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ellewritesathing · 4 years ago

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(Un)Requited - I.L IV

Summary: Isaac Lahey had gone through many twists and turns in his life, but none of them compared to the whiplash he got when you asked him to tutor you. With a few weeks until the end of the semester and the big dance coming up, he’s hoping to figure out a way to ask you to go with him before it’s too late.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 4

Word-count: 3.4k+

A/N: i’m still working on the last part of this fic so i’ll probably only update again in a week or two!! sorry guys 💕

Things between you and Isaac had been weird ever since he walked away from you that day on the lacrosse field. His jokes were delivered a little more awkwardly, your laughter was a few seconds shorter, and whenever it felt like the tension was starting to dissipate, your phone would light up and Stiles’ name would be on your screen. Isaac hated it.

He hated the anger he carried around in his chest all the time. He hated how jealous he was of Stiles. Most of all, he hated that his relationship with you was fucked because he couldn’t get over a stupid crush. Sure, it was a crush he’d had since he was ten, but it was just a crush. He shouldn’t have let it, for lack of a better word, crush him like this.

Isaac was busy shoving some books into his overpopulated locker when he felt a very familiar tap on his shoulder.

When he turned, you were beaming at him with such warmth and familiarity that Isaac forgot that things were weird between you for a second. “Guess what.” Your voice barely contained your excitement.

“Greenberg walked into a locker again?” Isaac asked, deliberately stalling to keep you around him a bit longer.

You laughed and shoved his arm playfully. “No, silly.” You made the booklet of paper in your hands dance and pressed it into his hands. Your hands were cool to the touch. Probably guessing that he was paying more attention to the physical contact than whatever was on the paper, you pointed to the top corner of the page and said, “Look!”

Isaac repressed a laugh but he still smiled at you before looking down at the paper. It was an algebra test with a B+ in big, red block letters and an extra credit assignment with a perfect score. “No way!” Isaac grinned and pulled you into a hug. “See, I told you that you could do it!”

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you laughed into his chest. Slowly, you looked up at him and tapped his chest lightly. “Yeah, but I never could have done it without you,” you said.

For a moment, it was like the whole world slowed down, leaving you and Isaac alone in the quiet hallway. Isaac almost could have sworn your heart was beating as fast as his was, but that wouldn’t make any sense. There was no reason for your heart to beat faster because of Isaac.

But Stiles showed up before Isaac had a chance to figure out why your heart was beating like that and you pulled away.

“Hey.” He drew the word out in that annoying voice of his. Stiles was unusually easy-going considering that he hated Isaac and he was dating you, and the two of you had been tangled up not even a moment before. “What are we celebrating?”

You'd pulled away from Isaac so that you were only holding onto him with one hand, just barely around his lower back, as you handed Stiles your test. “I’m almost an A student. You know, I’m thinking of changing my career goals from trophy wife to mathematician.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You could totally be a trophy wife and a mathematician,” Stiles said with an aggravating smile. He was so good at saying stuff like that that it drove Isaac up a wall.

You laughed and pretended to be offended as you grabbed your test back. You let go of Isaac to harass Stiles but you soon enough you were laughing and nestling yourself under Stiles’ arm. His fingers interlaced with yours easily as you said something equally charming and witty to him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles rolled his eyes and smiled at you. His thumb grazed yours as he tilted his head down, almost bumping his forehead into your head. “You sure I can’t convince you to grab lunch with me and Scott? We could ditch Scott.”

You let out a self-conscious laugh and ducked your head. “As tempting as that offer is…” you untangled yourself from Stiles and took a step back from him. “Isaac and I have a date with some suits.”

Not that kind of date, Isaac reminded himself as he gave Stiles his best attempt at a friendly smile. Judging by Stiles’ reaction, it came out as more of a grimace.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Stiles scratched the side of his face. “Cutting the dance prep a little short, aren’t you?”

Isaac straightened up and tried to get the venom out of his voice. “Yeah, well, we had some unexpected interruptions. You don’t mind though, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles said, not sounding defensive, exactly, but definitely not as easy-going as before. He looked over at you and squeezed your hand as he said something about catching up with you later.

You took a deep breath and ran your hand through your hair as Stiles disappeared into the sea of hormonal teenagers. “So-” you stepped closer to Isaac and gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Ready to go?”

If Isaac was honest, he’d tell you that the absolute last thing he ever wanted to do was go shopping for a suit that he didn’t want to wear to a dance he didn’t care about, but he couldn’t be honest with you - not about his feelings, and not about this dance - because you were trying.

Isaac wanted to try, too. He really did, but Isaac's problem was that he wasn’t as good as you. Then again no one was as good as you, but still. Isaac had to try or he’d lose you again.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” The closing of Isaac’s locker punctuated his lie better than his smiling grimace ever could.

If you noticed his bad mood - which might have been difficult considering how Isaac was almost always in a bad mood these days - you were nice enough not to mention it as the two of you made your way through the school to the parking lot. Instead, you told him more about your classes and how Greenberg did, in fact, walk into a locker earlier that day.

There was an anxious lilt to your voice as you talked about your English paper that Isaac didn’t recognize. Sure, he’d seen you be nervous before tests and that first day in the hallway, but this was different. That had been unsure while this was second-guessing. That had been butterflies, and this was a sinking feeling.

Isaac couldn’t wrap his head around what could have been making you anxious. You were happy about your grades, you’d been excited about your parents leaving you home alone so they could check on Alex for the weekend, and you had Stiles. With all that, plus the dance coming up, you shouldn’t have been anxious.

And yet there you were, mumbling curse words under your breath when people cut you off on the road and hiding a frown behind a tight smile as you pulled into a parking space.

You killed the engine and sighed as you turned to Isaac. “Hey, so I’ve gotta tell you something about Stiles-”

“Why are we outside a thrift store?” Isaac asked as he peered through the windscreen.

The store was cute. Bright sunflowers painted next to yellow letters that swirled together to spell ‘Anne’s Next to New Clothing and Trinkets.’ A white table with a flower arrangement and some of the aforementioned trinkets. Through the window, Isaac could make out a little girl trying on about a dozen necklaces while her dad apologized to the person behind the counter. Cute, but it didn’t make sense.

Isaac turned to look at you when he realized that he’d interrupted you and you probably thought he was the most self-absorbed idiot in the world. You were staring at him with wide eyes as if to prove his point.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Your surprise melted into a nervous laugh and you dropped your gaze for a moment. When you looked back at him, your smile had softened into something smaller, something more genuine. “Since our mall trip ended so badly, I thought we could try something else.”

Isaac gave you a lazy smile and nodded his head to the store. “Something next to new?”

You scrunched up your face and groaned, putting your face in your hands. “Ugh, this was a dumb idea, wasn’t it? We can leave. Give me a sec to pull out-”

“No. No, that’s not what I meant-” Isaac reached over to grab your hands before he realized what he was doing. With one touch, it was like you erased the entire world that existed outside your car. It was just you, Isaac, and a whole bunch of electricity. “I just meant,” he said quietly, “that it was really nice of you to do this for me. I’m not really used to people doing nice things for me.”

“Well, get used to it because I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. Your words were quiet but your smile was playful. “Come on.” You tilted your head to the door and pulled away.

Isaac tried to get his heart to beat normally again as your door clicked open and thumped close behind you. He took two deep, steady breaths, then shook his head and met you at the front of your car.

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you waited for him. With a nervous smile, you led Isaac inside. The bell chimed as you opened the door, ringing in Isaac’s head as you greeted the cashier, and Isaac went on the awkward defensive again. He ran his hands along the swaths of fabric as the two of you made your way through the store. Felt, polyester, cotton, and wool greeted his fingertips until Isaac stopped in the formalwear section.

Old dresses mixed with a bizarre assortment of wedding attire and four suits, two with three pieces and each a different color to the last. Isaac took his eyes off the suits to find you trying to hide your glances at him. Isaac didn’t bother to hide his amusement at your secrecy.

“What?” You laughed when you caught Isaac waiting for you to steal another look at him. You tucked some hair behind your ear without thinking about it.

Isaac smiled, stifling another laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you want to.” You looked at Isaac with an expression he couldn’t place. Friendly, playful, but just as he tried putting a better word to it, you looked away. Turning your attention to a gray suit, you waved Isaac over. “What do you think of this one?”

Isaac sighed as he made his way over and tilted his head to get a better look at the suit. “I mean, it’s not terrible,” Isaac said, running his hands up the lapel.

You laughed and bumped your arm into Isaac’s. “Well, high praise for this one aside,” you teased, “maybe we should find something a notch above ‘not terrible’ for the big night.”

“Whatever you say,” Isaac said with a smile. The one suit was a baby blue, which instantly struck it out of Isaac’s book and left him with two black options. Boring, yes, but that’s what made them safe.

Nevertheless, you ushered Isaac into the changing room with his two boring suits and made him promise to take his time so you could try and pick something out for yourself. The thought of you waiting for him made Isaac’s stomach lurch, but he still promised to give each suit a fair chance.

The first suit was a slightly snug; not awful looking, but not the most comfortable. If Isaac was going to be wearing this thing all night in a crowd full of sweaty teenagers, then he was going to need something with a little more breathing room for his inevitable panic attack.

So, shoving away the thoughts of how ridiculous this whole thing was, Isaac changed into the other suit. The button-up was missing a few buttons but he could sew new ones with minimal effort. It fit better than the other one had and didn’t cut off his air supply. Plus, the waistcoat somehow made him look less like a scrawny kid playing dress-up and more like someone who actually had it together.

Looking at himself in this suit, Isaac could imagine himself as the kind of guy you’d have feelings for. Not a guy like Stiles because that would make him throw up, but someone charming. Maybe even eloquent. The kind of guy that didn’t live in his older brother’s shadow or own three different copies of Persuasion (one was a library book he forgot to return, one had been his mom’s, and the other just had a nicer cover than the rest).

In this suit, Isaac had a nicer cover than he usually did.

Realizing that he’d probably spent like five minutes just staring at himself and twisting one of the broken buttons, Isaac raced to get changed. He threw the suit to the side and jumped into his jeans and pulled on his baggy gray t-shirt. Isaac was in the process of pulling on his hoodie and forcing the suit back onto its hanger when he stepped out of the changing room and almost knocked you off your feet.

Reflexively, Isaac grabbed you to keep you from falling over. He stammered out several apologies as his heart exploded, but all you did was laugh.

“It’s okay, promise,” you said with a smile. You held onto Isaac as you got back to your feet. After several seconds of awkward silence, you asked, “So did either of them come out ‘not terrible?’”

“Uh, yeah.” Isaac held out the crumpled suit to you. “This one’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” you echoed, taking the suit from Isaac and smoothing it out. “We’ll take it!”

Isaac couldn’t help but laugh. You were adorable and very, very far out of his league. Still, he hung up the rejected suit and met you at the counter to pay.

He was so preoccupied with thoughts of accidentally injuring you that he didn’t notice that you’d already bought something. When Isaac asked about it over celebratory frozen yogurt, all you said was that you needed something for the dance, too.

---

Isaac had never been someone with high hopes. He’d given up on anticipating the future ever since he was thrown into a grave and turned into a werewolf; but, still, he found himself with some very unrealistic expectations of how the dance would go. Chief of which being that you’d ditch Stiles and confess your undying love to Isaac.

Actually, not ‘undying’ love because the universe might take that as a sign to make you immortal or something, and that kind of information wasn’t something Isaac thought he could recover from.

His other expectations, supernatural dilemma aside, were to get through the night without bleeding and to, maybe, hopefully, get to dance with you before leaving early.

Two very simple hopes that went unfilled.

First, Stiles was an asshole and hung around you the whole night. His presence made it impossible for Isaac to talk to you about anything other than the decorations and, if that wasn’t annoying enough, Stiles barely even looked at you. You didn’t mind and Erica didn’t even seem to notice his staring, but Isaac noticed. Isaac minded.

Seeing as it was unlikely that any declaration of love, undying or not, was going to made with Stiles Fucking Stilinski jumping around like a kid on a sugar high, Isaac excused himself to get something to drink and maybe punch a wall. You seemed disappointed - not at the wall punching, because Isaac didn’t mention that, but at his leaving. Still, you let him go with a smile nonetheless.

Isaac smiled, too. It felt like all he’d been doing the whole night was smiling, even when you gave him your sympathies about Erica not being his date. He was going to explain everything to you right then and there when Stiles had shown up with his stupid hair and frustrating jokes.

The punch had a sharp, bitter taste that wasn’t there at the beginning of the night and Isaac pulled a face. His dislike of alcohol wasn’t because he was worried about getting drunk (his supernatural metabolism made sure that was never a possibility), but because he just didn’t like the taste. Thanks to his dad, he’d been around the stuff long enough for it to lose its appeal.

Dumping his glass in a potted plant, Isaac turned back to survey the gym. He’d just spotted you in the crowd when Erica and Boyd materialized on either side of him. Erica grabbed his now empty cup and threw it to the side.

“Hey!” Isaac whined.

“We have to go,” she said in her black and blue voice. “Derek needs us.”

Of course, he did. Heaven forbid Isaac had one night free from Hale drama. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Boyd repeated. “The hunters are making their move and Derek says there’s another wolf pack. He can’t take them all by himself. Sorry, man.”

Erica put her hands on Isaac’s shoulders and steered him towards the dance floor. “So go tell your sweetheart that there’s a family emergency and meet us outside, okay?” She shoved him into the floor before Isaac had the chance to argue.

Isaac wasn’t sure where you came from, but you caught him before he landed on his ass, at least. Your face was full of concern as you helped Isaac stand back up and asked what was going on.

Casting a look over his shoulder, Isaac couldn’t find Erica or Boyd. They were already on the move and Isaac didn’t have time to explain everything. “I’ve gotta go,” Isaac interrupted you. He let out a breath as he turned back to you. Then, with a painful smile, he added, “Family emergency.”

“Oh,” you said. You blinked hard as you thought of something else to say. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, Erica and Boyd are already outside,” Isaac said. It was hard for him to focus on you over the sound of the music and his beating heart. “I, uh- I’ve had a lot of fun with you these past few weeks. Thanks.”

You nodded, looking down at your intertwined hands for a second. You gave his hands a squeeze. “Me too,” you said. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Monday,” Isaac lied with a bittersweet smile. He decided, since he was most likely going to be killed in the woods in seventeen minutes anyway, to do something that he’d never dreamed possible.

Letting go of your hands, Isaac stepped forward and kissed your cheek. He disappeared before you had the chance to say anything.

If the night had ended there, it wouldn’t have mattered much that none of Isaac’s hopes had been met because at least he’d gotten to kiss your cheek. The problem was that, like most nights, it didn’t end when Isaac wanted it to.

The night kept going, and Isaac got shot with arrows and electrocuted with arrows and mauled by some out of control werewolves. He’d lost Erica and Boyd somewhere in the chaos and he’d never even found Derek to begin with. The night kept going, and Isaac was bloody and alone.

He couldn’t go back to the loft, purely because he wasn’t strong enough to make it there. He had no idea where the root cellar was. The night kept going, and Isaac was bleeding out with nowhere to turn.

Still, he ran.

Isaac had survived so much in his short time on this goddamn bitch of an earth, and he wasn’t about to give up because his spleen had ruptured or because he had no idea where he was. No, Isaac ran because - despite everything - he wanted to live.

He ran and ran until he eventually found something familiar. Unluckily, it wasn’t the hospital or the animal clinic but your house. Isaac would have kept running if he thought his leg could make it, but he knew they couldn’t.

So, Isaac made the agonizing journey up to your front door. He rang the bell. You’d just opened the door, and all Isaac managed to get out was: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

And then he collapsed.

Part 5

Tagged: @lettherebelovex @britty443 @ietss @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @chocolate-raspberries @jellybelly-jones @f1nal-g1rl

#i watch teen wolf for the plot #teen wolf #(un)requited #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fanfiction

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kevinwastaken · 4 years ago

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okay so idk if anyones done this yet, but this has been in my mind ever since i got into omori lmao

so uhHhHhhh heres my idea for an identity v omori crossover! just because i think it would be neat

this is going to be a super long post (probably), so if you want to read it, just hit read more or whatever

i also want to say that some character choices are gonna be taken from my friend, @/kami.rikki on instagram. but she didnt think as hard on these as i did so like idk

there Will be spoilers for omori, so just be warned of that lmao

so as i said before, this has been on my mind for a HOT minute. and i think it would be a cool collab

for starters, this crossover will be split up (as is every other crossover) in two parts, with one hunter two survivors. i know essence usually have one hunter three survivors, but theres not enough characters for that, and six can be split up evenly sooo

i was thinking that the skins could be like the ones from the persona 5 crossover. like, they can be “awakened” in a sense. the base costumes will be the dream world versions of everyone, while the awakened costumes will be the real world versions. i wasnt here for the persona 5 crossover, so idk how many of those spirit things you had to collect, but i Do know that omoris spirit things could be. uh

well actually i dont know. initially i was thinking lightbulbs, like the one in white space, but the lightbulb isnt too important in the game i dont think? and im not sure about clams either. i know theyre dream world currency, but??

oh actually, maybe you can collect Something to awaken the costumes. because something is a representation of the truth in sunnys mind, and by awakening the costumes, you get to see the characters as their real selves. yeah lets go with that, you collect something from the essence

i swear ive been thinking this out shut up

the hunter costumes wont be awakened though, and i have a reason for this

anyway

part one

the characters that will be present in part one are sunny, basil, and aubrey. i chose them first because. ofc, sunnys the protag, basils his best friend and helped cover up maris death hes important to the story but anyway, and aubrey is <<33 yuh

so heres whos going to be who:

sunny/omori as wu chang

so let me preface this by saying that im not a hunter main. never have been, never will be. and ive never played wu chang. but i swear thisll make sense, im doing research

wu chang is actually composed of two characters, with two different stats: xie, the white guard, and fan, the black guard. i cant tell the difference while im playing, considering the fact that my ass is either running away or decoding. but theres a difference i looked it up

sunny would be the white guard. xie is a fast chaser, but has slow attack speed. ie, slow hits, slow pallet breaking, that stuff. this reflects how sunny is in the real world. he can run, yes, but hes still physically weak due to being locked in his house for four years and spending all his time sleeping. he would be better for chasing than attacking

omori would be the black guard. fan is the opposite of xie, having slow chasing speed but faster attack speed. this reflects in omori. omori is Very apathetic, and really, i dont think he would care to chase anybody unless it was for a quest. though, i guess killing survivors Is a quest for hunters, but. anyway

in battle, omori is a good fighter. his attacks are strong, (although not as strong as say. aubrey or kel. but who am i to say, the playthrough i watched had omori constantly sad) out of him and sunny, omori would be the attacker. so theres my choice for them

the umbrella can probably be switched for a knife. maybe an elongated knife. im not entirely sure, but i know the umbrella wont stay as an umbrella

basil as kurt frank

so i know what youre thinking. why is basil “the explorer??” hear me out this is actually a really good idea

the true best choice would be emma, since shes the gardener, but idv doesnt like giving characters skins of the opposite gender if you know what i mean. anyway

basil isnt a fighter. hes an assist, yes, but that was only for a crime four years ago. not my point, he wouldnt want to be in the action

i think he’d be a really good decoder. especially a good kurt

i originally wanted him to be prisoner, out of no bias whatsoever (/j) but kurt is a good fit for him

basil hides. he hides from things. he hides from the truth just like sunny, and he hides from others. albeit he still goes outside

i will not lie, i have a very personal grudge against kurt players. i dont want them to have anything because every kurt main ive come across was toxic to me specifically. but anyway

so one of kurts abilities is that he can go smaller to run around undetected and/or hide. i find this perfect for basil, because. yknow. hiding

his other ability is to find password pages and use them to decode ciphers faster. i think this would be funny because basils existence in headspace leads sunny to remembering the truth about maris death. i mean, if he werent in headspace, omori and the gang would continue going on adventures like nothing is wrong, so basil sort of speeds up the acknowledging process

this sounds dumb actually. but it makes sense in my head

anyway, the book would be turned into basils photo album, and he wouldnt have a backpack like kurt does. theres my answer

and finally,

aubrey as margaretha zelle

aubrey was actually really hard to pick out. none of the female survivors really fit her, aside from maybe coord, but i dont know what her gun would turn into. i will admit that her section wont be as detailed as basil or sunnys. but anyway my choice is with margie

aubrey imo would be a good kiter. she has strong stats all around, so i feel as if she’d be a great fit for margie. not to mention her speed boost when falling from large heights, which would make her a faster runner and harder to chase if used right. aubrey would be more physically fit since shes a fighter and seems to do a lot of stuff with the hooligans, which also helps prove that she should be a kiter. ANYWAY

so margie has these music boxes that can mess with the hunter, right? some of aubreys attacks can mess with enemies iirc. soooo theyre kind of similar in a way, arent they?

im not exactly sure what the music box can be turned into. maybe a small piano? aubrey cares about mari a lot, and the reason shes so pissed at everyone and rebellious is because she felt like everyone had forgotten about mari and moved on with their lives. so the music box could be a tribute to mari

i dont know how many changes they made with ann tamakis costume in the persona crossover, other than cosmetics for the skin only, so im not sure if the music box was changed at all. i can dream though

in the case that its changed, the blue box could be the song from the playground in headspace (yknow the one) while the red box could be the final duet song. but just with the piano, not the violin

essence

because yes, i thought about the essence too

of course, aside from the skins, there will be other stuff in the essence too. so itll be as follows:

for portraits, theyre going to be the neutral battle portraits from headspace. aside from basil and mari, who do not have battle portraits. theirs will just be of their neutral expressions with the neutral emotion backround behind them. i would add pictures, but the character pictures add up to six, so i’d run out of room before reaching part two

for graffiti, im not really sure. maybe everyones overworld sprites in headspace? along with maybe one of Something

for accessories, i actually have an idea of what thesell be. theyre going to be character exclusive accessories, just like how tpn did theirs

for aubrey, she’ll have mr plantegg. i was thinking of maybe having her bat as an accessory, but

OH ACTUALLY her bat could be a shop accessory that changes the music boxes!! probably an a tier tbh

anyway, the essence accessory for her is mr plantegg, and its there strictly for cosmetic purposes. for basil, he’d get either a pair of garden shears, or a basil plant, since yknow. his names basil. this is also for cosmetic purposes

they all are. i should say that now, the accessories are all cosmetic except aubreys a tier shop bat

finally, for sunny, im not entirely sure what to give him. i could give him a knife, sure, but then he’d have two knives because of the umbrella. maybe a steak? or a pair of red hands? im torn on this

and that concludes part one

part two

**PLEASE BE AWARE THAT MARIS IMAGE HAS THE PHOTO FROM THE TRUTH ALBUM WHERE SHES HANGING FROM THE TREE. IF YOU DONT WANT TO SEE IT, SKIP PAST IT. SHES THE FIRST CHARACTER IM PUTTING ON HERE

part two consists of mari, hero, and kel. do not separate them </3

here are my character choices:

mari as yidhra

so i know yidhra may seem like a weird choice. i originally thought of maybe mary, but this makes sense to me

yidhra herself will be mari. im not sure which version, but even though i have real world mari in the photo, maybe headspace mari would be better. nobody can see her anyway lmao

yidhras servants will be, again, mari, but she looks as she did when basil and sunny hung her on the tree. her hairs covering her face, with her right eye being visible. kind of like the girl from the ring, but anyway yeah

yidhra is the dream witch. she haunts your dreams and she haunts mine when i go against her. maris death haunts everyone, especially sunny and basil (whom know the truth of what happened,) so this just seems like a perfect fit

her death is “leeched” onto everyones minds (pun entirely intended), so attaching herself to survivors with only her death appearance visible is mmmm

instead of an axe, maybe her weapon can be the jump rope she was hung from? and it can be used as a whip? that makes the most sense to me idk

im not good at explaining things, but if you were to see dream witch in a match, youd know how good this would work

also brings a new meaning to “my thoughts will follow you into your dreams” HELLO

hero as norton campbell

so hero was kind of hard for me to pick too. i wanted him to be a support character, but looking around, there are. barely any that would work. my closest choice was victor, but?? the letters???? they dont correlate

hero doesnt give me kiter vibes, but nortons good at rescues too, as long as youre in an area with obstacles. and usually, when someone dies in battle, hero can make life jam to revive the fallen party member

nortons magnets are used to either bring the hunter closer to him, or push the hunter away. both can be used to stun with obstacles. while hero doesnt have any stun attacks that i can remember, he does have charming abilities that can be used to take damage for the other party members. so similar stuff? idk

i guess his magnets can be turned into chocolate chip cookies, since thats what he uses to heal everyone. if not cookies, then i dont know

oh actually one of nortons abilities is called “attract.” thats so funny if you put hero as him lmao

heros section is kind of short, my bad

kel as william ellis

come on. who else were you expecting me to use? its the basketball man as the football man

while kel is a fighter in battle, he can also be used as a backup healer. aubrey is the main fighter of the group, and hero is the main healer. so hes kind of a catch-all in a sense

kels an athlete. he plays basketball. williams an athlete. he plays football. need i say more

im not gonna lie, this is kind of a don tpn situation where it just Makes Sense that kel would be william

the football will probably be replaced with either a rubber ball or a basketball, depending on which skin youre using. the former is for headspace kel, the latter for real world kel

the buffs and debuffs for william makes sense on kel too. kel would probably have trouble with something as (probably) complex as the cipher machines, and the struggle and vaulting buffs show off his athleticisim

same with the football, using rush to rescue is such a kel thing to do

essence

for part two, there will be about the same things as part one

the portraits will be the neutral battle portraits, this time with the real world counterparts of everyone. basil and maris will be their neutral expressions on the neutral battle background. though, since mari doesnt have Real real world portraits, i guess they could use the one from the one i used on the mari yidhra picture

for graffiti, it can be the real world overworld sprites

in terms of accessories, theyre still cosmetic and character exclusive. maris can be the white egret orchid, since thats the flower that represents her. heros can be a spatula, as thats his weapon of choice in headspace. for kel, im not sure. hes using the ball as a weapon so???

maybe he can get a cactus, because thats his assigned plant

in terms of shop items, i think i know the perfect thing

mewo as a pet

mewo my beloved. nobody could ever forget you

mewo would be a hunter pet. she would be cool for survs too i guess, but considering both her owners are hunters.....

mewo would probably follow the hunter around, not really doing much. i think it would be Extremely funny though if every time a survivor was chaired, she just chilled next to them in the pose shes always in in white space

thats pretty much it. if you got this far, thank you!! i spent like two hours writing this whole thing out LMAO damn

#this is soooo long im so sorry #but im having a moment LMAO #identity v #idv #omori #omori game

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hypnoboywonder · 5 years ago

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To my dear followers,

I want to just thank each and everyone of you all for following me and supporting my page throughout the last six years.

Ive been inactive for awhile for a multitude of reasons. One being the fact that Tumblr just isn’t want it used to be. Secondly I’ve been focusing on myself. I’ve been doing much self reflecting, improving my mental and physical health, and overall just trying to be a more happy and productive person.

I started this page as a teenager. Hypnosis was something I loved my whole life and I wanted to find an outlet where I could express my love for hypnosis while interacting with others that shared my interests. I never knew it would grow to be what it is today. It started off innocently but later grew to be one of the most life changing experiences I’ve ever had.

When I started this page, the online hypnosis community was much smaller than it currently is now, but due to my love as well as many other individuals, the community grew to what it is today which is something that brings a smile to my face and is something we should be proud of.

I’m writing this because I feel as though my online presence is going to take a halt for awhile. My life is starting to take off which unfortunately means I must start living in the real world and I must put the world I created on hold for a period of time, but I will come back one day.

I still practice hypnosis but I do it more in person now. The years of experience I gained from you all has molded me into a fairly good tist, so I want to branch out and share my talents with those that are not well versed in hypnosis, but are willing to try it. It’s been very fun working with people in person but like many of us, they don’t want to be recorded or any recordings must stay between us, so I’m sorry for not sharing the wealth.

I want to thank you all again for the amount of joy you all have given me, the amount of acceptance I felt whenever I came on here, and the countless experiences I shared with many of you. Without you all I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Hypnoboywonder changed my life forever and I hope you all enjoyed what I had to offer.

I promise I will come back one day in some form. Maybe I’ll come back on Tumblr, maybe YouTube, maybe some other form of social media in the future, but I promise Hypnoboywonder will always be alive until the day I die. When I come back I plan on creating the best content I possibly can, to repay all of you for what you have given me. I promise to make our community proud and to introduce the world to the wonders of hypnosis. Please be patient with me as this will take time, but it will be worth the wait.

Be yourself and don’t let the world bring you down. When the world doesn’t accept you, just know I accept you. Be weird, be kinky, be a freak, for no one is normal.

I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

-Brandon Valdez

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phoenix-downer · 5 years ago

Text

Your Voice

Sora had never been big on hospitals. They were cold and sterile and brought back memories of when his grandfather was sick. All those days spent in waiting rooms and sitting by hospital beds and hoping for the best while bracing himself for the worst. And it wasn’t like old people were the only ones who dealt with this kind of thing. Even kids could get really sick.

Even so, he didn’t expect a serious illness to hit Kairi of all people. She was healthy and active, spending hours at the Play Island with him and Riku. All until she’d come down with a fever so bad she had to be hospitalized.

“You can go in now,” the nurse said, a kind woman who smiled and cheered him up a little. He nodded and pushed the door open. Kairi was lying there on the hospital bed, and her cheeks were flushed from the fever. Machines next to her beeped ominously, and an IV connected her to one of them.

“Hey,” he said as he found one of those squeaky hospital chairs and dragged it over. “Long time no see.”

Kairi didn’t say anything; the only response was the steady beeping of the machines.

“We’ve missed you, at school and stuff. Mr. Kobayashi doesn’t know what to do without his star student in homeroom. He keeps looking over at your desk before he remembers you’re not there. We… we all do.”

He reached into his book bag and pulled out one of her favorites: a book of fairytales. Flipping through the pages, he began to read one to her, about a knight who went on a long quest to rescue a princess. In order to save her, he had to give up his heart and become a shade. But the princess found him and saved him with true love’s kiss. He became human again, and they got married and lived happily ever after.

It was a simple tale, but one they’d both loved since they were kids. He carefully tucked it back into his book bag and then pulled out something the art club had made for her, a Get Well Soon card with thalassa shells drawn on it. He read out the names of all the people who had signed it, then put it on the windowsill looking out over the parking lot below.

And now, the real reason he had come. Taking a deep breath, he found her hand. It was warm and kinda limp. This wasn’t the first time he’d held it, but… all the other times were before. Before his heart started racing whenever she walked in the room. Before just meeting her eyes made his face hot and his palms sweaty. Before his mouth went dry any time he tried to talk to her. Before things had changed between them.

“Kairi, you know that saying? About how you never know what you have until it’s gone? When you got sick, that was me. I’d always just… sort of taken it for granted that you’d always be there. But all this has made me realize, that’s not really true. I have no idea how long you’ll be a part of my life. And thinking about that, thinking about losing you someday… it hurt. A lot.”

He took another deep breath before continuing.

“Then I thought about why. You’re my friend, of course, but that’s not all. I think I might…”

His face got hot, and he couldn’t spit the words out. Even though she wasn’t really conscious, the thought of telling her what was on his heart made him want to bolt out of the room.

Maybe, if he said it in a roundabout way…

He thought of the story he’d read to her, and the words came easily. “You’re my light in the darkness, Kairi.” He smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll get better, but I didn’t want to wait to tell you any longer.”

He glanced back towards the door, and the nurse nodded at him. Visiting hours were over.

“Bye for now, Kairi. I hope you feel better soon.” He let her hand linger in his for a little while longer. When her fingers slipped out of his grasp, he had to fight the sinking feeling in his gut.

This wouldn’t be the last time he would see her. It just wouldn’t be. Kairi was strong, and she’d pull through.

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Kairi’s fever came on suddenly, and the days her body spent fighting the infection went by in a delirious haze. Old memories mixed with new sensations to provide strange, vivid images that were half nightmare and half daydream.

But then came a moment of clarity, gentle pressure on her fingers and a warm, familiar voice. She was floating one moment, sinking the next, awash in a sea of confusion and fear, when that voice broke through her dreams and found her.

“Sora?” she murmured. Her eyes fluttered open, and his smile greeted her. Warm and gentle and bright as the sun. She followed his voice, followed the warmth in her hand as he led her away from the darkness and confusion and towards the light.

When she woke up for real, the fever had finally broken, and she was lying on a hospital bed. A few moments later, a nurse bounced into the room to check up on her, a huge smile on her face. Kairi had to stay at the hospital for a few more days as she recovered her strength, but that moment she’d heard Sora’s voice was the turning point, she was sure of it.

Her first day back at school, it felt like the whole school was celebrating her return. The third year students had made a huge banner saying, “Welcome Back, Kairi” in big bold letters, and it was hanging over the balcony on their floor. She caught Riku grinning down at her, and she smiled back and waved at him.

When she reached the shoeboxes, hers was full of cards and presents, and there were so many that she couldn’t reach her indoor shoes until she pulled the gifts out and tucked them into her bag. Her cubby at the back of the classroom was a similar story; it was so full of gifts from her classmates that she knew it would take hours to look through them all.

Mr. Kobayashi’s face brightened as she took her seat. “Kairi! Glad to have you back.” She thanked him for his kind words and reached into her desk for a pencil and a scrap of paper. Scribbling a quick note on it, she casually stood and made her way over towards Sora’s desk. When Mr. Kobayashi was distracted by Selphie asking him about what area she was supposed to clean today, she deposited the note inside Sora’s desk.

Selphie turned to her and winked once her mission was accomplished, and Kairi gave her a grateful smile. The rest of their classmates filtered in after that, all stopping by her desk to congratulate her on her recovery. Sora was the last one to come in, as was his habit. He had figured out how to arrive with exactly one minute to spare before the bell rang, and today was no different. He strolled in like he didn’t have a care in the world, in that easy, confident swagger she’d come to love.

All until he saw her, that is. He stopped, and gone was the swagger. His cheeks flushed, and his whole face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“Kairi! You’re back!”

She returned his smile. “Yes, I am.”

His grin got bigger, and he stood there and gazed at her. “Wow, that’s�� that’s great.”

She felt her own cheeks get hot. “Y-Yeah.”

The moment was interrupted by Tidus scolding him and telling him to sit down before the bell rang so they wouldn’t break their twenty-days-of-no-tardies streak.

He stumbled on the way to his desk and sat down with five seconds to spare. Mr. Kobayashi gave him a look, and he started. “Oh, right. I’m supposed to do the morning greeting today.” He deposited his stuff and went to the front of the room. “Stand up.”

Kairi kept casting looks his way all throughout the morning, hoping he would find her note. It wasn’t till third period that he finally did, when he realized he’d left his math homework in his desk. He stole a glance at her, then nodded slightly to confirm before crumpling the note and stuffing it in his pocket. Tidus noticed what had happened and snickered, but thankfully didn’t rat them out.

During the lunch recess, Sora met her on the roof of the school, like she’d requested. He’d loosened his tie in a way that would get Mr. Kobayashi’s scolding for sure for violating the school dress code. But it was warm outside and no teachers were around right now, and Kairi sort of liked the more relaxed look on him.

“So, you wanted to meet me up here?” he asked. The view was great; you could see all of the Main Island from here, and even some of the nearby smaller islands. The breeze ruffled his spiky hair and cooled them both down, and it felt nice to be back outside after spending so much time indoors.

“Yes, I did,” she said. Now that he was actually here, though, her palms were sweaty and her mouth was dry. But… she had to do it. She had to tell him.

“Sora, when I was sick, I had a lot of strange dreams. Because of the fever, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. Come to think of it, they were more like nightmares.”

His face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“But then… I heard a voice. Your voice. It brought me home.” She smiled and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You came to visit me when I was in the hospital, didn’t you?”

He coughed and stammered. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that,” he muttered, unable to meet her eyes as he scratched his neck. “Do you… do you remember anything I said?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. I just remember hearing your voice, and I think that’s what helped break my fever.”

She found his hand, remembering the time when his fingers weren’t this much bigger than hers. He looked at her, surprise written on his features, and she smiled and nodded.

“Thank you, Sora. Thank you for bringing me home.”

He stared at her for a few moments, then a huge smile spread across his face. He wove their fingers together, his grip strong and steady and firm. “No, thank you, Kairi.”

She tilted her head, her hair splashing against her cheeks. “For what?”

“For being you.”

The way he spoke was so heartfelt that she couldn’t help but look away as she blushed and giggled. When she summoned the courage to look in his eyes again, she almost had to look away again, her heart was fluttering so much.

How glad she was that it had been him to pull her out of the darkness, his voice that had called out to her. Her illness hadn’t been fun or pleasant, but at least one good thing had come from it.

And for now, it was simply enough that they were here, together. They could figure out the rest of the details later, one day at a time.

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

A/N: So, back when I was finishing my fic for the twosidesfanzine back in February, I told the other writers that if they could hit 1500 words exactly, I would write a fic for them. Well, several people took me up on my offer, including @peachofthesunshine, so this fic is written for her! She gave me a prompt about Sora visiting Kairi in the hospital, including her being able to hear his voice. Hope you enjoyed!

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janeofcakes · 6 years ago

Text

Finding John Watson: Chapter 1

**This is a working title and one I’m leaning towards. It might change.**

John’s eyes open slowly, or more like not open. The lids are heavier than he would expect.They feel like mini lead aprons over his eyes. Like the ones used to cover parts of the body not being x-rayed. The weight of them us troubling. Just how long as he been asleep?

After stopping for an angry sigh and a cursory wetting of his lips, John finally cracks his eyes open only to close them again at the blinding light. He gasps in shock and starts coughing, his throat incredibly dry. He raises his hands to cover his mouth and rub at his eyes. But nothing is touching his face, not a single fingertip. Barely staving off panic, John takes stock of himself. All of his limbs are definitely intact. He can feel all of them, but they won’t move. Not one finger or toe, not even a twitch. Something is seriously wrong.

Ready to panic now, John forces his eyes open and blinks furiously until they adjust to the dim light of the room around him. It is obviously a hospital room. The beige walls and paintings of fruit bowls and island scenes attest to that, as well as the bed and other furniture - a few wall closets, a basin, a door that is most likely the loo, and a few moderately comfortable looking chairs for visitors. The blinds over the only window are drawn and John can’t see a clock anywhere. No way to find out what time of day or night it is. He furrows his brow, considering his predicament. There could be a clock behind him, but that doesn’t help at all anyway. He can only look around the room with his eyes, after all. He tries looking back to his right as far as he can and that’s when he notices the telltale curtain that can be pulled around the bed, and when he hears the steady, if not fast, beeping of a heart monitor.

Taking in all of this is a second or two, John casts his eyes down his own body and finds everything definitely intact. He can see that easily, even with his lower half covered by sheets and blankets. His upper half is not covered, his arms look far paler and smaller around than he has ever seen them. He looks at them more closely as he tries to move, not missing his inability to move his own head as he does it. The head of the bed is angled upward so he is sitting up a bit and thank god for that. It is the only reason he can see any of his own body.

He strains his muscles and screws up his face in concentration, biting his lip as he raises his head off the pillow, even if only a fraction. He watches as he tries to move his toes and fingers, but nothing happens. Dropping his head back in frustration, John lets out a loud sigh and tries not to scream. He wets his lips, lifts his head in determination, and tries again. This time, after what seems like days, his fingers twitch and his toes wiggle ever so slightly. He drops his head back on the pillow and lets out a few heavy breaths. John squeezes his eyes shut as he pants into the quiet room and tries not to panic.

What the fuck? What the hell happened to me?

He tries to remember, but he can’t. And that’s when John realizes he can’t remember anything. Not a thing. Who is he? How did he get here? Where is he? What the fuck happened to him?

Suddenly John hears the click of a doorknob and his eyes dart to the room’s entrance. A woman in her early thirties pops in, her brown eyes locked on his and she stops for a second before moving into the room. She closes the door behind and walks to his side silently. She is about five five and pale. Her dark brown curls bounce a little as she walks and John finds it familiar, comforting. He instantly feels he can trust her, though he doesn’t know why. He watches he with intrigue and she smiles.

“Hello. It’s so good to see you awake,” her voice is warm and flows easily from her lips. She isn’t whispering, but her tone is quiet as though wanting to spare him any loud noise. She pulls an ear thermometer from a wheeled cabinet near the bed. “My name’s Eileen. I’m your nurse. Can I take your temperature?”

Eileen. Why does that sound so familiar?

John nods, his chin moving minutely, but it’s enough and her eyes brighten. Passed his first test - comprehension. She gently places the device in his ear and he hears it beep. She removes it and records it in a logbook lying on top of the mobile cabinet. A logbook. Now that is telling. They only use a logbook for long-term cases these days. John furrows his brows. How could he possibly know that?

“I’m going to take your blood pressure, okay?”

John’s chin dips again ever so slightly, but a little more than the first time. Smiling again, she does it by hand and he watches her write the result in the book. She counts his pulse for a minute and records his heart rate. She looks at various monitors and enters their readings into the logbook, and then everything into a laptop on a counter nearby. Two copies. A paper one to refer to without logging in, something to be seen quickly.

The fingers of John’s left hand tingle and twitch, wishing they could hold that book and flip through its pages, see how far back it goes. It is the smallest of movements, but it’s enough to tell John that he will be moving again in time. However, he will be in physical therapy for a long while, if his arms are any indication. He needs to rebuild the muscle, reclaim his fine motor skills, walk again.

John’s thoughts cease abruptly. How does he know all this?

“Sorry about that. Just some things I need to take care of. Housekeeping,” Eileen jokes kindly. His lips start to move, to form words, and she pauses. “Are you okay? Do you have any pain?”

“Nnnnno,” he can barely be heard, even in the quiet room. He cringes and swallows, trying to create some moisture in his mouth and throat. As if reading his expression, Eileen moves closer and touches his hand lightly.

“You have an NG tube in your nose. Do you think you can drink water okay?”

John tries to say yes, but only mouths the word. The nurse nods at him with a tender smile and steps over to the bank of closets. She opens one to reveal a small refrigerator and removes a bottle of water. As she pours some in a plastic cup, John considers this new information. This is not a normal hospital. Individual rooms in ordinary hospitals do not have closets that hide their own mini-fridges.

“Here you are,” the nurse holds the cup and straw close. “Ready? Go slowly now.”

John sucks on the straw when it hits his lips and, oh my god, the ice cold water feels heavenly in his warm mouth. It flows gloriously down his throat as he swallows, feeling renewed and refreshed. Even when she takes away the cup, saying it won’t do for him to drink too much all at once, he sighs contentedly. He focuses his deep blue eyes on her when she turns back to him and speaks before he has a chance to try.

“I know you have a lot of questions and I’ll answer as many as I can, but I need to ask you some things first. Will you answer my questions?”

“Yes,” John’s voice is full of gravel and still very quiet, but he can tell the water has already helped and it will get better as time goes on.

“Perfect,” Eileen smiles. She touches his arms and hands, legs and toes asking each time if he can push against her hands or resist when she pulls. He tries as best he can and confirms that he can certainly feel her touch, but can do little else. She asks if he can tell whether or not his muscles are contracting or trying to move and he says yes. Not unexpectedly, this news pleases her. She takes a moment to explain that he is on IV fluids with nutrients in addition to the NG tube. He also has bags providing various medications, all of which she explains.

John listens intently and suddenly it strikes him that not only does he understand everything she tells him, but he knows what everything is and what it does before she says it. Based upon all the information she has given him, he has definitely been in this room for quite some time. But exactly how long and how does he know so much about medicine? Who has kept his muscle from wasting away completely and who has been shaving his face, cutting his hair? Eileen, presumably. How long has she been such a lifeline to him?

“How do you feel? Do you understand all I’ve told you?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. That’s perfect,” she smiles again. She smiles a lot. ”Now I have some questions. Are you okay to answer them?”

“Yes,” John nods, noticing his head moved a little more this time. A warm tingle of excitement and adrenaline rushes through his body from head to toe. A corner of his mouth turns up.

“Good, good. Just let me know if you need to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

John looks at her blankly.

No. I have no idea.

Not ready to say those words aloud, John inhales deeply and closes his eyes. He tries to concentrate, tries to look inside his own mind for the answers. He once heard someone talk about turning his mind into a house. No, not a house, a palace. Suddenly he can hear a deep voice, absolutely delicious in timbre, telling John exactly how he does it. The rich and silky baritone explains dividing his mind into wings and rooms, putting information and people and events in the different places so he never forgets anything and can access it whenever he needs it.

Who are you? Are you real?

John looks into his own memory and tries to find rooms, tries to find anything. He can’t find enough to habitat wings and what he does find is hidden by panes of black glass. He tries to open one of them, certain that all the answers are hidden behind these panes of glass, but it will not budge. John hears Eileen’s voice asking him if he is all right. He takes a moment before opening his eyes. Eileen. Eileen. Why is that so familiar? And the dark curls, the pale skin…

A pane of glass nearby shatters without warning, startling John enough to open his eyes and gasp. Eileen’s eyes are wide with worry and she is leaning toward him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right? Are you in pain?” her voice is tense, but steady. John actually, shockingly turns his head to the left about an inch to look at her.

”John,” he rasps. The name behind the glass is his. He knows it’s his, but that is all he found.

“Yes, Yes, that’s good. Can you tell me your surname?” Eileen’s tone brightens and she straightens her posture again. John pauses and tries to think, to remember.

“No.”

“That’s okay. Totally okay,” she assures him. “It’s to be expected with a head injury. It’ll take some time to come back.

“What?” John tries to ask a full question, but can’t get all the words to come. He had surmised as much, but confirmation of a head injury is still welcome and key. Well, as welcome as that news can be. John wants to know more. He has to figure out what happened to him and who he is. “How. How did…”

“I know you have a lot of questions, John,” Eileen tells him sympathetically when he can’t finish the sentence, “but your doctor really should be the one to answer them.”

Doctor!

A piece of the puzzle emerges from the fog left behind the broken pane, behind his name. John is a doctor. It explains why he knows so much about medicine and hospital procedure. He fixes Eileen with a determined expression.

“Doctor.”

“Yes, your doctor’s name is Madison Hoover,” she tells him. “She’ll be able to tell you more when she comes for rounds in a few hours.”

“I’m a doctor,” John manages.

“Yes, you are. That’s wonderful, John. You see? It’s starting to come back already. It won’t be long now.”

John closes his eyes and another dark pane of glass shatters. The face of a young woman becomes clear.

“Molly Hooper,” John exclaims in a hushed and still rough tone as he looks at the nurse, who shakes her head.

“Hoover. Madison Hoover. She’ll see you as soon as rounds begin. I guarantee it. She’s been on your case from the start.”

“How long?” John asks in a whisper, but he can see immediately that the nurse is uncomfortable answering anymore questions. He will have to deduce it for himself. Deduce? Who has said that before? Yes, John, I deduced it.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you do need your rest and it’s very early. Rounds aren’t for hours,” Eileen lets him have another drink of water. John’s lips curl up contentedly once he is finished and she puts the cup on the side table.

He has so many questions and concerns, but the cold water on his throat is like a magical relaxant and he actually does feel sleepy. In spite of this, John has absolutely no intention of sleeping. He has his own plans to find the answers to his questions. Strangely, he feels almost excited. It’s like a mystery that he must solve. Why does he feel like he has done that before? Not once, but many times over.

But not alone. I wasn’t alone.

“Try to sleep, John,” Eileen touches his hand gently. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

John nods, his head moving more than the previous times, and he thanks her. She smiles, goes to the door, and slips out.

**And that’s the first chapter. I’d love to know what y’all think and hope you enjoyed it. There’s more to come!**

@whodwantmeasaflatmate @swissmissing

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #sherlockholmes #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #season 4 #s4 fix

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dailytechnologynews · 6 years ago

Photo

GloFo 7nm: A Lost Hope

So as you may know GloFo 7nm was recently cancelled, in this article im going to analyze all of what this implies in a lot of levels but mostly on the technical one, both in short and long term

before beginning please have in mind:

1) im Spanish and my english writing might be poor, also this is by far the longest article ive ever wrote and it took me 2 and a half Hours to complete, there can be mistakes but don't be harsh pls

2) i currently own a bit of AMD stock, this means I focus on them more, but as you will see this doesn't affect my thinking

3) i link various articles in this one, i recommend you reading them for better comprehension

4) this article contains A LOT of estimates, they are based on public knowledge, if some of that knowledge turns out to be false or inaccurate the estimates based on it do the same, however they are the best that I can do, if I had more hard data I will use it. in particular, my estimates about TSMC 7nm are… weak and early, please don't complain about them, its the best I can do without more hard data

9001) WARNING: this article is LONG, the character count its literally OVER 9000!!!!

with that said lets begin

The first important question is WHY? Why did GloFo cancel their 7nm node? the answer is simple: MONEY, this quote from anandtech sums things up:

So, the key takeaway here is that while the 7LP platform was a bit behind TSMC’s CLN7FF when it comes to HVM – and GlobalFoundries has never been first to market with leading edge bulk manufacturing technologies anyway – there were no issues with the fabrication process itself. Rather there were deeper economic reasons behind the decision.

the full article is here: https://www.anandtech.com/show/13277/globalfoundries-stops-all-7nm-development

The second question is: how does GloFo 7nm compare to TSMC 7nm, because if glofo’s node was worse than TSMC's then the only loss here would be the competition, well this is absolutely not the case, GloFo 7nm was superior than TSMC 7nm, maybe by a wide margin, but this depends literally of thousands of factors, so the best that i can do is to approximate the final answer basing on all that we know first we have to know the specifics of GloFo 7nm, here is an excellent article containing them and more: https://fuse.wikichip.org/news/641/iedm-2017-globalfoundries-7nm-process-cobalt-euv/ if you read the article and understand most of it, you have my respect, but lets list the facts that we care about:

1) 55% power reduction at the same frequency

2) 40% frequency improvement at the same power

3) extremely tuned fin profiles

4) cobalt for some critical layers, improving interconnect speed and drastically reducing electromitigation, this is very important as the wall to reaching high clocks is interconnect speed

this looks extremely nice, but how does this translate into real world max clocks? Well if you assume the GloFo chart was linear then the results are very good, here is a calibration based in real data, done in the anandtech forums by /u/catmerc (thanks!): https://forums.anandtech.com/threads/next-gen-zen-2-3-starship-and-derivatives.2511914/page-3#post-39322122 you watched right: 4,6 GHz at the same power you would get 3,3 GHz on 14nm, WOW, this means that (again if the chart was linear) 5 GHz wouldn't be far fetched at all, this is probably too good and my estimations are that GloFo 7nm was a bit worse than what this chart implies, still I think 5 GHz would have been doable, but only for single core turbo, just in case: im referring to the SoC version, clocks on 7HPC would have been ludicrous

now we have to analyze how good TSMC 7nm is, this is harder to know and there is less data about this but lets do it anyway. first we have to get the advertised numbers, and those are 60% power reduction at the same frequency or 30% frequency improvement at the same power, source: https://www.anandtech.com/show/12677/TSMC-kicks-off-volume-production-of-7nm-chips, this is starting to look worse than GloFo from the first moment, however there is a big issue here: the bases are different, GloFo bases their 7nm numbers on their 14nm, and TSMC does it over their 16nm+ this makes comparison hard, I remember that TSMC 16nm clocked higher than Samsung 14nm which is the same as GloFo 14nm, but consumed a bit more and was less dense, I cant source those claims but if you look at the numbers they make sense, anyway this approach failed as a solid comparison point so lets move on, how about taking the words of their clients? Spoiler alert: worse than GloFo

Speed gains of 16% at 10 nm may dry up at 7 nm due to resistance in metal lines. Power savings will shrink from 30% at 10 nm to 10–25% at 7 nm, and area shrinks may decline from 37% at 10 nm to 20–30% at 7 nm, said Paul Penzes, a senior director of engineering on Qualcomm’s design technology team. source: https://www.eetimes.com/document.asp?doc_id=1333109

Arm claims that the latest 7-nm nodes will only deliver 2% to 3% more speed than the 16-nm node. “There hasn’t been much frequency benefit at all since 16 nm … wire speed hasn’t scaled for some time,” said Peter Greenhalgh, an Arm fellow and vice president of technology. source: https://www.eetasia.com/news/article/18060102-arm-announces-high-performance-laptop-cpu

so basically two clients of TSMC are saying that there are close to none clock gains on 7nm (compared to 10nm, this is important) and I know they mean TSMC and not GloFo because they both say the problem is interconnect speed which if you remember from above is one of the things GloFo 7nm improved a lot thanks to cobalt and other things, also GloFo is a much smaller fab, it was going to get into HVM later and most people were going to use TSMC anyway. So now we know TSMC 7nm isn't as good as GloFo 7nm was, but by how much? Well a little time ago I made a prediction of how Ryzen 3000 would clock on both nodes, I recently updated it to reflect that AMD will use the HPC variant: https://www.reddit.com/r/aceshardware/comments/923t76/ryzen_3000_clock_predictions/ so there is your answer, a not at all laughable 300 MHz loss, but I think you also want to know how did I get to that concussion, well… it is a bit tricky and fail prone also it has a 100mhz or higher margin of error, anyway here it goes: the base is Ryzen 7 1800X which turbos up to 4 GHz on GloFo 14LPP TSMC 16nm+ clocks higher than GloFo 14lpp but lower than 12LP, 4,2GHz is my best estimate, TSMC 10nm should give about 5% of a boost to max clocks (remember max clocks ALWAYS increase less than “performance” for high end CPUs) that gets us to >4,4 GHz, going from 10nm to 7nm should give a negligible boost of around 2% but this is just enough to put that number on 4,5 GHz, this is the number for the mobile variant, but as i discovered during the writing of this article, AMD is going to use the HPC variant which features a 7.5 track library instead of the 6 track one found in the mobile variant it also should use fater interconnects, finding how much will this variant boost clocks is again as there is EVEN LESS data on it, the only numbers that I could find are +13% perf over the mobile variant and up to 4,4 GHz speed for the sram(L* cache), cache usually is a bit slower than the CPU itself so this doesnt mean the limit is 4,4 GHz. with all of this my estimation for 7nm HPC is 4,7 GHz which is still lower than the GloFo 7nm SoC version, have in mind im being a bit cautious with this one 4,8 GHz is possible , just for laughs if we compared max clocks of GloFo 7nm HPC(IBM only) vs TSMC 7nm HPC the difference will be ~0,8GHz, LOL just LOL (the number is serious tough) as you can see this is tricky as is based on estimates over estimates, however there are some limits to how good or how bad it can clock, so while my number might (and possibly will) fail, it cant fail by much The third question is: who this affects and how does it? The answer is AMD, IBM, Intel, TSMC and maybe Samsung, so lets analyze how it affects everyone on that list

AMD: Negatively

after the previous paragraph you can see why: 300-200mhz loss its not good, but this is just the tip of the iceberg, even if GloFo continued with 7nm AMD might have chosen TSMC 7nm for ryzen 3000 because of time constraints, the really bad thing about this is that the clocks of TSMC nodes are expected to be flat until 3nm which will mean a tech change from finfet to gaafet, this means Intel has 3-4 years of wide and increasing clock leadership so the only way AMD can beat Intel’s performance in the desktop market is through big IPC increases, which are unlikely to be big enough,still AMD should be able to beat Intel in value (perf/price) by a very good margin, server and laptop market are a VERY different story and I expect AMD to do very well on those. another HUGE concern for AMD should be prices, with near zero competition TSMC can increase prices both on the short and the long term, similar to the DRAM market, this means either smaller margins for AMD or higher final product prices.

for those all reasons I did cut my personal stock price target for AMD by a BIG 20%, yes you heard right: the day before the announcement I thought AMD was going to reach a 25% (because percentages work that way) higher price than today, im not going to say what my exact price targets are but I believe AMD is going to go up from the current price, just much less than before

IBM: Negatively, VERY negatively

well.. this guys really take the worst part, basically they have no node suitable for their high-end CPUs for the foreseeable future, glofo spun off an ASIC group which is said to help port costumer designs to other nodes, the problem is that there is no high performance 7nm class node apart from intel 10nm (if they fix it)

Intel: Positively

a lot of what I said for AMD applies here in reverse, Intel basically has an assured performance lead in the desktop market over AMD, but still they will have to compete to a denser, cheaper to produce 7nm chip lineup with their 14nm one, their server market share is still posed to get lower maybe by a bog amount

TSMC: Positively, VERY positively

on the short term they get more volume and therefore revenue, and in a now 2-player game (3 if intel opens its fabs) they get the ability to increase or even pact prices

Samsung: Positively

Samsung on the short term will probably see no gains, but on the long term they might win some designs, however the big win for them is the lack of competency driving prices an therefore margins up

YOU, the consumer: Negatively

as per the points stated above you might get more expensive chips, and maybe even worse ones, cutting-edge node development is mindblowingly expensive and that maybe is an understatement, with less competition tsmc and samsung might opt to do less aggressive jumps to save a huge amount of money on RD, this remains to be seen, it may not happen, but the possibility is out there and I wont dismiss it

to end I would like to quote an excellent comment from /u/nagromo which summarizes perfectly some of my thoughts:

I was hopeful that IBM research working with them meant it would be more like "IBM 7nm, manufactured by GloFo", similar to how they've done well with Samsung 14nm. I still think there's a decent chance it really was on track, and they're telling the truth and just think they can be more profitable using their successful 12/14nm technologies instead of investing $10B+ into 7nm. I'm really disappointed to hear this. I thought it was a reasonable hope that the IBM research team would be able to achieve or approach their 40% performance, 55% power numbers. There's rumors about poor performance from TSMC 7nm. My hopes for Ryzen 3 aren't nearly as high as they were yesterday.

this article was originally wrote by me to /r/aceshardware

#hardware #Computer #Technology #Tech #News

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stupid-elf · 4 years ago

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1- I chucked my greataxe into the ocean :(

2- well shit, my character with an actually good backstory secret can’t be used bc players follow me here so I have to do one from the other campaign I’m in. He’s actually an uncle and the only reason he’s adventuring isn’t actually fame and to learn cool stories (he’s a halfling bard), it’s to make money so he can send his little niece with a thirst for knowledge to the big fancy in-world college.

3- Oh I really want to play a warforged artificer-gunslinger multiclass.

4- Acky (short for Accident DR(IV)3 the warforged artillerist artificer and former spec-ops hitman) would work well as a goliath, I think. His main character traits are “likes to make things go boom,” “carry smaller characters on my back and shoulders,” and “quiet to the point of stoicism.”

5- Bent knows the Find Familiar spell but doesn’t have a familiar, because Feathers, his falcon/owl shapeshifting familiar, was his companion in the war and suffered PTSD and survivor’s guilt along with Bent after the rest of their company was killed. So Bent dismissed Feathers to the astral plane until the little guy heals enough that he feels comfortable returning to the material plane.

6+7 I will obstain from, as rating my DMs is both unfair and disingenuous

8- Depends on the world and the DM. With a conversationally-gifted DM? RP. With a game mechanics mastermind DM? Combat. With a creative and original DM? World exploration.

9- I do charge my dice, but I do it with the highest side facing up. I’m something of a logical fool, who sits here fully knowing that random chance is at play, but if I can’t seem to get a good roll I will test-roll the die several times and see if it comes out to an average. Sometimes dice become incidentally weighted with use- chips, or some plastics will ‘settle’ and round/sharpen the corners, or if they’re painted the paint could wear off and change the balance.

10- I always wanted to, but a friend mentioned they had a session coming up but that somebody had gotten kicked out so I basically guilted him into letting me take the previous person’s place (sorry Sterling)

11- Oh I have no idea, but I think I’d want to go all-in on a theme and a personality. Something fun and original. It would depend on which celebrity DM, (for Mercer I think I might try to build a powerful and witty character in a desperate bid to impress him) how optimized I would make the build. Probably not so extreme as an Eldritch Knight that has a blown spell slot (Bent) but also not so optimized as the artificer-gunslinger (unnamed, as of yet. He waits in the wings) or my rogue thief with the sharpshooter feat (Corelis). Something fun I haven’t done before, but not so unfamiliar I couldn’t do something fun with it. I might try to play a goliath barbarian-ranger with a favored terrain of mountains. I’ve been meaning to play a goliath.

12- Four years in April!

13- Oh RP for sure. I have a tendency to be too tactical in my RP, which can lead to very stilted, stiff dialogue and mannerisms. My best plays are always when I abandon that and truly do what the character would do, rather than what my history of strategy games wants me to do.

14- *whispers* I can be something of a rules lawyer. I refuse to be one of the “Um, actually” rules lawyers (rule of cool is an unwritten rule, which, much like courtroom etiquette, should be treated as if it had been formalized) but if there’s rules that apply to a situation and it’s being done informally I just can’t help myself *pulls out PHB* “If you look on page 176, “Grappling”...”

15- If somebody has you grappled and you cast the Mold Earth cantrip you can literally make a wall of rock pop up and slam them in the face, Toph Beifong-style, thus both escaping their grapple and putting a literal wall between you and your assailant

16- Please please please please don’t be scrolling tiktok during other people’s turns. Please.

17- My little level 3 sorcerer took the full brunt of a young green dragon’s breath weapon and it was 3 damage short of taking him from full hp to double full hp and a one-hit KO. I proceeded to fail two death saves before the encounter ended and I took a short rest leaning up against the wall in immense pain. I would’ve been dead but he had resistance against the damage type because of his sorcerous origin. He got back up only to get sent to saves by a cultist dagger in turn two of the next encounter lmao. This time the paladin was nice enough to bring me back up.

18- Depends on the character, but I want it to be oathbreaker Paladin so I can sprout black wings and fly. Alternatively, ninth-level spell slots look awful nice...

19- Dex saving throw to avoid falling in a volcano. ‘Nuf said.

20- Oh. Oho. I yeeted a greataxe once. DM allowed it because rule of cool, had me make a strength check to see if I even could, passed, then I rolled a nat20 on the ranged weapon attack roll. RIP evil sorceress, and HELL yeah. Just my half-orc pulls back his arm, brings it forward, and everybody thought he was going to bash the imp’s head in. But no. The axe clear left his hands, flipped end-over-end, and buried itself in her chest. A black stain spread as her levitation spell ended, sending her crashing to the floor of her own cathedral. Thralls collapse, imps flee, combat ends.

d20 dnd asks for players. fuck it

nat 1. most memorable crit fail?

2. a secret about your character no one else in the party knows?

3. what race and class are you itching to play but haven’t yet?

4. if you had to make your character a different player race, what would it be and why?

5. a fun fact about your character?

6. best DM you’ve ever had?

7. worst DM you’ve ever had?

8. combat, roleplay, exploration. rank them in order of your favorite

9. do you keep any dnd superstitions? (e.g., dice jail, “charging” dice on the lowest side, etc)

10. what got you into dnd?

11. if you got the chance to play at a “celebrity” DM’s table (e.g. matt mercer, griffin mcelroy), what kind of character would you design and why?

12. how long have you been playing dnd for?

13. what’s something you’re working on as a player? (e.g., getting better at roleplay, thinking more tactically during combat, writing more notes, etc)

14. a common stereotype about players that applies to you?

15. the most creative solution to a problem / encounter / puzzle that you’ve thought of?

16. biggest pet peeve at the table?

17. describe a near-death experience.

18. what’s the first thing you’re doing when you hit level 20?

19. when has inspiration saved your ass?

nat 20. most memorable crit success?

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alexanderessex3dstoryart · 4 years ago

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Character Design - Iterations of Hyde in Sketchbook

After completing the sketches I did as part of the silhouette research, I thought I take my favorite designs from there and adapt it into my own personal character before I went ahead with the modelling process.

With the first page, i focused on the general look of the character from each angle in my sketchbook playing around with different shapes building up the body of the character almost as the same way as I did in the silhouetted design using the scrap pieces of paper. Design wise, I had a lot of good elements going ahead with the character like the deer skull as form the side angles, it looks well drawn as well the signage as it helped to build up the character's back to mike it look much more visually interesting to look at. Another design choice that I mentioned in the silhouette sketches were the legs being one bigger then other. Specifically in this page, I looked way more the smaller leg’s design which the second drawing I did felt captured this design perfectly as I like the fact that the leg is hanging off by a thread and doesn't even form a proper foot looks so retro and old that I really love it and adds to the feeling that this creature has just been made with everything closest to him as possible and ahs somehow manage to create a creature this way. One last detail I wanted to mention was the signage that is displayed behind him as I really like the idea of them acting like a crowl or backrest to the character. I think it helps further empathizes the feeling of been forgotten and scraped away from the world. In terms of general form, I think I’ve mostly nailed it for the most part other than the character needing to be a lot thicker in his body as he’s displayed like a pencil.

Continuing on, the second page looked more into the arm design of Hyde as that was something I really wanted to pursue and look into since it was one of my favorite elements from the silloute research which I think I’ve showcased too here. How i approach the arm design is very similar to how the torn up paper process i did as I drew a bunch of little squares into my sketchbook and tried to construct an arm this way. It as important during this process that I made sure that the positioning of these pf these squares formed an arm in the process otherwise it would of looked like a jumbled piece of scribbles all placed together randomly. It’s also important to consider where the openings are going to be in the arm to make way for details like wires or cybernetic muscles

I think based off how many iterations I ended u doing, I really enjoyed this self made process for myself in sketching as whilst im not the best drawer, I always come up with unique ways to tackle problems like this one. Proabley out of all of the designs, I very much prefer the first design i created as it looks the most natural out of all my designs.

With the third iteration sheet, it was mostly an expansion of sketches in the same style of the first iteration page I did at the start of this blog. However with this page, I became a lot more expressive in my drawings mainly with realising what kind of giant arm I wanted to accompany the body with. In addition to this, I slowly started to understand how roughly the character was going to look like as I kept on iteration and expressing the same character features over and over again only to reconfirm that this was the design that I wanted to go for. This made me really happy to see as this was coming natural to me which really don't happen at all as I usually choose once design I like the most and expand upon it.

Something to quickly mention that during these three pages, Ive really amped up my momentum in drawing as this may be a sign of my drawing workflow improving overtime.

Finally, the last part of the process was creating the turnaround for the character. For some reason when I reached this stage of the character, I wanted to refine every single little detail that was on offer within the scene which meant i took way longer than necessary to create this character’s front and back designs. However in some ways, the design was worth it in the end from how much detail I added to the character as I guess that’s what you want to see in a turnaround. But at the same time, the design looks very muddled in my opinion and may be a bit too complicated to model. But then I have to remember that the drawings I make don’t fully reflect the character I make in the modelling process as there my be changes I make as I go through the process.

Final Turnaround of Hyde (Impulse)

Overall whilst I’m happy that I’ve created a visual representation of what the character will look like in sketch form from working off the silhouette sheets, I don’t feel very confident in terms of modelling in time for the submission. I think the best course of action is to see what the modelling process is like making the character and going off the first pass of that stage of modelling. Also, I have to consider this is the first model I’ll ever be properly making too so maybe I shouldn't push myself like this and maybe take it a step back.

#CharacterDesignBA2a

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randomnoteforfuturereference · 7 years ago

Text

It’s the Little Things: IV

ForFutureReference

Words: 2275

Summary: It’s common knowledge that Dex has a multitude of skills tucked away. That doesn’t mean there aren’t times when he brings out a skill that catches Nursey off-guard. Especially when Dex helps Nursey with said skill.

Also on AO3.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Author’s Note: I’d like to thank @kleeklutch for not just the beta-ing, but suggesting this prompt in the first place.

Where is it? Shit. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?

This has been my fourth rummage-through.

But no matter how many times I feel through and turn out my pockets… no matter how many times I remove all the contents of my messenger bag… no matter how much I try to regulate my breathing and block out the pounding of blood in my ears… there’s little denying that that I’m missing the most important item for tonight — even more than my phone, which is also missing — and there’s nothing I can do about it.

*CRACK!*

At least, if my inkling about it being back at the Haus is true, nothing I can do without getting completely soaked to the bone. The explosive crash of lightning and thunder — close enough to rattle the old windows to the café and make the many of the patrons jump — mocks me with that fact. The rolling din is loud enough that I don’t even have to look outside to know that there are sheets of rain obscuring the view of anything across the street.

Sam, the café’s owner and emcee who’s still in the process of drafting the schedule for tonight’s open mic night, knows me well enough to offer an understanding grimace. And I know them well enough to know I’m going to be placed in a later time slot, which the part of me that isn’t freaking out is thankful for.

Some look down on reciting via reading and say that it ruins the performance. I don’t deny that someone just staring at their paper is poor presentation as they aren’t interacting with the audience. However, I rebuke any inflexible “memorization or GTFO” mentality.

Having the words in front of me helps to focus my thoughts and tempo, especially when it’s one of the longer poems. I don’t need, or want for that matter, to read line by line. Instead, an occasional glance is all I need, and I feel it helps my own performance when I use the reading material itself to gesture with.

Anyways, whatever. It’s chill. While it’s not ideal, it’s not a full loss either. I do have poems memorized. I just need to—

*CRACK!*

This time, the meteorological clash is loud and unmuffled enough to make me join everyone else in jolting up and looking towards the front of the café.

You know those scenes in the movies where a crack of lightning and thunder draws everybody’s attention to an ominous figure looming in a doorway?

Well that’s playing out right now — with the added bonus of a cold raindrop-laden gust blowing through the café — and considering the figure in question, I’m not even sure that he’s aware of the imagery being created.

But we are.

I mean, when someone barges in from a storm… it’s bound to be a sight. Especially when that someone is six-foot-plus ginger — who has never shown his face in any poetry event before — clad unironically in work jeans, flannel, and a Carhartt.

Unaware of the focus on him, he wastes no time in slamming the door shut, blocking out the cold and muffling the sounds of the tempest in the process. One hand wipes at his face while the other clutches tightly around his abdomen as if he’s in pain, which I don’t doubt considering the intensity of his panting and blushing. Only after his heaving breaths subside, does Dex notice the attention he’s drawn. The reaction is immediate, and he demonstrates that it’s possible to have a blush over a blush.

Despite his mounting mortification — at this point, I don’t doubt that he can dry himself with his own blush — Dex still scans the crowd until his eyes meet mine, heaves a clear sigh of relief, and walks in my direction.

Okay, it’s more of a waddle. A squishy, puddle-tracking, clothes-plastered waddle that progresses as a collective set of eyes silently tracks his movement.

Clear the schedule. Here’s the star of the show.

Sam, who’s standing right next to me, whispers, “Is that your—”

“Yep.”

"He's…"

"Yep."

“… Wow.”

“Yep.”

When Dex gets close enough for me to feel the humid heat of embarrassment radiating off of him, I don’t hesitate in getting the first word in: “The fuck, Poindexter?”

Instead of answering me straight up, Dex mutters a curse-laden comment about how difficult it was to find the joint as he methodically wipes his hand. Hand mostly dry, he rapidly extracts two phones from his pockets and all-but shoves them into my hands.

One of the damp-but-working phones is mine.

I try to come up with a response — not sure whether to thank him for the phone or question the surrealism of this moment — but my words die as he lifts his shirt to reveals a small leather-bound booklet.

My poem booklet.

“Sorry for carrying it like this,” he mumbles while extracting my booklet with his fingertips from the waist of his jeans.

When he holds the booklet out to me, I almost drop the phones in my hands and barely have enough wits to set them on the table. The booklet is still warm to the touch. Any spot of water that made it through is small and isolated enough for me remove with a single wipe of my sleeve, and none of the pages have been marred.

“How did you—”

“It was on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh.”

Sam, after staring at the booklet with probably the same amount of wide-eyed shock that I feel, coughs and whispers, “So… Derek, does this mean you’re fine with the schedule being the original plan?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Great,” they note with a jotting down on their tablet. “And, um, Dex? Is that right?”

Dex’s whips his head towards Sam in surprise that they know his name. “Yeah it is.”

“Do you want to dry off?”

It’s only then that Dex notices the stream of water that he’s tracked inside, and he reddens once more while letting off another string of curses wrapped around apologies.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Sam assures him. “There are towels, dry clothes, and a room here you can change in.” To punctuate that statement, they rummage for a t-shirt from the merch counter and a pair of jeans from the donations bin before pointing Dex to the backroom.

I don’t think anything of it besides it being nice that Dex won’t be a dripping mess for the whole night.

When he emerges a few minutes later from the back room, I realize the grave error of taking the action at face value

Now despite all the jokes about ears, freckles, and the fact that his hands aren’t going to win any beauty contest, Dex has a… nicely proportioned body.

That doesn’t mean I want it highlighted in front of me in the form of a black neon-designed t-shirt that’s at least one size smaller than his usual, or ripped jeans that are more than a bit on the form-fitting side. Dex holds those jeans — not to mention their wearers — in so much contempt, but I find myself unable to revel in the irony playing out.

I mean, if you hate an outfit so much, how can you make it look so good on yourself? How? I have zero clue, but somehow Dex pulls off the look as he shuffles over to us.

And judging from the not-so-subtle glances by others in the crowd, I’m not the only one aware of that fact.

I turn to Sam with narrowed eyes. “You’re evil.”

“Hey,” they rebuke, “I’m just keeping things safe.”

“And those were the only sizes available?” My question is rhetorical.

Sam just smirks before greeting Dex, “Hey, I hope everything fits well.”

Like I said: evil.

Dex scowls at no one in particular. “I don’t know how anyone can wear these,” he grumbles while attempting to tug those jeans up more as if they are made to sit close to the waist like he prefers.

It doesn’t matter that I know his fashion preferences. What matters is that those jeans can’t go any higher — if he was a citizen of this decade, he’d know that — and his only success is making them more… snug. A quick glance around reveals that others notice, and I try not to think about the fact that Dex’s whole body is in everyone's line of sight. Or that the shirt leaves none of his upper-body musculature to the imagination as it tenses, relaxes, shifts, and ripples with the slightest movement. Or that the Swallow's editors are present in the crowd.

“Chill,” I mutter out of hope that I can rile and distract Dex from his obscene exercise in futility. All it does is make him focus his scowl at me as he continues his attempts. Stop it!

Maybe it’s exhaustion, or maybe he has learned the errors of his way. Whatever the reason, Dex finally stops with a frustrated toss of his hands. Still, despite his clear disdain for the attire, he turns to Sam with an appreciative nod. “Thanks for the dry clothes, and sorry about the mess.”

They wave him off with a grin. “Don’t worry about that. And you don’t have to return the jeans tonight.”

The nature of that statement makes me continue my side-eye.

Dex, being Dex, completely misses that. “I’ll give them back after washing,” he says before picking at the shirt. “What about this?”

“Oh that’s yours!” declares Sam. “And don’t worry about paying. After what you just did, it’s on the house.”

What.

Dex freezes. “What?”

“If you hadn’t come here, the scheduling would have been messed up, which would have been a hassle for us.”

I can see the scales balancing in Dex’s mind before he fiddles with the sleeve. “The fabric is nice…” Nonononono— “Thanks.”

Sam makes sure eye contact is maintained between me and them. “Think nothing of it.”

Evil.

“Welp, I best get this thing rolling. T’was good meeting you,” Sam states while shaking Dex’s hand before turning to me. “We’ll be live in thirty.”

Despite my current disgruntlement with Sam, I still order dinner and drinks — Dex’s clearly hungry and his wallet’s busy drying, so I don’t even have to exert myself much to justify buying this round — once we take our seats in the ever-crowding space.

“Lots of people,” Dex mutters as his eyes dart around. By now, everyone’s attention has turned elsewhere, so there’s that at least.

“Chyeah. Premier monthly poetry event in Norfolk County.” There are even key figures, critics, and academics from Boston, Cambridge, and Providence in attendance. Thankfully, they tend to arrive late, and I don’t think any were here to witness Dex’s arrival and… fashion debut.

I can tell he feels completely out of his depth here. Despite that, and despite the weather having cleared up outside, he stays by my side.

It’s probably because the food and shakes are great.

Still… “I want to thank you getting this,” I say while patting my booklet.

Dex fiddles with a sweet potato fry. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, yeah? I know this whole poetry thing means a lot to you. I don’t get it, but…”

But he helped out anyways. I… fuck.

Well, if he’s going to be here… “Um, would you mind if I read a piece that’s a bit based on you?”

Dex tenses with a scowl. Not a hostile scowl. Just surprised and a bit pensive. “It’s not an ode to lobsters, is it.”

A chuckle bubbles up from me at that. “Don’t worry, it’s not.” I open my booklet to the relevant page and slide it over to him. “I bet most of the guys at the Haus wouldn’t know it’s you without me spelling it out.”

As Dex’s eyes flit over the words, his scowl scrunches in concentration. Then it dissipates with a raise of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes.

When it’s clear that he’s done, I note, “If you’re not comfortable, I won’t read it. I wasn’t even planning to originally—”

“No, it’s okay!”

Any incoming explanation dies on my lips and is replaced with a simple, “… It’s okay?”

“It’s just a bit surprising. That’s all. But if that’s what you want…” A patented Poindexter shrug caps his statement.

“And you think it will be alright there?” I ask with a nod to the stage.

Another shrug. “Hell if I know. My opinion means jack shit, but it looks solid to me. So if you feel comfortable with it, I don’t see why not.”

Dex’s opinion matters a lot more than he thinks. Not that he needs to hear that from me. “Thanks.”

His ears redden the slightest. “Like I said. Got your back.”

Few minutes till curtain, Ford rushes in panting with breathless apologies for being late until I assure her that we haven’t even started yet. She does a double-take at the sight of Dex, but to her credit doesn’t comment on his appearance. Instead she simply expresses her happiness at seeing another friendly face, a sentiment that he reciprocates with a grin and a sliding of the fries basket to her. I ignore the inscrutable glance she give me.

Finally, Sam comes up to the stage, welcomes everyone, and calls me up as the first performer.

With pats on the back from Dex and Ford, and a chorus of snapping from the crowd, I make my way up to the stage, slide on my reading glasses, and open up the booklet.

“Yo, I’m Derek, and my piece for this evening is Threads…”

Continue to Part V

#omgcp #nurseydex #william poindexter #derek nurse #omgcheckplease #check please #ffr makes prose

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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 years ago

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hey man your comic stuff?? fucking amazing do you have any tips for a novice child artist such as myself

hmm!!! thats a good question if i have any advice at all…i dont really draw things in comic form that often because of how slow i am…its a whole project for me lol

also natch im just an amateur at all of this vs people who like…pay attention to how to do things really well and/or draw comics on a regular schedule &/or get paid for it and all. so seeing this i was immediately trying to think of like, advice ive seen from random professionals on twitter & stuff & i’ve tried to moreso shake it down to the stuff I’M actually doing when i draw a comic. which is a bit tricky because of my small sample size & the fact that i dont have any kind of consistent process or technique unifying all the comic-type stuff i draw

like sometimes its just a few floating sequential drawings and other times is definitely more like, really thinking of it in terms of how i’m going to structure it in Comic Form & use the format to adjust my presentation of whatever idea i have

like i know ppl whose Job (officially or just by their own standards) to do a bunch of comics pages will do a script of scenes to decide what goes on what page and sort dialogue / action into panels & describe how things will look etc…and then do like maybe really rough layout pre-sketches, then the first rough sketch for a page, an optional more cleaned up sketch layer on top of that, and then the final lineart

i sorrrt of do a version of that, in that i am generally sitting on a Comic Idea for a while before i even start getting into the business of thinking through how it’ll actually work. i have to make sure that im “committed” enough to the idea to wanna make more than one drawing for it, and that i think i have at least a vague notion of how i could put it into a comic. sometimes i DO end up just putting the notion into a single drawing or condensing it into like, 2-3 lil floating drawings or w/e. coz a lot of the times the idea starts out really vague, often with one “moment” that serves as the whole inspiration & that i then try to build a scene/sequence around….a lot of the details beyond that can be really vague in my mind, like the setting or dialogue or who’s involved or what happens or the pacing or extra events or etc…basically Everything is real amorphous for a while

so yea step 1 is me having this one idea and trying to decide if building a scene around it would be a better way to present it vs just having one drawing, & if i think i can actually effectively carry it out….which is in reality even less fancy than it sounds…i just sit on an idea for a while & never get around to actually focusing on it / putting down any of the thoughts abt it that im formulating. but the upshot of me putting it off for forever is that i do end up with a kind of mental script / layout for a comic before i start it…..but even the extensiveness / format of these unwritten scripts varies a lot for me

like, a few times when i have made something that’s maybe longer than just one page &/or something ive been mulling over for an extra long amt of time (which tends to be stuff that is starting out w/ heavier than usual ideas) i’ll like, actually write down what happens page by page, even plan out specific panels, maybe even put down a few rough sketches of certain parts. i’ll have the Main Moment which is the idea that started the whole thing in the first place, but what tends to happen is i’ll come up w other moments that i think could lead up to / frame / follow the main moment, and i pretty much just decide how they all fit into one cohesive piece. so what my “rough drafts” look like for these more extensively planned ones—still really not that exhaustive, i only put things to paper when im basically done enough w my ideas to be just about ready to start actually making them—can vary in their actual formats (e.g. simple chronological bullet points of events, a few drawings, a rough sketch of how the whole thing might look), the core of it is basically just me finding a way to nail down how i’m going to arrange the Moments i have and how i’m going to lead one into the other…….like for things with enough pages / panels, i’ll tend to focus on which Moment will end each page &/or each line of panels, then have an idea of which other Moments i’ll need to put on which of those pages, and kinda figure out how to pace things

again that all sounds like maybe i have a real process…..I Do Not

im kinda lucky in that i think i have a decent sense for composition without having to struggle over it too much. so a lot of times i can leave a lot of that up to be felt out as im actually doing the rough lineart for the first time. i also often don’t nail down panel arrangement that carefully & also make it up as i go along a bit, which is probably not something anyone should emulate. someone was saying something about how some certain page layout of like, 3-something-something panel rows looks best, i dont know. i’m guessing, as with all things, nobody can say “always do this / never do that,” but i think staggering odd/even numbers of panels in each row is always a good guess. just makes it easier for them to read more distinctly at least, surely

sometimes i DO think about certain panels when i wanna frame a certain “shot” in a very specific way. but im just kind of doing whatever. i know vague rules like that wide shots / negative space slows down the pace, vs tightly cropped / small panels / packed w a lot of visual info tends to read as a faster pace, more chaotic. i dont quite go too wild about that sort of thing tho, because for me as a reader, a lot of times really tight shots that are like cutting between 5000 different angles rly fast all in a row, sometimes it is absolutely unreadable to me, as in i do not understand the visual info at all. it feels like the equivalent of how action movie editing keeps hanging on to the “incoherency = intensity” vs just me tuning out until the scene is over & missing details b/c i just am not getting anything out of it

thats not much of a factor for me coz i dont really ever do things with extended sequences of movement / action or whatever. i’ll keep things in one place. i’ll like to do smaller, “quicker” panels moreso to like, show simultaneousish details / to extend one moment…..occasionally i do Big Panels for a moment of higher intensity / impact too. btw putting a High Intensity moment in a super tiny panel is always really funny for the contrast of it all. i dont think ive ever done it, but it is

ummm…….also planning where your speech bubbles will go is good. i dont do that enough, but i should. most of the reason i dont have a more proper, organized process to anything i draw is that i just dont have the focus / patience to slow down for More Planning vs just going ahead and drawing it. jokes on me, since some quick vague planning can make it a lot easier on yourself vs just diving in and struggling w something for ages

uhhh also since im not that fantastic or mindful of panel layout? sometimes i’ll make a point of just having uniform rectangle panels of the same size/shape, so i only have to really worry about the layout within the frame. this is mostly good obv for things with not that much shift in pacing throughout it or action or whatever…you lose the advantage of how panel sizes can affect the tone of a shot or something & probably cant get that detailed in ur drawings but that is often Fine By Me

when i do use the uniform rectangle structure though, i kinda have to focus more on each individual panel, vs like, knowing ok, these three moments are going on this page, i have a vague idea of what’ll connect them, just make up the individual panels as you go along. this does mean that i have to kinda think more about what justifies each panel….how its different from the ones before & after it or how i might want it to be similar to “hold” a shot for a beat or w/e or draw focus to a small movement, what’s actually going into each panel, if i can/should condense two panels into one, etc. its still a lot of playing it by ear, i dont have solid rules of how i think i should do it each time

even when i do have a like whole plan for something im drawing i’ll often make more changes as im actually making it. sometimes its deciding something would be more effective, sometimes it’s just “hey this would work too & be easier,” and thats definitely fine. nobody knows the change you made, and Easier isn’t necessarily Worse anyways. convenience is good where you can get it

ive also definitely had specific comic artists formatting/framing styles in mind when i specifically wanted to use that while drawing my own stuff. like the way i’ll draw maybe a kind of horror vibe (more diagonal lines / “fractured” panels than i’d normally use, quick tiny shots of different smaller details, that kinda stuff) is gonna be different from when its a calm & quiet tone. where i dont really get too creative with the panels really & keep them pretty steady

and then that one time i did a largely nonsequential sort of panel collage b/c the marge simpson anime gave me great inspiration for how to combine & present a bunch of vague notions i had floating around all into one page. it was a good accomplishment & thats unsurprising because the inspiration i was using was That Good. thank god we can all benefit from each others good ideas and knowledge & work & all that. it does help to jump on a feeling of “wow what a cool comic i wish i could make something like that.” just go ahead and make something like that…

ummm this is all on the technical side-ish still but i dont really know what to say abt the kind of stuff that makes me wanna draw a comic in the first place vs just putting the idea into a regular single drawing…usually it Is kind of a more nuanced moment that i think would be better presented within some amount of context and buildup and all that. i basically exclusively draw emotions….and sometimes theyre better shown with some amount of action/dialogue, or at least a few different shots or something. i dont know if this area is helpful information or anything anyone would benefit from knowing about, or even if i have anything to say about it…is it all self evident maybe? idk! i do think i communicate emotions best through comics…not that each one is “here is my mood!” or talking about me at all, but i was for example trying to communicate about an abstract emotion, i think i can draw about it better than talk or write about it or anything. i DO sometimes draw more directly from my own specific feelings/experiences for things, but mostly when i think it can be relevant…i cant really do anything all that directly autobiographical, even casual diary comics or whatever. thats what my text posts are for… but i have been interested in how to convert these huge emotional issues that i’ve been v familiar with into a few pages or panels and how to present its impact in the simplest, straightforward ways i can manage…sometimes i think its worked for sure…..i feel like i gave a more Relatable sense to a certain experience by putting it in comic form than any of the times ive discussed it as a personal thing at length via text. like i said i communicate best via comics probably, despite not drawing them all that much coz im too damn slow lmao

speaking of, i’ve kind of been like “what a waste” abt the fact that i dont have like, a proper approach or regular strategy to thinking up comics before i draw them, but i think theres something actually okay to be taken from that lol……just that i know if i got too caught up in trying to plan it all out perfectly before getting into actually drawing it, i’d be making it into a bigger project and slowing myself down even more & i’d risk dropping it partway through or just never getting started at all. so if i have a less than perfect end result, at least i have an end result, and ive finally got that one idea out of my head in some way. and i feel like some of my comics do work out decently enough….a good handful of times ive been surprised w how well some ppl receive them

so i think it is good to just go ahead and dive in. i did that once w an idea i’d been sitting on for like half a year, and i think it turned out good enough. i just knew i could easily spend months and months more turning over all the details, which might make it Better, but would also mean that yknow, i’d never actually get around to making it b/c of feeling like it had to be ideal. so i simplified it a bit, used a uniform panel layout, did little drawings, and just got it drawn out in an afternoon or two. and now at least it exists lol. and ive sort of come back to the same idea in a way…if i feel like it turns out i wanna elaborate on something more, i can just make another pic/comic built on the same theme, who’s gonna care or stop me

i also try to focus on what lines are/aren’t necessary to avoid things being confusing or just pointlessly cluttery….this isnt a big issue b/c i dont often bother w bgs. dont emulate that either lol…….but im not doing any Serious art so its no big deal to me if im not “good” or not progressing as spectacularly as i might. i dont need my drawing abilities to be that amazing here. but bgs still serve a purpose beyond being a “skill” or whatever so im trying to include them more, aka occasionally, at all. still hardly ever. but sometimes you at least need like one halfassed establishing shot yknow. anyways

mmm this has all been kinda vague and i’m trying to think if there’s anything more specific i could/should talk about!! i dont know. i dont have a good perspective on what its like to look at my art while not being me lol & what ppl might think or what stands out to them or whatever. rip

sorry this is so long, i dont really have ppl wanting to know abt my Processes or drawing thoughts or whatever so i’m kinda jumping at the chance to talk about this sort of stuff after having been actually prompted to. but i dont know if i’ve said anything at all!! i dont know if any of it has been helpful

“tldr; i dont really know what im doing, but go ahead and jump into actually making them as opposed to feeling like youre ready / you know the best way to make a page, because nobodys ever ready or can say This Is The Best Possible Version so just go ahead and use whatever process feels like it makes your life easier, while still actually making the damn comic” is my whole thing, i guess

i dunno, if there was some specific thing you wanted to know abt that i didnt talk about / talk about well here, feel free to ask me to specify because i totally will, which is both an invitation and a warning obviously

sorry this is so long everybody…….writing an essay & by the end of it not being sure if ive given any info at all is part of my whole Thing

#long post //#jfc this is even longer than i thought #i dont know if theres anytning helpful about this at all #maybe its that ‘’if you think i’m good its good news for you b/c you probably know what youre doing just as much if not more than i know #what i’m doing’’

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ghosts-n-whores · 5 years ago

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I’m drunk again and I’m sick and I feel like I have to tell this story and get all of this out of me before I fucking explode. Also this is hella fucking long. I tried to shorten it but frankly, all of these were big, life-altering moments. If i’m going to spew out a lifetime worth of unspoken trauma, I’m gonna tell it all. Let me have my moment.

The first time my weight was ever brought up as an issue I was 5 years old. Me, my mother, and my sister were getting ready to take family portraits at the church we attended. My father was too drunk and too ashamed to be a part of it. Dads drinking and drug use was the worst kept secret in the fucking world but mom did her best to put on a good show. It obviously embarrassed her though and when she gets upset anyone can become a target. Mom had dressed us all in matching purple shirts. As she put my shirt on me she stopped, poked me hard in the stomach, and with a look of disgust told me to make sure I sucked that in before the flash went off. When we got home that night I stood in front of the mirror for the first time and recognized the flaws in my reflection.

My parents divorced soon after and my new stepfather arrived, bringing with him a new era of torment and criticism. It wasn’t all reserved for me though. Suddenly my sister, who until that point had been the golden child and light of my mother’s life, was coming under fire too. Everyday I listened to how fat her ass had gotten, that they couldn’t understand how a 14 year old had so much cellulite. She was so skinny, so perfect before. What had happened? (Spoiler: puberty had happened. She had developed hips and ass. And for reference here, my sister was a size 4. She was, and still is, a knockout.) I, too, faced scrutiny of course. My mother still insisted on dressing me every morning. And every morning of my life I listened to how much weight I needed to lose, how big I had gotten, how many rolls I had. Body shaming had become my new normal. The morning of school pictures mom put me in a floral print dress. I hated it. I sobbed hysterically. In retrospect, there was nothing wrong with the dress. It was pretty. The problem was that I hated me in the dress. The square neckline and spaghetti straps made my shoulders look broad, showed off how big my arms were. I actually found those pictures a few years ago. I immediately noticed how bloodshot and swollen my eyes were, how I had hunched my shoulders together in a subconscious effort to make myself smaller. My mom gushed about how pretty I was but all I could think was “that poor girl.”

I have a mole/birth mark/something on the inside of my labia majora. Mom discovered it when dressing me one morning and proceeded to pin me to the bed so she could look at it. Now, I understand as a mother you want to make sure there’s not some cancerous growth on your kid. But fully pinning them down while they scream and cry, because you’ve taught them their entire life that that is a private part and no one should ever touch it, seems a bit extreme to me. What I felt was by no means a sexual violation. But it was a violation of my privacy, my trust in my mother, my bodily autonomy. I realized I was viewed by all the parental figures in my life as a possession for them to do with what they wanted. Children didn’t have rights in my household.

The first time I ever stood up to my mother was also the first time I was ever called a bitch. I was 7, mom was telling me how fat I was again, and something in me just kinda snapped. I told her she wasn’t exactly skinny either to which she replied “Well, Savannah I’m 40 years old, it’s a little different.” I told her that meant she’d had 40 years to lose it then, huh? She told me I was a bitch and to dress myself from now on.

Things continued in much the same way for the next several years. My sister developed a drug habit, my father’s worsened, and my mom and stepdad became the bane of my existence. My sister’s boyfriend had introduced me to MTV and eyeliner. I was deeply enthralled with all things early 2000s punk rock. It was the first time in my life I connected to something. But I soon discovered that, to my mother, the only thing worse than having a fat daughter was having a goth daughter.

Now, this is something I still don’t understand. My parents were the generation that grew up in the satanic panic of the 80s. As an adult I discovered my stepdad, who was obsessed with Ozzy Osborne as a teenager, found himself part of a small town scandal involving satanic rituals when he was in high school. The rumors were obviously never true, and we all know that satanic imagery was just Gen X’s way of conveying shock value and rebellion. But to have lived through that, with that knowledge, and still think there was something genuinely wrong with me for claiming my own version of it is just....fucking asinine to me. But honestly that whole experience is another story entirely.

Back to my point, one day I was clothes shopping with my mom at target. (I’ll preface this story by telling you this was the last time I stepped foot in a target with another person until I was 19 years old. And even then, he just showed up and I nearly had a panic attack.) She and I had went to try stuff on and she barged into the changing room behind me. I begged her to get out, that I wanted privacy. She demanded to see how the jeans fit. They didn’t. I already knew they wouldn’t when I went in there and knew what she’d say when she found out. She berated me, loudly, about how the seams were going to burst. How she couldn’t believe I couldn’t even button a pair of pants. When I had been sufficiently reduced to a crying mess on a changing room floor she slipped out and sweetly told me to let her know how everything else looked. This is what she does, brings you to your lowest point and then suddenly turn on this sickly sweet charm. It simultaneously drives it all home and makes you look insane for being upset. My father does the same thing. I’ve never been able to tell who learned it from who.

It was about this time that MySpace became a thing. Mom knew I had one but was too naive to ever look at it. Social media felt like a safe haven to me. It had my music, my friends. I could obsess over whatever new band was breaking onto the scene. I could be myself without ridicule. Until one night, anyway. A cousin of mine had seen my page, reported it to my grandmother, who immediately called mom to tell her she needed to look at the “sick shit” I was posted on the Internet. My mother burst into the room, threw me out of my chair, and proceeded to pour over my profile. It was all studded belts and black lipstick. My profile song was “My Sweet 666” by HIM. My sexual orientation was listed as bi. My mother and I both very nearly stroked the fuck out as she took it all in.

My brain, in a last ditch effort to save itself, has repressed most of the conversation that night. I’m thankful for that. It’s a lot of the reason I’ve never really told anyone what happened that night - I can’t fucking remember it. But I do remember my mother telling me how disgusting it would be to be bisexual, and how even if I was (and she was adamant that I couldn’t possibly know what it even meant), it would never be something to admit out loud. This was her moment to tell me all the horrible things she had ever thought about me. I don’t remember what all was said, but I remember lying on the floor begging for her to stop. That I loved her. That I was sorry I wasn’t what she wanted. She never stopped. Eventually, she came to my weight. Again, I don’t remember it all verbatim but I do remember being told that I ever did was “eat and gorge and eat and gorge.” To this day, I can still hear those words when I look in the mirror. Ive spent a lot of time shoving them out of my head, but my god are they loud sometimes.

We moved to the lake when I was 12. My mom had recently had my younger sister and was working 5am to well past midnight some nights. That left me and my stepdad at home. My school bus would only drop us off at the end of the road but my stepdad refused to pick me up like the other parents did. He told me it would be good for me to get the exercise and walk. Our house sat at the end of a 2 mile long gravel road. The heat rose well over 100° daily. I was head to toe in long, black layers. I passed out on that walk more than once. Even when I did make it to the house, he would lock the doors and windows. He told me to go run laps and when he felt like I had done enough, he would let me in the house. He was going to force the weight off of me if he had to.

I told my mother more than once and she either outright denied it, refused to deal with it, or sided with my stepfather. She sings a much different tune now that their marriage has fallen apart and she’s searching for reasons to hate him, but the fact remains...it was abuse. Neither of them ever actually cooked so I survived off of energy drinks and crackers. Mom would come into my room, find the wrappers, and tell me I would be 300lbs one day if I don’t stop funneling food into my face. It didn’t matter what I did though, the weight wouldn’t leave. This was partly due to the fact that I was fucking 12 years old, and partly due to the fact that, to all of our surprise, I had a thyroid condition. I also had faulty ovaries which only further threw off my hormonal balance. The rest of that summer they were kind to me. Shoved food at me, coddled me. I always imagined it was because they felt guilty. But it didn’t last.

That summer I moved back to my dad’s. Up until this point my father had always firmly been on my side in this battle against my mother. That changed immediately. He put me on the Atkins diet and I felt like I was dying every day. Fuck, I even gained weight. I resorted myself to the fact that I would never have a happy home life but school would be different. I didn’t take into account that I had just stepped back into a small town and I looked like an extra on a Marilyn Manson music video shoot. People I’d known since preschool, who all claimed to be excited to have me back, ostracized me in one glance. I was goth, I’d gotten fat, and I was immediately tossed in the reject pile. I attempted suicide for the first time that night, a month shy of my 13th birthday.

A lot of things happened in my teen years that aren’t entirely worth mentioning here because it’s all the same. My dad started looking into plastic surgeons because he was sure I would have grotesque, loose skin once I finally lost weight. He also became fixated on the idea that I must have something wrong with me because “all that extra weight has to be putting strain on your organs. You have to have diabetes or damage to your heart.” I was taken to every doctor in the tristate area it seemed, searching for a condition that was simply never there. When a doctor would start questioning his reasoning for this, we would move to another doctor. I’m not saying I was a victim of Munchausens by proxy, I’m just saying the line was getting a little blurry. We never found a problem with my heart but it all later manifested as crippling hypochondria.

Eventually I just started blocking it all out. I stopped engaging when someone called me fat and started focusing on just getting the fuck away from them all. I refused to put myself down, out loud at least. I was going to train my brain to love the body it inhabited. And I did, kind of, for a while. I realized I never really had an issue with my body. I had an issue with everyone else having an issue with my body. Therapists, teachers, friends, family. Everybody felt the need to make a comment. And looking back, I nearly throw up. I was barely overweight. I was 150lbs when my father had me do my first glucose test. I will never understand how someone can become so fucking obsessed with the size of other people.

All of this was going pretty well until I went back to working at the haunted house. When you’ve spent years disciplining your brain into not hating everything about yourself, you stop hating other people too. You become a little kinder, a little softer. I was still new to this though and my newfound confidence was fragile at best. My new family quickly started to remind me of my old one. They were negative, toxic people. They were bitter at the way life had panned out for them and projected that onto everyone around them. No one was safe, and no one was your friend. When you’ve been on red alert since birth, you learn to recognize this pretty quick. So again, I just didn’t engage. I heard the horrible things they’d say but I let it roll off. The one time, in a moment of unbridled rage that I did stand up, I was immediately shot down. They pretended to handle the cause of the problem, but they looked at me with distain. It pissed them off that they had to take time out of their day to deal with a fat girl. They never said anything to me directly, but they always made sure I was in earshot. If I didn’t want to be called a whale, lose weight it’s not that hard. Stop being so sensitive. A stronger me would’ve said something. Burned the place down. Something. But I felt defeated. I was exhausted. These were supposed to be my friends and no one, NO ONE stepped up for me. It became crystal clear to me that no one would ever defend me in this life. All that negativity started to creep in, no matter how hard I fought it.

But I did fall in love at the haunt. And for a while he made me feel beautiful. I remember telling a friend of mine that it was the first time I’d ever felt comfortable sitting naked in front of someone without posing. But it brought to light a lot of insecurities I didn’t realize I was still hanging on to. He used to ask me to model lingerie for him anytime I bought it. I remember feeling overwhelming flattered that he would even want to see it, but also fucking terrified. So I refused, no matter how badly I wanted to do it. He eventually stopped asking, and my anxiety riddled brain concluded that it was because he didn’t find me sexy anymore. This idea backed by the fact that he only told me I was beautiful or that he loved me when he was drunk. He remained friends with the people at the haunt who put me down. I was left to assume he agreed with them. I want it to be known I don’t blame him for this. He had no idea what I was dealing with or where it all came from. I was afraid to have the conversation and my inability to do so is my own fault. He did the best he knew how to with what I gave him. I know that.

Sex has always made me feel empowered. It felt like a reclamation of my body. It was truly my liberation, but it would also be my downfall. To be as sexual as I am, I often don’t enjoy sex. I can never do the things I want to do, take control the way I want to, cum the way I want to, if I cum at all. I am forever thinking of what I might look like to them. What I smell like, what I move like. A fun side effect of severe hormonal imbalance is hirsutism, skin conditions, thinning hair. So not only am I fat, I’m hairy AF, have acne, and the hair that I do want is falling out. Do you know how fucking mortifying it feels to not be able to let a guy grab your ass because you know you haven’t fucking shaved it recently? And even when you do the window for feeling hairless is smalllll. My ex boyfriend probably only truly grabbed my ass a handful of times (there’s a pun there somewhere). But I couldn’t have that conversation with him. Wouldn’t. This is why I got into cosmetology so early. Fuck, it’s why I got into the tattoo industry too if I’m honest. If you don’t like the house, you paint the fucking walls right? It was just another (and admittedly much healthier) way of reclaiming my body.

If I am not the height of femininity, if I don’t ooze sex appeal and porn star magic, they won’t want me. I started placing a lot of my self worth in how sexually desirable I could be. Sex, at best, is an ego boost. And not a very good one. Since becoming single I’ve come into contact with a menagerie of men. They too have all had something to say. And they all play on a loop in my head. Here’s a list:

- “I’ve been with women with perfect bodies and ya know *side eye* not so perfect bodies.”

- “Ya know, if you were just a few inches taller you’d actually have a decent body.”

- “You remind me of Lardi B and she’s hot. I’m really into big girls. Send me a picture of your fat pussy.”

- “You know you’re a catfish, right?”

- “I’ll fuck anything, I used to hate fat chicks but honestly if you wanna fuck I’d be down.”

- “I secretly have a thing for bigger girls, but I’d never date one.”

I’ve shot down every invitation to hook up for the past year. I get on tinder for 5 seconds, immediately hear that catfish line in my head, and close back out again. I’ve stopped wearing makeup unless I have to. I dress in leggings and oversized tunics almost daily. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have an eating disorder but have discussed it with no one. I do not know how to proceed from this point. I’m not at my lowest, but I’m somewhere close. My insecurities are my own problem but I don’t know how to get the reassurance I need without making it somebody else’s. But telling someone to call me beautiful, to gas me up, to put my mind at ease negates the point. I can’t place my self esteem in someone else’s hands. But my healing requires the ability to have that conversation. And that’s the hardest part.

I’m a grown woman now and my mother still grabs my double chin, just in case I forgot it was there. She still balks at my stretch marks. She recently told me she admired me for the way I dress. Said if she was my size she could never because she would be too ashamed. It was meant as a compliment. Funny how backhanded those can be sometimes. I think about her a lot and what kind of mother I would want to be. Both of my parents struggled with eating disorders. My mom still does. I know it’s the root of all her criticism. But I don’t want to be her. I don’t want to project my own trauma into my children one day. I think a lot about what I would say to 7 year old me. I’ve written her letters. Told her I was sorry for not loving her, for not being kinder. That it wasn’t her fault that the adults in her life failed her. I think of what I would say to a daughter. To a son. I like to imagine that I tell them these stories one day and they look at me in disbelief. I want self love to be so deeply ingrained that the concept of body shaming is unrealistic to them. But I can’t give them what I don’t have. So for now, I’ll work on that.

There is no real conclusion to this tale, I just needed to bitch for a minute.

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topicprinter · 5 years ago

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This is the true account of what happened and it made me uncomfortable to write, even after all this time. It stirred up a lot of bad memories, but if it helps one person then it was worth it. I'm sorry if it's a bit wordy!For a long time now, I’ve had a favourite saying; “It’s not a failure as long as you’ve learnt something”.Well, I’m now thirty-five, and I’ve already learnt a lot. I’m going to share some of what I’ve learnt with you. I’m not doing this to preach, or even instruct. I’m doing it for myself, and for anyone that might come across this article on the back of a recent setback. I need to give you a bit of background first, so I'm sorry if this goes on a bit!In 2002, after completing a two-year programming course at college, I took a year out from education and started working in a local art gallery. I’d work all week, mostly in sales, enjoying the feeling of having money in my pocket and being able to go out at the weekends. The twelve months passed quickly, and it was soon time to leave for university.I lasted three months.The course was dull and in no way challenging. I kept thinking about how much I missed my girlfriend, and how much I’d enjoyed my job. Making a big sale gave me such a rush, and here I was, sitting through stuffy old lectures. I jacked it all in and returned home, to my old job. But it wasn’t going to last, I’d woken a powerful desire for finding new challenges.Six months after returning home, in May 2002, I decided to start my own business. Having experience working in an art gallery, it seemed like the ideal industry to start in. It was the easiest option.I found a tatty old shop in a neighbouring town and set about renovating it myself. We covered everything in wallpaper and filler, and it didn’t look too bad when we’d finished. I’d already managed to get a £6,000 loan from the bank which I spent on stock and a few shop fittings.I’d opened the doors by the end of May, but I didn’t really know what I was doing. I had no business plan, marketing plan, cash flow forecast or operational budget. I didn’t have any staff and was working seven days a week.Despite this, I had a reasonably successful first year’s trading. My best month was about £6500, and our margin was over 50% so this was good for a new business being run by an inexperienced, ill-prepared and over-confident twenty-year-old. But it didn’t last, many of my customers started buying from online galleries. My quiet months starting eating all the money I made in the busy months. I was earning a lot less than minimum wage, and it was impossible to take time off.It was around this time that I decided I wanted the enterprise to be larger. I wanted to up my game, to start selling art for thousands instead of hundreds. I needed more. I would be able to pay myself more money, take on staff and not have to be hands on all the time.I started talking to my suppliers about my plans and they thought it was a marvellous idea (of course they did!). I found a space I liked, and despite expert advice that it was in a low footfall area, I signed the lease. Somehow, I managed to convince the bank to lend me another £20,000 (still without a business plan!).Eighteen months after opening my first gallery, I opened my second. It was four times the size of the first one, with overheads to match. It makes me cringe to think about it now. I had a grand opening with bubbly and nibbles, the week before Christmas. Almost immediately, it became apparent that I should have taken the expert’s advice. I was only a few metres from the high street but it might as well have been miles. I started ordering ridiculously priced full-page ads in glossy magazines and advertising on bus stops trying to raise awareness of my gallery. I dropped 10,000 leaflets to newly built houses and advertised on local radio.To be fair, I had some awesome weeks. I’d sell thousands of pounds worth of art to just a handful of customers. But then I wouldn’t make another sale for days. It was depressing.Six months later, I closed my first gallery (just two years after opening), to concentrate on the new one. I'd neglected the first gallery (the one that was breaking even) to spend more time on the new one.Things went from bad to worse when I figured out that I hadn’t made enough money to cover my third quarter rent payment, so I went back to the bank, but they turned me down for another loan. To be fair, I was already into them for £31,000 at this point. Seeing the fix I was in, my father offered to lend my £20,000, which I gladly accepted (he didn’t have this money, he took out a loan to cover it).I know what you’re thinking. Why did you pour more money into the hole? I can’t really answer that, I just felt I had already committed so much that I couldn’t walk away. Also, I was twenty-one and thought I knew better than everyone else.This is where things get crazy. I didn’t change anything; I just carried on as before, hoping against hope that the situation would resolve itself.The money lasted six months; I managed to stay open until Christmas, hoping that a decent festive season would allow me to hang on a bit longer. But I failed to make nearly enough sales and closed my doors for the last time on Christmas Eve (just over a year after opening).I was 21, with over £50,000 of debt, £20,000 of that was owed to my father. I had four years left on my lease, at a cost of £15,000 a year. I hadn’t made any plans for this outcome and I didn’t have any idea about what to do.My landlord took pity on me, and let me walk out of the lease, but the repayments on my loans were close to £900 a month. The day after I closed my business, I rang an employment agency and landed a shift job in a local factory. Within a week, I’d gone from art gallery entrepreneur to working on a production line in a factory. I started doing a lot of overtime, often doing six twelve-hours in a row, have one off, and then do another six days. It was mind numbing work, but I was overpaying my loans and keeping my head above water.My confidence had taken a serious hit and my credit rating was in the toilet. I did two years in the factory, always doing overtime and odd jobs on the side. It was a pretty grim part of my life. I drank too much and was smoking twenty cigarettes a day. Nearly everything I earned was used to repay my debts, and I was constantly exhausted. I blamed everyone but myself for my situation. It was pitiful.The pain of my failure gradually started to recede, and my confidence gradually began to return. I felt that old desire for a challenge. I thought about starting several different ventures, but I was still a shadow of my former self, and still had a fair bit of debt. I was quite lost for a while until one day I walked into an Armed Forces Careers Office.The recruiting staff can spot lost souls a mile off, they’re trained for it and they gobbled me up. I’d already decided I wasn’t a good fit for the Army, and I didn’t fancy long spells at sea, so the RAF seemed like the natural choice. I breezed through the application process, and at twenty-four, I left for basic training.Basic training and technical training were a challenge, both mentally and physically. After completing nearly 18 months of training, The RAF had given me my confidence back, and made me fit and healthy in the process. I was ready for my first posting.It didn’t go to plan. After all the training, I was given a job answering a phone and watching a screen for three years. I stuck it out, paying off the last of my debts and starting to experiment with entrepreneurial ideas. A lot of ideas came and went, most of them nothing more than dreams. The point is, I had come full circle back to the idea of making my own way in the world.I eventually got out of the RAF and got back into running my own business. Ive been running the business for six years and it’s still going strong. Our turnover is growing, and we have a variety of projects in the pipeline to grow our business further. We’ve diversified and added complimentary income streams. We’ve built up some equity and improved the freehold building a lot over the time we’ve owned it. We’ve made it work. But that doesn’t mean there haven’t been more lessons to learn.Over the years I’ve also tried subscription boxes, being an Amazon seller, self-publishing a novel, three separate e-commerce stores and a host of other weird and wonderful ideas, including farming oyster mushrooms (what was I thinking??).So, what did I learn from my failed art gallery business? Remember it cost me over £50,000 so it taught me a lot!Don’t take the easy option. I didn’t open an art gallery because I saw a gap in the market; I did it because it was the easiest way to start a business.Make a plan. I came unstuck because I’d spent no time thinking about my business plan. I just did it and hoped for the best. Remember, "build it and they will come" is not a business plan.Start small and test the water. I did this to a certain extent, but one of my biggest mistakes was trying to be something greater than I was. I should have experimented more. I could have traded from a market stall or tried to share a space with a complimentary business.Listen to the experts. Someone with experience told me that my gallery was too far from the high street and had too little footfall. I didn’t listen, and it cost me my business. I should have taken a smaller space in a busier location.It’s NEVER too late to walk away. If I’d admitted to making a mistake earlier, I could have saved myself a lot of money. If you try something and it’s not working, then either change what you’re doing or drop it. Don’t just keep pouring money and time into something that you know is never really going to work.Limit your liability. Make sure that if everything goes wrong, you don’t end up saddled with debt. I should have been trading as a limited company and I should have insisted on a 1 year break clause in my lease. I should have tried to get as much of my stock on consignment.So what’s the point of all of this?I wanted to let you know that I’ve taken some pretty big knocks on my entrepreneurial journey. But they’ve all taught me something, and I try to apply those lessons to my next venture. So if your first, or tenth, business isn't successful, don't give up. Learn what you can from the experience and move on.I won’t stop testing out new business ideas, and I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. I’m certain at least some of these ideas will turn into more “lessons” but that’s how we grow.And besides, I’m a slow learner...

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit

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nickelsonbnirmakbf32insuran-blog · 5 years ago

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gamerszone2019-blog · 5 years ago

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How League of Legends Connected Me To The World in the Face of Heart Disease

New Post has been published on https://gamerszone.tn/how-league-of-legends-connected-me-to-the-world-in-the-face-of-heart-disease/

How League of Legends Connected Me To The World in the Face of Heart Disease

I always imagine the jersey: its colors, the logo. The team’s name, Vape Treatment, wraps around the emblem on the front, all caps. The font’s something reasonable… Helvetica, maybe. The logo is a little abstract, a rendering of the breathing exercise apparatus I was gifted at the hospital. Two handles, like ears, frame the main tube, which acts as a game—you blow into a separate tube to keep the ball raised at a certain level. It’s called an incentive spirometer, and it’s supposed to keep your lungs healthy during recovery. My name’s on the back of the jersey, of course, though I’m not exactly part of my League of Legends fantasy team—just the illustrious owner.

The League of Legends fantasy draft for the North American Championship Series is just a few days before the summer season. I know the names of the teams, a few of the players’ handles, but I’m not a League of Legends fan. I don’t actually understand the genre—the MOBA, or multiplayer online battle arena. It’s a five-on-five game that takes place in a virtual area called the rift. League of Legends has nearly 150 playable characters, though only 10 different ones can play in a single game. It’s a free game, one that I’ve tried and failed to play. At a very base level, it’s a simple premise: the first to destroy the other team’s base wins. The challenge is in attacking the other team’s base while protecting your own, and in facing the unique obstacles that League of Legends’ different characters add to the game’s complexity.

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Teams crash into each other, like miniature hockey fights, across the map. Sometimes it’s big, crushing battles—five-on-five—that leave one team totally overrun. Other times, the moments are smaller but just as significant, with one team sending out a single player, like a sniper, to take out the other team’s most essential player.

I don’t have very long before the draft begins to choose a name for my League of Legends team. I don’t have very much time to research the players, learn about the roles. A nurse knocks on the door, but comes in before I can answer. It’s not like I have privacy, anyway; my mom and dad are here, both sitting on the cot outstretched in the corner. (We’re lucky to get a cot, a hospital volunteer told us earlier, since they go quick on this floor.) My fiancé is there, too, tucked away in another corner. By then, we’d been engaged for just a few days, and still getting used to the titles.

The nurse is here with my vape treatment, sorry, the nebulizer, that’s become a staple in my care since I stopped being able to breathe.

Passing Out in Walgreens

There are two pages to my first hospital bill, the one from the hospital itself and not the doctors that work there. Each day is defined by the price—you can map my health by the way the numbers rise and fall. My first day, the emergency room visit, is not the most expensive of the visit, despite an extra charge for being a “high severity” patient with a “threat to life function.” The most extravagant day was a couple later, after I thought I’d stabilized, when I woke up unable to breathe normally. The oxygen levels in my blood dropped too low due to acute pulmonary edema, a side effect of the damage myocarditis did to my heart. I’d needed critical care, apparently, for 74 minutes, which added an extra $500 to my bill for the day.

I don’t know exactly how much the total bill cost; it hurt too much to tally up the total of all the charges I would eventually receive. I do know that I drained my savings account entirely, around $8,000, before I started to use my credit card. The rest of the amount was covered by my insurance, which, ironically, had been given to me by my employer, a competitive gaming news website, and switched on only days before I got sick.

My husband—then boyfriend-turned-fiancé—and I can joke about it now. We wouldn’t have gone on such an expensive vacation if we knew this was about to happen! Of course, it’s probably that expensive vacation, particularly the plane ride home, that’s to thank for my descent into sickness. A few hours before arriving home, the airline served breakfast. I chose porridge. He had something different, but I don’t know what. We can’t know for sure if that’s the moment I came in contact with the salmonella that would later infect my heart, though. We also ate at a local diner once we returned home to Somerville. There, I had pancakes and he had eggs.

I was fine for half a day home before the sickness hit. Then it was all shivers and sweats, vomiting and diarrhea—sometimes both! I passed out in Walgreens, somewhere between getting my medication and asking for the bathroom key, to the shock and horror of everyone in the store. I went to the walk-in clinic and then to the emergency room—for the first time—to get poked with an IV and rehydrated before I was sent home. Back to the bathroom floor, alternating between shivers and sweats.

C/o Nicole Carpenter

The AD Carry

A League of Legends draft works the same way one for the NFL does. Participants pick in rounds until everyone’s filled out a roster of 10 players. There’s some strategy involved, of course—what roles to fill first, how to get all your desired players. But for me, largely unfamiliar with the competitive scene, it’s about the best names and stealing my colleagues’ top picks.

The nurse starts my nebulizer treatment just as we’re scheduled to start the draft. I’m already in a video call with my fellow drafters. All of them know I’m sick. Clearly, they can see I’m in the hospital. Most of them don’t know how bad. The nebulizer is the easiest part of my treatment, it just looks worse than it is—a turtle shell suctioned to my face—on top of the wires, tubes, and cords hanging behind me.

Someone pushes “Go” on the draft once the mask is strapped to my face. Puffs of smoke dramatically plume out of the nebulizer when I breathe. Someone makes a Darth Vader joke—maybe it’s me. We move on with the draft; the good thing about a timer is that you can’t focus on your sick coworker. When the draft starts, it can’t stop. Each participant has one minute for each pick. My first instinct is to choose a full team of players with animal names, so my first round pick is Jason “WildTurtle” Tran. WildTurtle plays a role called “AD carry” for a team named FlyQuest. I didn’t know what an AD carry was then, but I do now. (What else was I supposed to do during my six-month recovery?) AD stands for “attack damage,” which means the AD carry is playing offensively. The “carry” part of the role is a nod to its importance—the AD carry starts off fairly weak but will become so strong over the course of the match that they’ll hopefully be able to carry your team to victory.

League of Legends’ virtual arena, the rift, is split in two. Both sides are nearly identical, with three lanes each leading to the center of the map. One side is controlled by your team, the other by the enemy’s. The AD carry typically plays in the bottom lane—shortened to bot in League of Legends speak—with a support character assigned to protect the carry at all costs. The rest of the players on each team are assigned to roles according to their places on the map, too: top, mid, and jungler.

But the role that can change games? That’s the AD carry. And that’s why I like it so much.

The Diagnosis

I woke up early on Labor Day Monday still shivering and sweating, but now with additional pain in my chest. The pain was more like pressure, though, an anvil and not a knife. The force was so heavy I was sure my ribs would give way to the weight, and with a crack and squish my heart would pop.

The thing about chest pain is that it fast-tracks you in the emergency room—an un-fun version of Walt Disney World’s FastPass, a magical hospital band that propels you to the front of the line. Here’s the special treatment I got: an EKG, a portable ultrasound, multiple blood draws, a cheese sandwich, and two IV lines. The doctor said a lot of words, but once he started talking about my heart, I stopped listening.

He was the teacher and I was Charlie Brown.

Troponin. Wahwah wah, wah wah. Heart damage. Wahwahwah, wah. Wah, wahwah wah.

I didn’t ask if I was going to die, but I wanted to. My fiancé asked if the doctor could call my mom. He explained to her what troponin was (a protein in the blood) and what high levels meant (heart injury). And yes, she should drive up to Massachusetts immediately.

C/o Nicole Carpenter

WildTurtle

In 2013, WildTurtle joined one of North America’s best League of Legends teams, TSM. Playing against compLexity Gaming during the League of Legends Championship Series 2013 spring event, WildTurtle’s debut on the team, TSM was coming off a stagnant season. WildTurtle was a new addition to the team, a replacement for another AD carry who didn’t work with the roster. WildTurtle had always been known as an aggressive player, one who won’t settle back into complacency. Sometimes it’s gotten him into trouble, as he’s wandered out into mid-field without his support, looking to make a big play, only to get ganked—that’s League of Legends speak for a surprise attack—by an enemy player.

That wasn’t the case in his first big game, the one that shot him into contention as one of League of Legends’ most prominent players. More than 30 minutes into the match, TSM and compLexity are near equal in points and kills, each only one potential fight away from winning the game. It’s TSM that makes the first break, through the bottom lane, to compLexity’s base. Both teams have all their ultimates—the big, flashy power moves that can turn games around in an instant—when they collide. The screen is a mess of colors and numbers, spells flying and characters slashing away with virtual weapons.

But there’s WildTurtle at the back, tap-tap-tapping away on his mouse to unleash ranged shots at the enemy. With the compLexity players low on health thanks to assistance from the rest of TSM, WildTurtle is able to eliminate each of his enemies one-by-one, all five wiped off the map by a click of his mouse. It’s called a pentakill, and yes, it’s very impressive.

TSM’s match against compLexity was a turning point for the team that struggled to get itself out of third place in the overall standings. They’d always been good, but they hadn’t been able to unseat the teams above them in the rankings. Each subsequent week after WildTurtle’s arrival on TSM, the team had marginally better results—until the 10th week, where they shot to the top with a 21-7 record.

No one Choose Piglet

I’ve announced my intention to create a League of Legends fantasy team that purely consists of players with animal names. As I’m scrolling through the list, another nurse arrives, the one who comes in every few hours to poke my belly with a needle. I turn the laptop away from me, but not before giving a warning: No one choose Piglet! Chae “Piglet” Gwang-jin, then playing for an organization called Team Liquid, is a bot laner like WildTurtle. I certainly didn’t need another AD carry at this point, but there are barely enough North American League of Legends players with animal names to fill my team.

Almost immediately, someone else chooses Piglet.

The nurse pinches my belly and pulls up as much skin as she can find. She’s dodging the bruises that already dot my skin. She gives me these shots of heparin, a blood thinner, every few hours to prevent blood clots; anyone that’s in the hospital and laying down for an extended stay is given the medication.

My computer makes a sound. Not a beep or a ring, but a sound like a sword hitting steel. I think you’re up, the nurse laughed. (She’s right.) But you’ve got to go for a walk first. (Dang it.) Before I could turn the laptop back towards me, she was disconnecting the wires that kept me tangled to the bed. It’s useless to argue with the nurse, so auto-draft it is. With the auto-drafting system, if you don’t pick within a minute, the drafting system will choose the next best player, points-wise, for you.

My walk is more like a shuffle. Each breath in is a little easier because of the nebulizer. I wonder who’ll be on my team when I return.

C/o Nicole Carpenter

The Next Six Months

The League of Legends Championship Series’ 2017 summer event begins a day after I leave the hospital, but FlyQuest—WildTurtle’s team—doesn’t play until the next day. I’m happy with my team, a mix of players chosen for me and those I ended up randomly plucking from the list: guys named Ssumday, Trashy, Hai, Doublelift, and Olleh. But only one of them’s got an animal name, and that’s WildTurtle.

My mom moves up to Massachusetts for a week or two to care for me outside of the hospital. There’s a laundry list of things I’m urged not to do until my six-month recovery is up, but at this point, I’m not exactly up to trying any of them anyway. I can hardly walk to the bathroom without losing my breath. And so I watch League of Legends. My mom does, too. It’s impossible to watch all the matches in a week, because there are 10, so we watch WildTurtle. We watch him lose twice in week one and once more in week two before my mom’s got to go home. Neither of us can really parse the action.

The League of Legends Championship Series continues its regular summer season for eight weeks. Each week, something gets knocked off my “Don’t” list. FlyQuest and WildTurtle win only six of their 18 games and don’t make it through to the next stage.

Vape Treatment, my fantasy team, fared worse: we won no games. Most of the time, it wasn’t even close. But League of Legends became something of a constant in my life, a life that now had limitations. I read online after the fact that the 2017 summer season was the first time that WildTurtle didn’t make the event’s playoffs since he joined the league. I learned it was his first event with the team; he joined FlyQuest only days before the League of Legends Championship Series’ summer event began. He’s still on FlyQuest now, a staple in a mostly-new roster.

He told an interviewer last year, I think struggling on FlyQuest really opened my eyes. He’s trying not to look back at the past with fear or contempt. I’m trying to do that, too.

Nicole Carpenter is a writer and reporter based in Massachusetts. Follow her on Twitter @sweetpotatoes.

Source : IGN

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