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nblenasabrewing · 5 years ago

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Does Lena have PTSD?

This excellent post from @drummergirl231-2 goes into a detailed analysis about Della and the examples showing possible PTSD. I, being who I am, wanted to look at the same for Lena. Full credit goes to them for the idea and format!

According to the DSM-5, in order for a person to be diagnosed with PTSD, they must have a certain number of symptoms from eight categories: Criteria A through H.

For a diagnosis of PTSD, someone needs: to meet Criterion A to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion B to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion C to have at least 2 symptoms from Criterion D to have at least 2 Symptoms from Criterion E to meet Criteria F, G, and H

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional. I do NOT have a degree in anything related to psychology and simply enjoy dissecting the layers of a fictional character. If you feel you fit any of the criteria, please see a professional for a real diagnosis. This isn’t something that can be easily self-diagnosed, and a professional diagnosis would open you to more opportunities for help.

Lena does and doesn’t fit the criteria in general for PTSD. She’s certainly suffered from traumatic events, but the event is more... her entire life. She’s a classic child abuse victim, which makes her more of a candidate for C-PTSD.

Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma disorder) is a psychological disorder that can develop in response to prolonged, repeated experience of interpersonal trauma in a context in which the individual has little or no chance of escape. Being stuck with Magica for fifteen years absolutely contributes to Lena’s current issues. C-PTSD and PTSD share similarities, there are a distinct differences - mainly that PTSD focuses on one event and the effect it has on a person long term, while C-PTSD focuses on years of repeated trauma. However, there’s no approved criterion yet for C-PTSD. So I’m using the PTSD criterion with some added explanation where C-PTSD would be applicable.

Criterion A: The traumatic event

A person must be exposed to one or more events involving threatened or actual death, threatened or actual serious injury, or threatened or actual sexual violation in one of the following ways:

Direct involvement

Witnessing the event happen to someone else

Hearing about it happen to a loved one

Repeatedly hearing details about traumatic events, such as police officers repeatedly hearing stories of abuse

The obvious example here: Lena effectively died. Twice. Following that, she was trapped in a realm where she couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone and she couldn’t touch anything for six months (give or take). Her first interaction with anything since she had been trapped there was smacking the Boggle case in Friendship Hates Magic! And even she’s surprised by that.

In addition, she spent fifteen years with Magica in her shadow, who effectively acted as an abusive parental figure. She’s proven to be an expert in gaslighting, and knows exactly how to manipulate Lena - by hanging the promise of freedom over her head and reminding her repeatedly that people will think she’s a monster if they find out the truth about her.

Criterion B: Intrusive Symptoms

Expected or unexpected reoccurring, involuntary, and intrusive upsetting memories

Repeated nightmares related to the traumatic event

Some form of dissociation, such as flashbacks, where the individual truly feels the traumatic event is happening again

Strong emotional distress when exposed to internal or external triggers associated with the traumatic event

Strong bodily reactions (such as rapid heart rate) when exposed to reminders of the traumatic event.

Nightmares: While we can’t say for absolute sure that Lena has nightmares outside of Magica’s influence via the helmet in NOKH, the fact that no one is surprised by her nightmares does seem to imply that’s she probably had more than she’s letting on. Lena’s biggest fear is turning into Magica, after all - it’s no surprise she would have dreams along that line.

Emotional distress, strong bodily reactions: These really come out in Violet’s library, when Lena gets overwhelmed and tries to hide. The fish-eye view of everyone trying to talk to her while she sees Magica over their shoulders was most likely meant to imply she was having at least the start of a panic attack.

In addition, her reaction to Webby calling her (looking like Magica) a monster was pretty extreme. Again, the dream world setting makes things a bit wobbly, but given everything we know about Lena up to this point, and the fact that she yelled at Magica for saying they’re both monsters, it feels safe to assume she’d be angry and upset and scared if anyone ever called her a monster (again, something Magica constantly used against her.)

Criterion C: Avoidance

An individual with PTSD will frequently avoid reminders of the traumatic event in one of the following ways:

Avoiding thoughts, feelings, or physical sensations that trigger memories of the traumatic event

Avoiding people, places, conversations, activities, objects, or situations that bring up memories of the traumatic event

Whether the nightmares were caused by Magica or not, their effect on Lena is real and pretty easy to see. She sets up an entire sleepover just so the kids can help keep her awake. Avoiding sleep to avoid nightmares is pretty extreme.

She also continues to keep secrets from everyone despite Webby’s constant reassurances that they all care about her and don’t think she’s anything like Magica, because the alternative is having to talk about it or worse, have her fears confirmed.

Criterion D: Negative changes in thoughts and mood

The inability to remember important details of the traumatic event

Persistent and elevated negative thoughts about oneself, others, or the world

Exaggerated self-blame or blame of others for the cause or consequence of the traumatic event

Pervasive negative emotional state (anger, fear, shame, etc.)

Loss of interest in previously enjoyed activities

Feeling isolated or detached from others

Difficulty experiencing positive emotions

Lena’s opinion of herself seems to be pretty low. We only get one episode to really see it, but her fear of turning into Magica and active attempts to avoid such an outcome definitely make it seem like she still considers herself “evil”, and is trying to make up for it. She also readily gives in and says, “I am her”, essentially giving up on herself.

The dream adventures also excellently illustrate how Lena feels “Othered” from everyone else - they get butterfly wings, she gets weird monster wings. She falls behind at Dewey High and is separated from the others. She’s the only one in Louie’s dream, aside from Louie himself, to experience any sort of physical change. Even when she tries to be happy with them, she can’t keep up the facade.

And before all of this there’s the classic example of her being jealous of Violet (under the guise of protecting Webby from being tricked again). She immediately assumes the worst of Violet and follows Webby around telling her not to trust Violet.

Criterion E: Alterations in reactivity that started or worsened after the traumatic event

Irritability or aggressive behavior

Impulsive or self-destructive behavior

Hypervigilance (feeling constantly on-guard, or like danger is lurking around every corner)

Heightened startle response

Problems with concentration

Sleep disturbances, such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, or restless sleep

Lena’s personality in season one was mostly that of the sarcastic, irritating cool teenager who can’t be bothered. Under that, she was an unwilling slave to Magica, and while she did show irritable tendencies toward her, those can be forgiven as “Magica is terrible and provokes her.”

Season two, on the other hand, shows us a much different teenager - one who snaps easily and seems constantly frustrated by her own perceived shortcomings. Those emotions, of course, come out on the other kids (i.e. snapping at Huey and Violet). And while all of that can be attributed to her inability to sleep, which is being driven by Magica, Frank’s already said this isn’t the last we’ll see of Lena’s emotoinal growth and negative feelings.

Criterion F: The above symptoms must last for more than one month.

Obviously time is relative in Ducktales. Given everything that was going on around them, we can assume she’s been home for around a month-ish. Donald left for a month-long cruise two episodes before Lena came back, and everything after that has to have taken place within that month or it would have been way too obvious something was up. And again, Frank has said this is going to come up again. But even while she was still in the Shadow Realm, she was showing signs of trauma.

Criterion G: Distress from symptoms significantly impairs the individual’s ability to function in multiple areas of life (social, occupational, etc.).

While we haven’t seen much of Lena’s daily life, we do know a few things - before returning, she was living in Webby’s shadow, presumably following her around and getting comfortable in her shadow-y life. Violet throws a complete monkey wrench into that comfortable life, and Lena reacts... poorly, to say the least. She initially refuses to take responsibility for the tulpas feeding off her own negative feelings, continuing to project all the reasons she hates herself onto Violet (”She’s a spy, she’s a second-rate me,” etc.).

In NoKH we see that the triplets aren’t quite used to the fun, happy persona Lena tries to project, which immediately gets a frustrated yell and fire flaring up. She’s so worried about trying to be Good that her anxiety bubbles over into her life. She’s also constantly keeping secrets, something that is, unfortunately, normal for her, but not normal overall.

Criterion H: The symptoms are not due to substance abuse, medication side-effects, or another condition.

So the real issue comes in here - while there’s no medication or substance abuse, there is an outside force. Most of what we see of Lena’s symptoms are due to increasing sleep deprivation via Magica’s brainwave helmet. By the time NoKH starts she’s already gone at least several days without sleep, and it’s obvious the dreams are deeply affecting to her, to a point where she arranges an entire sleepover with her friends just to keep from going to sleep. There’s no way to know what she was dreaming about (although I have a few theories), but it almost certainly involved Magica, the main cause of her trauma. And we see how understandably upset she gets when she’s finally face to face with Magica.

In conclusion:

Lena is a complicated character with a lot of different factors playing into who she is, but there’s little doubt that after fifteen years of emotional/psychological abuse, two deaths, and six months trapped in what could almost be summarized as an isolation chamber, that Lena has some serious trauma. And while Magica influenced a lot of NOKH, it should also be noted that Magica, as her abuser, most likely acts as her trigger now. She spends the entire dream sequence running away from Magica, terrified to confront her. And while she has an amazing, empowering moment at the end of the episode, I’m sure this is going to come back up again.

(***All GIFs by me)

#Ducktales #Ducktales 2017 #Lena de Spell #Lena le Strange #long post #Sam's Meta #So much went into this #including making those GIFs #I've been working on this for..... several weeks dear god #please show it some love

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whump-tr0pes · 5 years ago

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Honor Bound 2 - 60

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: isolation, dead family mention, thoughts of death, mention of suicide (to escape torture), panic attack mention, Colleen Stormbeck, gendered slurs, ableist slur, death, death threats

Ellis couldn’t even pace around this fucking cell. They couldn’t move around, couldn’t walk, could barely stand up with their wrists chained to the wall. Alone, for at least a day. Ellis had no idea. They’d kept the lights on the whole time, although Ellis had slept and then been awake long enough that they thought it had to be afternoon. Truly, though, they didn’t know. And they had no way of knowing when, if ever, they’d see anyone ever again.

They’d been left with enough food and water to make it through the day, and had been given one bathroom break. Otherwise they’d been left alone in the cell, with nothing to do. Nothing to think about, but their own horror.

And their rage. Their entire body quivered with a wrenching, burning rage that consumed them. Rage at Colleen, rage at the syndicates, rage at the whole goddamned world. At the twisted fucking system that let the families with the most power and least scruples take over the fucking world. Or whatever was left of it; Ellis had no idea what lay beyond the region they’d lived in their whole life. It was too dangerous to travel for it to be worth it most of the time. There was only running, and hiding. They’d tried to hide with their family, before they’d been taken from Ellis. Before Gavin’s fucking uncle Benjamin took them from Ellis.

That old agony washed over them, the familiar abyss they were constantly one bad day from falling into. Christopher. Galen. Chloe. The ones who still haunted Ellis’s dreams, who still called to Ellis from wherever they were, every day. Maybe they were nowhere. Maybe they were gone forever, and that’s what Ellis would be, once Colleen killed them.

They didn’t understand why Colleen hadn’t killed them already. They figured the others were being held together, what was the point of specifying they be in solitary if Colleen was going to separate them all later anyway? No, they were probably held together. And Ellis couldn’t bear to think about what was happening to them right now.

Maybe she knows I’m the one who loses my fucking shit when I’m alone, Ellis thought bitterly. Maybe she knows about my family and just fucking assumes I’m the one who lost my fucking mind when I was first alone. Ellis had done more than lost their shit. They’d done things that they couldn’t bear to think about. They’d disappeared down a path that consumed them, one that they traveled for a year before Gray found them—

No. Can’t think about Gray either.

Other than Tori, Ellis had known Gray the longest. Seven years. Tears burned Ellis’s eyes and they let their head fall back against the wall. I was the first one they saved. The first one. Now Gray was halfway across the region, completely unaware that they’d been taken at all. Unless Colleen sent them a message to brag. But no, that wasn’t possible. If Colleen knew where Gray was, she’d have sent people to wreck the north months ago. There was no way Colleen would know where Gray was. Unless one of us tells her under torture.

Ellis’s heart lifted for a moment. She doesn’t even know they’re still alive. She doesn’t know about Edrissa, either. They’re both safe. Colleen wouldn’t even think to ask.

Ellis’s hands curled into fists and they screamed into the cell, just to hear something besides silence. They didn’t fear torture, or punishment. They knew it was probably coming at some point, and their body rebelled against the thought, but their mind was awash with a slippery sort of apathy.

What they really feared was the isolation. Their hands trembled. I’m going to lose my shit. I’m going to be alone until she kills me.

They let their eyes close, their mind drifting from thought to thought. Where in the house am I? How often am I going to be fed? What time is it? How long is it going to take before I start hallucinating? Briefly, they hoped they would hallucinate their family. Honestly, why the fuck not?

They didn’t know where they were in the house, but they did know where they were in relation to the room they’d all been brought to last night. They’d memorized the route, forcing themselves to repeat it over and over and over in their head. Take a left, hallway turns to the right, pass three doors, go through the fourth on the left, go down the steps, first cell on the right. Not too complicated. All they’d have to do to get back to that first room was do it backwards. Not that there was any value in getting to that room, but it was something. It was the only information they had. It had to be important.

Not that they figured escape would happen, either. There was absolutely nothing they could use. They’d been thoroughly searched before being thrown into the cell and chained to the wall. The guards had taken their knife and the shoelaces from their shoes. Can’t have me trying to kill myself, Ellis thought with a vicious stab of hatred. God fucking forbid I escape that way.

But they had to focus on something. Had to… maybe not hope, but wait. Maybe an opportunity would present itself. Maybe it wouldn’t.

All Ellis wanted, all they really wanted, was to be back with their family. They wanted to be back with Finn, back with Isaac… they wanted to see Sam again, with their almost-annoying ray-of-sunshine soul. They could use a little sunshine now. They wanted to be around Tori, around Vera…

A dark cloud settled over their mind as they thought of Gavin. The others trusted him so much, even Isaac and Vera. The two people Ellis thought would never let him in. And yet, they were the ones who protected the family the most. They had more reason than anyone else to be suspicious of Gavin, and they trusted him. A tiny, nagging doubt scratched at the back of their mind. Maybe Gavin planned this whole thing. Maybe he sold us out to his mom. Maybe the whole thing, the whole thing, has been a trick from the beginning.

Their mind went to how Gavin had looked yesterday, bleeding, screaming as that fucking idiot Leo tortured him. Remembered the fucking brokenness on Gavin’s face as he gave away Isaac’s worst fear. There was no one on earth who could fake that. No one who was that dedicated to a lie.

It hadn’t even been Isaac’s worst fear.

Ellis knew Isaac’s worst fear just as well as anyone else in the family. They’d seen it as Isaac had unraveled, fallen apart and then slowly put himself back together again over the past few months. They’d seen the panic attacks, heard about the nightmares. They’d been there as Isaac had begged to the empty air not to be left, sobbing that he could be good. Ellis knew that Isaac’s worst fear was abandonment. And Gavin had somehow kept that to himself, despite the torture. As Leo’s knife had cut into him, he’d somehow found a way to spill Isaac’s secret, with the only other witness standing over him, and spill it in such a way that Leo might not even think about the fact that Gavin was wrong. There was no way Gavin could have done that if he’d betrayed them all. No way in hell. For a dizzying moment, Ellis thought, holy shit. He must care about us so fucking much.

Unless Gavin legitimately didn’t know that waterboarding isn’t technically Isaac’s worst fear. Could Gavin just have completely missed it, both during Isaac’s torture and during his recovery up north?

No. Gavin’s a dumbass, but even he isn’t that stupid. Gavin knew, and Gavin lied. And Gavin had screamed as Isaac was drowned right in front of him. Sobbed like his heart was being torn out.

Ellis let the image slide from their mind.

They weren’t sure how much longer they were left alone; it could have been minutes, or it could have been another hour. The door of the cell opened, and two guards walked in.

Behind them was Colleen, Mommy Dearest herself, queen of Colleen’s Fucking Crazy Castle. She stared down at Ellis with a smug grin spread across her face.

Ellis shot to their feet, grinding their teeth together. Their wrists pulled against the chains. They weren’t going to be able to break them, they’d tried for hours when they’d first been brought in. But in that moment, all they wanted was to tear the chains from the wall and beat Colleen to death with their bare hands.

“Afternoon, Ellis,” Colleen said, her voice twisting sinuously through Ellis’s ears. “How are you faring?”

“Suck my entire asshole, you vicious bitch, come over here and I’ll show you how I’m faring,” Ellis snarled.

Colleen let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Lord, you’re all so feisty! I enjoy this to no end. Such a fire in each of you. It’s like a new advertisement for anger management each time.” She gestured at Ellis. “Shut them up, please.”

Ellis leaned forward, a flush creeping up their neck and over their face. “Fuck you, you flaming piece of shit, I’ll take your whole fucking arm and tear it off your fucking body and shove it up your—”

They growled as a guard slapped his hand over Ellis’s mouth, reaching for the gag that hung around their neck. Ellis twisted their head and bit down hard on the guard’s hand.

The guard yelped and pulled their hand away from Ellis’s mouth. They slapped Ellis across the face with the other. Ellis staggered and lunged forward again, wincing at the pinch of the manacles on their wrists and not giving a single flying fuck. They shrieked as one guard grabbed them by the hair, the other shoving the gag back in their mouth. Both guards stepped away.

The bitten one shook out his hand, glaring at Ellis. “Fucking psycho,” he hissed at them. Ellis raised both hands as far as they could go and flipped the guards off.

Colleen laughed. “I could have warned you against that, Jones. I’d avoid going near any of their mouths. Apparently Vera’s habit of biting has spread to all of them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard muttered, and stepped back against the wall with the other.

Ellis turned their glare on Colleen, wishing her head would burst into flames. I would die for the chance to kill you. Maybe that’s what they were hoping for. Not rescue, but the chance to kill Colleen Stormbeck.

Colleen smirked. “Something I love most about the gag is that…” She took a sauntering step closer. “…you’re left with nothing but your eyes. That’s the only thing you can use to tell me how much you hate me.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. She took another step closer. Just out of range of a kick, or a headbutt. Standing there, calmly, grinning at Ellis with an open posture. If I wasn’t chained up, she wouldn’t be so fucking smug. She’d be fucking dead.

Colleen tilted her head at Ellis. “Do you know why I decided to keep you separated from the others?”

“No, I have no fucking idea. Let’s have a fucking conversation about it,” Ellis mocked through the gag.

Colleen huffed out an amused breath. “Cute.” She licked her lips, as if in anticipation. “I kept you separate from the others because… I can’t even imagine what losing your family for the second time must do to you.”

Ellis’s eyes fell closed for a fraction of a second but they opened them again, throwing a look of pure hate at Colleen. They forced down the tears that welled up in their eyes because there was no way, there was no fucking way they were going to show her how much this hurt. Colleen could burn in hell if she thought she was going to get a reaction from that. It hurts more than anything else in my entire fucking life.

Colleen’s lips quirked up. “Thought so. Although… just being separated from them… is that really just punishment for the one who kidnapped my nephew?”

A trickle of dread rolled down Ellis’s spine. No. No.

Colleen shrugged. “No. I mean… obviously we’re going to put you to work, I can’t just have you wasting away in this cell doing nothing. I have yet to decide what your assignment will be, but I’ll figure something out.” Colleen’s eyes locked on Ellis’s. “Although I won’t bother you much. You won’t see me again until I’ve killed another one.”

The air rushed out of Ellis’s chest like they’d been punched in the gut. Their eyes moved frantically over Colleen’s face, searching desperately for a sign she was lying: a shifting of her eyes, a twitch of her lip, a motion made just a little too quickly. They found nothing. Nothing but a cold, placid stare that betrayed nothing but truth.

Ellis cried out and fell to their knees. Who was it? Was it Isaac? Was it Vera? Did she kill her for killing those guards? Oh, god, oh god no, was it Sam? No… no, god, please no, they’re innocent, they didn’t do a fucking thing to Colleen… Tears streamed down their cheeks as their shoulders heaved with sobs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know which one I killed?” Colleen said, her voice smooth and dripping venom. Ellis looked up at her, their heart beating out of their chest, terrorized with their need to know, and wishing they could drown out Colleen’s voice so they wouldn’t have to hear which one of their team, their family, was lying lifeless somewhere.

Colleen’s face slid into a poisonous smile. She opened her mouth to speak and paused for just a moment. Relishing it. When she spoke, each word fell from her lips like a physical weight.

“Finn Dunham is dead.”

Ellis let out a scream. They sagged forward, gasping desperately around the gag, struggling to draw a breath as they wailed against the floor. They panted as they sobbed, trying to breathe around the tearing in their chest, trying to grasp the words that were echoing through their mind: Finn Dunham is dead. Finn Dunham is dead. Finn Dunham is dead. Finn Dunham is dead. Finn Dunham is dead. Finn Dunham is dead.

NO. FINN’S NOT DEAD. THEY CAN’T BE DEAD. THEY CAN’T BE… NO NO NO NO NO NO.

Colleen smirked and turned to go.

Ellis dragged the gag out of their mouth. “SHOW ME THE FUCKING BODY,” they screamed.

Colleen paused and slowly turned around, her face twisted into an amused half-smile. “Excuse me?”

“SHOW ME THE BODY,” they sobbed. “I don’t… I don’t believe you.” THEY CAN’T BE DEAD, PLEASE, NO, FINN CAN’T BE DEAD.

Colleen scoffed. “When I’ve killed them all, I promise I’ll take you to them. That’ll probably be months from now, but once they’re all dead, I promise, I’ll take you to all of their bodies. You can take one last look before I put a bullet in your head and dump you all into the same grave. How sweet is that? You can all be together then.” Colleen grasped Ellis’s hair and dragged their head upright, her gaze moving over Ellis’s face as they wailed. “But until then,” she murmured, leaning towards Ellis, “That’s more goodbye than you deserve.”

She dropped Ellis’s head and turned on her heel. Ellis sagged forward, their forehead pressing to the floor as they buried their face in their hands and sobbed.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript, @this-mightaswell-happen

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aoifeanamadan · 4 years ago

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After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 6488

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

Montague versus Capulet, Taylor versus Katy, Dream versus George.

It was one of those fueds, the kind you barely even had to acknowledge. The sky is blue, we breathe air, Dream hated George.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

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Chapter Four: Hat Trick

Dream didn’t think texting George was meant to be this exciting. He didn’t think texting any of his friends was meant to be exciting point-blank . Not in the way texting George was. Every time his phone buzzed he was rushing to grab it, always on guard, always waiting. He had spent years calling his friends stupid for the way their faces lit up reading their phones. Now he was worse than all of them. But, it was different. This was George. And texting George was fun.

Dream was certain now that he was definitely funny. And he was smart, in the hard kind of way. He was unpredictable. Dream never knew what was coming. And he was nice to talk to. Every message sent, every message received, Dream felt them growing closer.

So, yeah, maybe his eyes were constantly scouring his phone screen. But he had a good reason. He was talking to George.

George, who said he didn’t normally talk to be people through the phone. He called it a handicapped form of communication, just as George-like as ever. Dream had forgotten to make fun of him for it, mind too busy with ‘ He doesn’t normally talk to people over the phone. He talks to you over the phone’. It meant he was special.

George (2:20 am)

i dont want to annoy you lol

Dream (2:20 am)

if you sending me memes at fuck o clock in the morning was annoying me i wouldn’t have kept sending them back

George didn’t read the message for a full minute. Staring at the tiny symbol, showing his message was unopened, Dream couldn’t bring himself to feel pathetic. In the back of his mind he thought he should, but the rest of him was buzzing. Every cell was humming with a new kind of want. He wanted to know what George thought, hear how he felt. It was overwhelming. There was no room left for shame.

George (2:23 am)

i dont want to keep you up

Dont you have that match tomorrow

Dream did. It was against ‘ Saint Joseph’s Preparatory Institute ’ a private school just half an hour away from Dream and George’s school. The kids there were spoiled in ways Dream found difficult to understand, summer homes in Italy and money thrown away on nights out in the city. The person Dream thought Geoge had been just two weeks ago was nothing compared to the Saint Joseph boys. It was as if all of them wanted to play God, a family of clashing entitled titans, a Grecian mess.

Dream was certain if anyone on his team brushed against one of their arms they’d be on the floor, crying for the referee. It was the first match of the season, only a challenge, but he had been preparing his boys for almost three weeks to make sure they didn’t give away any fouls. Even if it didn’t affect their standing in the league it would affect team morale. It was important. He wanted to win, just like he always did.

But, that night, Dream couldn’t have cared less. The match, less than 24 hours away, was pushed to the back of his brain. His entire frontal lobe was taken up with George’s words, glaring brightly up at him from his screen, awaiting Dream’s reply.

Dream (2:24 am)

ur coming right?

Dream hit send, he always did. He was a full-send person down to the bone. For him, it was easy. He did everything with complete confidence, full fucking send. He couldn't imagine it any other way, not when everyone was hanging off his every word. Shame was foreign to him.

But, the second he hit the arrow on that message, something foreign happened. His stomach knotted itself, his heart sped up. His eyes glued themselves to the screen, trapping him in the silence of his bedroom, waiting for any kind of reply. Dream didn’t understand why he cared so much about a stupid message.

No matter how hard he tried to tell himself to calm down, it didn’t work. His mind couldn’t be reasoned with. Logic was out the window, replaced with the thought of George standing on the sidelines while Dream scored a winning goal. His heart was in palpitations for an agonising 40 seconds. George’s message was the first morsel of food in a year to Dream’s hungry eyes.

George (2:24 am)

do you want me to

Dream was typing a response before he could think. He didn’t need to think.

Dream (2:24 am)

yes

It wasn’t until he sent it that he realised how it could be read. Desperate. It was overwhelming, this new way of thinking. Dream had never considered how other people might read his texts. His mind never had the time to consider how he was perceived, always racing away from him. This new thing, it was dwelling. Dream hadn’t dwelled before.

George (2:25 am)

okay

ill go then

everyone knows i love to spend my saturday evenings outside in the cold

Dream didn’t mean to grin the way that he did when he read the reply. He didn’t even notice the smile snaking its way onto his. He had never smiled at someone's texts before.

George (2:26 am)

what time

Dream didn’t mean to lie. But he did accidentally tell George to be there an hour early so they had more time, away from the pressure of his role as captain. By accident . He felt justified in his deceit, his new constant urge to make George his friend was enough to allow it. He wanted to be around him, talking and laughing, bickering and disagreeing and teasing. He wanted all of it, the before and after of the years of resentment. The new growing fondness that Dream was trying his best to ignore.

Above all, he wanted to be liked by George. He wanted the reassurance of his approval.

If George, who had hated him for years, who had been on the receiving end of his cold stares and scoffs, could like him then it would be sure. Dream could be certain that he was a good person.

They kept texting until George sent his death sentence, in the form of a digital message.

George (2:31 am)

go to sleep

And that was that. George’s status switched to inactive and Dream was left staring at the tiny dot where his green light used to be, the Daisy to his Gatsby.

Dream (2:31 am)

george

georgie

Dream forced himself to turn off his phone, it felt as if he was cutting off a hand. Giving up the hope of hearing anything more from George that night and accepting the isolation. But he could do it, almost happily, comforted by the knowledge he would see George the next day.

He recentered his weight and let his head sink into his pillow. It smelled old. Not bad, but old. Dream couldn’t stop himself from smiling, sad and gentle. He held his phone to his chest and squeezed. The metal didn’t move but his fingers ached with the force.

In the back of his mind, Dream realised it was dangerous. This smiling, this thing burrowing itself into his heart. But he couldn’t stop himself. He let himself imagine a world where he knew George fully, recognised every part of him as George. A jigsaw in the shape of a man where Dream knew the place of each part as if it were the back of his hand. It was a different kind of friendship than what Dream had known. He wanted to understand him, to uncover all the secrets he was holding so close to his chest. It felt as if knowing George was inevitable. And he wanted George to do the same to him, to see all of him and like it. To prove he could be known in full and still seen as himself, still Dream. Still human.

Dream didn’t feel himself falling asleep but he didn’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon, his phone still lying over his heart.

Sapnap collected him before George, so he had time to explain his misleading statement before George got in the truck clueless at half four in the afternoon, three hours before the match started.

George understood what had happened once they arrived at the empty pitch. Dream was thankful he had briefed Sapnap before their arrival, because without Sapnap there he was convinced he would have ended up in a morgue.

Once George had accepted and made peace with the situation, that is to say 95 minutes and multiple very stern telling offs later, Dream and Sapnap decided the only natural thing to do was warm up an hour early.

With a ball from Sapnap’s truck, they started to pass gently to each other. George only managed to claim he couldn’t play for 10 minutes before Dream and Sapnap convinced him to join in.

Dream had been sure George was exaggerating his incompatibility with the sport. Fundamentally, it was just kicking a ball. But Dream was very wrong. Dream tried to tip him the ball, a gentle touch, but somehow George still fumbled it. He managed to stand on the ball three times before kicking it past Sapnap.

They spend half an hour trying to explain the basics of soccer to an increasingly annoyed George, who thanked God when the real team started to trickle in. It meant he was released from the seventh circle of hell - soccer drills

Dream went through the motions of his pre-match routine; the warm-up and laughter and tieing of boots. The coach, their chemistry teacher, arrived ten minutes before the match started. Dream gave a particularly rousing speech and then suddenly they were in the tunnel, waiting for the referee to call them onto the field.

Normally, the time in the tunnel made any other time spent on the field feel tiny, irrelevant. It was a place that didn’t obey the laws of time. Four seconds in the tunnel made a month on the field feel like maybe ten minutes.

That day, Dream had spent three hours on the field before the match. Normally, the tunnel would have made that feel like a millisecond. A blip.

But, Dream could recall the hours spent easily. He barely had to think before George yelling at him and Sapnap rushed to mind. George trying to score a goal from the penalty line, with no goalie, and somehow hitting the crossbar . George’s sigh of relief when he saw one of the players approaching to relieve him of his place in the drill. It was all cased in amber in Dream’s brain. It was proof that he had prepared for this match. There was a time before it and there would be a time after.

Standing on the tunnel, waiting to be called out to play the first match of the year, Dream was calm.

Before he could think too deeply, Sapnap turned to Dream. His eyes were almost pleading. He grabbed ream by the shoulders and tried to look deep into his soul.

“Promise me that you won't start any fights this time.” Dream couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He never started fights, but he replied anyway to put Sapnap at ease.

“I promise I won’t start any fights.” Sapnap breathed a sigh of relief, ever the drama queen.

“Thank you.” Sapnap turned to head to the team huddle, everyone waiting for Dream’s final good luck. Before Sapnap could walk away Dream grinned, lopsided and hyper.

“I will finish them though.”

Dream was walking out before Sapnap could protest, the team behind him. Dream didn’t want to prolong their wait any longer. They knew what he was going to say, and he knew they didn't need to hear it. The atmosphere changed the second the crowd could see them

Oakland had walked out stiff and straight-backed. Proper as always. Beside them, Dream and his team’s causal jogs and crowd-pleasing waves were even more charming. Dream allowed himself a moment to revel in the cheers before locking his eyes on the ball.

Once he adjusted to the floodlights, Dream’s eyes raked over the crowds until they locked on George, leaning on the low fence. He shot him his lopsided grin and waved. He was charm personified. The crowd’s heads swivelled in search of the recipient, but no one looked at George smiling as he rolled his eyes.

Once the whistle was blown, the team came alive. The state champions ran circles around Oakwood. Dream was two-thirds of the way to his aspired hat trick by half time, with the total score at 4 - nil. Their team worked seamlessly together, everyone exactly where they needed to be. It was like watching a well-oiled machine, or embroidery at super speed.

Dream and Sapnap were shining through, their natural chemistry turned to telepathy on the soccer field. It was as if the ball was a piece of metal and they were the magnets. It stuck to them, gravitated to their feet.

By the second half, Oakwood were angry. It showed in their game. They started to slip up, losing easy balls. Their footwork got sloppy. But they also got more aggressive. Somehow, the referee was turning a blind eye to every misplaced kick and accidental shove in the back. But, Dream had trained everyone for this. They stayed calm, took their deep deep breaths and played fair.

Oakwood did not take the same approach. The more time they spent on the field, the rougher they played. Dream had cycled through six of the ten substitutes by the time the second half rolled around. He was convinced the referee had optional cataracts.

With twenty minutes left, Dream’s team were 3 goals up - the only three goals of the match. But, Dream was still a goal away from his hat trick, and he was getting tired.

The rest of the team was playing defence, just like Dream had told them to do during training. He had said it would be stupid to go for glory in this situation, three goals up and approaching the end of the match. It would be plain dumb.

Dream knew all this, thought about it even. He knew it was right, but he saw an Oakland striker, who he was not supposed to be marking, running up the field. He didn’t have the ball, it was on the opposite end of the pitch, but Dream could see it in his mind’s eye. Two easy, unlikely passes and it would be at the striker’s open feet.

There were other boys closer to him, it would’ve made more sense for them to run to mark him. It would have been easy. But Dream couldn’t stop thinking of the one goal he needed for a hat trick.

Aching feet and heaving lungs Dream ran towards him. The striker saw him coming from a mile off.

His leg connected with Dream’s, and suddenly Dream was on the floor clutching his shin.

At first, there was no feeling. Then, just as suddenly as the air had left Dream’s lungs when he hit the floor, there was intense pain.

Dream looked down at his leg, curled up on the floor. He couldn’t hear the referee’s whistle blowing. But he could see the blood.

Before he could make a scene, he was pushing himself up unto his feet. The Oakwood striker didn’t offer him a hand up.

Dream was sent off to the sidelines, limping with an arm around Sapnap’s shoulder. Someone’s mother was a nurse. She assured him it was just a surface wound. Dream saw his parents in the stand, he hadn’t noticed them before. He would’ve waved weakly, or shot them a thumbs up, but he couldn’t focus on them. His mind was racing through anger and pain and anger again.

From the bench, Dream nodded to Sapnap to take the penalty. It wasn’t a question.

He had to sit the final fifteen minutes out, screaming from the bench. The only benefit was George’s spot in the crowd behind him was right behind the bench. He was sitting with his friends, making sarcastic comments about Oakwood. It was nice to listen to, distracting.

With Oakwood playing a man down, the team won 4 - 0.

After the obligatory post-win speech, Dream enjoyed a long warm shower in the changing rooms. It was a scarce rarity for him, only his third long shower in the changing block in four years.

After, Dream was alone in the dressing room, all aching muscles and sore lungs. He was sitting on the bench, legs shaking with the exhaustion of it all. His hair was wet and his shoulders were slumped. There was a low humming echoing off the concrete walls. Dream barely noticed it. He had screwed his eyes tightly shut and had his head hanging between his shoulders. He was waiting there until it was firmly ten minutes since anyone had left, just like he always did. And he was humming, which he did not always do.

It was coming from the base of his throat. The tune of ‘Call Me Maybe’ was raspy, hidden under his breath. But it was there, soft and delicate. The rise and fall, the soft lilts. It made the cold of air of the changing room warmer, familiar. He didn’t think about it, didn’t imagine he would be heard. He just sat there, hair dripping and voice humming. It was tender and charged, too patient.

Hey, I just met you,

And this is crazy,

“Well done, you. You did great” George’s voice came from the doorway, distant and delicate. It shattered Dream’s bubble of gentle calm.

Dream’s brain froze. It caught him off guard, disarmed him. The softness of George’s tone. Too genuine. Before he could unfreeze his mind to think about it, George was talking again.

“Except when you fell. That was embarrassing.”

Dream lifted his head from the wall and cracked open his eyes. George was smiling softly at him. It made Dream feel as if he was bending back his ribs one by one to get a closer look at his panting heart. He couldn’t quite bring himself to stand.

“Brave words Mr Speed Chess.” This was easy, this was Dream and George. Sharp banter and too intense bickering. It was easier than the alternative, the thing Dream wanted once the sun went down. The symbiotic vulnerability.

Dream realised just how tired he really was, listening to his own fragile voice. He was sure George had to have noticed it too. He was sure his smile was too soft, his words too tender to be teasing.

He didn’t know what it was, this new wall he was building. This refusal to let George see him vulnerable. Dream tried to rationalise, call to mind the years of hatred and distrust. It didn’t work, he was met with the hours he and George had spent laughing, the simple rhythm they had so quickly fallen into. George’s quiet jokes, Dream’s beaming grin. There was no reason for this guard Dream was invoking. Yet still, he couldn’t stop it. The hand always hovering over his mouth, ready to slap it closed.

Sapnap was coming in behind George before Dream could leave himself exposed.

“I swear to God, whenever I see you two together it’s like I get to watch a chihuahua provoke a wolfhound." Sapnap was next to George in the doorway, grinning. Dream smiled back, heaving himself up off the bench. Dream wasn’t sure if he was meant to be the chihuahua or wolfhound.

“Fuck off, Sapnap.” He muttered it at the same time as George, shouldering his way past them towards Sapnap’s truck.

“You two are the closest thing I have to a real-life soap opera!” Sapnap was calling out as he followed behind. Despite his best efforts, Dream smiled.

Once the three of them were in the truck, they could really talk. Sapnap and Dream were trying to convince George to come to a party at one of the player’s houses in place of their normal bickering. It was only right to celebrate the win, but George was insisting he couldn’t go.

Dream and Sapnap had matching that’s bullshit looks on their faces,

Through a mix of begging and empty threats, they managed to get George to agree to come inside, just to congratulate the team.

He stuck to his word, entering, finding the team all together in the front room and saying a single ‘Great Game’. Then, he turned on his heel and made his way to the front door with his head down. Sapnap and Dream rushed after him.

By the time they caught up, his hand was on the doorknob. But, before he pulled it, he was turning his head to the space on his left. Dream and Sapnap were still standing in the doorway to his right.

“Bad?” Bad’s face lit up as he abandoned his conversation to turn towards George.

“George!” He ran to hug a laughing George.

“Since when were you the partying type?”

“Since when were you?”

Dream and Sapnap couldn’t believe they had forgotten to tell him Bad would be there.

Twenty minutes in, George was on his fifth shot. Dream and Sapnap looked like Christmas had come early. Bad looked like a concerned father spotting his child in the boxing ring with Muhammad Ali.

“George, oh my God! What are you doing?” George was drinking straight from the vodka bottle while Sapnap and George watched.

George kept drinking from the bottle until Bad took it off him.

“It’s been a boring week. I'm about to fix that.” Dream had never seen George like this.

George’s grin was devilish, the kind that would have made Dream’s heart flutter and stomach drop if he was a girl. But he was not a girl. And so he thought nothing of George’s gleaming teeth and impish eyes. Nothing.

One thing Dream realised, an hour into the party, was that George was just as clumsy with his mouth when he was drunk as his limbs when he was sober.

Dream was standing in one of the doorways to the kitchen, talking to a girl. She was nice. She liked swimming and pc gaming, not worlds away from Dream. He figured they could be friends. She left to dance with her friends and Dream left to get himself another drink. George was standing next to the spirits.

“She’s not good for you. She was a dick to my friends last year. Hell, even I would be better for you and you hate me”

He hated the way George made his breath stop with stupid comments like that. Dream gritted his teeth.

“Don’t hate you anymore, Georgie.” His shoulders were stiffer than he wanted them to be.

George grinned back at him and drawled.

“For now, Dreamer.”

That fucking grin, sprawling between his aristocratic cheekbones. And that fucking nickname. He hated the way it made his stomach flip, acrobatic routines in the pit of his stomach. Dreamer, Dreamer, Dreamer . A mantra.

“Are you drunk, George?”

George opened his mouth, ready to deny it, but the cogs of his brain snapped his mouth closed before he could get the words out.

“You know what? Nevermind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”

Dream didn’t know what it was, the resignation in George’s voice, the gentle familiarity. It made him mad. He made it make him mad, because the alternative was wobbly knees and blushing cheeks. And George didn't have the power to do that to him.

George grabbed his arm, slender fingers gripping strong.

“Come on, let’s dance.” He started to pull him towards the front room, where the speakers were.

“Wait, George, wait,” Dream pulled George back to him gently. He was still clinging to his arm. Dream shrugged him off as softly as he could. His touch felt like hot coals, the way it made Dream’s skin burn. He couldn’t handle it.

“Why?” Dream didn’t like the disappointment painted all over George, stitched on his face and laced through his muscles. He couldn’t hide his emotions the way he normally did. Not here, not drunk and tired looking as if he wanted to beg Dream to dance. Dream had to explain.

“I can’t dance.” George’s face didn’t change.

“Yeah, why?” He was looking up at him expectantly, which had not been the plan.

“What do you- I’m bad at it. I can’t dance.” Dream gestured to his long legs and stretched arms. George’s face lit up, a lightbulb moment. Dream realised, George had thought he couldn’t dance because of his injured shin. He cursed himself internally for not being more dramatic.

“You don’t have to be good at something to do it, Dream. Dancing at parties is fun. It’s like exercise, but for your brain.” George pointed to his two temples with both hands, grinning. Not the plan.

“It’s very literally exercise for your body.” Dream didn’t realise there was a smile on his face.

“Fine, it’s exercise for your soul. Now, come on. Dance with me.”

Dream managed to down a shot while he was dragged out by George, it felt like fire down his raw throat. Before he could say no, George was pulling him to the speakers. Dream didn’t dance, he had never known how to. His limbs were too jerky, arms too awkward. And bad dancing didn’t fit the Dream image , not cool and nonchalant enough.

But George was looking up at him with a messy grin and the speakers were thumping and the bodies around him were thrumming. He tried to justify it to himself, the lights were low, no one would see him, but Dream couldn’t have said no in a million years. Not to George, not there, not then.

It was easy to tell the song was on its outro as Dream and George stumbled in. Dream laughed easily at his accidental win.

“Oh no! There goes that idea. Come on, let’s find Sapnap and Bad.” He went to tug George out, but George tugged him back. It caught Dream off balance, making him stumble after George to keep from falling.

George rolled his eyes, slinking his way to the boy with the aux cord and dragging Dream with him.

“Hey, Toby, what’s up?” George talked to the boy, who he was apparently friendly with. Dream knew he went to their school, but he didn’t know the boy. If George hadn’t just said his name, he would’ve had no idea. He stood awkwardly behind George, unsure whether or not he should introduce himself. He was too caught up in the unfamiliar awkwardness to listen to what they were saying. Before he knew it, George was smiling Toby a thanks and dragging him back into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Dream had to bend down to whis[er into George’s ear. George didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

The iconic opening of Carly Rae Jepsen's ‘Call Me Maybe’ started to play. Dream couldn’t stop the barking laugh he let out. George smiled so widely Dream was sure his cheeks would rip open.

Dream wasn’t sure if it was the shots, or the crowds or the boy standing open and soft before him, but he felt the hardened rock around his muscles and tendons melt away. He couldn’t dance, but he could sway next to George while Carly Rae Jepsen sang one of her masterpieces.

George was his only salvation from the heaving, living heat of the crowd. His flushed face and ruined hair were all Dream could see. He tried his casual swaying, but George’s energy called for more.

Dream couldn’t help but sing along.

I threw a wish in a well,

I looked at you as it fell.

George was not a great dancer, really he just flailed and hopped. He yelled to the beat and flung his arms about him. Dream had to apologise on his behalf to a girl he had accidentally whacked. She didn’t acknowledge it.

Dream realised, no one there cared. Everyone just wanted to dance. Dream looked to George, laughing and jumping to the mirage of singing violins. It was all so intense, Dream couldn’t resist it.

His thudding, thumping body didn’t quite match George’s plasmic flow. His muses thrashed with the musical pulses, throat raw from the singing. No matter how loud he was, everyone around him was louder.

It felt like indulgence, sweeping slowly over his skin and through his veins. He had to choose to let himself enjoy it.

His dancing was horrible, but George loved it. Dream felt like it was a newfound candour, this allowance. He was bad, he was having fun. There was no contradiction. He could do both.

Where you think you’re going, baby?

Dream’s thudding stomps didn’t match George’s rough edged-grace, but he was there. And he was dancing. It felt like a win. It felt human, more human than Dream had felt in days. In those three minutes, he wasn’t the Dream. He was just another person.

He felt like one cell in the body of a giant, doing the same as everyone around him, but for the first time he liked it. He was doing the same as George, who was jumping offbeat.

But here’s my number, so call me maybe?

Dream’s panting chest felt like it was holding corporal freedom inside it. He thought his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his cell wall chest and soar away.

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad.

I missed you so, so bad.

Dream couldn’t believe he had ever thought George was restrained and standoffish.

The George Dream had thought he had known for years, detached and reserved, quiet and reclusive; Dream watched in his mind as he died and was replaced with this new man. This new George had an unrelenting mind and thrashing heart. It fit perfectly with Dream’s aching body and delicate soul. There, sweating next to George as he sang his throat raw, Dream was sure George had to be his missing part. His final puzzle piece. If there was an empty cave in Dream he would stretch and chip away at it until it was the perfect size for George to settle in.

As the song ended, Dream tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. His brain felt like a smoothie. Before he could take an internal inventory, Sapnap was beside him. It was easy to guide a panting Dream and George away from the dance floor and down a quiet hall, muttering about ‘totally unlike you, both of you’.

Dream couldn’t process the moving. He shut his eyes to keep it out, only opening his eyes for sporadic flashes of the house. He knew they were going down a hall together, but it all blended into one.

Sapnap got more and more excited the closer they got to the end of the hall. When he finally opened the last door, he was practically hopping.

Dream’s muddied brain recognised it as some kind of game’s room, like the basement in Sapnap’s old house. There was an easily ignored pool table, and on the pool table was an open bottle.

George got to the bottle first. He offered it to Dream and Sapnap before drinking from it. He coughed and spluttered as it went down.

“Gin.” His grimace was enough to deter them all.

Sapnap found a VR headset, the kind none of them had at home. They had to arm wrestle for it. Sapnap won, through methods involving plain cheating if you asked Dream. He had kicked Dream’s blooded shin ‘accidentally ’ mid-wrestle and refused a rematch. George hadn’t wanted to get involved.

Sapnap got to play on the VR first.

George was a nice drunk to be around. He wasn’t loud or annoying or excitable. He was just George, but less guarded. He thought out loud about the universe and the human condition and why goldfish were called goldfish when they were orange. Dream sat cross-legged in front of him while he spoke, slow and heavy. His brain felt cloudy, but in a nice way. A buffer between Dream and George, and everything else.

George liked to do things wrong. The more he talked about random things, the clearer it became. He ate pasta at breakfast time. He sat on chairs backwards and sideways and even upside down, laying his back on the seat and letting the blood rush to his head. He used his conditioner before his shampoo.

Dream tried to tell him, tried to enlighten him that he was living wrong.

“Well, I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Dream didn’t know how George managed to slip this gentle tenderness into everything he did. He swapped from sitting cross-legged to lying down, sprawling like a starfish. Dream did the same. He could feel their fingers brushing against each other.

Sapnap was immersed in his own digital world, but Dream was sure they were feeling the same thing, total separation from reality It was as if he and George had escaped time. They just lay there on the dirty carpet together, fingertips barely brushing.

“Ow!” The serenity didn’t last long. Sapnap had walked into a wall.

George laughed aloud. “That's going to hurt in the morning.”

Sapnap held up his middle finger, in the wrong direction. The headset was still on.

“It hurts now, idiot.” Dream grinned between them. He wasn’t used to their friendship.

“Well, at least you did your best!” Dream tried to give his positive input from his position on the floor. Sapnap shuddered.

“God, I hope not.” He went into the game again.

Dream turned his body back to the ceiling, but it wasn’t the same. The bubble was popped and he couldn’t stitch it back together.

Instead, he sat up to face George again so they could talk.

Ten minutes later, Sapnap was still alive and thriving in the game, while Dream and George were falling back into the natural rhythm of their conversations.

“Why did you think I hated you?” George’s voice was a rock skimmed on the pond of quiet. Dream was laying back on the couch, eyes again locked on the ceiling. It made it easier, not having to look at George on the other end of the couch. Their feet were tangled together. George was being gentle with Dream’s recovering shin. Dream didn’t think about it before replying.

“Didn’t you?” He didn’t see the gentle shake of George’s head.

“No. If anything, you hated me.” His voice bounced from the ceiling to Dream’s ears. Dream sat up to face him, ceiling tainted.

“No I didn’t. No, I don’t.” It was Dream’s turn now to shake his head. He wanted to lean forward and tell George a hundred times. He didn’t, he doesn’t.

“Okay, Dream.” George hadn’t sat up, still staring at the white ceiling.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Dream looked at George, George looked up. Dream couldn’t handle the quiet, the noncommitment in George’s voice. He needed to fix it. He spoke into the silence.

“You just, you stopped talking to me. Like, overnight. So, I just thought you hated me.” Dream couldn’t keep looking at him. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes. He wished he hadn’t had that vodka. It was shoving cotton in his mouth and down his throat. There was morphine in his lips, he couldn’t get his words out.

“Yeah. I was anxious. I wasn’t talking to anyone.” George’s gaze was deadset, not on Dream.

“Well, you ignored me. I thought you hated me.” Dream tried to justify himself to George, to rationalise his behaviour at nine years old. George just hummed.

“So all of that, the years of dirty looks and rolling eyes, it was because I hurt your feelings by being too quiet?” George finally looked at him. Dream couldn’t believe he had ever wanted him to. His eyes were cold stone.

“Don’t say it like that.” Dream wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His voice sounded small. Sapnap still had the headset on, he couldn’t hear them. He wasn’t coming to save him.

“Well, how would you say it, Dream?” George was still staring at him. Dream wanted to sew his eyes shut.

“I-” He looked away, but found himself looking back in George’s eyes before speaking again. “You weren’t just quiet . You ignored me.” It was all too quiet.

“You were too busy for me Dream. I wanted to be your friend, for years. Don’t try and spin this as if I dropped you. You couldn’t deal with me being quiet, with me going through a hard time. You needed my attention, you wanted it, 24/7. You were selfish.”

Dream couldn’t speak. He felt like someone was sucking the air slowly from his lungs and then the last traces of oxygen from his blood. George stood up and it was the final kick.

Sapnap must have sensed the movement, because just then he took off the headset.

“I think I saw some of my friends in another room. I’m going to go and say hi.”

“Hey, we’re your friends.” Dream had no idea how Sapnap knew to make his voice so soft at that moment. He had always had a sixth sense for those things.

“Yeah.” Dream managed to choke the word out.

“Come on Dream. Sometimes I think if you saw me bleeding out on your kitchen floor, you’d act like you hadn’t seen me.” George smiled tightly to Sapnap and left.

Dream let him go. He hated the tightness in his chest, the bitter taste in his mouth. He made himself feel angry in a way he knew he didn’t deserve to be. For the first time in his life, he knew George was right about what had happened. A lot of it had been his fault.

#mcyt #mcyt fic #dnf #dreamnotfound #dreamsmp #dream/george #dreamxgeorge #psa i actually dont ship them i just like creative writing and heat waves made me obsessed with their characters #dream #georgenotfound

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migila · 5 years ago

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NicoSashaWeek, day 2!

Theme of day 2: Role Change. Starring Marleyan soldier Sasha and Eldian scout Nikolo!

Day 2: Role Change

“Does it have to be me?” Nikolo asked as Jean handed him a tray. Rolling his eyes, the man said: “Yes, it has to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m busy, Armin’s busy, Eren’s an ass, Mikasa’s trying to babysit him and Connie, well…”

“Is a moron who’d just get tricked by the prisoner?” Nikolo finished for Jean when he didn’t continue. The guy shrugged with a lopsided smile, saying: “You said it, not me. Try to make sure he doesn’t find out.”

Nikolo sighed; Jean was such an ass. Well, seems like he had no choice. He couldn’t ask his superiors to do this, and knowing Floch he might actually try to hurt the prisoner, so he was out too. They were supposed to avoid that after all.

“Fine” he gave in, leaving for the woman’s solitary cell. For comfort’s sake they kept most of the prisoners together, but that wasn’t an option with this woman. They had had no option but to isolate her after she managed to convince majority of the other Marleyan soldiers to a rebellion and almost caused a massive prison break. The MPs had wanted her head, but the Survey Corps had saved her as Yelena convinced them that she’d be useful in the end if they just got her trust.

“I just hope she doesn’t bite anyone to death” Nikolo snorted, remembering how the prisoner had bitten Jean when they’d caught her. He should probably make sure his hands didn’t linger near the bars of the cell too long.

“I brought you some food” he said as he entered the underground chamber where the woman was locked up in. She glares at him before looking away with a move that is almost theatric, like she wants to make sure Nikolo sees exactly how much she hates him. Brat “I’m not hungry.”

That would’ve been a lot more convincing if her stomach hadn’t chosen that very moment to start growling.

The woman blushes. Nikolo can see her glancing at him, or perhaps just the tray, before quickly looking away again. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if she’ll still try to deny it.

“I’m not eating something made by filthy devils” she says “No matter how hungry I might be!”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not filthy; I bath regularly” Nikolo attempts to joke. In all honesty he just wants to leave and take the tray with him, but he feels slightly sorry for her. It’s not like he thought she was a bad person; she’d ended up here simply for trying to do her job and-

To his surprise, he hears a chuckle. The joke had gotten through.

“Not sure if the same can be said about all of you” she says, and Nikolo would be offended if he didn’t know how true it was. Everyone in Levi squad took great care of their hygiene, the captain made sure of that, but there were plenty of others who had poor hygiene, to put it nicely.

Raising an eyebrow, he made a point of sniffing the air before saying: “Or about you for that matter.”

The reaction is immediate as her head whips to his direction. Face red, she snaps: “I’d bath if I had the chance to!”

“You easily would have” Nikolo says “If you just cooperated.”

The woman didn’t say anything, just narrowed her eyes before turning away from him. Nikolo sighed, slipping the tray in to the cell from the small hatch at the floor level “Just eat.”

---------

After she was sure the soldier was gone, Sasha eyed the tray. The food looked good, but what if it was poisoned? That and it was made by these devils…

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers” she thought as she reached out for the tray. She didn’t want to eat something the Eldians had made, but she was no use to anyone if she starved to death. That also meant she had to take the risk that the food might be poisoned “But if they wanted to get rid of me, they’d just kill me, right? No point in trying to poison me.”

And even if they did want to do that, they could just force some down her throat without hiding it in to the food. Yeah, it was probably safe.

Cautiously, she took the first bite, her eyes widening as she tasted just how good it was. Whoever had made this had to be someone different than the one who usually-

“Hm?” the soldier’s words rang in her head “Was he the one to make this? If so then it’s such a waste that he’s a soldier!”

Sasha quickly shook her head. No, this was no good. She mustn’t compliment a dirty Eldian, even if it was just in her mind. But… “It’s just so good!”

---------

Nikolo had ended up with the short straw again and was taking food for the female soldier, wondering if she’d actually eaten her previous meal. She’d seemed really hungry, but with her attitude towards Eldians, he couldn’t be sure. And yet, when he got there, he saw the empty tray.

He could’ve commented on it, part of him even wanted to, but in the end, he chose to leave her alone. It wasn’t right to go after someone who was already down. So, he settled on a simple greeting before slipping the tray in from the hatch, turning to leave before either could annoy the other. However, he might have been too slow as he heard her say: “Hey”

“Yeah?” Nikolo said, turning back to her. It’s not like they wanted to keep people locked up like this, so if she was going to reach out, he was going to listen “Was it… was it you who made the food yesterday?”

“…Yes” Nikolo replied, wondering why she’d ask. Actually, hadn’t he told her that he did?

He looked at her. She seemed to want to say something more, but hesitated. Would she talk if he edged her on, or would she just clam up? “It’s probably better if I shut up for now.”

“Why?” her question caught him off guard. Blinking, he repeated: “Why what?”

“Why were you cooking?” she asks as she pulls the tray closer to herself “Aren’t you a soldier?”

“I am” Nikolo said, shrugging “But the cook wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and since I cook as a hobby anyway, I volunteered to take his place.”

She was watching him as he spoke, but once he finished, she turned her attention to the food. Taking a spoonful of the soup, she brought it to her mouth. After swallowing, she complained with a frown: “It’s plain.”

“Spoiled brat” was Nikolo’s first thought on that. Well, he supposed that someone who wasn’t used to food regulations like almost everyone inside the walls were would be pickier of what they ate “The one you made was way better.”

Nikolo blushed at the unexpected, completely out of nowhere -compliment.

“I ah… thanks” he stuttered, hoping that she wouldn’t take a notice of his sudden embarrassment. If she did, she didn’t comment on it; she simply kept eating. After a while, she spoke again: “Why did you become a soldier? I’m sure you could’ve made a living as a cook!”

Nikolo blushed again. It’s not like this was the first time he’d been told this, in fact, many in the 104th training corps had said the same, but somehow this was different… perhaps because it was coming from an enemy who had no real reason to compliment him it felt more genuine?

Looking at the woman again, Nikolo realized that she’d stopped eating for the time being and was now looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“It’s… complicated” he said “And personal.”

“Hmm…” Sasha hummed, thinking it over for a second “Family reasons?”

Nikolo’s eyes widened, which made Sasha grin before she said: “Bull’s eye, huh?”

Nikolo blushed, again, though this time it was from a different type of embarrassment. Just what was with this woman, constantly getting him to blush!?

Sasha laughed, but her smile soon faded to a sad one as she averted her eyes.

“Me too…”

That caught Nikolo off guard. Not the fact that she joined military for family reasons, but the fact that she would share something so personal with him. A small part of him wanted to know more, not that he knew why, but since she hadn’t asked more from him, he didn’t want to pry, either.

“Just…” he wanted to change the topic “Eat that before it gets cold, okay?”

“Yeah” Sasha said, but before continuing she looked at Nikolo again: “…Think the cook will be feeling unwell again any time soon?”

“He might” Nikolo answered, pretty sure he knew why she was asking. Wanting to check, he said: “But even if he won’t, I can still cook for you if you want.”

“You would do that!?” Sasha asked, excited as she leaned forward, closer to the bars. However, a thought soon occurred to her and she frowned “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch” Nikolo said, but he could tell she was not buying it “I’m just trying to be kind; we’re not bad people you know.”

She still wasn’t convinced, he could tell. A sudden urge to mess with her came to him and, wanting to see if he could make her blush in return, he said with a smirk: “And you have a cute smile; maybe I’ll get to see that again if I cook for you?”

“Success” he thought as she blushed, leaning away from the bars now with a mortified look on her face “Are you trying to flirt with me!?”

Now it was, once more, Nikolo’s turn to blush.

“No!” he quickly denied “I’m not!”

“Are too!” Sasha argued, scooting away from the bars “Like you wouldn’t want a piece of this!” she gestures to her body. Nikolo’s eyebrow twitches on his red face as he says: “Isn’t it you who’s trying to flirt with me?”

“I’m just stating the facts” Sasha says, crossing her arms “Or what, do you not swing this way?”

“If by “this way” you mean stinky, uncooperative war prisoners then no, I don’t” Nikolo hissed back, pleased to see her face go red again. Angrily, Sasha stood up and came right over to the bars, practically screaming at him: “I’m only stinky because some assholes insist on keeping me locked up in a cage like some animal!”

Childishly thinking that he didn’t want to lose, Nikolo takes a few long steps to get right in front of the cell with the only thing between their faces being the bars. Once there, he snaps: “Well maybe you wouldn’t be treated like an animal if you stopped acting like one!”

They glared at each other, their faces almost touching the bars. It was Sasha who broke the eye contact first, unable to hold in a chuckle. After that, she started laughing hysterically.

Nikolo stared, dumbfounded, before the ridiculousness of the situation sank in for him too and he laughed as well. They were trained soldiers in the middle of a fateful war, yet here they were, fighting like a pair of children. She sure pulled out the ridiculous side of him, way more so than even Connie did.

“What the hell’s going on in here!?” Nikolo froze at Jean’s voice. Sasha was still laughing, but was now trying to stop as she too heard the rapid, loud steps coming towards her cell. As Jean stepped in to the room, both had themselves under control and Nikolo had packed away from the cell.

“Nothing” he said “Just… getting to know each other?”

It sounded like a question; he knew it did. Jean was eyeing him up and down, checking if he was really okay. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his attention to the prisoner, who also seemed fine, if not a little redder in the face than he would’ve expected.

“Whatever. Now c��mon, the captain’s calling for us” Jean said “Hopefully he won’t make us mop up the whole building.”

Sasha snorted from her cell, and Nikolo threatened to hand her the mop if it happened. Sasha just stuck her tongue out at him as a reply, making Nikolo roll his eyes. Jean was watching them, eyes going back and forth between the two, but he said nothing, leaving as well when Nikolo walked away without saying a word.

---------

After their footsteps faded, Sasha sat back down to eat. She wouldn’t help these devils, these people, she wouldn’t betray her country, but she had to admit that, perhaps, not all of them were the monsters she thought they were.

“Or maybe monsters just mature slowly?” she thought with a grin, seriously considering asking that to the guy’s face. She was probably going to be stuck in the cell for quite a while, so she might just as well get some humor out of it while she was there.

---------

“You two seemed to get along surprisingly well” Jean commented to Nikolo once Levi let them go.

“Him and who?” Connie asked.

“The prisoner”

“You mean Miss Barks Hard and Bites Even Harder?”

“Yeah, that one” Jean confirmed, unconsciously rubbing his hand that the woman had bitten “Just how did you manage that?”

“I got her food” Nikolo says with a shrug “She likes my cooking.”

Connie laughs.

“Well what’d ya know, looks like the route to a woman’s heart goes through her stomach!”

“Pretty sure it’s only the case with that one” Nikolo says with a chuckle. No matter if that was true or not, he was going to make sure that she had enough to eat, including his cooking. Perhaps, with time, he would get her to warm up to them.

For some reason, he truly hoped that.

#nicosashaweek2019 #nicosashaweek #this one is my favorite #I'd actually like to continue it #snk #nikosasha #nikolo #sasha blouse #nicolo #sasha braus

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thestrongestonethatgotaway · 5 years ago

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Dear potential reader

Dear reader, in my first blog I wrote a letter to the person who abused me the most in my life. I did this because I could never safely say the words to him without endangering myself. I can never tell him and he will never know if it is up to me. I also did it because I wanted to pull myself out of a difficult situation. But the reasons why I put it online is because nobody in my family knows I have experienced this. They have no clue. I wanted to leave something behind so that they could one day find out what happened, should I ever disappear or if something ever were to happen to me that I cannot control. So maybe they can take a hint from my blog. I’ll leave them the option to discover this if they want to and discover who my letter might’ve been addressed to. The reason why I put both in Dutch and in English is because I talk to people from everywhere online. I find a bit of comfort in that, even though there is still such a great distance away from them. Whether I consider them friends or not, I prefer to keep that to myself. People come and go. Are you really friends if you know each other so superficially and then discover later that you do not like each other enough to keep in touch? I don’t think so, but in time such things can be exposed. Anyway, I don’t want to put too much focus on that.

My abuser is still out there somewhere and if he sees a chance to come back into my life, he will abuse it. The disguised messages I wrote about, were fairly recent. That is why I felt the need to write this blog. As a matter of fact, everything I have written is completely true. The words that I write about my soul, my heart and everything that happens in it are written very figuratively, but it still holds true to me. I've always been a dreamer and I can't hide that. What I wanted to express with that is that I am constantly changing. That I keep losing my inner voice and have to find it again. That little voice that knows what is good for me and what makes me happy. I wanted to express that I always hurt myself by living selflessly by counting myself away. That I have to keep thinking about how much that’s actually worth to me and how I should prioritize myself instead. That I have to take care of myself over and over again and find new ways to move on in life. That I have a hard time setting boundaries and dealing with people. That I sometimes live without really living and just go along with the flow, or sometimes even against it.

But there are a few strong qualities that I have: endurance, perseverance and vulnerability. I bear so much pain that sometimes I don't understand how it is humanly possible to handle all of that. Every time I wanted to kill myself, I could resist it and I kept saying it wasn't worth it. That I don't have to run away. That I can handle it and that I don't really want to step out of life. I acknowledged that what I felt was unbearable to drag along for the rest of my life, but I didn't have to. That there was a way to get rid of that terrible feeling. That feeling was a combination of sadness, anger, fear and despair. Sadness for the good times that I no longer experienced. Anger for the things that happen to me over which I have no control. Fear of what may have been waiting for me and despair, because I didn’t see a bearable way to live on. The fact that I was able to experience this emotional pain several times without responding to it, is what I call endurance. I have chosen again and again to live, even though I saw no way of doing it bearably. That is what I call perseverance. I was quite ashamed that I even considered dying afterwards and that I let myself be swept away by my emotions. But to this day I do not believe that it is entirely my fault and I try to forgive myself for that.

I am vulnerable, but how on earth is that a strong characteristic? I feel all my emotions with 10,000 volts without any way to escape it. I speak from the heart mostly. I’m a horrible liar if I chose to lie, which I often don’t do. I am completely imperfect and have allot of things troubling my mind. Problems that people with bad intentions can take advantage of, but only if I let it happen. But I am always myself. I am myself when I make mistakes. I am myself when I show remorse. I am myself when I try to run away from my problems. But I am also myself when I hold true to my promises. But most of all, I am myself when I pursue my dreams and desires in life. I will always do that no matter what. That is my strength. If I use my vulnerability to my own benefit, then I cannot be messed with. But I cannot promise that I can do this continuously, because at the end of the day I am no more than one of the many people walking the earth. I am not invincible. We all live in the same world and none of us is safe. Even if you locked up anyone who somehow abused me, I wouldn't be safe. too bad not all of them can run away to Berlin. That is actually what I’ve been trying to express.

But why do I call myself the strongest one that got away? I am not the strongest, certainly not, but it is my way of acknowledging my strength to survive on that moment he tried to kill me. For the moment that I saved myself on my own without the help or support of anyone else. I only owe that to myself. So I am stronger, but not invincible. I am stronger than him in many aspects, but I constantly forget, because he only needs 1 weak moment to completely destroy me.

What I actually try to take from it is that not everything is entirely my fault, but that I have to solve all my problems by myself. Abuse, violence and rape happen every day. Not to mention many other crimes in the world. Nobody wants it to happen to them. But the crimes that I mentioned have happened to me and I still have to live, knowing that this has happened to me. Crazy, right ?! Yes, that may be, but I don't want to live by only 10% of my capability every day of my life because I'm afraid to experience it again. That is also crazy. So what on earth can I do to guard myself without isolating myself from the entire population on Earth? I can live with my full attention in the moment and make myself aware of what is happening around me. A trick to become better at this is called meditation. That is something that everyone can practice and the professional doctors who tell me that I cannot because my IQ is below average, they may light their high-quality diploma on fire if you ask me, because they know absolutely nothing about Autism Spectrum Disorder. Nobody can contradict me in that because it is absolutely true that they have too little information about the disorder to treat their clients with it, because otherwise I would’ve likely been better off today. But I think certain things will always go unnoticed to me when I try to be attentive to my environment. I am not a superhero.. and that has nothing to do with my autism! That is human. I can still open up to people without sharing my vulnerability to them and decide whether I want to do that when I get to know someone. Then there is still a chance that something will get past my attention and that my vulnerability will show. I can flee or fight if there is a situation that requires me to do so, but there is not always a place to flee. Sometimes there are also threats that are too big for me to overcome. So will I ever have to pay for that horribly? Perhaps. But will I regret it? Never. So this is the way I want to live with it. Fear of threats that are not there are irrational. but I can feel it. Those fears were taught to me by my abuser, explicitly and implicitly. I also received them implicitly from other people I have had in my life. That is why I am not trying to keep my memories of events alive. I have not written about it in detail as you can see. That's because it's not important to me. What is important to me are the lessons that I learn and take with me in my life.

What I have learned is that I can choose to be sad, scared and desperate for as long as I want. I learned that even long before the events. I have learned that those tough, sad times can evoke even worse memories that make the situations even harder to deal with on their own. But the most important thing I learned is that I can find new strength if I just keep moving forward despite the sad view I have on life. If I just keep sulking and going through the motions of life without participating, everything will perhaps remain as difficult as it is to bear. It may even become harder to bear. But if I choose to be attentive, look for solutions, and try to take the initiative to get out of that bleak, tough situation, I may succeed. Maybe I can even pursue my dreams and discover joy in small improvements. That is worth everything to me.

Dear reader, you can form your own opinion. You can draw your own conclusions. You can do whatever you want. My hope is only that I have somehow been able to inspire you to move on with your life when you discover that you cannot seem to get out of a tough situation in your life. I wish you all the happiness, strength, love and friendship that the world can offer you.

#why #meaning in words #life lessons #conclusions #life

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e-one-seven · 6 years ago

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My personal comment about Willow’s rework preview

I am following the discussions about the rework on Klei's forum and I am shocked that most of the people are not accepting the basis of Willow's rework and consider it to be trash without even trying it. People think that until Willow won't be totally immune to fire again she will be a pointless character. These people fail to realize that all the things Willow can do thanks to her single play fire immunity are plain out impossible to realize in DST. Burning items in her inventory to survive winter and damage your enemies is great, but most of the objects in your base, that you are sharing with other people will burn down too (even if they are trying to prevent the structures from being set on fire by burning enemies at least in Hamlet because the Pig Guards are dumb and they would burn down the cities otherwise). Chopping isolated trees on fire is great, and maybe even realizable with a six-second fire immunity if correctly timed, same as warming up burning base items like Cut Grass and Twigs. These people are not thinking in terms of teamwork, Klei does. And there could actually be pulled some interesting stuff just from the basis of the rework.

Willow no longer gets cold from low sanity.

It was a huge complaint back then and now there is no more. Yet people are still complaining.

Willow takes more damage and loses sanity from freezing. Willow takes less damage from overheating.

Willow is resistant to heat and vulnerable to cold. Summer will be a breeze with her, while winter... well, you are supposed to travel with Beefalo Hats/Tam O'Shanter and charged Thermal Stones anyway, and with a Hibernation Vest if you don't want to drop a fire pit to warm up and cook your food during a long journey. You just need to be more careful.

Willow gets fire immunity for the first several seconds (six seconds) and then reduced damage thereafter. Willow takes no burn damage while extinguishing fires and does it faster than others.

This is a good compromise between having her totally immune to fire or just resistant in my opinion. Unless you don't want to sit down in the middle of a burning forest (and if you want to do that why are you even playing this game?) six seconds are more than enough to do what you need to do with your fire related stuff. Most of the commonly burnable items (Cut Grass and Twigs) burn down in eight seconds, so with the correct timing you might be able to warm up in winter constantly burning stuff (but it is not supposed to be a mechanic, it can be useful to keep warm during your first winter, so it is fine). As for the smoldering, she was not damaged by that even before the update but the quicker animation is a nice bonus.

Adding fuel to fires is more effective for Willow.

Maybe I am wrong, but I am personally wondering something: is this perk related only to the Fire Pits or it is also a mundane way to say that Willow will deal more damage using fire-related weapons? The second one would not be that difficult to achieve: the Night Light (an item no one uses but for curiosity the first time it is crafted) gives a sanity malus for all the characters but Willow, who actually gains sanity from it. If they are planning to do something similar with other fire-related items, for example, if she uses the Fire Staff the enemy will stay ablaze for some seconds longer/the damage is buffed by 25% because Willow is the one who is lighting the fire, it would make Willow an effective Firestarter as her title suggests. But right now killing your enemies with fire is not advised unless you don't want to have for loot ashes and cooked meat.

But that would be feasible if Willow's fire damage allowed the normal drops. Then having a Willow dealing fire damage with a Fire Staff or something else in the team would make her the first long-range fighter in the game. And if Willow is supposed to be a long-range fighter, is Total Fire Immunity really that necessary? No. That would just make her immortal. That would be a strategy available for the late game because you need the Alchemy Engine to create the Fire Staff, but the Science Machine tier Fire Darts could be a replacement before that moment. That would not even be unfair as Willow has a normal damage output that allows her to use physical weapons with no drawbacks, differently from characters like Wendy and Wes.

I know this sounds insane, but I noticed from a couple of accidents happened during my games in the Beta Branch of Don’t Starve that Klei is apparently trying to modify the Fire spread system so the structures won't catch fire anymore when an enemy on fire is approaching. Grass and Twigs still burn, but it partially confirms that the staff could be working on effective ways to weaponize fire. (Or they are trying to prevent Pig Guards’ stupidity from burning down the cities in Hamlet). And when I tried Wagstaff during the Adventure Mode I set a forest on fire and I happened to find some Nightmare Fuel among the forest wreckage. I was insane, but I had no memory of Shadow Creatures attacking me, so I tried to recreate the situation to set a forest on fire while insane (using Willow to make sure I would survive the experiment). I got attacked and chased by a Terrorbeak. I never attacked the Shadow Creature, I just ran through the flaming trees wearing a Football Helmet. It took some time but the Terrorbeak died, confirming that in the Beta Branch of DS the Shadow Creatures are vulnerable to fire damage despite the Fire Staff is ineffective on them directly. I tried to use the same trick in DST and it did not work, so there is no way to know if this is a bug or a Shadow Creatures' nerf to make them vulnerable to fire. And that would be a logic nerf, as you can't set a shadow on fire, but the fire's light destroys the shadow anyway.

Maybe we will get the features that will allow Willow to weaponize fire if not with this upgrade in the near future. I guess this is one of the reasons why they are late with the updates because a ranged fighter that weaponizes fire right now is a liability as she is still going to damage her own allies (unless they are equipped with a Scalemail). Weaponized fire in multiplayer could be good, but risky. Probably it is something they are planning to do, but it requires some more work before being fully implemented. Or maybe it is just a Willow’s main fantasy.

Bernie can now be equipped by Willow for sanity and warmth at the cost of durability.

If the values are similar to a Tam O'Shanter it would be more than okay. Especially if other characters can benefit from it.

Bernie grows big and will taunt and fight most hostile creatures when Willow is nearby and insane.

I can't wait to see the Deerclops ominously approaching to the camp just to dismember a teddy bear.

But jokes aside, this could be the confirm of my “Willow ranged fighter” theory: Bernie acts as bait for physical enemies and Nightmare Creatures (hoping the accidents happened on Beta Don’t Starve are not a sort of bug) while Willow can set everything on fire with a Fire Staff or Darts from a safe distance. The Fire Staff also causes a slight sanity loss, meaning that Willow can weaponize insanity and fire to her own advantage.

Bernie will still taunt Shadow Creatures when any other player is nearby and insane. In addition, Willow still gains sanity near fire and can still cook with her Lighter.

Already in the game. The first one is useless unless you want to get rid of the Shadow Creatures by gaining sanity back (if you attack them they will start to attack you after a couple of attacks). The sanity gain near fire is a must, cooking with the Lighter is a neat feature early game, but you won't miss it after you set all the cookware and gained a Lantern. Players love that item because it is Willow’s Item, but it is not that great as a late game item even with infinite durability. (Unless you are playing Adventure Mode. An infinite torch is pretty useful in Adventure Mode.)

#don't starve #don't starve together #don't starve willow #rework #personal opinion #Upcoming Features

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anheliotrope · 3 years ago

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I might be in a minority here, but I don't actually find Oblivion or Skyrim any bit more enjoyable in terms of game mechanics than Morrowind. I don't even find them more enjoyable in terms of combat. So I do not have any faith in a remaster done by Bethesda that overhauls the combat system. Worst of all, they'd probably add a quest marker system.

In Oblivion and Skyrim, whenever I'm not being actively amused about the slapstick nature of the combat, I instead hate it with the power of a thousand suns.

What's different in Morrowind is that I can drink ten sujamma's and harness the immense destructive power of alcoholism and unleash it on my enemies in one hit that pulverizes both them and my weapon.

I can levitate at high speeds over the continent, or cover a quarter of the entire map in a single jump. I can fly directly to the final boss in the first 5 minutes on the game. The important part here isn't the "fly" part necessarily, but rather that Morrowind never feels the need to gate the player or stop such things. (Amusingly, the houses of certain mages are only navigable if you can levitate, because if you can't, you should get the fuck out.)

I am encouraged to abuse the thinly veiled town portal system to improve my routing speed. The game doesn't stop you from being able to immediately exit any fight with it either, which a lot of other games feel is important to do in order for combat to feel legitimate.

Every player develops their own idiosyncratic ways of getting their character rich / powerful fast. A lot of people learn the trick of stealing the 650 septim plate, dropping it on the ground, being arrested, getting away because you're still in the tutorial, and now picking the plate back up because it's marked as yours now for some reason.

It's a bit of a meme to go and kill Ra'Virr, a specific Khajiit trader in Balmora. He's close to where a lot of new players first start really exploring the world, he's a bit more isolated because he has no guard, so a lot of people end up killing him, looting everything and selling it, minus one decent enchanted sword. A subset of those players pick that up as a standard habit when playing the game.

NPC equipment is extremely WYSIWYG -- if they're wearing armor and have a cool weapon, you can kill them and take it. You can get some of the best gear in the first twenty minutes, easily, because some neutral/friendly NPCs are just decked. You just need to find a way to kill the NPC. In some cases you can bait NPCs into fights with monsters, drown them, levitate above them and shoot them full of arrows. If you have high speechcraft you can taunt them into attacking you and not suffer any legal repercussions for killing them.

Some of the best trainers in this game are hostile to you and can only be used if you cast a high level calming spell on them. You might never find these NPCs if you're not aware of this. The fact that you can talk to calmed NPCs is interesting.

The game lets you damage the stats of enemies. You can damage someone's strength or speed until they cannot move.

All three combat systems are immensely boring to me. And Morrowind's system is also completely dysfunctional, but it gives me an ever so small but important taste of freedom. Morrowind could have fixed a lot of these exploits, but it was a very distant concern for them.

Oblivion and Skyrim can still be broken, easily, but the ways are more limited and the games constantly try to throw speedbumps at you. Levitation was removed because it was problematic from gameplay and graphical points of view. The world is structured in a much less free way. You can go anywhere but you can't do anything until you're at the right point in a quest. The design philosophy is different and has different tradeoffs.

I don't want Morrowind with Skyrim's mediocre combat. I want to see a system that still maximizes freedom while removing the most egregious exploits and giving you more interesting choices and options, even if some are still "abusive".

The thing new players hate the most in Morrowind are actually largely unrelated to overall design philosophy. It's more about stuff like how Fatigue interacts with hit chance and how you can visually hit the enemy 50 times in a row and miss every attack. Dealing with wildlife can also be really annoying. A lot of things like that chase away new players. Though I suspect most of them bail because the game requires manual navigation.

I wonder if there's any new people enjoying games like Morrowind in this era.

Morrowind was a fantastic experience, one of the best RPGs I've ever played, and yet its gameplay is comically dysfunctional. Kind of less so that Oblivion, simply because the higher definition you go with your graphics, the more comedic everything wrong becomes. But Morrowind "makes up" for that by being a lot less approachable.

It's a non-obvious game. Its charm lies in getting lost in it.

When I was around 12, I would proudly declare that graphics don't matter, gameplay is king. But the actual mechanics of Morrowind are, again, dubious. You need a certain patience and ability to immerse yourself to enjoy it.

Also if it's you 100th RPG, maybe you're past the point where you can enjoy it properly? I'm not sure. But I'm glad I got to play it when I did. Being less able to see through it definitely helped me enjoy it.

#morrowind #vidya

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kiyote23 · 8 years ago

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A Different Lens

Last summer, my son was diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum. The diagnosis marked the end of one long road for us, and the start of different one. Helping him navigate through life, particularly as he started school became a focus of our lives, and while we’re making progress, there is still a lot of ground to cover.

To be honest, I was caught off guard by the diagnosis because of my preconceptions of autism. He had an autistic classmate in his pre-school class, and the two of them became buddies, I guess because they understood each other. And while a lot of people saw that as a warning sign that my son was on the spectrum as well, I took it to mean that he wasn’t autistic, because he wasn’t like his friend.

I think I was afraid of abusing the word “autistic.” I’ve a friend who a couple of years ago came to the conclusion that he’s autistic. At the time, I didn’t think it was true, because I didn’t really understand autism. Now, after working through my son’s diagnosis and educating myself about what we are looking at, I not only agree with my friend’s self-diagnosis, but I’m pretty sure that I’m autistic as well.

I thought that autism was a certain condition. Like a lot of people, I think my impression of autism came from Rainman. Autism is actually a spectrum, a range of behaviors, and people on the spectrum vary wildly in the degree to which they have different disorders. But as we were going over the problems that my son is facing, I was struck by the number of them that sounded so familiar to me.

I suffered from a series of severe depressions, starting around when I was seventeen and continuing into my late twenties. In the late 1980s, everyone was depressed it seemed. I think that there are actually parallels between depression in the 80s and autism today, in that there probably weren’t suddenly more depressed people than there were before, but that the clinical diagnosis of it was more and more common, and there was less of a stigma attached.

I spent several years in therapy, and even tried a series of anti-depressant medications, but the depressions kept coming. I would get better, and then try to go back to college, only to crash and drop out again. I repeated the cycle for years. I was pretty convinced that I had a seasonal depressive disorder, and that I was going to have depressions in the fall for the rest of my life.

But now, I’m pretty sure that was wrong. I gave up trying to go to school, and worked on just trying to have a job. I moved to Iowa, started over, and while I had some bumps along the way, I got happy. There were little depressions now and then, but nothing like the crashes that had come before. I got better, and started doing pretty well, and started building a life. And now, looking back on it, I think I can see how the depressions fit into the idea that I’m autistic.

I have a lot of social anxiety. I don’t understand “the rules” of how people interact. I used to think it was because I shifted from a public school to a private school in grade school, but then went to a public high school, that somehow that had isolated me socially, so that when I got to high school, I didn’t know how to act, how to make friends.

Looking back on it, that story doesn’t hold water. I had friends at the private school, and I had friends outside of school. I was active in my scout troop, and there were kids in the neighborhood that I hung out with. Yet, when I got to high school, the world became a lot larger, and the interactions between people became a lot more complex, and I was really lost.

People, in general, confuse me. I’m not sure what they’re thinking or feeling, and I’m not sure how they’re going to react to something. Most of what I know about how other people think and feel came from books, and so a lot of the time I feel like I’m visiting from another planet, and I have to refer to my notes on how humans react to things. For the longest time, I felt like I was constantly on the outside, looking in, trying to make sense of what was going on when I was at a social gathering.

It only took a few social miscues, a few bad reactions from people over what seemed to me to be innocuous things, to build a sense of anxiety over social interactions. I still remember, somewhat vividly, different moments in my childhood, where I discovered I was being a jackass and I had no idea. And it was terrifying.

So I became quiet, sitting back and watching people, only interjecting when it seemed safe, or when I knew was on safe ground. Maybe I’m a natural introvert, or maybe it’s learned behavior. Or maybe with my brain there’s no distinction. But even so, as an adult, there are still moments where I find myself being a jackass, and it still stings, mostly because I try so hard not to be one, but when you don’t really know how the game is played, it’s hard not to make mistakes.

Another autistic symptom that plagued me was lack of executive function. I really wanted to do well in college when I was in my twenties, but it was too hard for me to put in the effort for things that I wasn’t really interested in. I would drop out of a semester with depression, failing all of my classes except for fiction writing workshop, in which I’d be getting an “A”. And these problems pre-date the depressions, going back to grade-school, when I had a horrible procrastination problem.

Sometime in the mid to late nineties, my Mom found a book that she wanted me to read, called You Mean I’m Not Crazy, Lazy, or Stupid? about adults with ADD. I didn’t buy it at the time, being pretty convinced that I had depression and not ADD, but again, my impression of ADD was the stereotype, someone who can’t sit still in class, who needs Ritalin in order to focus enough to do their homework. I could do my homework fine, it was just a matter of actually getting myself to do it.

But I am easily distracted. If we go out to a bar that has TVs on the wall, my wife and I will try to find a place for me to sit where I can’t see them, because otherwise I won’t be able to pay attention to our conversation. I find it really difficult to focus on a conversation in a noisy place, because I can’t filter out the background noise from what’s being said to me. I can’t not pay attention to the stimulus around me.

The lack of executive function would feed into my depressions. I’d have things that I’d want to do, like go to college, and when I’d fail at them, I’d get really down. I basically set myself up for failure over and over by thinking that I was perfectly capable of going to college, I just needed to get over the depression. But then I’d get there, I’d get behind, I wouldn’t get anything done, and I’d really get down on myself for messing things up again.

I’ve addressed my lack of executive function by building external systems to help me keep on track. I need more than a to-do list. In order to get by, I need a productivity system, and what’s really helped me has been Getting Things Done by David Allen, coupled with Omnifocus, a task-management app by The Omnigroup. I don’t know if I can do justice to the impact that these systems have had on my life, or how much I rely on them. A few years ago, I went back to school, and completed a degree while working full-time, managing a bar, and raising a kid, and I don’t think that would have been possible without my systems in place.

I have been hesitant to bring it up, to talk about it. If I am autistic, I’m pretty high-functioning. Most people have probably thought of me as just a little weird, a little anti-social. There are a lot of people out there who have a lot more severe problems with their autism than I do. And I don’t have a diagnosis. It’s apparently very hard to diagnose adults, because by the time you get to this age, you’ve learned tricks to cope and compensate for your autistic behavior. Unless you’re seeking disability, it’s lot of trouble to get tested, a lot of work just to get a label.

But looking back on my life through this lens has been eye-opening. And I hope that I can learn something that I can pass on to my son. It actually gives me a lot of hope for him and his future. He’s getting help and support now, to help him with his disability. And I’m going to be there to help him along the way.

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garagedoormasters · 6 years ago

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Posted On January 8, 2018 by Hugo Reed

Cars are investments, and every investment deserves the best in terms of security. Security should be a priority for drivers even if cars were not at risk of theft. Not every car is built to the security standards of a Tesla, or with the schematics of a bulletproof car, so drivers have to realize that their vehicles have some inherent flaws that criminals can take advantage of.

Some of these flaws are compounded by the bad habits of car owners and also by the wiles of criminals. With so much at stake and so many factors influencing the safety of cars, I would like to help car owners tip the scales in their favor. So, today we will take an in depth look at some car security tips you can use to prevent your car from being stolen.

Notable Car Theft Statistics

There is no shortage of statistics to show you the way car theft has evolved over the years, and to also show its current trajectory. According to data collected by the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) Program, the estimated number of motor vehicle thefts increased by 3.1% (2015). In terms of monetary value, motor vehicle theft accounted for the loss of more than $4.9 billion, and 74.7% of motor vehicles stolen were automobiles.

This data clarifies a few things. First, it shows that automobiles are a favorite among motor vehicle thieves. Essentially, this means that drivers have to do all that they can to minimize their exposure to car thieves. Cars are not the only motor vehicles that are threatened, a guide to motorcycle security would be handy as well. However, cars are the highest number of motor vehicles stolen, so for today’s article that will be our focal point. Ideally, these car security tips should help you practice better automotive security, regardless of whether you want to keep your car safe at home, or keep your car safe abroad.

Car Theft Practices

Before we dive into the car security tips that will help you prevent your car from being stolen, let’s take a look at some of the threats your vehicle faces. I do believe that understanding these threats makes it immensely easier for you to implement the necessary solutions.

Car thieves usually target vehicles in two unique ways. The first method requires opportunity as a precedent and the second requires immaculate planning. Knowing this helps keep drivers aware of how they can be targeted which, in turn, helps them fight back. A crime of opportunity means that in a specific moment, a car thief singles you out because they can tell that you are vulnerable in some way.

This is usually how most carjackings come about. A planned heist requires much more thought and is hardly ever done in the spur of the moment. Here are some handy car security tips that will help prevent your car from being stolen, and keep you and your investment safe in the process:

1. Keep your car doors locked at all times

Learning to lock your car doors at all times is probably the most crucial security tip that you need to know. When I say at all times, I mean at all times, even while you are driving and the car is in motion. Unfortunately, most drivers believe in the common misconception that their cars can only be targeted while the vehicle is at rest. However, car thieves have a plethora of skills that they can use to compromise vehicles that are in motion. This is a unique danger that is ever present, which is why you have to make sure that your car is locked at all times.

In comparison to residential and commercial door locks, car door locks cannot be overcome with all of the same methods. For instance, a burglar might be able to bump a residential door lock, but luckily for drivers, bump keys don’t work on cars. This does not mean that there aren’t other methods that car thieves might use to get into your vehicle. Many car thieves prey on an opportunity, and there is no better opportunity to them than stumbling across a car that is not locked.

Stealing the car becomes much easier for them if the vehicle is at rest, but they are not above carjacking. Carjacking is defined as the action of violently stealing an occupied car. Many car thieves utilize this method to steal cars that are occupied or in motion. Constantly locking your doors is the first safeguard against thieves that would seek to steal your vehicle.

2. Do not leave your vehicle unattended

Leaving your vehicle unattended, especially when it is unlocked, is an efficient way to get your car stolen. Remember how I pointed out that car theft is often a crime of opportunity? An unlocked car that is left unattended is the perfect opportunity for any car thief. I completely understand that it is rather difficult to always keep an eye on your vehicle, after all, you are probably a very busy person. However, there are some tricks that you can utilize to make sure that your vehicle is always within someone’s field of vision.

First, try to avoid parking in isolated areas that are not well lit. Parking in locations like this reduces the visibility that you afford your vehicle, and doing so increases the likelihood of a criminal successfully stealing your car. Most criminals abhor visibility because it leaves them exposed, use this to your advantage. You do not always have to be physically present to keep an eye on your vehicle. There are several auxiliary measures that make it easier for you to keep an eye on your car, directly or indirectly.

3. Do not leave your car running

Another handy tip that helps many drivers out, is learning not to leave their car running, even if they step away from their vehicle for a few seconds. People often take the influence that time has on a crime for granted. The truth is, given even a sliver of time, a criminal will do the best they can to make the most out of it. I am tempted to say car thieves are inspirational, but they are not.

It is important for drivers to develop the habit of turning their vehicles off and ensuring that everything is securely stowed away, even if they are moving away for a brief moment. Turning your car off and taking your keys with you, is simply another way of keeping your car secured. As the old adage goes, it is better to be safe than sorry. Practicing this will reduce the likelihood that your vehicle becomes another statistic that the FBI UCR references.

4. Always roll up your windows

Rolling up your windows is the perfect complementary action to constantly locking your doors. It is simply another measure that helps keep your car sealed away and protected. Windows are one of the primary access points that car thieves use to compromise vehicles, therefore reinforcing them and keeping them rolled all the way up makes your vehicle more impenetrable.

I know that there are some car owners who believe in humanity so much so that they choose to leave their windows rolled down, especially in the summer. I am not sure if this is done because of the faith they have in humanity, or the faith they have in the security of their vehicle. The truth is, vehicles are very similar to locks. If a car thief is given enough time, they can break into a car and steal it, the same way all locks can be picked given enough time. For this reason, you should strive to avoid giving criminals any kind of access to your vehicle.

5. Install car alarm systems

Car alarms are the face of modern automobile security, and they actively help increase the security of your vehicle. A car alarm is the perfect solution for an extra layer of protection that will stay active even if you are not in close proximity to your vehicle. The alarm serves to notify you of any danger, and can also help notify individuals within the general vicinity that something might be amiss. This is the easiest way to call a good samaritan to your aid when you are in need of help.

A common security mistake that people make with their classic cars is that they never have a car alarm installed. This ends up making their vehicles more vulnerable and susceptible to car theft. In this day and age, car alarm systems are commonly paired with keyless entry remotes that enhance automotive security. Car alarm systems can also be paired with anti-theft mechanisms like cruciform locks used to guard steering wheels. These are simple methods that can be used to layer your security measures, and ensure that there is a backup in place should one measure fail to prevent your car from being broken into during an attempted theft.

6. Plan your route whenever you are driving

Before you take up arms against me, you should know that I am not advocating against spontaneous trips because I love them just as much as the next guy. However, I do believe that taking the time to plan your route, whenever you are driving will help prevent your car from being stolen. Planning your route out allows you to be better prepared for any eventuality and it negates the possibility of a car thief being able to take advantage of you, by catching your off guard.

Realistically speaking, you will not always have the luxury to plan your route because unexpected things happen every now and then. However, you should attempt to do this whenever you get the chance. Planning your route will inform your actions and it will help you know what to avoid and how to navigate certain areas. For instance, if you are aware that you will be traveling through a specific area that is considered dangerous or prone to carjackings, it will inform you to keep your doors locked and your windows rolled at all times.

7. Practice proper automotive maintenance

Maintenance is a key car security tip that is often never implemented. In this instance, there are several different automotive components that need to be maintained. Many of the mechanisms that are used to protect your vehicle are prone to damage and wear over time. Practicing proper maintenance is one of the simplest ways of keeping your car security measures in prime condition.

Some of the components that you have to keep well maintained include your car door locks and their corresponding lock cylinders, car alarm systems, transponders and key fobs, windows, etc. If any of these components are not properly maintained, there is is a chance that they will be taken advantage of. The simplest way to plan for the maintenance of any of these features, is to pay attention to them while they are in use. Doing so will help you learn how they function, so that you can spot any wear or damage that has to be taken care of. For instance, if you notice any physical wear on your car keys, you should work to have a duplicate car key made to avoid the scenario where your key breaks off in your lock.

8. Stay aware of your surroundings at all times

Situational awareness is an invaluable tool, and one that can be utilized to increase the security of your automobile in any given situation. One of the best ways to practice situational awareness is to constantly study your surroundings and understand the direct impact that your environment has on your automotive safety. In many ways, situational awareness is a key factor in any type of safety plan, and it is one of the best ways to enhance your personal protection. Assessing your surroundings will influence the way you treat your car and it will directly impact the level of security that you choose to leave it with.

9. Do not store important personal documents in your vehicle

Many drivers store personal information in their vehicles, both knowingly and unknowingly. Some of these documents include the car title, driver’s license and other forms of documentation that can be abused by car thieves. There are some documents that should always be in your vehicle whenever you are driving, like your license and your proof of registration. However, when you are not in the vehicle, these documents should be removed and stored in a separate location. These documents will not draw a car thief to take your vehicle, but they might help facilitate their escape if they steal your car.

I know that this sounds rather tedious, but please hear me out. For instance, if a car thief is stopped by a police officer and asked to show proof of ownership, proof of insurance, etc., they will easily be able to produce the required information if it is stored in the vehicle. I am sure that some of you are thinking that if the crime has been reported, then these documents will be of little use to the car thief. Once again, you are underestimating the importance of time. There is no guarantee that you will be able to report a crime fast enough for a car thief not to utilize the information they are given. This is not a direct method that prevents car theft, but one that looks to makes the crime harder to execute successfully.

10. Do not keep valuables stored in your vehicle

Storing valuables in your vehicle is a sure fire way to attract car thieves and burglars. There are some car thieves who will simply settle for breaking into the vehicle and picking out an individual item, whereas others will want to take the whole vehicle. It is criminals like these that you have to be wary of because they will attempt to steal your vehicle rather than just settling for the expensive purse or sneakers you left out in the open.

This is something that many mobile locksmiths have to contend with on a daily basis. If someone were to steal an auto locksmiths van, their business and their livelihood will be compromised. A mobile locksmith usually stores their tools and equipment in their van, and some of these items are very expensive and lucrative to a criminal. Leaving things out in the open is bound to attract criminals and car thieves, so you want to do your best to prevent this from happening.

Take the time to look through your car before you step away from it to verify that nothing of value has been left out. In the instance where you absolutely need to keep something stored in the vehicle, try to stow it in your trunk or underneath your car seats. This will help keep the visibility limited.

Final Thoughts

Protecting your car can be a challenging task, especially because there are so many bases that you have to cover. The points outlined will help you get started and they will help you foster better car security which helps prevent your car from being stolen. Take the time to know your vehicle and know what your flaws are so that you are better equipped to combat them effectively.

Link to the article: https://unitedlocksmith.net/blog/10-car-security-tips-to-prevent-your-car-from-being-stolen

Related articles: https://brain2bloghub.wordpress.com/2018/04/04/how-to-secure-your-windows-against-burglars/

For further assistance in home security, click here for more: http://unioncitygaragedoorrepair.net/

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samzgoogledotcom-blog · 6 years ago

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10 Car Security Tips To Prevent Your Car From Being Stolen

Posted On January 8, 2018 by Hugo Reed

Notable Car Theft Statistics

Car Theft Practices

1. Keep your car doors locked at all times

2. Do not leave your vehicle unattended

3. Do not leave your car running

4. Always roll up your windows

5. Install car alarm systems

6. Plan your route whenever you are driving

7. Practice proper automotive maintenance

8. Stay aware of your surroundings at all times

9. Do not store important personal documents in your vehicle

10. Do not keep valuables stored in your vehicle

Final Thoughts

Link to the article: https://unitedlocksmith.net/blog/10-car-security-tips-to-prevent-your-car-from-being-stolen

Related articles: https://brain2bloghub.wordpress.com/2018/04/04/how-to-secure-your-windows-against-burglars/

For further assistance in home security, click here for more: http://www.sanjacintolocksmith.net/

0 notes