sa'du'd-Din at-Taftazani, Jalalu'd-Din ad-Dawwani, and Imam Sharani unanimously accept that the spirit is the essence of human existence. Now let us examine the ideas of the spirit of the most famous among these thinkers.

Ibn Sina (Avicenna) (980–1037 CE)

Being one of the most famous Muslim philosophers and scientists, Abu 'Ali ibn Sina influenced almost all thinkers and Sufis who came after him. With his great genius, extraordinary love of science, resolution, and endeavor, he understood ancient philosophers well, and he had sufficient knowledge of the thoughts of such philosophers as al-Kindi and al-Farabi. In his works, he quoted from the philosophers of Ionian, Italy, and Elea, and made references to the thoughts of al-Kindi and al-Farabi as well. Therefore, knowing his ideas also means having knowledge of those of these two philosophers.

According to Ibn Sina, life is the result of feeling, motion, and the spirit. All activities related to consciousness and perception originate in the spirit and life. Nevertheless, the continuous and healthy manifestation of life requires the healthy operation of the physical system or mechanism.

Ibn Sina also discusses three souls or three varieties of the soul. They are the vegetable, animal, and human souls. The vegetable soul has two powers: the power of nourishment and the power of growth. There is also another power which he calls "the power of reproduction," which serves the continuation of every species. The animal soul has the powers of motion and perception, or the powers that cause motion and perception. The power of motion has sub-powers of cause and agent. We can describe these as the power that causes something to happen and the power of doing it. The power of cause has two faculties: the faculty of desire, or of attractive and repulsive passions, and the faculty of anger, or of defensive passions. He sees the power of the agent, or the power that performs an action, as the origin of physical movements under the influence of the faculties of desire and anger.

Ibn Sina also mentions certain internal senses in addition to the five external ones. They are the common sense (sensus communis: the mental sense or faculty of general perception), which he calls "bantasya," as well as the powers of supposition, imagination, recollection, and conceptualization. He offers detailed explanations concerning the duties and activities of these senses.

[thebeautyinsideme]

Little health journey

The past few weeks with my health have been absolutely crazy. I started to have a cough about 3 weeks ago and has not gone away. I talked to my doctor about 4 days after it started and they recommended using Mucinex, allergy medication, and nasal spray. They said I had a sinus infection. So, I do that for 6 days and I’m getting worse. I’m coughing out more phlegm and I really wasn’t feeling good to work but I went in anyway. I go to work and I tell my manager I was so close to calling out. My manager sends me home about 2 hours early. I go to the doctor and they said I had a respiratory infection. They gave me steroids and cough medicine. I stayed home for three days after that trying to get enough rest, fluids, etc, and feel okay to go to work. During the weekend I still felt like I wasn’t getting better. I take everything for a week and still nothing helps so I go to the doctor a week and a half later and they give me Amoxicillin. The next day I had a dizzy spell during work and almost pass out, my arms were feeling numb or weird of sorts so they decided to take me to the emergency room. On my way to the emergency room I feel my body getting really tense and during my wait my toe turns purple a few times and I freak out. I was in the emergency room for about 8 hours. During that time they gave me an IV, Nausea medication, a blood and urine sample, covid/rsv/flu swab, and EKG. They did not find anything so they give me medication for the dizziness and medication for nausea. I get out of the hospital and I get my period. I stay home the next day. It’s currently the next day, I’m still getting dizzy spells and feeling tired.  

I am unsure if I am stressing myself out or if this respiratory infection is, or what. But one thing I can say is, I’m over it. 

[darkmaga-returns]

PANDEMIC OF HERNIAS! Caused By COVID-19 Bioweapon & Weaponized Covid Vaccines

Posted on December 21, 2024 by State of the Nation

https://stateofthenation.info/?p=9616

Submitted by The Hernia Coach SOTN Exclusive

Let me first describe my background and experience as a Hernia Coach for context.

I was Board Certified in Integrative Medicine early in my career as a Holistic Health Coach and Wellness Counselor.  I eventually became a Hernia Coach as a result of creating my own holistic hernia remediation program which is described, in part, at the following link.

For over 15 years now I have been conducting holistic hernia remediation coaching sessions and hernia surgery consultations in 24 times zones around the world, 7 days a week.  Therefore, the average and normal incidence of hernias was well documented by my annual caseload.

Then COVID-19 hit in January of 2020 and an epidemic of hernias exploded worldwide.  That pandemic, actually, then exploded again after the various Covid ‘vaccines’ were rolled out in one country after another.

Of course, for anyone who read the preceding hernia coaching session, the reasons for this pandemic are quite obvious.  Some of them are as follows:

• Protracted periods of coughing fits associated with Covid

• Protracted periods of violent sneezing associated with Covid

• Constant clearing of phlegm from the throat

• Forcefully blowing the nose to clear mucus from the nasal cavity and sinuses

• Frequent and often aggressive spitting throughout the period of Covid

These are just a few of the most salient mechanical triggers which can cause a hernia to protrude for the very first time.  Of course, there are several other even more profound causes, co-factors and triggers which comprise the typical pie of causation for inguinal hernias post COVID-19 disease.