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wrathandgreed · 4 years ago

Note

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor!

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably) gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands -

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts.

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from.

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say.

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you.

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger.

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea!

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too.

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict.

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking. Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him.

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked.

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response.

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother.

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet.

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night.

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

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saltyheartcrusade · 3 years ago

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#pinned post #mobile nav

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voyd-is-in-a-portal · 5 years ago

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How to End Up Being an Inventor (In 5 Actions).

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At this onset in the video game, your investment of personal time and money will have been minor compared with what is around the bend. Before the case, you'll need to ask some hard questions about both your concept as well as on your own: Is my idea significantly different than any that precede it? Exists a large market for the product? Can it be developed and made at a reasonable expense? That is the client, and why should they get my product as well as not a competitor's? Am I prepared to devote myself fully to making this concept do well?

Inventors who have been via the process care not to undervalue the psychological and mental determination called for. "If you can't afford mentally and intellectually to fail if your vanity would certainly be wiped out after that don't do it.". see also InventHelp TV Commercial

2. Develop a Model.

With the schedule of powerful computing and computer-assisted layout software application like Autodesk Inventor as well as SolidWorks 3D CAD, inventors today live in what Kamen describes as "the utmost sweet-shop." The earliest versions of Kamen's first invention, a wearable mixture pump that provides specific dosages of medicines such as insulin, sprang to life out a computer system display yet in a workshop set up in the basement of his parents' home on Long Island, N.Y. Kamen was a teenager at the time.

Also when made in a highly exact digital CAD atmosphere, an item ultimately has to leap to the genuine globe in the kind of a model. Depending on the materials entailed and the complexity of an invention, the expense of making a high-quality prototype can empty a financial institution account as well as compel an inventor to look for financing at an extremely early stage.

Tim Leatherman supports taking a DIY technique. During an experimental phase lasting three years, he constructed prototypes of his groundbreaking multitool from cardboard, wood, as well as steel till he picked advanced layout. "By collaborating with my hands," he says, "I found out about barriers to performance as well as manufacturability.".

When you have your prototype, it's time to repair your invention. Obtain outside your head and go-to experts in the field, Fischell suggests. "Ask, 'Do you believe my suggestion has business benefit? Would certainly you utilize it?' Make them authorize a privacy arrangement," he says. For inventors, the possibility of copyright burglary is very actual, but way too much caution can become immobilizing. Privacy, or nondisclosure, the contract permits you to field-test in confidence.

Responses from Mario Salazar's target audience-- woodworkers-- compelled the Colorado Springs inventor to adjust his digital miter gauge. The mechanical prototype he constructed in the cellar with a blowpipe, an oscilloscope, and also a milling maker noticed eBay worked efficiently as well as felt ideal to Salazar, yet the tradespersons wanted it bigger as well as much more inexpensive. "You can't fall for your invention," he states. "Obtain responses and also make alterations accordingly.".

In the agitated company world, a patent protects the inventor by providing the unique right to leave out others from making, making use of, or offering his invention for 20 years. "When other people see you making cash, your patent will be the only methods you have for keeping control of the market," claims Lonnie Johnson, founder of Johnson ElectroMechanical types of equipment as well as the inventor of the Super Soaker water weapon. Follow inventhelp for more advice:

https://www.linkedin.com/company/inventhelp

https://twitter.com/inventhelp

3. Submit a Patent.

Patent law is made complex things, so get an experienced patent lawyer to write and also file your patent application. Anticipate to pay in between $3000 as well as $10,000. "Work with a patent lawyer who additionally has a level in the field you're making an application for a patent in and who understands your market," Salazar encourages.

A knowledgeable lawyer can prepare a wide patent that safeguards an invention against violation from any angle. In the case of Richard Phillips, proprietor of International Survival, his well-crafted patent application made it impossible for anybody to replicate the slim, shock-absorbing material he developed for his protective paintball vest. "My legal representative spread out the patent out thus far over and below my laminated foam product's residential properties that a competitor's vest would certainly have to be so hefty the wearer couldn't walk approximately light that the vest falls apart when struck," Phillips states.

On standard, patent authorization takes 3 years and may call for going back as well as forth several times with patent examiners. From the moment a patent application arrives at the USPTO up until it is either provided or abandoned, an invention is covered by patent-pending standing. In the situation of John Marsden, that created Pour 'N Shop, a bartending system of plastic containers, and also put spouts for beverage mixers, a pending patent amounted to a suit of paper armor.

According to Salazar, any kind of inventor has to be all set to do battle. "I'll have my attorney send out a cease-and-desist letter if somebody infringes on my patent. As well as in the end, a patent is just as great as the thickness of your pocketbook.".

4. Examine the Market.

When the patent application is in total, the inventor needs to change from developing a suggestion of developing a service. Rare is the innovative brilliant behind an invention that likewise has business chops-- or the interest-- to look after the manufacture, advertising, and also selling of his production. Even the brightest innovative minds can drop victim to the countless rip-offs and also doubtful invention-promotion companies whose advertisements clutter the Internet. Many expert inventors urge care with any kind of attire that requests for cash upfront to shop your suggestions about.

Tim Leatherman built up important know-how in business and also production by joining with Steve Berliner. John Marsden, the Pour 'N Store designer, partnered early on with service school grad Ed Harrigan. "If I had not had Ed, I probably would not have made it," he says.

Marketing research studies-- perform your own or appoint a market research company-- will certainly provide you data concerning market patterns and customer demographics. There is no substitute, nevertheless, for putting your invention in front of potential consumers as well as manufacturers, providers, and distributors to get a sense of its market value. For the inventor, this is an anxious time.

Salazar is a big believer in showing your items at trade shows. "You'll figure out who is doing what, whether you'll be able to contend and if somebody wants to get what you have," he claims. "However you're additionally dropping your cabinets and every person will see what you've obtained. Your item had better be 95 percent complete. Be ready to answer concerns: Just how huge is the market? That's mosting likely to buy it?".

5. Sell It or Make It.

Inventors make cash in two means: collecting aristocracies by certifying the right to produce their invention or production, distributing, and marketing the invention themselves. Louis J. Foreman, owner, and also the primary executive of Enventys, an item style as well as a design firm in Charlotte, N.C., and writer of The Independent Inventor's Handbook, has personally encountered that problem several times as the holder of 10 licenses as well as has encouraged many inventors as a lead court on the PBS program Everyday Edisons.

Then it's time to ask yourself one more round of questions: First, exists enough upside potential to merit the threat of bringing the item to market on your own? "Consider opportunity costs also," Foreman says. "If you have to quit a job that pays $100,000, can you make enough to counter that?" Second, do you have the financial resources to pull it off? If you don't, then where is the money most likely to originate from? And lastly, do you have the competence to run an organization? "It's one point to come up with a remarkable item, however, are you comfy marketing it, can you distribute it, restore it as well as satisfy orders if Walmart offers you a 5-million-piece purchase order?" Supervisor claims.

No question licensing is the less complicated path to getting an invention to market. It requires less dedication of time as well as up-front resources and frees inventors to do what they do best: invent. However, expedience comes with an expense. Royalty prices on patents-- created on the list price, production run, as well as various other variables-- average less than 2 to 7 percent of retail sales. Still, for a first-time inventor brief on funds and also know-how, a licensing contract can be the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

#InventHelp #InventHelp phone number #InventHelp address #InventHelp locations #InventHelp twitter #InventHelp linkedin #InventHelp blog

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justaghostingon · 4 years ago

Text

Cogs in a Steel Heart

Chapter 2: Building Trust

Hugo struggles to adjust and Cyrus gets the tea. Aka. Hugo’s got a lot of complaining to do, and Cyrus is having way to much fun watching him struggle at the whole ‘teammates’ thing.

Link to ao3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331849/chapters/59001811#workskin

The next time Hugo came to report to Cyrus, he and his new team had already completed the water trial. Now most people would be a bit more excited after completing an ancient trial that lay incomplete for centuries. Or maybe just twenty years? Cyrus wasn’t paying attention when Donella explained that. Point was, the way Cyrus saw it Hugo should have been happy, or at least proud.

He was not.

“It’s like pulling teeth with these people!” Hugo tugged at his own hair for emphasis. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive!”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as the usually calm and in control Hugo proceeded to have as near to a tantrum as he’d ever gotten, ranting and waving his hands like a madman. It was almost...funny.

“The firecracker keeps interrupting me when I’m working, and posturing about catching me in my ‘evil’ scheme-” And heavens above, Hugo actually made air quotes. Cyrus hadn’t realized he even knew what those were, “-as if I’d ever be stupid enough to make something to defeat them in the middle of their camp, what kind of rookie does he think I am? All he’s really doing is getting underfoot when I am trying to help! I need this to work out too! He’s just...uugh!” He threw his hands in the air with such violence it sent him stumbling backwards into a tree.

Cyrus bit the inside of his lip as Hugo sprang back up to punch the tree and scream at it. Thugs don’t smile on the job, and never let it be said Cyrus was not a professional. But he’d never seen Hugo so completely frazzled by simple human interaction. It was karmic really, considering everything Hugo’s usual interactions with people.

Eventually Hugo’s strength gave out and he leaned his forehead against the tree, looking the picture of defeat. And really, if two kids was all it took to wipe him out, Cyrus should have recommended him for babysitting to his neighbors ages ago. Would be good for him.

Hugo let out a deep sigh as his shoulders sagged. “And then there’s Goggles,” he said as he turns himself around to face Cyrus. “He’s a whole ‘nother problem. Always trying to compare notes, talk about “how my day was,” showing off to the kid...” Hugo crosses his arms across his chest. “And he’s not even that good at it! Like half the things he makes blow up! But when I point out his errors, which could get us blown up mind you, he gets all passive-aggressive and tries to do it his way and like come on! I’m not going to die in an explosion because he’s too stubborn to take the help he obviously needs!” Hugo huffed and turned his head away.

“If they are such a hindrance, why not just take both the totems and complete the trials by yourself?” Cyrus points out. As much as he was loving this, they did have a schedule to keep, and the sooner they were done, the sooner they could both go home. He’d get to see Mona in person again, instead of the picture tucked safely against his heart and her daily letters.

Hugo shifted from foot to look, hugging his arms close. “They might not be completely useless in trials,” Hugo grumbled. Then jumped up. “Not that I don’t do most of the work! like 95 percent really, they couldn't do it without me at all.” He ran his fingers through his hair and refused to meet Cyrus’s eyes.

Oh no. Cyrus knew that look. That’s the ‘I screwed up look.’ But surely it couldn’t be too bad, the trial was complete after all.

“But they might have helped a bit at the end there, especially with the final test,” Hugo finished. “I didn’t see through the enchantment like at all, but Goggles,” Hugo sighed. “He pushed it off like it was nothing and dragged me and Firecracker out all by himself.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Why had he been so upset about that? Donella had told him to infiltrate for a reason. His mind flashed back to the first mission he’d ever had with the kid.

------------------

“What did you do?” Hugo screamed in his face, half soaked and feral as a wild cat.

“My job,” Cyrus replied as he pushed the body out of his way in the rain soaked street.

“You ruined the job!” Hugo threw a hand down towards the body between them. “It took me months to get him to trust me!”

Cyrus crossed his arms. “He was about to kill you.” Kill didn’t quite cut it. Rip in half was more fitting, and much as Cyrus disliked the kid, the scene of the twig-like body struggling against an iron grip as the man’s expression twisted into one of sadistic delight...

“I had it handled!” Hugo snarled. “I could have stopped him in a hundred different ways!” He shoved a finger in Cyrus’s chest. “Now we’ll never know where the supply was coming from, and it's all because of you!”

Cyrus slowly reached out and pushed the fingers down. Hugo’s expression tightened for a second under his grip. “My orders were to ensure that man was not a threat. He was a threat. Therefore, I did my job.” He let go and Hugo instantly jumped back, clutching his hand close to his heart and eyeing Cyrus with fury in his eyes.

------------------

“Hmmm,�� Cyrus mused. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo flinched at the sound. “Did you say thank you?” Cyrus asked.

Hugo’s head snapped up. “What?”

“When someone saves you, normally you’re supposed to say thank you,” Cyrus shrugged. “It’s polite.”

Hugo stared at him, mouth hanging open. “I-I totally forgot about that.”

“Might want to give it a shot,” Cyrus pushed off his own tree and started walking away. “See you next week!”

Behind him Hugo let out a very frustrated groan.

------------------

“And then he goes to the boss, whining about how trigger happy I am. Me!” Cyrus took a sharp swig from his drink, feeling the alcohol burn its way down. “After I saved his life!” He smashed the cup down on the table.

“Hey man, I get it,” Lester gives him a hearty slap on the back. “I served my time with the crazy lady and the brat.”

“He’s something else alright,” Cyrus scowled into his drink. “Like some kind of heartless machine.” He turned to look Lester in his slightly blurry face. “You know his eyes were completely blank when that guy was trying to kill him, it's like he wasn’t even there. Freaky.”

“Maybe the crazy lady made him in the back lab,” Lester jokes. “Explains why he never leaves.”

“Makes sense,” Cyrus’s grip tightened on the handle of his mug. “Robot designed to make thugs miserable.”

“Hey man.” Lester shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “You can always quit like I did.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus took another swig and sighed. “But winter is coming, and Mona and I can’t really afford me outta work right now.”

“That sucks man,” Lester took a sip of his own drink. “Hey!” he slammed the mug down so quickly Cyrus nearly fell out of his seat. “I think I know a guy who can help you!”

Cyrus shook his head as he righted himself on his stool. “You do? What’s his name?”

Lester went cross eyed as he tried to think. “No idea,” he said, and grinned. “But when I do I’ll let you know!”

--------------------

Hugo’s team had barely crossed the border to the next kingdom by the time it came for Hugo’s next report, a fact that Cyrus hoped would mean it was mercifully short. He was wrong.

Hugo seemed in a better mood as he approached, arms loose and swinging. “I’ve got some good news for the report,” he said with a two fingered salute.

Cyrus grunted, and Hugo took that as an opportunity to launch into an elaborate story about him and Firecracker. Apparently Hairstripe, who Cyrus assumed was Goggles and not the donkey, had suggested Hugo and Firecracker go on an errand for “team bonding.” Hugo had added air quotes around the last two words, and heavens was that going to become a thing?

According to Hugo, the whole trip had been an absolute bore, in some nowhere town where the only building of consequence seemed to be the jailhouse, (A jailhouse Cyrus did not remember being there when he’d passed through) which had quickly turned into an unmitigated disaster when some noisy shopper had tried to steal their ingredient from Hugo’s hands.

“Well I wasn’t going to stand for that,” Hugo rolled his eyes. “But the shopkeeper was inhuman, I’m telling you. I couldn’t schmooze anything more than a promise not to sell it until sunset, and then only to the party with the most money by the end of the day.”

“How unfeeling,” Cyrus states dryly.

“I know right?” Hugo huffed as he placed a hand on his chest. “No one can resist my schmoozing!” Where was I? Oh yes. Then Firecracker insisted we work for the extra money.” He spat the word work like it was an insult. “Instead of just scamming some quick cash. I pointed out we couldn’t exactly get a job, and he said we could just sell firecrackers.”

Oh that’s going to make this story confusing Cyrus thought. Firecracker selling Firecrackers, it sounds like a kids rhyme Mona would read to the kids next door.

“Meanwhile our dear commentators were doing absolutely nothing with their time, even as we started getting quite a few customers. So naturally I schmoozed up to them to figure out what was going on,” Hugo flipped his hair dramatically.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Some confidence after it failed you so miserably earlier in the day, he didn’t say.

“But the blind fools were completely unimpressed,” Hugo pouted. “And then they tried to frame me for thievery. Me!”

The sheer look of outrage on Hugo’s face made the corner of Cyrus’s mouth twitch up. So much for schmoozing.

“I escaped, naturally.” Hugo waved his hand in the air. “But Firecracker got caught when they accused him of stealing their fireworks.”

At which point Hugo derailed the story to rant about how he didn’t really want to save the kid, really! But there was no way Hairstripe would let him stay if he didn’t bring him back, so he really didn’t have a choice, blah, blah, blah.

Honestly it sounded more like Hugo was trying to justify it to himself after the first thirty minutes, but who was Cyrus to judge?

“The point is,” Hugo said as he finally stopped ranting, “I went to the jail as the sun was rapidly sinking in the sky, certain we were going to lose. Only to see the jailhouse before me explode into a gazillion pieces as Firecracker came running out the side.”

That explains why I didn’t see the jail house, Cyrus thought, and why there was a burning pile of rubble while I was walking through.

“Firecracker was pretty happy to see me,” Hugo smirked. “Apparently he didn’t think I would actually come back for him. I asked how he managed to blow up the building when the police had taken all his supplies. Turns out exploding moss grows on old brick. Who knew right?”

“Who indeed,” Cyrus said.

“And this,” Hugo raised a single finger. “Is where I succeeded in forwarding my infiltration goal. You see, I proposed a fiendishly clever plan to get revenge on those who robbed us, and get the prize, and you know what? Yong actually listened to me! He totally backed me up when I told them the exploding moss was a rare alchemic ingredient, and didn’t even lose his cool when one of them held a knife to his neck and demanded we tell them how to use it!”

Hugo threw back his head and laughed at the memory. “The look on his face when it exploded in his hands is one I will treasure for years,” he gasped as he wiped away a tear.

“And exploding a rival helps with your infiltration how?” Cyrus crossed his arms.

“I’m building trust,” Hugo waved the question away.

“Blowing people up doesn’t seem like the most trustworthy habit,” Cyrus pointed out. Especially for someone who is trying not to get himself caught by unstable alchemists willing to destroy whole buildings.

“Oh please, the kid blows up everything in his path if he can help it. I’m just speaking his language. Besides,” Hugo’s shoulders straightened. “I can’t keep up the goody-two shoes act twenty-four seven. I’d go mad. But this way, I’m causing problems for them. So they’ll see me as an asset they can exploit and keep me around.”

Assets for exploitation weren’t typically sent on feel-good-get-along missions with teammates, Cyrus didn’t say. No one cares enough to try to make their work life pleasant. He should know. He had worked for Donella for six years. This Hairstripe, or Goggles, or whatever his real name was, seemed to genuinely want Hugo to feel at home, despite his less than stellar introduction.

But there was no sense pointing that out to Hugo, he thought as he watched the boy preen under the weight of his own cleverness. Not when they had a mission to complete. The less Hugo noticed, the less it would hurt when he inevitably had to leave.

#varian and the seven kingdoms #varian and the 7 kingdoms #seven kingdoms au #varian #hugo the human #yong #cyrus

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theadmiringbog · 4 years ago

Photo

Routinely sleeping less than six or seven hours a night demolishes your immune system, more than doubling your risk of cancer. Insufficient sleep is a key lifestyle factor determining whether or not you will develop Alzheimer’s disease. Inadequate sleep—even moderate reductions for just one week—disrupts blood sugar levels so profoundly that you would be classified as pre-diabetic. Short sleeping increases the likelihood of your coronary arteries becoming blocked and brittle, setting you on a path toward cardiovascular disease, stroke, and congestive heart failure. Fitting Charlotte Brontë’s prophetic wisdom that “a ruffled mind makes a restless pillow,” sleep disruption further contributes to all major psychiatric conditions, including depression, anxiety, and suicidality.

Too little sleep swells concentrations of a hormone that makes you feel hungry while suppressing a companion hormone that otherwise signals food satisfaction. Despite being full, you still want to eat more. It’s a proven recipe for weight gain in sleep-deficient adults and children alike.

imagine the birth of your first child.

At the hospital, the doctor enters the room and says, “Congratulations, it’s a healthy baby boy. We’ve completed all of the preliminary tests and everything looks good.” She smiles reassuringly and starts walking toward the door. However, before exiting the room she turns around and says, “There is just one thing. From this moment forth, and for the rest of your child’s entire life, he will repeatedly and routinely lapse into a state of apparent coma. It might even resemble death at times. And while his body lies still his mind will often be filled with stunning, bizarre hallucinations. This state will consume one-third of his life and I have absolutely no idea why he’ll do it, or what it is for. Good luck!”

Sleep enriches a diversity of functions, including our ability to learn, memorize, and make logical decisions and choices. Benevolently servicing our psychological health, sleep recalibrates our emotional brain circuits, allowing us to navigate next-day social and psychological challenges with cool-headed composure.

Dreaming provides a unique suite of benefits to all species fortunate enough to experience it, humans included. Among these gifts are a consoling neurochemical bath that mollifies painful memories and a virtual reality space in which the brain melds past and present knowledge, inspiring creativity.

Most unfortunately, owls are more chronically sleep-deprived, having to wake up with the larks, but not being able to fall asleep until far later in the evening. Owls are thus often forced to burn the proverbial candle at both ends.

Melatonin is the voice of the timing official that says “Runners, on your mark,” and then fires the starting pistol that triggers the race. That timing official (melatonin) governs when the race (sleep) begins, but does not participate in the race. In this analogy, the sprinters themselves are other brain regions and processes that actively generate sleep. Melatonin corrals these sleep-generating regions of the brain to the starting line of bedtime. Melatonin simply provides the official instruction to commence the event of sleep, but does not participate in the sleep race itself.

For every day you are in a different time zone, your suprachiasmatic nucleus can only readjust by about one hour. It therefore took me about eight days to readjust to London time after having been in San Francisco, since London is eight hours ahead of San Francisco.

When shut off from any outside world influences, our natural circadian rhythm is innately longer than one day—about twenty-four hours and fifteen minutes.

Your twenty-four-hour circadian rhythm is the first of the two factors determining wake and sleep. The second is sleep pressure.

At this very moment, a chemical called adenosine is building up in your brain. It will continue to increase in concentration with every waking minute that elapses. The longer you are awake, the more adenosine will accumulate. Think of adenosine as a chemical barometer that continuously registers the amount of elapsed time since you woke up this morning.

Before bed, you diligently set your alarm for 6:00 a.m. Miraculously, however, you woke up at 5:58 a.m., unassisted, right before the alarm. Your brain, it seems, is still capable of logging time with quite remarkable precision while asleep.

REM sleep, in which brain activity was almost identical to that when we are awake, was intimately connected to the experience we call dreaming, and is often described as dream sleep.

The cerebral war between the two is won and lost every ninety minutes, ruled first by NREM sleep, followed by the comeback of REM sleep.

REM sleep ushers you into a preposterous theater wherein you are treated to a bizarre, highly associative carnival of autobiographical themes. When it comes to information processing, think of the wake state principally as reception (experiencing and constantly learning the world around you), NREM sleep as reflection (storing and strengthening those raw ingredients of new facts and skills), and REM sleep as integration (interconnecting these raw ingredients with each other, with all past experiences, and, in doing so, building an ever more accurate model of how the world works, including innovative insights and problem-solving abilities).

We’d be carried to bed, slumbering and unaware, by those older siblings or parents who could stay awake. The reason is not simply that children need more sleep than their older siblings or parents, but also that the circadian rhythm of a young child runs on an earlier schedule. Children therefore become sleepy earlier and wake up earlier than their adult parents. Adolescent teenagers, however, have a different circadian rhythm from their young siblings. During puberty, the timing of the suprachiasmatic nucleus is shifted progressively forward: a change that is common across all adolescents, irrespective of culture or geography. So far forward, in fact, it passes even the timing of their adult parents.

As a nine-year-old, the circadian rhythm would have the child asleep by around nine p.m., driven in part by the rising tide of melatonin at this time in children. By the time that same individual has reached sixteen years of age, their circadian rhythm has undergone a dramatic shift forward in its cycling phase. The rising tide of melatonin, and the instruction of darkness and sleep, is many hours away. As a consequence, the sixteen-year-old will usually have no interest in sleeping at nine p.m. Instead, peak wakefulness is usually still in play at that hour. By the time the parents are getting tired, as their circadian rhythms take a downturn and melatonin release instructs sleep—perhaps around ten or eleven p.m., their teenager can still be wide awake. A few more hours must pass before the circadian rhythm of a teenage brain begins to shut down alertness and allow for easy, sound sleep to begin.

If this remains perplexing to parents, a different way to frame and perhaps appreciate the mismatch is this: asking your teenage son or daughter to go to bed and fall asleep at ten p.m. is the circadian equivalent of asking you, their parent, to go to sleep at seven or eight p.m.

Furthermore, asking that same teenager to wake up at seven the next morning and function with intellect, grace, and good mood is the equivalent of asking you, their parent, to do the same at four or five a.m.

There was once an education policy in the US known as “No child left behind.” Based on scientific evidence, a new policy has rightly been suggested by my colleague Dr. Mary Carskadon: “No child needs caffeine.”

As you enter your fourth decade of life, there is a palpable reduction in the electrical quantity and quality of that deep NREM sleep. You obtain fewer hours of deep sleep, and those deep NREM brainwaves become smaller, less powerful, and fewer in number. Passing into your mid- and late forties, age will have stripped you of 60 to 70 percent of the deep sleep you were enjoying as a young teenager. By the time you reach seventy years old, you will have lost 80 to 90 percent of your youthful deep sleep.

The older we get, the more frequently we wake up throughout the night. There are many causes, including interacting medications and diseases, but chief among them is a weakened bladder. Older adults therefore visit the bathroom more frequently at night. Reducing fluid intake in the mid- and late evening can help, but it is not a cure-all. Due

... sleep efficiency, defined as the percent of time you were asleep while in bed. If you spent eight hours in bed, and slept for all eight of those hours, your sleep efficiency would be 100 percent. If you slept just four of those eight hours, your sleep efficiency would be 50 percent. As healthy teenagers, we enjoyed a sleep efficiency of about 95 percent. As a reference anchor, most sleep doctors consider good-quality sleep to involve a sleep efficiency of 90 percent or above. By the time we reach our eighties, sleep efficiency has often dropped below 70 or 80 percent; 70 to 80 percent may sound reasonable until you realize that, within an eight-hour period in bed, it means you will spend as much as one to one and a half hours awake.

In sharp contrast to adolescents, seniors commonly experience a regression in sleep timing, leading to earlier and earlier bedtimes. The cause is an earlier evening release and peak of melatonin as we get older, instructing an earlier start time for sleep. Restaurants in retirement communities have long known of this age-related shift in bedtime preference, epitomized (and accommodated) by the “early-bird special.”

But what seems like an innocent doze has a damaging consequence. The early-evening snooze will jettison precious sleep pressure, clearing away the sleepiness power of adenosine that had been steadily building throughout the day. Several hours later, when that older individual gets into bed and tries to fall asleep, they may not have enough sleep pressure to fall asleep quickly, or stay asleep as easily.

Older adults who want to shift their bedtimes to a later hour should get bright-light exposure in the late-afternoon hours. I am not, however, suggesting that older adults stop exercising in the morning. Exercise can help solidify good sleep, especially in the elderly. Instead, I advise two modifications for seniors. First, wear sunglasses during morning exercise outdoors. This will reduce the influence of morning light being sent to your suprachiasmatic clock that would otherwise keep you on an early-to-rise schedule. Second, go back outside in the late afternoon for sunlight exposure, but this time do not wear sunglasses. Make sure to wear sun protection of some sort, such as a hat, but leave the sunglasses at home. Plentiful later-afternoon daylight will help delay the evening release of melatonin, helping push the timing of sleep to a later hour. Older

AMAZING BREAKTHROUGH! Scientists have discovered a revolutionary new treatment that makes you live longer. It enhances your memory and makes you more creative. It makes you look more attractive. It keeps you slim and lowers food cravings. It protects you from cancer and dementia. It wards off colds and the flu. It lowers your risk of heart attacks and stroke, not to mention diabetes. You’ll even feel happier, less depressed, and less anxious. Are you interested?

Sleep is the universal health care provider: whatever the physical or mental ailment, sleep has a prescription it can dispense.

Sleep before learning refreshes our ability to initially make new memories. It does so each and every night. While we are awake, the brain is constantly acquiring and absorbing novel information (intentionally or otherwise).

The second benefit of sleep for memory comes after learning, one that effectively clicks the “save” button on those newly created files. In doing so, sleep protects newly acquired information, affording immunity against forgetting: an operation called consolidation.

We had observed a real-estate transaction that takes place each night when we sleep. Fitting the notion of a long-wave radio signal that carries information across large geographical distances, the slow brainwaves of deep NREM had served as a courier service, transporting memory packets from a temporary storage hold (hippocampus) to a more secure, permanent home (the cortex). In doing so, sleep had helped future-proof those memories.

your brain will continue to improve skill memories in the absence of any further practice. It is really quite magical. Yet, that delayed, “offline” learning occurs exclusively across a period of sleep, and not across equivalent time periods spent awake, regardless of whether the time awake or time asleep comes first. Practice does not make perfect. It is practice, followed by a night of sleep, that leads to perfection.

The 100-meter sprint superstar Usain Bolt has, on many occasions, taken naps in the hours before breaking the world record, and before Olympic finals in which he won gold. Our own studies support his wisdom: daytime naps that contain sufficient numbers of sleep spindles also offer significant motor skill memory improvement, together with a restoring benefit on perceived energy and reduced muscle fatigue.

A final benefit of sleep for memory is arguably the most remarkable of all: creativity. Sleep provides a nighttime theater in which your brain

a momentary lapse in concentration, called a microsleep.

chronically sleep restricted, defined as getting less than seven hours of sleep a night on a routine basis.

During a microsleep, your brain becomes blind to the outside world for a brief moment—and not just the visual domain, but in all channels of perception. Most of the time you have no awareness of the event. More problematic is that your decisive control of motor actions, such as those necessary for operating a steering wheel or a brake pedal, will momentarily cease. As a result, you don’t need to fall asleep for ten to fifteen seconds to die while driving. Two seconds will do it. A two-second microsleep at 30 mph with a modest angle of drift can result in your vehicle transitioning entirely from one lane to the next. This includes into oncoming traffic. Should this happen

Don’t take naps after 3 p.m.

Sleep experts recommend that, if you have problems falling asleep, you should get an hour of exposure to morning sunlight and turn down the lights before bedtime.

#Why We Sleep #books

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kpop-pick-me-up · 6 years ago

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To anyone struggling with any eating problems or disorder, questioning, suspects someone else may have one, or knows nothing real about them please read this.

This might take some up some space and be a bit all over the place, but I’m not in a good place right now. And I don’t care if you read it or not, but I need somewhere to talk about this and to record my progress and set backs. This also may be triggering to some so if you’re sensitive to this topic please don’t read.

It all started when I wanted to lose some weight, because I hated myself and thought it would help me with depression. I was 14 and 187 lbs. I saw no problems with anyone else being the same weight, or weighing more than that. Just me.

So during the summer before 9th grade, I started to diet. It all started out well and good, and I ate how I thought was healthy. I didn’t eat breakfast, for lunch at 12:30 I ate cashews and for dinner I had rice and veggies. Thankfully I didn’t know how to count calories properly yet because I thought I was eating the set 600-700 calories a dayi said I could have, but I was actually eating close to 1400 Cals a day, because I had misread information I found online. I was exercising from 8:00am-12:10pm every week day and didn’t know nor care about form or proper care. I started seeing a therapist but I could never talk to her and when I did I simply lied.

When 9th grade hit I was 20lbs lighter but I couldn’t see it, and I still don’t. People told me I had lost, but I didn’t believe them. I stopped eating real lunches at school and blamed it on my anxiety about eating in front of people (which was partially to blame) and only ate a little bit so my stomach wouldn’t growl. I would eat it so quickly people started asking if I was even eating at school. But no body knew I had an eating problem, not even myself. And nobody bothered to ask. I still exercised for 1-2 hours and panicked and felt depressed if I didn’t. But I still wasn’t skinny. I counted calories like a beast and measured everything, to the point where it didn’t matter what was in my food all that mattered was how many calories I ate. I was obsessed with it. If I went over 1400-1500 calories I had failed and would hate myself till the next day. I had gotten into cooking and bakin at this time so I was finally understanding how everything really worked and I hated it. I also became a vegetarian and changed my eating habits again.

Anything anyone said to me stuck to me like glue. Even if it was a harmless joke or a jab between friends. I’m not saying it was their fault because it wasn’t, they simply just didn’t know. But here’s some examples of things people have said to me throughout my life that I will never say to anyone else. No matter how harmless they seemed

“You ate that so fast you’re such a pig *laughs*”

“I need to go the gym and do REAL work. Non of that useless at-home crap.”

“You has such chubby cheeks a few years ago”

“You were so round in pictures when you were younger”

“You’re fat”

“Your father was on the phone with me and he called you fat”

10th grade started and after a summer of “dieting” and exercise I lost another 10 lbs so was down to 150. For once since I had started I felt a little bit of happiness about my progress even if I didn’t see it. But it was short lived.

I fell into a really bad depression throughout 10th grade and started turning towards music to help. This was the time I started cutting back on food even more, I’d skip one meal and eat only two. But this caused my disorder to evolve. When I was with other people like friends or family I had begun to eat so much like I was binging out because I was subconsciously scared they would find out about me skipping meals. If I ate a lot in their presence they would never know right? After those binging sessions I’d feel so guilty. I would eat even less then before in hopes to make up for my mistakes. I can still tell you what some of my worst binge sessions were, what I ate and how much because I STILL feel guilty.

Having an unidentified eating disorder, anxiety, and depression was like living in a war zone. The depression encourages self hatred and suicidal thoughts, but brought lethargy and the inability to focus on any work that was put in front of me. I was always so, so tired. The anxiety triggered more depression by making me fear the worst for my future, my health and everything that was going on. It told me that if I starved myself I’d gain weight, and that I needed to eat more or else my family would find out. But my UED (unidentified eating disorder) told all of that to shut up, and to get up and exercise more and eat less.

I began to prioritize my weight loss and exercise over everything else. Family visits, going out with friends, and school. My grades dropped a little bit in classes I wasn’t naturally good in, and I quit piano. Something I have been doing since I was 5 years old. But still nobody asked if I was okay. All they cared about was my decisions and judged me for them without asking “why”. And I don’t blame them because I was still chubby, bubbly and acted fine.

I got snappy with family and I grew distant from my mother and friends and argued with my mother 95% of the time. I’d only see my friends once a month if that and only left the house for walks or grocery shopping with my mom occasionally. My mom and I had a huge fight (and this was when I quit piano) and I stopped going to therapy. I hadn’t been in months anyway, I told my mom it was okay and I didn’t need it but I did. I was just too embarrassed to say so.

That spring I finally worked up the courage through listening to music and watching a video about a particular person who I had been looking up to, (more about this person in another post if you’d like) to finally tell my sister and one of my best friends about my problems, through text messages. I was so scared but they supported me and it felt strange. I wasn’t completely relieved, but it was a little better.

This summer-with the help of the musicians I was listening to- I told someone about this for the first time face-to-face. It took me 20 minutes to get the first word out I was feeling so many things. I was scared, ashamed, frustrated, and exhausted. So I sat there with my mouth hanging open only letting out unintelligible sounds as “words” because I couldn’t form them. For 20 minutes. But she just sat there patiently and told me it was okay. So I told her.

I was going to tell the rest of my family but I kept chickening out and things kept getting in the way. But it was summer, and I wasn’t going to let this ruin that for me. Then the opposite of what I wanted to happen happened, I hit a very bad low.

I was staying at my sisters house and this was basically my only “vacation” for the summer. So I let my binge eating control me. I ate whatever I wanted whenever and even if I didn’t want it I forced myself to eat because I wanted my sister to think I was okay. But I hated how I felt. I had been eating healthy foods for so long and exercising regularly that this was making me feel sick, and gross. I hated everything about myself from the way I looked and the way I felt. But I realized how much I enjoyed being healthy, eating right and exercising a little.

So I said to myself that I can get out of this mess on my own because it was getting exhausting. This couldn’t control me like this anymore. So I made a deal with my friend to eat healthy regularly and I was off. I promised her I would stay on track and not over exercise anymore.

The guilt was still there but it got a little easier to eat something for breakfast and lunch even if it was just pieces of fruit or small snacks. It was a start. A month went by and with some bad days, some good was able to make myself eat full meals regularly. The support from my friend was what got me through this and I knew I could always lean on her. Now the physical part was down, but the mental self-hatred and guilt was still, and is still there. I started to enjoy exercising again and even started learning Kpop dances with my friend as part of my schedule even if I sucked at them. I was having fun, and bonding with a friend. I started feeling a little better about myself. But just like last time, it didn’t last long.

The thoughts were beginning to get louder and I still fought to shut them out. But today, I had to get weighed again for the first time in a year. Only to discover that after all of that hard work, I gained almost 10 lbs.

I acted normal until I got home, I messaged my friend telling her I wasn’t doing okay, and as soon as I was alone I cried. I cried so much because I was frustrated with myself, I cried because I shouldn’t have had that 1-2 cheat day meal(s) we said we could have a month. I cried because my thoughts were coming back like an ambush telling me so many contradicting things. “This is because you starved yourself” “this is because you started eating again” “this wouldn’t have happened if you had just stayed quiet and never told anyone” “you should call someone.” And lastly, I cried because I felt lost and hopeless. I felt as though nothing was working and I would never be able to be normal again. At this point either side of the argument could have one and taken over.

When I calmed down and was able to breathe a sat on the couch an said I deserved to take a break today. A break from the schedule, a break from everything. I remembered what the people I look up to said, I reached out to help myself by writing this post.

I’m going to write updates here, so people like me or people who aren’t sure where their at, or just don’t know what to do anymore can come and try to get better with me. I’m not saying I can cure you because I’m not a professional, but sometimes just knowing you’re not alone and that ordinary people are going through this as well can help you. If you have trouble talking to people about this stuff face to face, my dms are open at all times. You don’t even have to tell me who you are or about yourself. Yo I can be anonymous. Just tell me anything and I’ll listen. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, your story, pictures of your pet I don’t care. I’m on a journey of slow healing right now to help me to love and appreciate myself. And if I can help even just one person by doing updates and getting as real as possible I will keep doing it.

Despite this negative post, if you struggle with any mental health issues at all, body image, stress, or even if you’re just here to help a friend, just know that you are worth it even if you don’t think that about yourself. Think of your friends and family, and about how much you care about them. If you feel like there’s nobody in your life that cares then you’re wrong because I care. If you can’t live and fight this battle for yourself yet, and don’t believe in yourself then it’s 100% okay to fight because something else motivates you until you gain enough strength to truely fight and live for yourself. Fight because you want to go to a concert in the future, fight to see the next album your favorite musician drops, fight because you promised a friend, fight because you have a pet that adores you, fight so you can watch a YouTube video, just find something to fight for even if it’s small or people don’t understand.

I hope this was helpful even if it is terribly written because I’m currently an emotional wreck XD. So sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I’ll probably be making an insta to talk to people on there because I’m quite a noob to tumblr.

Thank you to whoever listened, or if nobody did it doesn’t matter. Because I made a promise to this post that I’ll get better.

~Deepsheep

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magnetloading427 · 3 years ago

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The New Microsoft Edge

Specifically, concerning the new Edge browser. This is a very good browser. It's like Chrome - Redmond based it on the Chromium platform, after all - but it's better. Microsoft has, however, been. Microsoft Edge turns every new tab into a portal for productivity with quick access to Office apps, files, sites and built-in Microsoft Search. Unlocks remote work Use Microsoft Edge across your devices whether at home or work with cross-platform support and profiles that sync.

Microsoft Edge For Win 7 64 Bit

The New Microsoft Edge Review

The New Microsoft Edge 10

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This article describes the release cadence and anticipated release schedule for Microsoft Edge.

Release cadence

Microsoft provides four options, called channels, to manage how often Microsoft Edge is updated with new features. The Microsoft Edge team plans to push public updates to the Beta and Stable channels every six weeks. For more information about our channels, their release cycle, and support levels, see the Channel overview.

Note

Starting with Stable channel version 94, Microsoft Edge is moving to a 4-week major release cycle cadence. However, we recognize that enterprise customers who manage complex environments need more time to plan and test Microsoft Edge updates. To help our enterprise customers who need an extended timeline to manage updates, Microsoft Edge will offer an Extended Stable option aligned to a longer, 8-week major release cycle; this option will only be available for customers with managed environments.

Release schedule

The following table lists the planned release dates for the Beta and Stable channels.

Note

Release dates are approximate and might vary based on build status.

Microsoft Edge releases

The following table only tracks and provides information for major releases in both channels.

VersionRelease statusBeta Channel Release weekStable Channel Release week88Released Version09-Dec-2020 88.0.705.1821-Jan-2021 88.0.705.5089Released Version03-Feb-2021 89.0.774.1804-Mar-2021 89.0.774.4590Released Version16-Mar-2021 90.0.818.8Week of 15-Apr-2021 90.0.818.3991Target releaseWeek of 27-Apr-2021Week of 27-May-202192Target releaseWeek of 08-Jun-2021Week of 22-Jul-202193Target releaseWeek of 03-Aug-2021Week of 02-Sep-202194Target releaseWeek of 01-Sep-2021Week of 23-Sep-202195Target releaseWeek of 28-Sep-2021Week of 21-Oct-202196Target releaseWeek of 26-Oct-2021Week of 18-Nov-202197Target releaseWeek of 30-Nov-2021Week of 06-Jan-2022

Microsoft Edge For Win 7 64 Bit

Release Process

The trigger for Beta and Stable major releases is an equivalent Chromium release.

Progressive rollouts

The date reference (Released/Release week) for the Stable channel references the beginning of the progressive roll out.

We use a progressive rollout model which means that new release availability for any given device could be staggered over upcoming days. For more information, see Progressive rollouts for Microsoft Edge Stable Channel.