#she's still overall very physically healthy. we go on walks almost every day and as long as she wants to.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My dog has been having senior moments, such as randomly forgetting what she's doing or trying to walk into a street, and I've been calling her "Mr. President" when it happens.

Like, "No, Mr. President, we can't walk into oncoming traffic. That's how we get killed!"

[eyeofthedrgn]

I have finally decided on a title for this multi chapter Rowcan fic: A Heavy Battle Symphony. Inspired by two Linkin Park songs (Heavy{feat. Kiiara}, Battle Symphony) that seem to fit the bill of the overall tone of the story. Since it deals with such dark topics and mental health, it just works. I wasn't intending for this to be song inspired, but here we are.

Also, I'm bad at summaries, but here we go:

Set in a modern high school AU. Lorcan was forced to live with his Aunt Maeve and boyfriend James Perrington, both of which are abusive. Once they move to Orynth, Lorcan's life is thrown into disarray when he meets Rowan.

Trigger warnings : language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: just over 2k

Chapter 1 - Numb

Lorcan Salvaterre has had a pretty shitty life for only being 17. He's been to so many different schools, he doesn't remember them all. His mother died long ago, he didn't have a father, and he was then forced to live with his despicable Aunt Maeve when he was five. Lorcan didn't remember his mother anymore, all he knew was the cruelty of his aunt and her boyfriend, James Perrington.

Maeve's job required them to move every few months. Which meant his schooling was rather poor and often overlapped from school to school. He was always the loner and easily overlooked, at least until his growth spurt last year that catapulted him to be six and half feet tall.

He'd never had a friend in his life. No one would ever want to be friends with him in the first place. He always had a scowl on his face, wore black, long black hair, head down, his skin was a beautiful deep olive, his eyes dark as onyx. He was rather strange. And since his growth spurt, his hulking frame kept everyone away.

He never smiled, he rarely talked. To anyone. Not that he had much to say. He had no hobbies, no pleasures. All he was allowed to do in this meaningless life were chores, his homework, and lay in his room staring at the ceiling.

The way Lorcan had grown up was brutal. There were beatings for not finishing chores, misbehaving, or most of the time, just existing. He never got three meals a day, on the very rare occasion, he would get a small dinner, but generally, the only meal was usually lunch at school or when they were traveling. Even then, Maeve would order the smallest meal for the boy, gods forbid she had to spend more money on him than necessary or look bad in front of people.

That also meant that if he needed new clothes or something for school, he had to work extra for it. A lot of the time, he felt like a severely more abused Cinderella. His aunt made him do some of the most tedious chores in payment for his necessities.

The chores he could handle, sometimes they were even relaxing. The beatings on the other hand were less than desirable. Especially when most of the abuse wasn't even a result of Lorcan's supposed incompetency. But every beating was recorded in Lorcan's journal and accompanied by self harm.

Lorcan's mental health was far from healthy. He wished he had the courage to slice his wrists deeper, but if he failed to finish the job, he couldn't imagine how Maeve would react and what she would make Perrington do to him. So, he settled for the scars. 

His wrists and forearms were covered in scars. Every shirt he had was long sleeved to cover his coping habit. He didn't want questions or people staring, he hated being pitied. Honestly, he hated pretty much everything.

---

The new apartment Maeve had rented in Orynth was just like the rest of them. Lorcan's room was the smallest and also used for storage. Not that it mattered to Lorcan he only had a few things anyway, but it did mean that either his aunt or her boyfriend would barge in, whenever they wished, to grab something. Since Lorcan realized they were never going to stop and they always removed the lock from his door, he took to changing in the bathroom.

Lorcan was exhausted. He had spent all day moving every single box Maeve and Perrington had into the new apartment, making sure he put the boxes in the correct rooms. And setting up his room to give himself some semblance of privacy with the way he piled the storage boxes. 

A sleeping bag, a duffel bag full of worn and faded clothes in various shades of black, a few well worn books, a journal that he used to record every beating and every cut, and a fraying backpack full of school supplies were all of Lorcan's belongings. He didn't even have a real bed. Or a pillow.

Almost asleep in his sleeping bag, Maeve barges into his room and starts yelling at him.

"Lorcan! Where in the gods' forsaken apartment are my hair products!"

Lorcan had no idea why she needed them at midnight. "They're in your bathroom." Obviously.

"If they were, I wouldn't be here, you useless piece of shit!" She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, then shoved him into the hall. He knew better than to fight as he stumbled down the hall, he did his best to keep his face neutral, but fuck, that hurt.

Resisting the urge to rub his poor scalp, he stalked to Maeve's bathroom and opened the box labeled MAEVE'S HAIR PRODUCTS. Lorcan sighed when he was greeted with her towels.

"I already looked there, you little welp," she snarled. "Now find my shit!" She stormed out and slammed the door.

Lorcan hung his head and looked around the room. He just wanted to sleep. It wasn't his fucking fault she mislabeled her fucking boxes. Again. Finding the box labeled MAEVE'S TOWELS, he opened it and sighed with relief as he set eyes on her missing items, and set the box on the counter. He informed Maeve of his discovery before heading back to bed.

---

Five hours later, Lorcan woke up, like clockwork. He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. Hel, he was tired. Time to start an exhausting day of learning a new school and schedule.

Every morning was the same, up at five, shower, get ready for school, make breakfast that he wasn't allowed to eat. Only the adults were allowed breakfast. He'd get a knee to the gut if he attempted to snatch a strip of bacon or a link of sausage, or even a piece of toast. So, his stomach would growl until he got to eat a pathetic school lunch.

This morning would be slightly different from the rest, though. Maeve would have to take him to school and make sure he was registered. She always acted the caring aunt in public. It disgusted Lorcan. Especially when she would go the extra mile and kiss his cheek.

After Maeve left without a word to Lorcan, he stood in the main hall with his schedule and map in hand. This school was huge. Much bigger than most of the other high schools he had been to. That was to be expected, though. This was Orynth High after all, the biggest high school in the biggest city of Terrasen.

He looked over his schedule. He had no idea how he made it to senior year with all the holes in his education.

Fuck, why was pre-calc first? At least he was good at math.

He looked at the clock at the end of the hall, he still had half an hour before school actually started. Rather than wasting time, he found all of his classrooms in order, twice, and then went to the library to grab the necessary textbooks. 

By the time he left the library, the halls were filling up. Kids all around him were chattering, he was either ignored or kids looked at him with scared eyes and scurried out of his way.

He tugged his hood up and shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and made his way to first period.

---

Since it was the start of a new semester, most teachers ignored that Lorcan was new to the school. That was fine, he didn't want the attention anyway. But in his last class of the day, creative writing, they had to split into groups for an assignment. Lorcan hated group assignments. He was partnered with the smallest teenager he had ever seen.

"I'm Elide. You're new here aren't you?"

His nod was barely perceptible.

"It's Lorcan, right?" He nodded again. "Where are you from?" Her eyes were filled with pure curiosity. 

He cleared his throat. "Originally from Doranelle, but I don't remember it. My mother died when I was five. My aunt took me in and we move a lot." He blinked and shook his head in confusion at himself for telling a complete stranger something he hadn't told anyone else before.

How did this petite young woman bewitch him to talk more than he had in weeks? Lorcan felt exposed under her gaze. It felt like she could read him like a book. It was unnerving. 

"That sounds rough. I hope you like it here and I hope we can be friends." She finished with a smile.

Lorcan just turned back to the assignment.

The class passed without much other conversation besides about the assignment they had to do together.

Finally, the bell rang signalling the end of the day.

The first day at this school was done and he was exhausted and hungry. Lorcan was so focused on packing up his supplies into his ratty backpack that he didn't realize Elide was talking to him.

"A group of us are going to the park to hang out, wanna join?" He was zipping up his backpack, not hearing a word she said. "Lorcan?"

"Huh?" He looked up, confused. She giggled. His cheeks heated just slightly.

"Do you want to hang out with my friends and I after school?"

Why would he want to do that? Lorcan did remember saying she hoped they could be friends, but he thought she was just being polite. Now, she was trying to follow through.

But there was only one answer.

"No."

---

Elide adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she walked to the park to meet her friends. She could see Lorcan walking on the other side of the street away from her. His hood was up, head down, hands in his hoodie pocket, his posture slightly hunched. She thought he could almost pass for a shadow if his black clothes weren't so faded and worn.

She remembered looking into his eyes during class and seeing deep pools of onyx, they would have been gorgeous, but instead, they were dull, and lifeless. He had been so hard to read. Elide had guessed that he didn't have a good home life and they were poor, by the state of his clothes and backpack. She had seen the scars on his wrist when he reached into his bag for an eraser. It broke her heart. Watching him walk away, she noticed how awkwardly his clothes hung off of him. He was definitely too skinny for his frame.

So lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear one of her friends come up behind and loop his arms through hers. Elide yelped and then realized it was her friend, Rowan Whitethorn. He had silver hair and pine green eyes that were always bright.

"I didn't mean to scare you! I called your name, but you were off in your own little world!"

"Sorry. I was thinking about the new kid that you will probably end up having a crush on." Rowan scoffed, Elide just laughed. 

They walked a bit in silence until Rowan made his confession.

"He is hot! He's in my gym class. Tell me everything, my precious Elide! I want to know!" Rowan was so excitable, it was infectious.

"He's in my creative writing class and we were partnered together. He said he's from Doranelle, his mother died when he was five, and his aunt took him in. And apparently, they move a lot." She also told him about the assumptions she made from her observations.

Rowan soaked up every word.

---

Lorcan was doing homework at the kitchen table when Maeve and Perrington came in with take out. It smelled good, Lorcan's stomach rumbled. Damn it. To his surprise, Maeve set down a small Chinese take out box right in the middle of this textbook. He blinked at it, and then up at his aunt, she looked kind for once. "Thank you." It was barely a whisper, but he knew she heard it because she nodded before walking away.

Sometimes he actually thought she loved him..

After his studies and meager dinner, Lorcan laid in his sleeping bag, using an old hoodie that didn't fit anymore as a pillow, trying to sleep. A sigh left his lips and he rolled over.

He couldn't sleep even though he was exhausted, so he pulled a well worn novel from his duffle bag. It was The Hobbit. Lorcan had read it many times. The spine was broken, pages were dog eared, some of the pages weren't even glued in anymore. But he enjoyed the adventure.

Lorcan was halfway through his book, when his window started lightening with the new day. He groaned and his stomach growled.

++++

Rowan couldn't get that new dark haired boy out of his mind. Lorcan Salvaterre. He had soaked up all the information he could from Elide about his new crush. Concentrating on his homework was so hard.

"Ugh." Rowan ran his hand through his hair and smacked his cheeks a couple of times to get himself to snap out of it. He still had homework to finish.

"Rowan, love, would you like some hot chocolate?" His mom leaned into his room. "You seem distracted today."

His mom, Barb, was the sweetest lady and the best mother one could ask for. They talked about everything. And he swore she had eyes everywhere because she always knew everything. Sometimes, Rowan hated that his mom was so observant.

"Yes, please." He got up from his desk and followed his mom to the kitchen. He enjoyed his cocoa with marshmallows. After taking a few sips, he told his mom about the new kid in school. She just smiled knowingly at him.

"Elide says he moves a lot. But I don't know exactly what 'a lot' means. Also, he's probably not into guys." He quirked his lips to the side. 

"You should probably start with actually talking to the boy."

Rowan whined, "Mom!" She just laughed and kissed the top of his head before retreating to the living room, leaving him with his thoughts and empty cup.

_____

Thanks for reading! I'll probably post the next chapter next Thursday or Friday.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

Lucy POV. TW: Panic Attack, Mental trauma/coping, PTSD

The university and Lucy’s professors had been really wonderful about everything, even offering to convert her classes to an online option so she could continue. She wasn’t happy about the idea of taking a sabbatical from college, but there was no way she could manage. Not only was it difficult for her to leave the apartment because seeing anyone that remotely resembled Touka sent her into a panic attack, focusing on anything at all was a struggle. Night after night it haunted her dreams and spilled into her waking moments. She’d run scenarios through her mind, all the what if’s, should haves, could haves, often leading to horrifying outcomes. They’d survived, yes, but at what cost?

She didn’t feel the same anymore as if a part of her did die in that apartment or fled to a hidden part of her brain too scared to come back out. The once happy, positive person had become a nervous wreck unable to control her emotions or outbursts. Lucy’s bedroom became her safe zone from everyone, even those closest to her, ashamed and insecure of their judgement. In her heart she knew friends like Levy or Natsu wouldn’t judge... but tell that to her broken mind, because her brain was the one in control at the moment, and insisted they’d look down on her.

All the irrational thoughts. It was her fault for not being careful, her fault she was kidnapped. Lucy knew Touka was growing dangerous, yet walking alone, at night... utterly stupid. She should have been overzealous at protecting herself, but oh no, stupid girl didn’t want to believe anything would actually happen. Until it did. And now she was even more pathetic and weak for not getting a hold of her emotions, for not controlling it instead of it controlling her. The danger had passed. They were alive. Touka was in jail. It should be over, but it wasn’t. Lucy couldn’t move past that night, stuck in an endless loop of fear. So many nights she’d wake up in a panic covered in sweat, the fading images of red... blood... like dripping down a tv screen in a horror movie. It was Natsu’s blood she saw and his screams when the knife had sliced him open.

The first week after the event had been difficult, sitting through an interview with Gajeel, and reliving all the mental wounds. It took several hours to get through it all despite the man doing his best to go easy on her. Each time painful parts came up, Lucy felt the anxieties rise, the mental blurring, the shaking, literally a physical shaking of her body in an effort to dispel the rise of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Interviews are best done without any other potential witnesses in the room to avoid cross contamination, but after Lucy’s first two attempts to talk to investigators failed, Gajeel was forced to allow Natsu in with explicit instructions to sit quietly and say nothing while the woman talked. Of course, Natsu’d been fine with that, he’d do anything to help, even if it was just holding Lucy’s hand. But it only added to her embarrassment. Surely Natsu will eventually tire of having an unstable girlfriend.

Then there was the therapist Levy helped Lucy to find which she hoped would help her to quickly get over the events and move on. So, when the woman explained that such traumas take patience and time to process, Lucy was devastated. It almost felt like nothing was going her way anymore, falling dominoes with no end in sight. She felt so ashamed for having to see the woman in the first place, and now she’s told it would be a long journey towards recovery. Just great! What’s next?!

“Lu?” Levy knocked before opening the bedroom door. “Are you gonna eat your dinner in here again? It’s ready.”

With the curtains drawn, Lucy’s room was dark and the only light available was a small desk lamp next to the bed set to a low setting. She peeked out from under her blanket. “I-I’ll come out in a minute, thanks Lev.”

As soon as her friend closed the door, Lucy exhaled in relief. She knew Levy was worried about the amount of time she stayed holed up in the room, so to dispel some of those concerns, Lucy would join her roommate for meals. She quickly applied a gauze wrap, threw on her long sleeve hoodie, and left the room. It made her feel safer to be shrouded and covered up, so gone were her skirts and tank tops, and hello to long sleeves and pants. If she could cover her face from the world, it would make her happy. Even her overall hygiene suffered. Lucy would forget to bathe or wash her hair for days on end, and it took Levy or Natsu with gentle prodding to get her to do it. She would wear the same clothes for a week if it wasn’t for Levy who made sure she changed at least every couple of days. Hell, she’d starve if her roommate wasn’t feeding her. This was a frustrating cycle, not having the mental energy to take care of herself, then feeling bad because they had to help her with things, which made her feel even worse.

It tore at Lucy’s heart to watch Natsu going through this process with her. She knew he was going through his own struggles, not just mental, but physically healing from his wounds. And here she was, the basket case of instability. Bless him, he never gave up no matter how distant she grew, but after that night, Lucy really didn’t want to talk about anything out loud, not that night, and certainly not the true extent of her pain from it. Both Levy and Natsu knew only what she couldn’t hide from them. Like the panic attacks, and since she really didn’t want them to see her go through one or what she’d resorted to, to calm herself, so the safest solution was stay quiet and not trigger them in their presence.

To show his dedication, Natsu even went with her to her therapy sessions and waited outside the office. Lucy knew it was costing him money to do this, because she couldn’t ride a train which meant cab rides every single trip. It bothered her a lot, but she did her best to hide it, and besides there was one small measure of security in having him at her side when she needed to venture out into the public.

“So, the nightmares are still a problem?” the therapist questioned Lucy. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a medication? It would help to ease them until we can get things under control.”

Lucy gripped to the hem of her sweater. “I just don’t wanna become addicted to that stuff...”

“That’s understandable. But not all are addictive, and I’ll be here to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“I... I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” the woman smiled. “Remember I’m just here to help you, at your pace. I won’t force you take anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the breathing and relaxation techniques? When you feel the anxiety rising, are you trying out the steps?”

“I try... I don’t think I’m very successful at it.”

“Does it work sometimes?”

Lucy pauses for a few seconds in thought before nodding yes.

“See, that is progress!” The woman encouraged excitedly. “Two weeks ago, it didn’t help at all, and now it works sometimes. It’s a big step forward Lucy.”

“Doesn’t feel like it is...” Lucy mumbled.

“I know it’s hard to see it for yourself, and that’s okay. These things take time and practice. Do you remember what I said about these things?”

“Not really.” Which was true. During the first week when the therapist explained the processes, Lucy had stopped listening as soon as the woman said it would take time.

“Let me ask you a question. You like to write stories, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When you first started, were you able to just write perfect stories.”

“Pfft, no.”

“Then how did you get better at it?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going. “Practice.”

“Yes! The PTSD requires learning new coping skills as well as unlearning irrational ones. To do both takes practice. The more we work at it, the easier it will get, I promise. One day you’ll be able to look back at this experience and feel stronger for it.”

She really wanted to believe the woman, but it was so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel! Tears well up in Lucy’s eyes, seconds before they start to flow down her cheeks. “Why is this so hard?! I just wanna get back to normal!” She could feel her anxieties rising. “I... I-I don’t wanna talk about it anymore! I just wanna forget it ever happened!”

The woman reached over and took Lucy’s hand, applying a strategic amount of pressure while rubbing her thumb over the webbing in a counter stimulus. She softened in tone. “I wish I could say that would work, but in order to get past it, you need to confront it. Together we’re gonna turn the boogieman into Casper the friendly ghost.”

It was such a weird way of putting things, it caused Lucy’s mind to snap out of the anxiety and snort a sniffling laugh in response. “Casper the friendly ghost?!”

“It was the first thing to pop into my mind,” the therapist laughed too. “The point is, we’re going to work together and slowly bring you to a place where this no longer scares you.”

“O-Okay...”

The rest of the session was tough, and Lucy had come close to a panic attack several times, but as a trained therapist, the woman stepped in at the right times to bring her levels down again using breaks and breathing routines. Sure, with a professional in front of you, it wasn’t as bad, but doing this on her own, the attacks were still winning. At the end of the session, the woman suggested a new technique to try out based on Lucy’s love of writing.

“You’ve heard of art therapy, so just think of this as a different form of creative therapy. Writing a diary is helpful to get out your feelings out in a healthy way. But let’s take it one step forward to use your skills in fiction writing. I want you to try before the next session, writing a story where you interject your emotions, feelings, whatever you want into the characters and story. Kind of like your character becomes you, but now you get to control what happens to them after the trauma they endure.”

“Wait, so you want me to write about a character that goes through what I went through?! Like torture my own character?!”

“Yes, to put it bluntly. Take your pain and unleash it onto the fictional character. It’s a much healthier way of releasing your anger or frustration in something that can’t really be hurt. Do whatever you want to them. But remember you also get to give them the ending you want to. It’s about utilizing a tool you’re already comfortable with and taking back some control. It’ll be normal if you cry, scream, and get upset through the process, but that’s okay, because instead of holding it all in, you’re getting your feelings out.”

Lucy slumped back in her seat. It sounded strange, yet at the same time made a bit of sense to her. Angst type stories were not really her forte, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it, especially since pain is all she was channeling at the moment. She sighed. “I’ll try.”

“And that’s totally okay. All I ask is that you give it a try.”

[varibean]

Amalgam

this is a secret prompt exchange for the varigo discord server! i got the prompt Amalgam for the wonderful and talented @dr-chalk!!!! i hope yall enjoy (and here’s the fic on ao3 too *wink*)

Summary: After relying on Ulla’s notebook to help them through their journey, the gang find that the next kingdom has little to no notes on where the next trial takes place. Their only clue is a location that might have a lead on where to go next. However, after a royal mess up on Hugo’s part, they’re left up the creek without a paddle. Not only are tensions high, but emotions as well. One thing was certain though: Hugo and Varian did not mix well.

Varian and Hugo didn’t mix, that much was clear to see at first glance. Hugo was rough, so many edges and layers of grime applied through falsities and smarmy charm. Meanwhile Varian was more true, more honest with himself and with others, but that often led to him being volatile at the wrong times and too quick to action based on emotion. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best combination. 

_____

Hugo watched as Varian stormed into the campsite where the caravan and Prometheus were kept, the latter grazing at a few nearby apples and scraps that his owner had left behind. Needless to say, the young alchemist was furious. 

Behind him Yong trotted along with Nuru, both with dejected looks plastered over their faces. Even from a distance Hugo could hear Nuru trying to mumble comforting words to the small boy, a smile on her face despite the recent hardships. And lastly, heading up the rear, was Hugo himself. His face was blank, almost unreadable save for the smallest of frown lines forming beneath his softly twitching lips. 

No one was in a good mood and no one wanted to talk about it.

Yong went over to the fire pit and mumbled about getting the food ready for the night with Nuru which only resulted in a jerky nod from Varian before he headed into the makeshift lab tent. As each member went about their separate tasks, Hugo was left standing at the edge of the camp, arms crossed and the facade of normalcy fading. 

He knew he had to do something, had to make this all right. They had been so close to discovering the path to the next trial, but he’d been reckless and wanted to show off. Now they were down a crucial key to getting to the next trial and morale and it was all his fault. 

A sigh escaped him before he decided to move his feet. Yong and Nuru would probably be the easiest to apologize too; Nuru already didn’t like him before this but she was also smart enough to set bitter feelings aside and Yong was so happy-go-lucky that all it would take to earn back his favor was a brightly colored sparkler. They would be easy to win over. 

That’s exactly why Hugo walked past them and instead headed into the lab tent. The area was small and cramped with everything from books to test tubes to chemicals that had to be carefully repacked every time they wanted to move. Even though they’d set it up together, Hugo could feel the shift in the area after his most recent blunder. 

This was Varian’s space and he was intruding on the alchemist’s domain. 

The man in question was muttering to himself, flipping through books and slamming his fists down as he closed volumes that didn’t have the answers he wanted. Honestly he was quite terrifying like this. Hugo, despite his outward teasing, had a healthy mix of both fear and respect for Varian, seeing how the other was never one to back down. 

In the moment, the fear was predominant. 

As much as he would’ve loved to have stood there forever, watching the other work so nimbly even in the mists of anger instead of confronting him on the issue, he knew that he couldn’t do that. 

“Hey, uh, Varian. So about back there-” Hugo’s words were cut off before he could finish them. Suddenly Varian was striding over to him, face contorted in a particular anger that was more hurt and disappointment than malice. 

“Yes Hugo, let’s talk about ‘back there’. I would love nothing more to talk about ‘back there’ so lets do that shall we? What part of ‘back there’ do you want to talk about? Maybe the part where you fought me for ten minutes on which direction we should go in. Or maybe the part where you insisted on using your own chemicals to open a doorway and instead got everyone a nose full of stink bomb. Or maybe! Maybe it’s the part where you almost got all of us fucking killed by setting off a trap!” Varian was huffing by the last line, his breath leaving his body in shaking bursts that made Hugo’s own chest constrict. 

“Varian, listen-”

“No! I had my time to listen, now you’re going to listen to me. My mother’s journal can only lead us so far; whatever was in that cavern was going to take us to the next trial location inside the kingdom. Now we have no cavern, no lead, and almost lost our lives. Instead of finding the exact location we’re going to have to spend...I don’t even know! Days? Weeks! Searching this kingdom to find the trial chamber. All because you don’t trust anyone but yourself!” 

The words stung Hugo more than any reprimand Donella had ever given him; more than any punishment he’d ever gotten from the other goons in the gang. It was blistering, scalding. He’d never felt so bad about messing up because, until Varian, he’d never messed up. 

He never messed up because he’d never truly tried to help others. 

But with Varian that’s all he wanted to do. And he fucked that chance right up. 

“Can I please just-” Hugo started, but Varian was clearly determined to not let him say anything. 

“No, you can’t. You want to know what we got for all of this? For almost losing our lives?” Varian turned around and pulled out his satchel, removing a fist sized filthy crystal that was no prettier than a dirty rock. “We got this. And only because it fell on me!” 

Hugo stood there, trying not to let his shame show through. Yet again, he was downfalled by his hubris. It was just different, working together as a team. He’d never had to trust or rely on anyone else besides himself. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at trusting others. 

In front of him Varian slammed the crystal rock down in a compound that Hugo recognized as hydrofluoric acid. Hugo thought that the other would break the beaker or hurt himself with the force that he threw the crystal rock down and suddenly worry overtook his shame. 

“Hey, careful!” He reached out to check Varian’s hand, but the other batted him away. 

“That’s enough, Hugo.” Varian said. The sound of his voice, the disappointment and rage, sent a shiver down Hugo’s spine. But he wasn’t just going to stand there and take it. If the other wanted to ignore his attempts at an apology, that was fine by him. 

Without another word, Hugo turned on his heels and headed out the tent. 

“You know,” He started, turning his attention to Nuru and Yong, who were currently on the ground after trying to scamper back to their places, “You two do a piss poor job of eavesdropping.”  

_____

Five days went by without them speaking to each other. Five days of curt nods and stiffly eaten meals and as little contact as they could manage while still trying to figure out how to make it to the next trial. Hugo and Varian’s foul mood affected everyone; even Ruddiger was beginning to eat his apples with less enthusiasm. 

The group’s searches in the city for how to begin their trial proved to be utterly fruitless. Varian’s journal was no use, and they’d expended the only other key that they had. 

Overall, not the most fun few days. However, Yong and Nuru were becoming less concerned with the trial and more concerned for their two alchemists. 

“He’s not been sleeping a lot.” Yong said. 

“Varian never sleeps.” Came Nuru’s halfhearted reply, even though there was worry in the pit of her stomach as well. 

“But this is different. Usually he just stays up because he’s in his tent...or putting out a fire I started. Right now he’s just doing nothing.”

“Yeah.” Nuru sighed. She knew she couldn’t deny it. Things were getting bad and no one knew how to make them better again. “Hugo’s been pretty quite too. Which I thought was going to be a good thing but now believe it or not I’d give anything to hear him say one of his stupid jokes again. At least then that would mean things were normal.”

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be that simple. At first they’d tried plots and schemes; fake notes left by the other, arranging meet ups between the two that never came to fruition. After several attempts over the last five days, both Yong and Nuru agreed that whatever needed to be fixed, Hugo and Varian would have to do it in their own time. 

They just wished the two worked faster.

_____

Hugo couldn’t sleep and that really sucked for him because all he wanted to do was sleep and pretend like his current life was nothing more than a bad dream. 

Varian’s words still echoed around his mind, stinging him when he thought too hard on it. He knew he’d been in the wrong but for once in his life he had been trying to apologize and this? This is what he got out of it? 

Not worth it.

That’s what he told himself, it wasn’t worth it, it wasn’t worth it, it just wasn’t worth it. Of course, that just wasn’t true. 

He hated to admit it but Varian’s forgiveness was worth it. It was worth its weight in gold because it would be from Varian. In the days that he’d spent avoiding Varian physically, he couldn’t escape the other alchemist in his thoughts. He was longing to make up with him, something he never cared about from anyone else. 

There was something about Varian that made him want to be better, to earn his favor. The idea that they could make up, that they could get along, that maybe one day they would do more than just get along…

Hugo smacked his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts before they could manifest. He did not like Varian. Not in that way. No, he couldn’t allow himself to like Varian any more than the regular amount. 

He was a spy after all. A double agent. It was basically traitors 101: Don’t fall for the guy you have to two-face. 

He always sucked at following rules. 

Knowing that he wasn’t about to get a lick of sleep any time soon, Hugo got up from his sleeping bag and exited his tent, hoping that maybe a walk would clear his mind from his unpleasant (or, perhaps, too pleasant) thoughts. 

As he got out he saw that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. The lab tent had a dim light shining through the flaps and through the still wind Hugo could barely make out the sound of someone muttering. 

‘Varian’s up too huh?’ He thought to himself. 

His goal was to stay away from Varian, but the light in the tent called to him like a moth to a flame. There could be no harm in just walking by it, right? 

He slinked over to the entrance, pepping inside to see that Varian’s back was turned away from the entrance, head in his hands as he sat in front of several test tubes and scattered papers. 

“What am I supposed to do, Ruddiger?” Varian softly asked the raccoon who was clearly asleep on the ground. 

“Just one big screw up after another,” He continued, “It’s all turned into a mess in just a couple of days. How can I possibly-”

This was a mistake. Hugo shouldn’t have been here, spying on Varian. And of course the other was still mad at him, for good reason. He’d screwed everything up after all, made things one big mess. 

Hugo sighed, wishing he’d just stayed in bed. But before he could leave he heard Varian continue.

“How am I ever going to tell him how sorry I am?”

Hugo paused at those words, taking a moment to linger outside of the tent before quietly slinking in to hear what else Varian had to say. 

“I was just...so upset. He could’ve died and it would’ve been my fault for arguing with him so much about the direction and the traps and everything else. And now he probably hates me right? I just wish I could tell him I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed everything on him. But he’d never accept that.”

“Well maybe if you asked him.” Hugo said, a smile suddenly playing on the edge of his lips. 

Varian jumped, nearly sending all of his chemicals flying and hastily tried to correct himself. 

“Hugo what-what are you doing here? You should be asleep an-and you know it’s rude to spy on people, I was having a personal moment here with Ruddiger and you can’t just walk in here and ruin our heart to heart-”

“I’m sorry.” Hugo’s words stopped Varian dead in his tracks as the other balked at him. 

“What did you say?”

“I’m not used to working with other people, so I didn’t want to listen to you. I wanted to do things my way and maybe even show off a little. But it just cost us a piece to the puzzle and...almost hurt you. I mean, almost hurt Nuru and Yong too but,” Hugo reached out and took Varian’s hand into his own, “I was worried about you the most.” 

He might’ve added the last line to sweeten Varian up just a little bit, but deep down he knew it was true. He’d been more worried about Varian than he’d been about his own hide, which was really saying something. 

He smirked seeing the other’s face turn red in the dim lantern light. God he was cute. And Funny. And charming in his own nerdy way.

“Well I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have-”

“Oh, shut up, I already heard your apology.” With Varian’s hand still in his own, he leaned forward, his face even closer to the other man’s. 

There was a beat of silence between them, stirring in both of their breaths as they studied the other’s face. They were so close, so tantalizingly close to the other. It would be so easy just to lean down a half inch more, taste Varian's delicious looking lips on his own. Up so close, Hugo could see the plumpness of the other’s bottom lip, the slight shine it had in the warm light from him licking his lips in worry. Just one more half inch. One more. 

Hugo stepped forward. Varian stepped back. 

And the sound of a beaker tipping over and smashing could be heard throughout the night. 

“Fuck!” Varian helped as he turned over and tried to find the broken glass in the soft light. “Shit, shit, I think that one was the hydrofluoric acid. I hadn’t changed it out since I put the crystal...in...it…” 

Hugo peered at him curiously as Varian’s voice died down, a look of puzzlement on his face as he leaned down to examine the pile. The blue eyed alchemist tightened his glove on his hand before gently reaching down into the rubble pile. 

The acid, over the course of a few days, had melted the crystal down. Revealing, in its place, a golden coin that had been left inside. 

Varian stood back up, coin in hand, and held it to the light. 

“That’s the emblem for the city we’re in right?” Hugo asked, looking at the coin curiously.

“Yeah. The emblem and the fountain in the square. Only...hand me a coin. One that we got from the market the other day.”

Hugo did what Varian asked with no hesitation, and the two examined the coins side by side. 

“The lady in the regular emblem on the coin is pointing down. But this one-”

“Is pointing left.” Hugo interrupted.

“Right. I mean, left. I mean-yes. You’re right that she’s pointing left. That’s where the Kingdom’s sewer main entrance is. To the left of the fountain. And the covers! They all have the emblems on them too.” Varian said. 

“I think I remember a few of them pointing in different directions but I thought that was just a pipe thing but what if-”

“They’re directions! It would take us forever to explore the entire sewer system but if they are all pointing in different directions, we start by the one at the fountain-”

“Follow them throughout the city-”

“Until we finish at the right one!”

The last line they both said together excitedly after finishing each other’s sentences.

Varian smacked his hand excitedly against Hugo’s chest several times with a wide grin. 

“And that’s the entrance to the next trial!!! This is amazing! The answer was right here in front of us all along!”

“So Varian, what you’re saying is, that I actually did the right thing and I can retract my apology now.”

“Don’t push it.” Varian tried to act stern but the grin on his face gave him away much too easily. “It’s almost morning, I’m going to go wake the others. And Hugo?”

Before Hugo knew it was coming he felt Varian’s lips press against his cheek for just a fleeting second. His eyes grew wide and he found himself at a loss for words to come back at him with. No that he really minded. 

“We, uh, have a few things to talk about after this.” 

_____

Varian and Hugo didn’t mix, at least not at first. Hugo was rough, so many edges and layers of grime applied through falsities and smarmy charm. But there was something good underneath. Something worth finding. Meanwhile Varian was more true, more honest with himself and with others, but that often led to him being volatile at the wrong times and too quick to action based on emotion. But sometimes a bit of emotion was needed to clear the air, sometimes being volatile could lead to being vulnerable. They were a curious amalgam of two things, both brought together to make something brilliant.

[dragons-socks]

Baby Bumblebee chptr 3

“Hey, Captain Lennox, Bumblebee isn’t here if that’s what you’re looking for.” Sam said as Ironhide pulled up and the captain jumped out. Mikaela waved from her spot inspecting the old engine of Sam’s replacement car when Bee is out in the field.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” Something about the way Lennox said it had both teens dropping what they were doing and turning fully to him.

“Is he alright? Did he die. I swear if you wrecked him, I’m going to beat-” Sam began frantically threatening Lennox when Ironhide’s passenger rear door popped open and tiny light-the-night yellow sketchers popped out followed by black overall-shorts over a yellow t-shirt, but was drowned out by an overly large bee-themed jacket. The kid slipped on the last few inches out of the truck, landing smack on his bottom. Instead of crying out like most children do, he let out a series of clicks and chitters.

“I said I’d get you in a second, kid.” Lennox sighed, walking over and picking the child up to his feet. Sam looked between the kid and Lennox. He turned to Mikaela to make sure she was also seeing the kid as well.

“Uh, I didn’t know Epps had a kid?” Sam asked. “What’s his, uh, name?”

“Bumblebee.” Lennox said, face flat. Sam wanted to laugh, but the kid just looked down at his shoes, scuffing his toes in the grass.

“No way.” Sam knelt down to take a closer look at the little boy. “Like, my car? Like the 18 foot alien robot?” The kid let out a sad whine.

“Why is he a child? Shouldn’t he be older, even if he was turned into a human.” Mikaela asked, standing closer to Lennox.

“We think that is the purpose of the weapon, not to just turn the autobots into humans, but also small and defenseless.” Lennox explained the battle and how Bee saved Optimus from their weapon. Sam ruffled Bee’s fluffy blonde hair.

“He looks more like you cheated on Sarah with some cute African mama while on tour, then Epps and his girlfriend’s kid.” Mikaela cooed at Bee.

“I think my babysitter has the same idea.” Lennox groaned. “We tried to say he was a dead friend’s kid, but I’m not sure she completely bought it.”

“Sarah would have you sleeping in the dog house if that were true.” Mikaela assured.

“Oh, I’m in the doghouse either way. Apparently it’s a little traumatising to experience being a human than just observing them.” Lennox laughed as Bee let out a series of grumbles and chirps.

“So I have to stick with the crapper?” Sam bemoaned. Bee turned to him, letting out chirps and chitters. His tiny hand rested on Sam’s cheek, a determined look taking over his whole face as he promised he didn’t become a human to shake his duties to and for Sam.

“It was a joke, buddy. Don’t worry.” Sam laughed.

Judy walked out and completely went heads over heels for the kid little kid in her front yard. She snatched him up instantly, pinching his chubby cheeks and gushing about the brightest blue eyes she’s ever seen.

“Ma! Mom! MOM!” Sam shouted as Bee struggled against the matriarchy of the Witwicky family. “You’re freaking him out. Will you put him down?”

“He’s so small, you were this small once. Oh, I remember when you used to just rip your overall’s off cause you didn’t like them at all. But look how cute he is!” Judy at least set Bee down, who ran and hid behind Lennox’s legs, glaring at the woman from behind them.

“Yeah, yeah, ma. Why are you out here anyway?”

“Dinner is almost done. We have enough for you two as well, Captain Lennox.” She turned to the other adult.

“I’ll have to decline. We’re supposed to be picking up the last of the supplies for Bee and then headed back to the wife’s dinner. She’d kill me if I came with a full stomach.” Lennox gave a tight smile. Judy went on about being a good husband and yelling at her own to take notes. Ron yelled back about having been her husband for long enough to know how to handle his marriage.

“We’ll be able to see Bee at the base, right?” Sam asked.

“No. Optimus isn’t a fan of having him with the other Autobots and my superiors feel the same with having a child running around base. So he’ll be at my house until we figure out how to get him back to normal.”

“And if you can’t?” Lennox didn’t answer, not verbally, but the look on his face said enough. Bee let out a grumble, folding his arms and shaking his head. He wouldn’t rest until he could kick ass and drive fast again. “Well, I could always look after him if you need someone. I owe him for looking after me all this time anyway.”

“Thanks, kid. We’ll be around.” Lennox said. Bee wrapped his arms around Sam, who picked him up and helped him back into Ironhide, finding a kid’s car seat. Sam suppressed the need to laugh. An autobot that’s been in wars, has killed, and can take a brutal beating, has to also resort to being put into a car seat for his own safety.

“See ya later, Bee.” Sam ruffled the soft curls one last time. Bee waved goodbye.

Lennox was a little surprised that it wasn’t like pulling teeth to get Bumblebee away from Sam. He was almost positive that the autobot-turned-boy would try to stay with his ward. Maybe it was the promise of seeing Sam again that eased the separation. But Lennox wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t lying when he said he still had to get Bee a few more supplies for his room and Sarah was expecting him home at some point.

Bumblebee’s eyes went wide as they walked into yet another store. Lennox had been dragging him in and out of them all day. He’s been shoved into clothes for hours, and made to choose sleeping supplies and shelves. He was placed in front of plastic toys, but he didn’t want to look at those. Lennox held out a newer version of the yellow toy car and put it in the cart. Bumblebee didn’t want to acknowledge it’s presence so he turned away. His hand brushed against something soft, which made him stop in his tracks. Peaking to the side, he found a large box filled with fake earth animals. It was staring into his spark with beady black eyes, long drooping ears rested around its face.

“You can have the bunny if you want, Bee.” Lennox said, lifting it out of the box and placing it in Bee’s hands. Bumblebee’s fingers gripped automatically to the soft fur. He let out a stream of happy clicks.

The bunny was now in his room at the house, safe, protected. This new store was different. It was just shelves and shelves of books. Lennox wasn’t really browsing as he had done the other stores. No, he was walking straight to the counter where a girl sat, typing away at her computer. She ignored the duo until Lennox cleared his throat. She let out a sigh, turning to him with bored eyes.

“The children’s section is down the hall and to the right. The education corner is up the stairs all the way in the back.” She went back to her computer.

“I’m William Lennox. I called earlier.” He said.

“Oh, yeha, my boss said something about that. We’ve pulled some books for you.” She spun around, digging around a different shelf behind her before she pulled out a stack of large books. “These are the ones we’ve found.”

“I’ll take them all.” Lennox said. Bee went on his tiptoes and pulled down a small thin book. The cover had a cartoon child smiling, their hands in an odd position. The title was colorful and in big letters, ‘American Sign Language for Children’.

______________

The first time Lennox got back to the autobot base wasn’t until a whole week after getting into a healthy routine with Bumblebee. The kid was picking up sign language faster than Lennox could relearn it, so communication was still rocky, but it was getting better. They also had a grid of pictures and words that Bee could point at to help let Sarah know what he needed.

“Lennox, good to see ya back.” Epps clapped him on the back. “How’s the kid?”

“10,000 years of prior knowledge really makes ‘em smart, you know.” Lennox tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite appear. He drops his facade, running a hand down his face. “He’s upset on good days, throws tantrums on bad ones. He gets stressed easily and frustration runs high every minute.”

“That doesn’t really sound like Bumblebee. He’s usually so upbeat even in tough situations.” Epps commented.

“Ironhide thinks Bee is reacting to his physical age due to the human chemicals and endorphins bumping through his body. I’m inclined to believe so as well. Also, it’s a situation none of us has ever gone through before. He’s in unknown territory without his family to help him. He’s been abandoned and outcast and everything is a constant reminder of what he’s lost. He sacrificed himself for his leader, for the one he looks up to for guidance and safety. And because of the outcome, he was pushed away by that very man.” Lennox tried to explain the feelings that have been tearing Bumblebee into pieces.

“Yeah, that does sound stressful.” Epps slouched. “How’s Annabell taking having an older brother?”

“She hates it.” Lennox groaned, sliding down to the floor.

“It can’t be that bad.” Epps laughed at his friend’s pain.

“She’s just fine sharing, as long as its in the way she wants, which Bee usually gets overwhelmed with her demands and ends up with Annabell throwing a tantrum and Bee hiding away in Ironhide.” Lennox took a deep breath.

“Do I even want to know how Sarah is taking this?” Epps helped Lennox to his feet.

“Oh, she’s loving how much room she has in the King bed without any company.” Lennox gave a dry bark of laughter.

“Seriously?”

“She loves Bee, didn’t even take a second to warm up to him. She is mad that I made this ‘life-changing’ decision without her.”

“Well, we’re wife and kid free here, man. So just come down to the hanger and see what the bots have been up to.” Epps led the way to the large warehouse where the autobots were walking around and talking with other military faciliants. Or they were trying too. Ironhide was shouting at Optimus and anyone else who tried to argue with him or try to calm him down.

“I’ve got tear stains in my leather upholster, because he thinks he’s been abandoned! And you know what, he ain’t wrong.” Ironhide folded his arms, glaring at the leader of the Autobots.

“We’ve been over this, Ironhide. He would not be safe here. I’m not going to change my decision.” Optimus huffed, getting frustrated at this endless cycle that was getting them nowhere.

“Oh, I know. But I want you to live with the guilt of that decision riding on your conscience till the All Spark has mercy.” Ironhide spins his cannons, but doesn’t engage in any violence with his commander. Lennox was surprised the weapon’s expert held back. Ironhide had been overheating with rage for the whole ride here.

“Don’t start a fight, Ironhide. Bumblebee knew the risk.” Wheeljack said. “Besides, being alone isn’t the worst. I’m by myself all the time.” Wheeljack didn’t get to continue his thoughts as Ironhide slammed his fist into the other’s face.

“Hey, hey, Ironhide! They’re not going to change their minds with senseless violence. We’re here to do a job. Just keep it civil, big guy.” Lennox said, running to break up the bots.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to the range.” Ironhide transformed into his truck and rolled away from the others.

“Thank you for understanding, Captain.” Optimus started, but Lennox shot a glare up to the large mech.

“Don’t think I’m on your side, Prime. I just hate cleaning up the messes that happen when you guys fight.” Lennox turned away from the bot to organize his men.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Maybe a story about Norman being a good parent?

Summary: Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was a Polk, and the Polks did not hurt their young, or whatever they perceived as such.

You all knew it was coming inevitably...

---

[[MORE]]

     Norman's and Margarite's marriage had come as a surprise to the entire Polk family. A simple signature on a piece of paper, and a pair of battered rings that had belonged to Nanna and Poppop Polk (gifted to him by the former who always knew he'd be a better fit for them). No fanciful ceremony with pretty dresses or suits, expensive cakes and extensive guest list.

A disappointing waste, his mama had proclaimed over the letter she'd sent as a reply to his own that detailed his status as a married man in a far off city. She'd wanted to witness the event, shed her motherly tears as one of her little ducklings became a real man ready to start a family.

But, to Norman and Maggie, the marriage wasn't a motive of celebration like his mama thought. It was insurance against further discrimination towards them. They were, after all, the black couple that lived in a quaint apartment in New York city.

Already that was a challenge of its own, as said apartment was populated primarily by white hot-blooded tenants, with only one more laying vacant for a (hopefully) friendlier family.

Their downstairs neighbor clearly hated them from sight alone, and the others were unsure how the new additions fit into their "perfect" lives in the Big Apple. If any of them were to discover that they both enjoyed the full spectrum of the gender binary, well... Accidents happened in the big city. Accidents that targeted specific minorities for some "unfathomable" reason.

So yes, as shameful as it may be, their wedding was strictly business. Rings for show, public displays of affection to dispell the gossip, and overall just the usual married life arguments in the grocery store to sell the deal (neither of them could care less about which type of sugar made the best apple pie crust, or what brand of soap was better, but it sure made the couples they passed by smile knowingly at the common domestic disputes). There was just one thing left to do to really make a statement on their relationship status.

  "Three of my coworkers are getting maternity leave. It's been a few months, I think it's time."

Children were a sensitive topic. Both Norman and Maggie wanted kids, had a vague idea of how many they planned to raise, and were quite certain they'd make beautiful and healthy younglings with one another. The question was: Was it fair to bring in chidren into a farce of a matrimony? What if one day they found their actual ideal partner?

  "Yous better be sure it's the right time darlin'..." He'd urged her to think more on the subject. "Don't want to rush things like that now, do we?"

  "I'm ready." She'd stared him in the eye with a certainty and confidence he couldn't begin to imagine. He knew she was, but was he? Was he truly ready to bare such a responsibility?

That night he relented to her wishes and they had finally consummated their marriage. Nine months later, little Nancy was born a small but relatively healthy baby. Upon seeing his firstborn for the first time ever, and then holding her gently in hands that dwarfed her little head greatly, Norman immediately understood he was ready to be a parent. And a loving one at that.

-

     In total, Norman and Maggie had five children. Three boys and two girls. Nancy was their eldest child and the more levelheaded of the bunch. The apple of her mother's eye, and her father's baby girl, she was the perfect balance of their greatest qualities and teachings. A clever and determined young girl with big aspirations for her future. She wanted to be a doctor.

Aaron was the second eldest child and the one most like his father. Clever and with an eye for detail, enough so that he had taken up an interest that fits his perceptive nature: Photography. The walls of the Polk household were filled with his works, at first done with Norman's own old and battered camera, until he'd bought the young lad his very own fancy new model.

Louise was the middle child, and the troublemaker of the bunch. She was a bit of a tomboy, and liked to scrap with the boys in her class, to the point where it wasn't uncommon to see her with several bruises and band-aids, and haphazardly taped wireframed glasses. She kept both Norman and Maggie on their toes.

Albert was the second youngest and the quietest. A little bookworm that appreciated the art of literature over anything else. He wanted to be a novelist, even at a very young age, and often shared ideas for stories at the dinner table. There was no doubt in Norman's heart that his little boy would write a best-seller one day. Maggie fretted for his social life, however, as he was the least sociable of their children. Far too shy.

Finally the youngest child was Willard. An outspoken young toddler that was definitely as confident as his mama. A little tot with a very big personality indeed, that Norman couldn't wait to see grow up into yet another fine young boy. If any of their children was to ever get what he wanted in life, it'd definitely be Will.

Truly there was nothing in this world that Norman loved more than his offsprings, and indulging in their interests was always an adventure. One to be shared with three other members of the family.

The vacant apartment had been occupied by Norman's younger brother, Alfred, and his own two children. By then almost all their neighbors (minus the one that hated them from day one) had warmed up to them. So another set of friendly faces was a good addition to their home life.

Norman absolutely loved watching over his nephew and niece, especially because his children were delighted to have other kids around their age to play with.

It reminded him of being back home in Louisiana, his own brothers and sisters sparring with him and playing whatever games they could come up with on the spot. Watching Louise and Nelson tumbling about fighting as equally dirty as the other, really stirred up some good memories he had of his older sisters.

"Bite her Nelson! Bite her!" Lydia cheered as her older brother pinned their cousin to the ground.

"Louise tug on his ears! Pummel him!" Aaron called out to his little sister, encouraging her to fend off her opponent.

"Lydia and Aaron! What I tell y'all 'bout encouragin' yous's siblings t'fight all nasty?!"

"Not to...?"

"Exactly."

Granted some play-fighting needed to be monitored when most of the audience were enablers, and neither his middle child nor his nephew had any qualms sending each other to the hospital. They were still learning about consequences after all.

Still, there wasn't anything else in the world that built better character than teaching the children that they were equals to one another in all their shared activities. Respect was an important lesson to be learned. One Norman wished every parent taught their child.

The world would be a better place otherwise...

-

Sometimes the Projectionist would inevitably be unable to fend off sleep. The exhaustion would wear it down and give way to the nightmares of a life it could barely remember. Then it would wake up and scream, trying to rid itself of heinous visions of itself ripping its offsprings apart.

Norman Polk would reawaken inside its brutish body and lash out, hoping to either physically fight away his own broken psyche or perhaps cripple the Projectionist so that it could never fulfil these dreamt up acts of violence.

A Polk was all about family, and the thought of becoming the sort to bring harm upon his own children... Well, Norman had heard the stories. Knew why Poppop was such a taboo topic. He did not want to be the man besides his Nanna in the portrait above the fireplace... One he'd resembled if his eye wasn't wrong and he'd grown out his beard...

The Projectionist didn't have the mental faculties to understand this distress however, but it seemed to recognize that what it saw in dreams was bad. That what it did to the vermin, it should never do to those innocent little youngsters that looked at it with love instead of fear and hatred. So... Why did it do it in dreams? Why did it kill when it wanted to be docile? The children were not a threat, so why...?

It made no sense... But it didn't much care for elaborate existential crisis like that. Norman's consciousness would freak it out, but ultimately loosened its grip and go back to being dormant. The lumbering beast resuming its tiring trek through the endless maze. A cycle that would repeat itself the next time it fell asleep.

It was in the aftermath of yet another nightmare that the Projectionist came across something completely new to it. Something small and living, and very much intruding on its space. Something that very vaguely looked like it...

A living being with a body similar to the ones the horrible botched critters that ran around in packs had, yet with no visible imperfections to it. Its head though... It was kind of like a projector, but not. Square in shape, with a lens, a tube, dial and something very round that kind of looked like a big ear. A camera, like the one Aaron had gotten for his birthday.

It seemed to have gloves, shoes and a belt that sort of looked like the speaker lodged in the Projectionist's torso, but it was hard to tell since the strange being was on the ground flailing about like a dying fish.

The towering amalgam stared at the tiny new thing in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to react to such a strange discovery, until it realized why the thing was flailing about to begin with.

One of its legs was pinned under a crate that appeared to have fallen from a nearby stack, and the Projectionist could tell the limb was broken. Nearby lay a series of Ink Hearts that had been resting on the fallen crate.

On any other occasion it would have simply walked over, raised one heavy foot, and crushed the intruder's skull for daring to try to steal from it. This time however, was completely different... Something primal was urging the Projectionist to do something completely alien to its usually aggressive nature. Something instinctive.

The poor creature grew agitated upon finally noticing the Projectionist's presence as it approached, but its broken limb ensured it stayed put even after the crate was picked up and tossed aside. It shook fearfully once the Projectionist knelt down to pick it up by the torso. It stopped shaking once it was brought to rest against the much larger beast's chest, cradled gently like an infant. The Projectionist rumbling softly so as to reassure it that no harm would befall it.

The little creature, with a head that was not a projector but a distant relative of a sort, stared up with its own dark lens before reaching out to gently pat the Projectionist's "face". It seemed to understand its intention to help it, rather than exterminate it.

The lumbering beast carried on in its path, now carrying a most precious cargo. It would find something to help treat the injury and then it would begin teaching this newly adopted offspring to survive in the studio.

Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was still a Polk, and the Polks cared for their younglings. This tiny sentient camera was its child now, and the beast would protect it from the horrors of this horrid studio.

[its-flicked-switch]

The One They Deserved

3.5K | William Arc | The Story We Deserved | Post-MS4

William emerges from the harbor.

I know I can't be the only fan out there who was deeply disappointed by how William's character arc was handled in S11! So, for those of you on team #notmyWilliam, stick with me — I got you. 

—

"And maybe what growing up really means is knowing that you don't have to be just a character, going whichever way the story says. It's knowing you could be the author instead."

― Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead

—

JACKSON

Returning to Wyoming was a decision made on a whim — an instinctual impulse. Because when battered and broken, animal instinct predominates, driving the incessant urge to return to a place of comfort and security.

When Jackson emerged from the harbor, he knew he needed to seek refuge somewhere far removed from Virginia. Returning to the place where it all began just seemed fitting somehow. Poetic almost. For the beginning was also the end.

Of all the places he has lived over the course of the last seventeen years, this is the only place Jackson has ever considered to be home. As he crouches down in the tall grass behind his former home, he becomes enthralled with how quickly and slowly time can pass in the same instance. Saying goodbye to his childhood home seems like something that happened a lifetime ago to someone else, yet it happened only yesterday, and it's strikingly familiar.

Having risen from the dead once before, he knows that not finding his body in the harbor will put his pursuers on edge. Only a fool would accept his death as fact without a body at this point, and those who pursue him are not fools. With that being said, coming here was a risk, but his lack of confidence in his ability to manipulate video feed and hide his identity in larger crowds kept him from attending his parents' funeral.

As a child, he always dreaded attending funerals, oftentimes begging to stay home or to sit outside because he found them to be too unbearably sad and uncomfortable. But now, having been kept from attending the funerals of those closest to him, he has a greater appreciation for their purpose. Funerals aren't for the dead. They are for the living. He understands that now.

The circumstances surrounding their deaths prevented him from seeing their bodies. He wasn't there to watch their caskets being lowered into the ground, nor was he ever able to return to their home in Virginia, where he would have certainly been faced with blood-spattered walls and silence. Any or all of those things would have helped to ground him into the reality that they were really gone, and that he would never see them again. Ultimately, that is what he hoped to gain by coming here — closure. But as he settles in the tall grass behind his childhood home, all he feels is sorrow.

The Van De Kamps' former home hasn't changed all that much in their absence. The new owners have painted, changed up the landscaping, and added on a garage, but overall, the rustic farmhouse where he spent the first twelve years of his life has remained relatively untouched by the passage of time.

Jackson wishes he could say the same.

His early childhood was happy, carefree, and uncomplicated. Although they didn't live in a standard neighborhood, other families lived within a reasonable walking distance. The Brooks family, who owned the land adjacent to theirs, had two boys around his age — Ben and Zak. The three of them spent nearly every waking hour together in the summers. Collectively, their families owned a little over 6,000 acres of land, which, in turn, gave them quite a bit of terrain to roam and raise the kind of hell that only little boys are capable of concocting. Their more notable transgressions included but were not limited to: hitting a baseball into a busy highway where it shattered the back window of a brand new four-door Chevy pickup, a magnifying glass mishap that escalated into the incidental burning of an entire wheat field, and poking a hibernating bear. Yes. You heard right. Poking an actual bear. Suffice it to say, the old saying 'don't poke the bear' holds an entirely different meaning to him now than it did before.

Poking of bears aside, the majority of his childhood, although interesting at times, was fairly unremarkable — until the day that it wasn't.

He was nine when it started.

Phase one came in the form of nightmares. Intense night terrors that propelled him out of his bed and sent him screaming into the night. Twice his parents found him in fields behind their home staring up into the sky with his heart racing, clothes soaked with sweat, and tears streaming down his face. When it occurred a second time, they installed latches at the top of all of the exterior doors, in fear that he would end up in the middle of the highway or in one of their irrigation wells before they could wake and calm him.

The doctors had assured his parents that it was only a phase, but when weeks turned into months and months turned into a year, it became apparent that what he was experiencing was more than just a phase. The drugs the doctors prescribed were successful in sedating him, but they did not curve the frequency, intensity, duration, or nature of his dreams.

Phase two began shortly after his tenth birthday. His hair and eyes had always been fair, but in January of 2011, he woke up to the reflection of a boy he didn't recognize. His blue eyes and sandy brown hair had disappeared overnight, transitioning into a deep charcoal brown. Nobody in the medical community had ever seen anything like it, nor could they explain how or why it had occurred. Test after test confirmed that he was healthy and otherwise unaffected, but a sense of unease filled their home nonetheless.

The night terrors and physical transformation each snapped something within him, unraveling him into a child no one recognized. Within a year, he transitioned from being the light-hearted, jokester with lots of friends into a fearful, shy, and awkward isolationist. It was as if he was a completely different person altogether — mentally and physically. The friendships he had developed within the first ten years of his life slowly dissolved. One by one, they all eased away until there was no one left. Then the bullying began.

First came the inquisitive stares and whispers, which were quickly followed by finely pointed questions that only rude children ask.

"What are you? Some kind of alien?"

It was fairly common knowledge that he was adopted, which only served to make matters worse.

"Jack wasn't born, he was hatched. That's why he can change his coloring like an iguana. What color will you make your hair and eyes tomorrow — Jack?"

"I hear that he hangs out in the fields a lot. He's probably waiting for the mothership."

The digs were endless, and he didn't cope with any of it well. At first, he cried a lot, but he learned very quickly that ten-year-old boys can't cry on playgrounds. Witnessed tears added a whole new layer to his misery. It was if he had opened Pandora's Box to hell.

Jerry Marriott was the worst of the bunch. He coined the name Alien Jack — AJ for short, and it stuck. Soon, nobody other than the teachers called him by his given name.

Thankfully, summer arrived, providing him with a much-needed reprieve from hell.

His parents had hoped that the summer would bring Ben and Zak back, but it didn't. When he wasn't helping his father on the farm, he would walk through the fields alone, which troubled his parents far more than it ever bothered him. The silence was far more favorable than the alternative. School had taught him that much.

Midsummer, his father returned home from an errand with a large box. Since it was the first time he had seen either of his parents genuinely smile in weeks, he knew immediately that whatever was in the mystery box was a much bigger deal than the new dirt bike they had given him for his birthday. They had been placating him for weeks. Making special meals, renting extra movies and video games …any and everything they could think of to try to lift the depressive fog that hung over him. But that day had been different, their smiles were confident and infectious, and when he opened the box, he understood why.

Inside the box was a small wiggling ball of energy. A chocolate lab puppy with large animated brown eyes and tan tipped paws. To this day, Jackson still refers to that moment as being the happiest moment of his life.

He named him Abe, after Abraham Lincoln, because he ended the period of misery and loneliness that had enslaved him by offering him true and unbridled friendship. For the first time in over a year, Jackson looked forward to getting up in the morning. His mood and overall outlook brightened considerably.

His mother's allergies had always prevented them from having pets, which was why Abe's sudden appearance had come as such a surprise. After his arrival, new kleenex boxes appeared in nearly every room. Her congestion and sneezing fits worsened as Abe aged, but she never once complained. Jackson never really thanked her enough for that. Kids are kind of assholes in that respect. They don't truly grasp the meaning of sacrifice.

Unfortunately, for his family, itchy, watery eyes, and nasal congestion would be on the low end of the totem pole in comparison to the sacrifices that would lie ahead.

Phase three was the most troubling for everyone except him. For him, phase three was the glorious redemption that typically only exists in a bullied preteen's dreams. It began with an excruciating headache and a low-grade fever that kept him in bed for nearly three days. When it waned, the world was different. He's since been asked by numerous medical and mental health professionals to describe it, and the best analogy he has been able to come up with is hibernation. When he woke up on that third day, he felt as if he had woken up for the very first time.

Initially, the difference was subtle — something he could sense but not entirely identify. As the days passed, however, the subtlety faded, and the awareness that he possessed unnatural abilities became more and more apparent. For example, he could gain access to people's innermost thoughts, secrets, and fears by merely making eye contact with them or by being in close proximity to them. He wouldn't call it mind-reading per se, because the information was far too pointed to be ramblings of the mind. No whispers, no visions… just infinite knowledge that would appear in his mind as if it had always been there. He would just know.

Ten-year-old boys aren't the coyest creatures on the planet, and Jackson had been no exception.

Returning to school following his summer reprieve had been difficult. The only thing that got him through each day was the knowledge that Abe would be sitting at the bus stop waiting for him, so the timing of his mysterious illness couldn't have been better… or worse, depending upon your perspective.

His ability to obtain sensitive information was a game-changer. As it turned out, Jerry Marriott had an irrational fear of clowns, slept with a night light and stuffed elephant named 'Snuffy,' and hated the father who abandoned him and his mother to go live with his boyfriend in Nevada.

It was at this juncture that Jackson's name transitioned from being Alien Jack to Alien Jackass.

While his tactics didn't win him any humanitarian of the year awards, it leveled the playing field and facilitated camaraderie. Jackson wasn't Jerry's only target. Lewis Weedin and Jessy Scott were also victims of Jerry's unrelenting treachery. Lewis ate every booger he could find, and Jessy rarely bathed properly, but they were both kind, troubled souls whose home lives were miserable. They made an awkward trio and didn't have a tremendous amount in common aside from their mutual hatred for Jerry. But the knowledge that Jessy's stepfather molested him and that Lewis's mother was a worthless drunk made Jackson all that much more determined to make their time at school more tolerable — and he did.

Exploitation worked for awhile. Instead of calling him names, tripping him in the halls, and smashing his lunch, his peers gave him a wide berth.

What Jackson hadn't anticipated was Jerry's resolve. Revealing Jerry's deepest secrets had taken the terror level down a few notches and given Jackson some breathing room, but beneath Jerry's seemingly calm and avoidant exterior, he was seething and biding his time. Alien Jack was child's play. Teasing him about being an alien, from Jerry's perspective, had always been just that — teasing. All in good fun.

Jerry kept his distance for months, leading Jackson to believe that it was over. It wasn't until Jerry ended up on his bus buddied up with Ben and Zak that he knew something was amiss, and he wasn't wrong.

It started as soon as the bus pulled away.

Abe had been waiting for him in his usual place with his body wiggling from head to toe in anticipation as the bus stopped.

"Nice dog, jackass."

Having already weaponized all the intel he had gathered from Jerry's psyche, there was little left for him to say that hadn't already been broadcasted. Ben and Zak remained silent at Jerry's side but looked rather pleased with themselves for acquiring a new and powerful friend. Abe, oblivious to their tone and intentions, had approached him with his typical after school enthusiasm — wiggling, jumping, and nudging along his side to be petted.

Jackson considered telling Jerry to bug off but thought better of it since he was still a good ten minutes away from home and outnumbered three to one. So instead of commenting, he regarded the three of them as if they were cockroaches and turned to walk away.

Neither he nor Abe saw the rock coming.

The jagged, medium-sized rock struck Abe in his hindquarters, causing him to stumble and yelp. The hurt, confused, and terrified look in Abe's sweet, gentle eyes filled Jackson with a sense of rage that he had never experienced before. And turning to find their snide, taunting smiles and hands filled with rocks only served to intensify that rage.

As he watched them chuckle and tauntingly toss the rocks up into the air, an eerie calm settled over him. In that moment, Jackson felt a lot of things but fear was not one of them.

"Time to see how fast you and your friend can run, jackass," Jerry said, giving Ben and Zak a slight nod before arching to hurl the second rock.

Abe, at this point, was no longer oblivious to their intentions and had begun to growl, but it didn't matter. Before the rock could leave Jerry's hand, he hit the ground — hard.

Ben and Zak immediately dropped their rocks and ran away in terror, leaving Jerry to gasp, sputter, and writhe around in the gravel along the side of the road alone.

Without batting an eye or taking a step in his direction, Jackson had sent Jerry hurling backward with such force that it knocked the wind out of him and broke three of his ribs.

"No," Jackson told him as he moved to stand over him, "you are the one who is going to run."

And Jerry did.

The jagged rock left a gash on Abe's hindquarters right along his hip that required several stitches. But true to his nature, Abe remained standing, wagging his tail and licking Jackson in the face as he knelt down, removed a layer of clothing, and cleaned up the wound as best he could before walking them both home.

The events that followed the bus stop brawl changed all of their lives forever. Within a year, Abe was gone, and his parents were forced to sell their farm, farmhouse, and a good portion of their possessions to avoid bankruptcy.

As he watches the sunset over the top of the trees, Jackson knows he has to get moving. He's already stayed longer than he intended, but it's taken more time than he anticipated to gather the courage to visit the very spot he traveled all this way to see. Rising from his obscured position in the tall grass along the tree line, he makes his way deeper into the woods that line the south side of the property.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he approaches the clearing where he and his father had laid his one and only true friend to rest. Getting down on his hands and knees, Jackson brushes aside layers of leaves until he finds the flat stone that marks Abe's resting place.

Abe was a true light. The year he spent with Abe was the happiest time of his life. Abe's eyes had always been gentle, loving, and hungry for adventure. Even after all of this time, Jackson can still feel the coldness of his nose, the sloppiness of his kisses, and the sharpness of his toenails. It's been nearly six years, but the emptiness, sorrow, and furry that filled him following Abe's death has never truly waned.

He doesn't stop the tears that stream down his face as he traces the outline of Abe's name chiseled into the stone. His tears aren't for just Abe. He can feel his parents here too. Abe's death took something out of all of them. It was like being struck by lightning: nothing was the same afterward.

In the years that followed their move, he allowed vengeance to drive and shape him, destroying everyone and everything around him. Being powerful is cool, until the day that it isn't. Now, as he kneels in half-frozen leaves overlooking a grave, he realizes that the one ability he longs for the most is one that he doesn't possess. He can't turn back time. If he could, he would rewind to the day he lost Abe with the knowledge that he has today. If he could do that, he wouldn't be kneeling over Abe's grave in the forest. He would be sitting at the kitchen table inside their farmhouse ordering graduation invitations with Abe snoring at his feet.

At the times of their deaths, he wasn't who they deserved.

Now, all that is left of them in this world are their graves and the imprints they've left on him.

His parents had been sweet, gentle, and loving people, who despite everything, never once resented him. They gave him everything they had, and in return, all he had given them was trouble and heartache. And Abe… Abe was just Abe. Always loving. Always happy. Always looking to him to lead, because where Jackson was — was exactly where Abe wanted to be.

Wiping at his tears, he makes a promise to each of them, one he should have made years ago. From this day forward, he's going to be the one they deserved. They may be gone, but they will not be lost for their imprints will now fall on him.

Moving the leaves back to cover Abe's resting place, Jackson blankets his one and only true friend with as much warmth as the environment will allow, comforted by the fact that he will no longer be buried there alone.

:

Moonlight guides him alongside the highway. The night is silent except for the distinct jingle of tags and clicking of nails against the asphalt. Should somebody happen upon him tonight, they will find a quick friend in a lively chocolate lab with tan tipped paws, a green collar, soulful eyes, and a smile that begs for adventure. What they won't see is a troubled teenage boy or a monster.

Cloaked in a true spirit of light, William heads due south in search of the man who is referred to in his visions only as Praise.

:

AN: This is a chapter from a larger work you find here. 

I'm not going to lie, this was an emotional chapter for me to write. In S11, we were introduced to a young man who was insanely powerful and a bit of an asshole. After 18 years of buildup, I expected more and was devastated that we didn't get it, which is why I made the decision to write a more William-centered story. His arc was important to me. There was a story there that wasn't told, and I'm determined to tell it. For those of you here strictly for the MSR, don't fret... without Mulder and Scully there are no X Files ;)

And, as always, a HUGE thank you to my betas @kikocrystalball​, @admiralty-xfd​, and @suilven19​ for their edits and encouragement… because nobody gets there alone ;)

[thomashull1993]

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[lifeoftinablog]

WHAT I LEARNED AFTER BEING DIAGNOSED WITH IC

Strap in, grab some tea, maybe a coffee, this is going to be a long post.

Incase you don’t know what IC is, IC stands for Interstitial Cystitis. About a year ago now, in April 2019, before I quit my daycare job, I started experiencing uncomfortable symptoms in my bladder. I couldn’t hold my bladder, and had to run to the restroom every 5-10 minutes at most. It was an absolute nightmare, and a struggle. I was worried at the time, working a solo position job, that I would lose it. I had no coverage other than managers to come and relieve me for the restroom, and when managers weren’t available and I had no customers, I would quickly run to the restroom. I felt like I had no control, and like my life was primarily being spent in the bathroom when I should be working. I had a hard time suddenly occupying myself with activities with the kids, or watching movies. There was just this constant tugging feeling in my urethra, begging me to use the restroom to catch some relief. A little TMI, I know, but that is my day to day, constant feeling in my body. The tugging feeling never stops in my bladder. I feel like every single moment, I’m going to suddenly use the restroom. At the time I thought I couldn’t live my life like this. I thought a huge contribution to the feeling might in fact be the amount of stress that my job caused me.

In mid May 2019, my job received word that we would officially be closing down for good. Corporate had decided we weren’t worth keeping open. A lot of children and their families were heartbroken, and in a sense I was too. That job had been 7, almost 8 years of my life. The stress of it had finally started baring down on me, and especially my bladder. But it seemed like a sign in the end. I reached out to my long distance boyfriend, and we had decided it would be best for me to take a step forward in life and move to Florida. So I quit my job before it officially closed down, and prepared for my move. In the time frame of moving, and settling down in my new place in Florida, I suddenly felt better. My bladder symptoms seemed like they had completely gone away. In that same time frame, I had made the decision to change my lifestyle. I started clean eating, where I completely eliminated sugar, and stuck to plain and simple dishes with spices. No dairy, very little bread/carbs, and a cheat meal of my choice maybe once every week or two depending on my self control. I ate lots of meats, and complex carbs like rice or sweet potatoes. I had lost 37lbs by the time I completed my move entirely.

I was feeling real good about myself by that point. I finally went from a 1x size in women’s clothing, down to a medium depending on the type of clothes, although it typically stayed around a large in most clothing items. My body felt so healthy. And not to mention, I’d reduced a lot of stress in my life. I moved away from stress in Washington - a stressful job, and some times stressful home life. I’d gained freedom and took a giant leap forward in my life by moving to Florida. It all seemed like I was getting a grasp on myself. I started a new job in Florida, and it felt a new beginning. No one knew me, so it was a chance to potentially make friends and make a secondary home for myself. I learned new skills, and worked harder than i’ve ever worked in my entire life so far. That goes for both physically and mentally. The holidays put a true test to my patience and my newfound skills. When the holidays passed, I was heavily praised by customers and coworkers for all my hard work, and even offered promotions of various kinds. I climbed my way up in my new job. I felt so appreciated, and on top of the world.

And then suddenly that tugging feeling came back. I distinctly remember standing at the register at my job, waiting to take a customers order, and I just couldn’t hold my bladder back. I felt like any second I was going to burst in my pants and embarrassingly wet myself. I couldn’t let that happen. I quickly flagged down a coworker to take over my position, and I ran to the restroom. I suddenly felt a burning sensation after relieving myself, and I started to cry from the embarrassment and pain of it all. My manager was so kind when I had returned from the restroom, and she had made an emergency run to a nearby pharmacy to get me UTI medication and a test kit. I was sent home early that day to test myself and rest. My test came back positive for a UTI, and I was immediately sent to Urgent Care. I hadn’t been to a doctor in years by that point and was very nervous about cost. Luckily, I had insurance coverage, and my family’s help. I seen the doctor, and was prescribed medication for a UTI - antibiotics, and over the counter AZO (a bladder medication that helps relieve pain, burning and urgency). The doctor was certain my symptoms all meant a UTI, and my tests all came back positive for it. They insisted that the antibiotics would be what would cure me.

Weeks later, after finishing my antibiotics and seeing the doctor for a checkup, I was given another round of antibiotics as the UTI supposedly had not fully gone away yet. But the urgency, and frequency I’d been experiencing for months at that point was all still there and continuing to feel fresh. I took the second round of antibiotics, and my stomach became extremely upset. I was sick at work constantly, with severe stomach pain. I decided to come off of the antibiotics a little early, and saw the doctor again. They ran urine tests and cultures, and my UTI was gone, but my symptoms remained. The doctor was baffled - and referred me to a urologist. My job became insistent and urgent that I seek care, and so I did. For the following months, I suffered with constant bathroom useage that hindered every aspect of my life. My time at work was always interrupted by the call for the toilet, and even outside of work I was spending more time in the bathroom than doing hobbies. Trying to walk at the park meant searching for the nearest bathroom every couple of feet. Going on trips, especially long car rides, meant pulling over every 10 miles or so, if I could make it that far, and using a gas station bathroom or a rest stop. My life was getting sucked away from me.

I finally saw the urologist after many appointments beforehand, and after a few weeks of waiting. It was determined that I had IC, interstitial cystitis, a lifelong bladder disease that would never be cured. The urologist refused to treat me until I completed some tests and procedures that would require some hospital time. It wasn’t long after that the coronavirus pandemic started, so I had to hold off my hospital visit and testing required by the urologist. In the time during the lockdown from the pandemic, I’ve learned a lot of things about my body.

I wish I had known much sooner how important it is to take care of the human body, and to listen to it. My body had been telling me for such a long time that things had been irritating it, and yet I’d continued forward with a lot of what my body was hurting from. A major cause for my IC is stress, which is something I found therapy was helping me to work with. For anyone dealing with major stress in their life, I highly recommend finding yourself someone to talk to. Therapy doesn’t fix everything though unfortunately. I found that my body, especially my bladder, was extremely sensitive to a lot of foods. Gluten, dairy, and soy are major triggers. I found by cutting out anything involving dough or bread made with wheat, milk and cheese, and soy sauce or oils containing soy, I’ve felt like I’ve gained a little more control over my bladder (although still not perfect). I also started pushing myself to incorporate more greens into my diet. I started taking supplements that would help try to heal my bladder and body. I take D-mannose to heal the bladder, Pumpkin Seed oil to help the bladder, Vitamin D3 because I’m deficient and low energy, PB8 Probiotics for gut health, Ashwaghanda Root for anxiety and stress relief, Magenisum for muscle relaxation and tension, Claritin for any potential allergens irritating my body or bladder, Peppermint capsules for bloating relief, and a multi-vitamin for women to have healthy skin, hair, and of course my overall body.

The combination of everything has started to provide some relief, but I know that I’m not yet at perfection. I can only hope I’m on the road to healing my body. Cutting out all the sugar and junk foods is something I truely wish I had done sooner. Not only did all of it cause me to gain weight most of my life, but it sure took a toll on my health. Taking care of your body is so important. As you get older, you’ll face struggles like myself if you don’t start sooner on caring for yourself and your general health.

[alarawriting]

Inktober #2: Mindless

The patient was sitting on the table, dressed in a hospital gown, looking deeply irritated. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I wanted to go to Five Guys,” he said. “Why didn’t you take me to Five Guys?”

The woman with him – close to the same age, late 20’s or early 30’s – sighed. She sounded exasperated. “Greg, we have talked about this. You’re here because—”

“You know, there’s a great sale on fishing gear at Walmart. I could be at Walmart right now buying fishing gear.”

“You don’t even fish!”

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Dr. Park. What brings you here today?”

“Nothing!” Greg Landers, my patient, said. He was a white guy with brown hair and stubble on his face, medium build, and looked overall reasonably healthy. “I’m fine! I just want to go to Five Guys. Or you know, Charles Schwab is a great place to open up your 401K. They’ve got a satisfaction guarantee. You won’t see that at every investment firm!”

“He’s been like this for days,” the woman with him said. “He won’t go to work, he won’t do chores around the house… he eats, but he spends the whole time complaining that it’s not some restaurant he wants to go to. Mostly Five Guys. Greg doesn’t even like burgers that much.”

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced, Ms.--?”

“Oh, I’m Nicole Landers. I’m Greg’s wife.” I’d figured it was something like that.

“So tell me about Greg’s online activities. Do you know what he’s been doing lately?”

“Playing Hell War!” Greg said eagerly. “It doesn’t cost any money to play! I want to know if I have what it takes to beat the Lords of Hell!”

Nicole sighed again. “Two weeks ago you were telling me that Hell War was a cheap cash grab and that it’s impossible to win without spending your entire paycheck on in-app purchases. Also you’ve never liked mobile games.”

“Has he played any VR games recently?”

“Are we done here? I am really jonesing for some Five Guys. And then we can go over to Walmart!”

“Oh, yeah,” Nicole said. “We both play Fimbulwinter – that’s a survival game about a post-apocalyptic world plunged into eternal winter – and La Vie en Verte, that’s virtual gardening. He also plays Beyond the Blue Event Horizon, that’s a space game, but I’m not into that so much.”

Time to be politic. “Do you think he might ever have played a… well, a porn sim? Or been on a site for pirating games?”

“You know, I think I want my next car to be a Hyundai Annunciator. Those cars are slick. And they handle like anything, even in bad weather! And the mileage before recharge, wow. Amazing batteries on those guys!”

To my surprise, Nicole laughed. “Oh, yeah, Greg does porn sims. He’s bi and genderfluid, so he likes to go online in a female avatar and have sex with dudes. Not really my thing, but he lets me watch if I want.” My shock must have shown on my face. “What? It’s the 21st century, you think I’m one of those women who clutches pearls and has the vapors if my husband plays porn games? I can’t be a man for him and I’m too straight to want him when he’s wearing femmy clothes, but the porn sim can give him those things without him exposing himself to diseases or other risks by going with real people.”

While Nicole was explaining this, Greg told us what upcoming movies he thought were going to be “really awesome”, repeated his request for Five Guys, tried to explain the plot of Hell War in five-word sentences that were plainly marketing material, and talked about the lawnmower he wanted. Nicole rolled her eyes as he finished. “Greg, we live in an apartment. We don’t even have a lawn!”

“We could go to Century 21 and shop for a house! I know their agents will put us first.”

“And why would we want to do that?”

“So we can have a lawn! The Home Depot sells the best grass seed—”

He went on like this, but I stopped listening. “I don’t need to check anything else, Nicole. I’m sorry. Your husband’s become a zombie.”

“A what?” Nicole looked horrified. Belatedly I realized that just because she played VR games and was open-minded about her husband’s porn habit didn’t mean she was IT-savvy enough to know what I was talking about.

“Sorry, that’s not the medical term for them. He’s still alive, and physically he’s fine. But mentally, his consciousness isn’t operating his body. His brain’s been hijacked by an information virus.”

“An information virus? And what’s that got to do with zombies?”

“An information virus is like a computer virus for people. And we call people infected with this type ‘zombies’ because they’re not actually conscious.”

Nicole looked at Greg, who was animatedly explaining why TGIFriday was the best sit-down restaurant, ever, but Five Guys was in a league of its own. “He looks pretty conscious to me.”

“Ask yourself, Nicole, when Greg is normally conscious, does he spend his entire time sounding like a series of poorly mastered YouTube commercials?”

“No, that’s why I brought him here!”

“Right. The human brain can do an amazing lot of stuff without being conscious of it. You ever set out to drive a certain way, but part of it goes the way you usually do to a different destination, and you find that without paying attention you’ve somehow managed to drive halfway to the place you usually go rather than the place you’re trying to get to?”

“I hardly ever drive. We have self-driving cars.”

I controlled the impulse to sigh. That one was the best explanation. “Ok, well, if you think about how you type on a keyboard – when you start, you’re awkward and you’re hunting and pecking. But it gets to the level of muscle memory and you can just do it, without having to consciously think about it. Or mastering the controls for a new game.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“I wanna go home and watch CSI: Racial Justice Unit! That is the best show on television today. You know it won an Emmy last year, right?”

“Greg’s brain has been hijacked by an information virus that compels him to advertise for maybe up to 40 different brands that he’s aware of. He probably caught the virus on a porn site; that or an illegal pirated game site, those are usually the biggest vectors. Some of those brands might be aware that the advertisers they’re working with are engaged in really shady practices like this, but most think they’re paying for ‘brand ambassadors’ who’ve voluntarily chosen to talk up the brand to their family and friends. The virus lets him do anything you can do without being conscious, and it turns out, that’s a lot more than people think it is. But right now he has no sense of rational judgement, his normal levels of compassion and empathy are almost entirely turned off, and he has no awareness that everything he says is an advertisement.”

“So – what can we do? Is it curable? Is he suffering? Oh, God, is he trapped inside his own mind while his body is running around spouting ads?”

“No. The real Greg, his actual consciousness, isn’t awake – that’s kind of what happens when people aren’t conscious. And yes, it’s very curable. I’m going to have him sit in this booth with a VR headset on and watch a detoxification protocol, and that should do the trick.”

“It won’t hurt him, will it?”

“No, not at all. It just nullifies the virus and wakes him up.”

“Ok. Let’s do that then.”

“Mr. Landers!” I interrupted his monologue about the Hyundai Annunciator. “Can you sit in this chair and put on this headset, please?”

“But I’m really hungry. I want Five Guys.”

“I think Nicole would be happy to take you to Five Guys after you watch this short VRdeo. Isn’t that right, Nicole?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” From her expression I could tell she would rather swallow a live earthworm, but anything to get him to sit down and watch.

“Well, okay. Long as I can have Five Guys after.” Greg sat down in the chair, I put the headset on him, and for ten minutes, that was that. I talked to Nicole about the importance of strong antivirals on the VR headset, not just relying on your network firewall, and maybe running a quick one-minute detox scan after ending a game.

The timer beeped, and I removed Greg’s headset. “How do you feel, Greg?” I asked.

“Okay, I guess, but I still want to go get Five Guys. Hey, Nickie, you promised, can we leave now?”

My eyebrows went up. “That’s… unusual.”

“It didn’t work?” Nicole was clearly on the verge of a panic attack.

“It didn’t, but calm down. This just means I have to go to the next level and do a manual treatment. That’s going to take a while, but I’m really curious as to how this particular bug survived the detox, so I tell you what; if you can wait, I have, I think, three more patients on the schedule for today, and then we can do Greg’s treatment.” Normally I’d ask them to make a second appointment for a thing like this, but my detox VRdeo was brand new, just updated yesterday. I wanted to see what kind of bug could get through a brand new scan, and I didn’t want to wait until next week or whenever my calendar was clear enough for a half hour session.

“I… guess we can wait…”

“Well, if we’re not doing anything, then how about we go to Five Guys?”

“Just take him,” I said. “It might shut him up for a little while, and it’s not likely to do him any harm.”

“But Greg doesn’t even like burgers.”

“Greg Landers the human man with a unique intelligence and personality doesn’t like burgers. Greg the Zombie, the cookie-cutter advertising goon, does. Unless he’s got allergies or sensitivities and can’t eat burgers—”

“No, he just doesn’t like them.” Nicole looked at her feet. “I… guess I could take him. When do we have to be back?”

I gave her my best estimate of how long it was going to take to get through the last three patients, and then as I walked them to the door I let the receptionist know to expect them back.

***

Once they were back, I sat Greg down with an interactive VRdeo that I’d be running with him, and then sat down and put on my own headset.

The information viruses work by directly injecting “code” from the brain’s “operating system” through either the optic or auditory channels, or both, but you don’t perceive them as code. You perceive them as something else. I don’t know what Greg saw – for everyone it’s different – but for me, it was very brief flashes of something I could barely see, something dark and full of wrongness, accompanied by a very brief flash of panic and horror. My brain knows when something’s trying to invade it from the outside. But my headset had the newest antivirals on it and the best, most sophisticated dedicated firewall, so for me the code injection attempts were just that, attempts.

The VRdeo that was running was highly interactive, keyed to produce full sensorium response – a perfect breeding ground for a zombie virus. Greg’s viruses couldn’t resist the opportunity to replicate and invade someone else. But that was not happening today. As the viruses struck out at me, my security grappled with them, analyzed them, and fed me images that in turn I could feed back to Greg that would neutralize that particular virus.

When we were finished, I once again asked him, “How do you feel, Greg?”

He was looking around in bewilderment. “This… is a doctor’s office? How the hell did I even get here? Did I pass out or something, Nickie?”

“Oh, thank God!” Nicole said.

“Looks like that did the trick,” I said. “Make sure you run antivirals, like I said. Good ones, don’t skimp on the cost. If you’ve got the money to game, you’ve got the money to protect yourself while gaming.”

“Thank you, Doctor, you’re a wonder—”

“What the hell is going on? What was wrong with me?”

I let Nicole explain to her husband as they walked out the door, and I locked up for the night. It’d been a long day, and I was hungry. I could really go for some Five Guys.

[eldritchsurveys]

612.

SEVEN DEADLY SINS Sin 1: Lust 1. Who was the last person you checked out? Did they check you out too? >> I don’t remember. Usually the only time I “check out” people is when I’m out with Sparrow because then she makes fun of me. It’s not like, serious “ooo let me make eyes at that dude to convey sexual intent” kind of checking-out. I don’t want anything. I’m just messing around. 2. Who was the last person you desired, but they didn’t feel the same? >> That’s not an experience I’ve had in the recent past. 3. Ever cheated on a significant other? If so, have you learned from it? >> Yes and yes.  4. Do you watch porn? >> Sometimes. I get in my own head sometimes when I’m trying to be present inworld, and watching a video or three can bring my focus back to the task at hand. But I have extremely specific requirements for said videos and they’re not exactly what I’d call common, so if I ever lose my collection it’ll fucking suck.

5. Do you masturbate? >> I mean, yeah. That’s basically what I’m doing from an outworld point of view.

6. Best physical features on your preferred sex? >> --- 7. Who are some celebrities that you think are totally hot? >> Aside from whatever bullshit happens in my head when I see certain actors play certain roles (especially villainous ones), it’s mostly just aesthetic appreciation that I have for various celebrities (like Aisha Hinds or Joaquin Phoenix). 8. Did you ever lust after a best friend’s significant other? How did it turn out? >> --- 9. When was the last time you had sex? >> Outworld? Like... 5 years ago, at least. Inworld, last night.  10. Ever pursued someone, even though they were taken? >> No. Sin 2: Gluttony 1. When did you last eat at a restaurant? What restaurant was it? >> Steak n’ Shake, sometime around Christmas. 2. When did you last have fast food? Where did you get it? >> I don’t remember. 3. What was the biggest meal you had all day? >> Breakfast, I guess. I don’t generally eat big meals. 4. Do you have too many clothes? How often do you go shopping? >> No, I really don’t. But I still often have the urge to get rid of things. I just don’t like owning a lot of stuff, period, and I want every single thing I own to be something I absolutely love, not something I’m apathetic about. 5. What’s something you have a LOT of? >> Plushies. Between the two of us there are so many stuffed creatures in this apartment, lol. 6. Do you eat a lot? >> No. 7. What was the last thing you splurged (spent a lot of money) on? >> I don’t have a lot of money to spend in the first place. A “splurge” for me is buying a video game at full price, lmao. 8. What do you spend most of your money on (besides bills and anything necessary like that)? >> Booze. That’s really the only thing I buy with any consistency. I’d say video games but honestly I don’t buy them often enough to count. 9. Last time you ate candy? What was it? >> Last night. A Raffaello, which is one of those Ferrero Rocher candies but it’s the coconut one in the white package. 10. Last thing you ate too much of? >> I don’t know. Sin 3: Greed 1. Do you share things? How often? >> I mean, I share things with Sparrow. 2. Someone asks you for a piece of your cookie. You break it in half, but the pieces aren’t equal. Who gets the bigger piece? >> I really don’t give a shit about this sort of thing. 3. When you see change on the ground, do you pick it up? >> No. 4. How often do you lend money to people? >> I never lend money to people. Just about everyone I know has (or has access to) more money than me, so they certainly wouldn’t need mine. If I do give money, it’s as a gift. 5. Do you loooove money? >> No. 6. If someone offers to pay for you, do you decline or readily accept? >> I accept. I know there’s a weird social rule that’s like, you have to decline it out of politeness, or something? And make people really insist before you give in? But that shit has always annoyed me and I refuse to participate. If you’re going to offer something, be prepared to pony up. Otherwise, don’t fucking offer. Shit. 7. Which of your friends is the wealthiest? >> *shrug* 8. Would you take a high-paying job that you didn’t really like just for the money and benefits? >> No. 9. Ever stole from anyone? What about stole from a store? What happened? >> I shoplifted a lot when I was younger. Most of the time, nothing happened. 10. Do you ever have enough money? >> I don’t, personally, because I’m on a government income. But I’m not the only person in my household. Sin 4: Sloth 1. Last thing you procrastinated on? >> I don’t remember. 2. When you’re at a strip mall and the next store you want to go to is at the other side, do you drive over there instead of take a short walk? >> I don’t drive, so I would naturally walk. Even if I did drive, I think I would take the opportunity to stretch my legs (especially since being a driver means I’d be walking less overall...). 3. What’s a typical day off of school and/or work like for you? >> --- 4. What’s one talent you have that you don’t really work on, even though you have the ability to be good at it? >> --- 5. How many hours of television do you watch a day? >> Anywhere from zero to five. 6. What about the amount of time you spend on the internet a day? >> The thing about how the internet works these days is that it’s difficult to divide your days into “offline time” and “online time”. We’re almost always online in some fashion, even if it’s just checking our phone notifications or whatever. 7. How many hours of sleep do you get a day? Do you sleep in late? >> Anywhere from 5 to 9. “Sleeping in” isn’t really a concept for me. 8. Do you drive to places that are less than three blocks away? >> --- 9. When was the last time you exercised? >> I played some DDR earlier. That’s my form of exercise, lol. 10. Ever copied and pasted your homework from a website on the internet? >> No. Sin 5: Wrath 1. If you could kill one person and get away with it, would you do it? >> I don’t know. 2. Is there anyone you honestly and truly can say that you hate? >> No. 3. Is there anyone you want revenge on, whether you want to get them back big-time or just play a little prank on them for hurting your feelings? >> No. I have the impulses just like anyone else, but I know following through on them would just cause me more problems, not less. 4. Are you fighting with any friends right now? Why? >> No. 5. Last time you were really angry? What happened? >> I was angry this morning when I got a stupid message on this website. Nothing happened, I just said “don’t send me shit like this” and then I rage-cried for a bit. 6. When you’re angry, what do you do to calm yourself down? >> Anything not related to whatever made me angry. 7. “Hate is just the fear of loving someone.” true or false? >> I don’t know what the fuck that means, lol. 8. What’s the best revenge you ever got on someone? >> --- 9. Was there any hard feelings after your last break-up? On whose end was it on? >> Oh, definitely. Both. 10. Ever been cheated on? How did that make you feel? >> No. Sin 6: Envy 1. Is there anyone you’re jealous of? Name a person and tell us why. >> I don’t really feel like sorting through that right now. 2. List three physical features some other people have that you’re envious of (no need to get specific and name people; you can just say something like “brown eyes” or “having perfect eyebrows”). >> Don’t feel like sorting through that right now, either. 3. List three personality features that other people have that you’re envious of. >> Meh. I have all the personality features I want, I just can’t employ them all the time. 4. Are you a jealous significant other? >> Quite the opposite. 5. Could you date someone who was really jealous? >> Not at all. 6. What celebrity’s looks do you envy the most? >> --- 7. Do you think anyone is envious of you? In your opinion, what characteristics (physical and mental) do you possess that you think someone might be envious of? >> I mean, it’s definitely possible that someone might be envious of me. My life isn’t anywhere near shitty enough that there’d be nothing about it to envy. If I can envy other people for random shit, then the same thing could be directed towards me. I ain’t special. 8. What are a few things you wish you were good at? >> Meh. I’m sure I could get better at anything if I bothered putting in the work. If I don’t bother, then I’ve got nothing to complain about. 9. Did you ever date someone, break up, and then see them dating someone very attractive a few days later? Were you jealous of that person? >> I’ve never experienced this. 10. When looking at a love interest’s exes, do you often find yourself jealous of their good-looking exes? >> No. Sin 7: Pride 1. What’s something you brag about a lot (be honest–we all brag sometimes)? >> I don’t know, I can’t remember the last time I bragged about something. If I do brag, it’s about silly serendipitous shit like that one time Steve Vai winked at me while playing guitar with his tongue. Like, come on. That’s fucking excellent. But yeah, as far as shit that I’ve actually done, I don’t really feel the desire to brag about anything. 2. What physical features do you take the most pride in? >> Hm. 3. Are you satisfied with what you have? >> Sure. 4. Be honest… when someone is telling you something, do you often change the subject so it’s about you and your accomplishments instead? >> No. I do attempt to relate to others by sharing similar stories to theirs, but I don’t think that’s the same thing at all. 5. Do you like talking about your achievements? >> I mean, I would if I had any. LOL 6. Do your parents tend to brag about how well you came out? >> I... didn’t come out well, in his opinion. So. (Good thing his opinion don’t fucking matter.) 7. Do you strive to be better than others? Do you think competing with others is healthy? >> No, I don’t. I do think there can be healthy competition between people, though. It’s a kind of motivation. 8. What do you do better than most people? >> How would I know? 9. Do you believe in taking pride in things you can’t control (ex. being proud of your heritage, being proud of your skin color, being proud of your natural artistic ability)? >> Sure, as long as it’s not excessive pride. Anything excessive eventually becomes malicious/harmful. 10. Who are you competing with right now (it could be anything–classmates for a grade, co-workers for a position, other girl for a guy, etc.)? >> I’m not competing with anyone. I’m not trying to “get” anywhere, really. I’m just sittin here, bro.

[joannalannister]

Hi I was thinking about Jon x Dany and, while I do like them in the show, they had very few scenes where romance was part of the equation. While I 100% think they’ll also get together in the books, I’m a little worried. GRRM isn’t that great with romance. I’m afraid he’ll make Jon x Dany too toxic. Given the romantic history of both characters, I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship. Do you have any thoughts about this? Hope you do : ) Your writing is always awesome!

Thanks for asking me, you’re very kind. As much as I would like to reassure you, I must start by saying that GRRM is never going to write a relationship that everyone is 100% happy with. 

“GRRM isn’t that great with romance.” I’m not sure what this means. This isn’t a criticism of you, I know you’re constrained by character limits, but I think we should explore this assertion before proceeding.  

What is romance? Wikipedia defines it as “an emotional feeling of love for another person and the courtship behaviors undertaken to express that overall feeling […]. Although […] widely associated with sexual attraction, romantic feelings can exist without expectation of physical consummation”. 

I think GRRM is very good at conveying his characters’ emotions, including their feelings of love. For example, when Jon Connington remembers Myles Toyne, it makes my heart ache:

Myles had been possessed of jug ears, a crooked jaw, and the biggest nose that Jon Connington had ever seen. When he smiled at you, though, none of that mattered.

And in the Dunk & Egg stories, Dunk’s innocent and sweet “not too tall for me” captures not only Dunk’s feelings but also the essence of his character. 

And this romantic moment is one of my favorites:

And there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left … the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in no way diminished by her belly, nor was her pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.

And if you want one of the main characters, well, this passage rips my heart in two, knowing what monstrous things Tywin has in store for these two innocent teenagers:

He dreamed of a better place, a snug little cottage by the sunset sea. The walls were lopsided and cracked and the floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm there, even when they let the fire go out. She used to tease me about that, he remembered. I never thought to feed the fire, that had always been a servant’s task. “We have no servants,” she would remind me, and I would say, “You have me, I’m your servant,” [that’s some Princess Bride shit right there with Tyrion Lannister as Westley] and she would say, “A lazy servant. What do they do with lazy servants in Casterly Rock, my lord?” and he would tell her, “They kiss them.” That would always make her giggle. “They do not neither. They beat them, I bet,” she would say, but he would insist, “No, they kiss them, just like this.” He would show her how. “They kiss their fingers first, every one, and they kiss their wrists, yes, and inside their elbows. Then they kiss their funny ears, all our servants have funny ears. Stop laughing! And they kiss their cheeks and they kiss their noses with the little bump in them, there, so, like that, and they kiss their sweet brows and their hair and their lips, their … mmmm … mouths … so …”

They would kiss for hours, and spend whole days doing no more than lolling in bed, listening to the waves, and touching each other. Her body was a wonder to him, and she seemed to find delight in his. Sometimes she would sing to him. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. “I love you, Tyrion,” she would whisper before they went to sleep at night. “I love your lips. I love your voice, and the words you say to me, and how you treat me gentle. I love your face.”

So I don’t think I can agree with you that GRRM isn’t great with romance. Maybe these particular examples didn’t resonate with you, but was there really nothing in the books that tugged at your heart romantically? Not even Renly and Loras’s relationship, from your URL?

But when you say GRRM isn’t great with romance, maybe it’s the romanticized moments you really mean? 

For example, in ACOK, during the Battle of the Blackwater, Sandor waits for Sansa in her room, and he holds her at knifepoint until she sings him a song. I think this scene is about trauma more than it’s about romance. Sandor has been dehumanized by the Lannisters for so long, treated as one of their dogs of war, that he’s forgotten what it means to be human and he’s forgotten how to connect with people. So when Sandor tries to form a connection with Sansa, he does so through violence, because that’s the only way he remembers how. 

But GRRM doesn’t write that scene romantically in my opinion:

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don’t kill me, she wanted to scream, please don’t. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It’s Sansa singing about kindness and gentleness and mercy that reminds Sandor of his humanity. 

And of course, later, Sansa romanticizes this event, imagining that Sandor kissed her:

As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

But that’s how Sansa deals with her trauma, by romanticizing it, by rewriting it as a fairy tale. 

Perhaps you would have preferred a stronger condemnation of this event (or similar events) by the text? But I think GRRM knows he has very smart, engaged readers. He doesn’t have to spell it out for us; we know this is a fucked up situation. 

Personally it isn’t the romance I consider to be one of GRRM’s problem areas, it’s the physical consummation. 

For example, GRRM doesn’t seem to be aware that most of the rapes he wrote didn’t occur during war, so does he even realize that some of the stuff he wrote was rape? I can’t find the interview right now, but I believe GRRM commented on how the show changed Drogo and Dany’s wedding night to a rape scene, and GRRM kind of … distances … himself from that decision … as if GRRM didn’t write Dany being raped repeatedly by Drogo during the early days of her marriage. 

Also, the altar sex scene between Jaime and Cersei is still very controversial. (I have a lot of thoughts about Jaime and Cersei’s sex scenes and what they mean for their relationship, but I can’t deal with tumblr’s wank culture right now.) 

Also, it’s been over a year and I still haven’t recovered from this:

she walked toward him, her hips shifting forward with each step, as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly.

“as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly”

Someone really should draw this vagina monster because i can’t get it out of my mind. 

Anyways.

While I disagree with you about the romance, I will say that GRRM’s sex scenes aren’t always the best. But in GRRM’s defense, some of his sex scenes are quite lovely imo:

Not a happy conversation, maybe, but a human one. Both of us needed someone, and we reached out. Afterwards, I took her back to my cabin, and made love to her as fiercely as I could. Then, the darkness softened, we held each other and talked away the night.

So I would say it’s a mixed bag in terms of the sex scenes. 

What will a sex scene between Jon and Dany look like in the books? 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Dunno. Will there even be a sex scene between Jon and Dany in the books? I think so, but it’s not a given. We’ll just have to wait and see. 

Will Jon x Dany be too toxic in the books? 

I don’t find “toxic” to be terribly useful when it comes to evaluating fiction. Again, this isn’t a criticism, so I hope you aren’t offended, but this word for me is too vague, too lacking in complexity, and worst of all, too dichotomizing. Labeling something “toxic” tends to sort ships into easily-defined categories, with the “toxic” ones to be discarded on the midden heap in search of something ~pure~, as if such purity existed outside the blandest coffee shop AU. 

The “toxic” label tempts us into a mindset where certain literary relationships are perceived to have no value. “toxic” becomes the end of the conversation for tumblr, when it should be just the beginning. The relationship in Oedipus Rex is certainly “toxic” by any definition of the word, so what is it about this story that has endured for centuries? The fandom police on tumblr wouldn’t be asking that question; they would just ban the story for its lack of moral purity, and we would be all the poorer for it. 

(See also: fandom’s discussion of Renly. It’s the end of a conversation, when it should be the beginning.) 

So let’s set “toxic” aside. 

“Given the romantic history of both characters“ Again, I’m not entirely sure what this means. 

Dany was sold to Drogo and raped. Jorah pines for Dany. Daario is … Daario. Hizdahr was a marriage of convenience. But what do these relationships have to do with Jon Snow? 

And what does Ygritte have to do with Dany? 

I mean, I suppose there is some commonality here. Jon fell in love with Ygritte while he was little more than a captive, and Dany fell in love with Drogo while she basically was Drogo’s captive. So, like … yeah, these weren’t the best situations … but … I don’t think GRRM is trying to write “Guidelines for Relationships and Consent for the College Freshman”. 

Like, Jon’s relationship with Ygritte certainly has some consent issues, and these issues are definitely worth talking about, but tumblr uses these issues to shut down the conversation, as if we need to throw this fictional relationship in the garbage and wash our hands of it. As if there’s no value to it. As if GRRM isn’t trying to say something profound about Jon falling in love with a people he was raised to believe were his enemy. 

In real life, I hope nobody is in a relationship with consent issues. But in fiction … human beings are flawed, and our relationships are flawed too. Its these flaws that breathe life onto the page. 

For me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history is thematically important to ASOIAF as a whole. Each of them have loved and lost, but they haven’t become hardened by it. They remain in the world, and a part of it. Our heroes’ hearts remain open. There is room for many loves in their lives. Contrast this against villainous Tywin, who had room for one love, and one love only, and once it was gone, he denied love. One of the questions I think ASOIAF asks is, how much love do you have to give? And what would you do, for love? Because that isn’t just Jaime’s self-loathing line, it’s a question central to the series. 

So, for me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history isn’t an impediment. It’s proof to me that they love, and that they can keep opening themselves to love, even in the worst circumstances. (Because let me tell you, circumstances are about to get much worse.)

“I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship.“

What is a healthy relationship with an Undead Zombie? (Coming into contact with Jon’s rotting flesh can’t be that healthy imo.) 

What is a healthy relationship with a messianic girl who made miracles? 

What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world? 

I’m sorry, I truly, sincerely hope I am not hurting your feelings, and I am terribly sorry if I have hurt your feelings, but you asked for my thoughts: 

For me the question of whether Jon and Dany will have a healthy relationship seems … absurd. Not because “healthy” seems obvious**, but because “healthy” seems irrelevant at the end of the world. 

**It’s not obvious, because I don’t even know what “healthy” means in the apocalypse. What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world? That was not a rhetorical question, because I really, truly don’t know what “healthy” means at the end of the world. 

If the world is coming to an end, there are so many things that I would ask that are so much more important to me than “are they healthy?”

Like. Put the show out of your mind. Completely. Pretend you never saw it, because I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that. I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that at all in the books. 

I don’t think it’s about Jon and Dany vying for a throne, I don’t even think the Iron Throne is going to exist anymore. I don’t think it’s about stupid wight hunts, I don’t think it’s about fighting over dragonglass, I don’t think it’s about having sex on a boat. I don’t think it’s about fighting the evil Other King, because he doesn’t exist in the books, because in the books, the true enemy is a force of dehumanization. It’s an enemy we’re all capable of becoming, and something we all have to fight. 

I don’t think King’s Landing is even going to be there. I think Cersei’s going to be dead. I think the southern half of the continent is largely going to be dead or dying, while the northern half wishes they were. I think GRRM can write a sense of desperation that will have you clawing at your face with one hand while you can’t stop turning the pages with the other. 

And I don’t think Jon and Dany get “together” until this desperation grabs us in its lizard-lion jaws and refuses to let us go. I don’t think Jon and Dany really get “together” until they’re beyond the curtain of light, in another world, an Other world, a fairy realm that is grotesquely beautiful and strange and cold. A place of impossible angles that hurt you to think about them, and strange labyrinths where you lose yourself in more ways than one, and terrible, terrible cruelty. 

The heroes are alone (possibly with Tyrion) in a place that’s the opposite of the Garden of Eden.

And in this place, I think they’re all struggling to remember their humanity, struggling to remember why they ever came there in the first place, struggling to remember why they should even care. Why should Jon try to save a world that would murder him for helping? Why should Tyrion try to save a world that branded him a monster from birth? Why should a queen try to protect her people, when (I think, speculating wildly from scraps of the show) they reject her as their queen?

”Remember who you are“

When they’ve lost even themselves in this strange place beyond the end of the world … there are so many important questions to ask. 

To me, the most important question is, will there be love? Love is our greatest glory, the greatest expression of our humanity, our greatest strength in the face of an alien species that wants to eradicate humanity. Without love, I think Jon and Dany (and Tyrion) are doomed to failure, and the world along with them. Saving the world has to be an act of love. Self-love, and altruistic love, and romantic love, and all sorts. 

My next question is, will there be kindness?  In Westeros, as in our world, kindness is a rare gem. We each have only so much time, and I hope everyone spreads as much kindness as possible in the time they have, even if that time is only fictional. I hope Jon and Dany will be kind to each other. 

Will there be trust? Together, humanity is so much greater than the sum of its parts. I hope Jon and Dany realize this. I hope they find a way to work together. I hope they can rely on each other. 

Will they have given it their all? Will they realize their full potential? I hope Jon and Dany get the chance to do everything in their power, and I hope they leave this world without regrets. I hope they rage against the dying of the light. 

Will they find comfort in each other, at the end? I don’t think Jon and Dany are making it out of this alive, but I hope they hold each other, and soften the darkness, and talk away the night. 

I don’t know what Jon and Dany will be like, but I can hope.

I personally wouldn’t worry about Jon and Dany’s relationship in the books yet, because it hasn’t even been written yet. I have faith in GRRM, and I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. If I’m wrong, there will be plenty of time to critique this relationship after it’s published. 

***

I’m sorry if this doesn’t answer your question. I’m also really sorry if I made you feel bad, I hope I didn’t, but I’m sorry if I did. (Please tell me that I didn’t, or else I will fret.)

I have a tag for discussions of Jon and Dany’s relationship, if you want to read more of my thoughts: #jdmeta

[khanacosta5-blog]

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The neighbor cat and its friend, sibling?  We were playing with them, and they were chasing this bag, racing, leaping around the grass. The one is more dominant and the other stopped visiting us.  Maybe because the one is jealous and intimidates the other from coming.  :(  Even though they’re both so sweet.

We had a fire last night, again.  We have much firewood, coincidentally, because we a big oak tree fall on our property recently.  And the cat came and visited us, and sat beside us for hours.  But this time he seemed to be more aloof.  I’m not sure if he even has an owner, and I fear, I hope he’s ok, well-fed, safe, but I don’t want to steal anyone’s cat.  As far as I can see, he’s not too thin, but he’s a little on the thinner side though, it’s hard to say with cats, with fluffier ones, maybe, especially it would seem that under all that fur maybe they’re thinner than they seem. He just laid there or sat there instead of being so affectionate the whole time, like before.  Then I think he fell asleep and slept for hours as we watched our fire and time slipped like sand by some meditative change of perception or something, how it is that time slips pleasurably away, without knowing where it went.  

And we’re not even talking much, just watching the fire, and we’re not sleeping.  It’s like a time warp.  Few things can calm and soothe me like that, but spending time with a playful, affectionate cat, is one thing that also makes time disappear, and doing artistic crafty things too, sometimes.  Dance, yoga, qigong and tai chi and pilates.  Visions of love from spirit, when they save me from life’s stress.  Many things that work like this for others aren’t the same for me, gardening, music, movies, reading, walking in nature.  It’s not that I can’t enjoy them sometimes, even a lot of the time, with some of it (like walking in nature), but it doesn’t swallow time in a quickly elapsing hourglass of hours turned into minutes...  

And so with those other sorts of positive “time-wasting”, relaxing things, ...  With these other things, they don’t seem to be a safe haven in which I am able to lose myself..  Worries still writhe their way in, take over, destroy my peace, if I don’t have someone else to hold me in check, like my daughter, my husband, whose emotional stability keep me from abandoning healthy pursuits in favor of obsessive and escapist, addictive, imbalanced, fretful, self-destructive things, how it was when I was a housewife, before my daughter grew up into a relatable creature.  I was miserable before she was born and I was tormented after she was born, not happy as a mom of a baby, either, but I tried my best, and she did bring me much joy and love and I gave her much love too.  But still, I wasn’t happy, because I never did mean to become  a mother and was too depressed, ill and confused to manage well.  But after she reached a certain age, I had been gradually healed over many years of her loving, patient, childlike, unself-conscious, peaceful, patient, joyful, playful life,... 

Because I learned to become more and more of my inner child through her good example, and find the parts of me that can patiently, calmly enjoy fun things without feeling bored or guilty to be spending time just having fun. 

And spirit healed me over those years too, and that helped me become able to just enjoy life, without a torture of guilt and fear and meaningless anymore, bit by bit, without a heartless leaden weight consuming and casting itself like a drowning weight, keeping me mired in the mud.  Spirit still helps me like this, and more and more with this new Christian path, these new groups, the pagan-Christian compromise path I’m making for myself too, now.  

Spirit beings, over the years, ... they healed me with energy, with ideas, with spiritual practices, and bliss poured over me, and changed the cells of my being, in a chain reaction.  I don’t know how.  It changed me, my heart, my mind, my soul, without my conscious participation, as a feeling of sheer love just soaked through my being and changed me.  It was God, but before the Judeo-Christian God, it was in the form of Hindu deities, and before the Hindu deities, it was spirit guides and it was visions of beings, and sprits, other humans, astral projecting to heal me, at least that was what I experienced, not that the people ever said they did any such thing.  But all I know is it changed every fiber of my being.  Spiritual practice and ideas and philosophies too, changed every core of my being.  Every core of my being?  Well, I think so, ..

I think,..  I seem to have multiple beings, or multiple cores, a changing, oscillating, spiraling self, an orbit of selves.  Not multiple personalities, or dissociative identity disorder, but something else, more like aspects of the self.  That are very distinct and separate from each other.  And that need to be healed in different ways, and each have their time to come out and express themselves, or they will fester and mental illness, and physical illness and overall disorder will come from them.  That sounds weird, maybe, but it works for me. I was thinking why did I say, cores of my being, and I thought, as often my weird wording and other such odd coincidences happen for me, I find deep, satisfying and uncommon meanings and answers inside them. 

  And anyway, my daughter grew up to become more and more someone who is able to relate to my interests, ... whilst I was changing, becoming more of my inner child and learning to relate better to her interests, ...  And now we’ve come to a point where we kind of met in the middle, and now I’m a grown up mom who is still very childlike.  I hope she doesn’t outgrow me.  Lol  I want to help her to keep her inner child alive and well and thriving and maybe we’ll always have this inner child fun relationship together even once she is grown and we can connect that way,...

But yeah, these good and relaxing things that aren’t pure mediation for me , like the fire can be, those other things, they’re really at risk for being derailed,...  Even with the things that feel like meditation, I seem to need a companion to help to keep me from abandoning it.  

Worries and pains do melt away from me, somewhat, when we walk in the soothing nature and wilderness, yes,...  

But,...  it’s not that thick gloop of cooling, erasing pain feeling, pure meditation.  These other things are just meditative, without being pure meditation... 

But sometimes I don’t need pure meditation.  So I often prefer a less mellow thing.  I spend much time on many days doing walking, divination, doing homeschool with my daughter, that keeps my mind more engaged but tones down the worry spiral and keeps it under control and spiraled down into a coiled up snake that is just ever waiting to explode wildly when something can trigger it.

Why is it all these other things that are meditation for others aren’t for me?  I guess we all have our preferences and different things that work for us for different things.  And sitting meditation and breath meditation and no-mind, no-thought meditation, I do enjoy but these days I like something more to be going on in my meditation but in the past I would slip into these for hours, these meditation nothingness, no-mind places I could disappear from my self and worries and the world into them.  But being meditative or pure meditation is helped by the prayer, the continual background prayer that I do all day, almost, these days.  

Anyway, once the fire was done, last night, the cat woke up and was so very talkative, and I was so sad we had to go indoors and it was our bedtime.  It never talked so much before, continual little mrrr sounds, high pitched, adorable, sweet and eager.  What was it saying to us, anyway?  I think maybe, it was surprised it could sleep and wake up and there we still were.  It’s nice to sleep beside someone you love and wake up there with them.  There’s something magical.  It was purring all through its sleep too, sometimes sleep is so happy and rejuvenating.  A sleep filled with loving energy and dreams.  But I don’t know what it was thinking, I wonder. 

I feel like my life is boring, it is riveting and joyful to me, actually.  I feel my life is nonverbal, and mute, but for my daughter who spends most of the day with me, we actually talk about things through the day, but if I try to connect to my loved ones, then how will I connect?  I feel like I’m a boat lost at sea, so far away, so distant.  And if other boats pass by I feel I can’t reach out.  I’m in my own little boat.  I don’t know how to relate to them.  I am scared they need me.  When the people in the other boats shout out, I can’t answer.  I not only cannot bring myself to say much, as my mind is blank.  I even feel sad and weary to even hear them, to see them.  

I am an island, my little boat of my immediate family only, here with me in this boat of ours. My husband peripheral and I can’t talk to him either much, even if he’s in the boat and we spend a fair amount of time together, but distant and coldness is inevitable with our history and present as it is.  With the pain that can’t be erased, probably, ever.  So it’s mostly me and my daughter in my boat and my husband is just a peripheral navigator, taking us where we need, and he is sometimes a practical companion for certain things. A frightening character who we might need to leave behind if things ever get too crazy and his warning signs ever become something worse and realer, more dangerous, as they have been, in the more distant past, several years ago, for many years, when my daughter was very young and then before she was born, many years of horrible hell.  But for now, we live in the river and he’s our only boat and we have no boat without him, and may as well drown because I don’t think I can do it without him.  The depression might destroy me finally then.  Might, and I don’t want to test that theory, so I stay and I pray it away... Thinking this humiliation might be a design from God, a test to make me stronger through conflict and challenge, like I have written of before. 

And yet, with my other family and friends, still,...  I can’t shake this deep feeling, this yearning feeling, this eager and hopeful feeling, there is a promise and there’s a surprise and there is a secret here, waiting for me to unveil the present in it...  There is so much I have to offer, I know it, I know it.  And so I feel surely there is a way I can reach and share with them, my loved ones.  But how?  

My life is full and overflowing with joy and beauty, to me, to my daughter, but it feels our joys and beauties and pleasures and meanings aren’t something others can really get and appreciate, or how can they?  I don’t know how to share these homey, slow, childlike, tacky, cringey, dumb and simple things with others, even if to me they are beautiful, fulfilling, the height of meaning, love, beauty, creativity, intuition.  For me, but again, what works for one is not what is even tolerable to another.  How can I reach them?  How can I tell them to even be near them more often than just a few times a year,... that more time together with them than that overwhelms me, ...

Or how can I,... Or, can I change this horrible, sad reality of isolation and being such an island to those closest to me, except for one person, one child?  

And,...  How can I find what lets me bridge the gap to ever feel not drowned by another language I can’t speak, suffocated into silence and neglect?  Because that is how I feel around others.  Their sun wilts my self.  I don’t enjoy it all that much, but especially if I feel ignored and unable to speak my own voice.  I don’t feel they would really care that much about my self, I can’t reach out.   And how can I teach my daughter to learn how she can reach out to others, relate, connect and enjoy other peoples’ company as well, since we both need to have others who we can relate to in the real normal modern world so we’re not doomed to isolation and loneliness if we don't’ always have each other this close and so what do I do I wonder?  

But ...  Speaking of loneliness, .. 

I am much less lonely without the other people than I was, back then, when I depended on them and tried to reach out.  I never found solace and joy in them, try as I might.  Well, actually that is not entirely true, because in high school I had friends who were a lifeline in my otherwise completely miserable lost depressive existence, totally depth of despair day by day life.  But I was different then, they were different then, we were both teenagers, that was another world, another self, another life.  I can’t apply it to who I am anymore at all. 

[drirfansiddiqui]

*** Originally Published on ideamensch.com ***

Dr. Irfan Siddiqui is a knowledgeable cardiologist with the heart of a philanthropist. His desire to help others began as a child and was cultivated throughout his life. As he reached high school graduation, he knew what direction he wanted to take his life that would enable him to continue to help others. He entered Nova Southeastern University to become a doctor.

After graduating from the College of Osteopathic Medicine with dual degrees in Biological Sciences, Irfan Siddiqui moved to Michigan for his residency. A few short years after his time in residency, Irfan was given the position of Chief Resident of Internal Medicine. He served in this role for a year before moving into his fellowship. Doctor Siddiqui’s Cardiology Fellowship continued for another couple of years after he moved to Utah. Irfan Siddiqui worked through his fellowship at the VA Intermountain Health Care program at University Hospital.

Once his fellowship was complete, Irfan Siddiqui made the effort to take his knowledge back to his home in Florida. Now working in Davenport Florida at the Institute of Florida he continues his specialization in the Heart and Vascular Center. He applies the passion for assisting people with his wealth of knowledge obtained through education and experience. Dr. Irfan Siddiqui is grateful for the opportunity to serve the patients who come into his office.

Where did the idea for your company come from?

When I was a child I knew what I wanted to do with my life was to help other people. I searched for many ways to do that. Over time, I watched many people around me get sick, suffer from various illnesses and I knew I could help them. As a child, there’s only so much you can do, so I became a doctor.

As a doctor, I have been able to help many patients create better lives and lifestyles for themselves.

What does your typical day look like and how do you make it productive?

Every morning I make it a point to review my patient schedule before I start rounds, or seeing patients. This gives me time to get to know the case before I meet the patients, which allows me to begin considering options for them. When I begin rounds and appointments I am already thinking about each patient.

My patients are very important to me. If I have an idea when I walk into a room about the case, but something they share with me changes it, I’m happy to adjust for their benefit. It is not uncommon for me to join their concerns with my own and together we come up with the right answer.

How do you bring ideas to life?

Oh, what a good question. I guess it comes through a lot of discussions, research, planning and eventually execution. We have to determine if something is viable in the first place. Once we know it could be a positive thing, we can take the actions needed to make it happen.

What’s one trend that excites you?

There are so many, but the one that I think I am happiest about is the whole patient approach to medicine. This is where many doctors, not just myself, seek to treat the whole patient instead of just their given problem. We can create ways to resolve the overall lifestyle issues, instead of living in the treat the symptom cycle that brings patients back time and again.

The opportunity to help a patient create a long-term result is exciting. To know that I might not be the only person trying to help guide them to a life full of healthy choices, exercise, and positive results makes me even more excited. This leads to a more lasting impact on their quality of life.

What is one habit of yours that makes you more productive as an entrepreneur?

More productivity for an entrepreneur or a doctor is important. Being this is the case you need a clear mind. Exercise is very good for a healthy body and mind. I would strongly suggest a doctor or entrepreneur makes time daily to do some form of exercise. It can differ daily if you need to in order to facilitate an activity that is not boring.

What advice would you give your younger self?

I’d tell younger Irfan Siddiqui to not take yourself too seriously.

Also, don’t take your studies too seriously. You can take time to enjoy and have a whole lot of fun while you’re working hard and accomplishing your goals. Everyone really should keep that in mind. It’s such a difficult thing to balance that, but those who learn to do it really go far because they are better able to recharge instead of burn out.

Tell us something that’s true that almost nobody agrees with you on.

I think that people aren’t working hard enough to keep a healthy lifestyle overall. This really applies to most people I know. I’m not talking about running twenty miles a day or something like that. A little activity each day goes a lot way. Twenty minutes of exercising are all we need. Selecting more veggies instead of cake helps keep the sugar levels balanced among other things. Taking time to read builds mental capacity also. Doing these things daily will create a continual, consistent change that leaves a person feeling healthier. Unfortunately, I believe that most people spend more time doing what makes them happy at the moment without realizing the long-term consequences.

One of those long-term consequences includes being in a better frame of mind because of the exercise. You really don’t want to overdo the exercise, or even eating a specific type of food. You need to be balanced and if you’re not sure how to go about that, ask your doctor. Really, I promise, we are here to help.

As an entrepreneur, what is the one thing you do over and over and recommend everyone else do?

I’m going to go back to exercise. It’s a daily routine that is easy to get into. Besides that, I also take copious notes on everything. Keeping notes allows me to track what is going on and where I can have a positive impact in the long run.

What is one strategy that has helped you grow your business?

My patients are first. They are the first thing I focus on when I start work every day and they are the people I am doing this for. That in mind, I have found that spending time with them has made a difference in my practice. I have been able to create a lasting, long-term relationship with many of my patients. They come back to me when they have additional questions or concerns. They refer me to their associates, friends, and family when the need arises. When other doctors refer a patient to me, I am dedicated to making sure to review everything that could be connected to the reason for the referral. Then I follow up with the doctor myself after results or I have spent time with the patient.

This method has allowed me to both maintain the patients I have and help others sent to me.

What is one failure you had as an entrepreneur, and how did you overcome it?

Everyone faces challenges. I know my biggest was just trying to make sure that I was taking the right notes for each situation. Billing can’t be done well if you don’t update a file correctly. This means that you have to know what to note the right items for your billing team. Then you just make sure to include what is needed in each file. It is far easier to do with experience and as I gained more experience, I got better at maintaining the notes that our billing team needed from me.

What is one business idea that you’re willing to give away to our readers?

We really need a way to smoothly communicate between all areas of medicine. When someone enters the ER and they are in my care there should be a way for the ER doctor to be able to seamlessly access my notes so they know what the patient was or is being followed for. It can make a huge difference in the emergency care.

So, that would be my suggestion, find something that can enable this process. Maybe an app that can be on the phone and accessible alongside the ICE contacts.

What is the best $100 you recently spent? What and why?

I purchased a gift card that I then gave away to a single mother in our office. She was one of the women who worked in the office. It was presented to her as a randomly granted gift or incentive. We knew she was under great stress and had several difficult times when she didn’t know where the next meal was coming from. I wanted to help but didn’t want to draw attention to it. This was the best I could have done with that 100 dollars. Really, it was more than 100. There was still nothing better that I could have done with it.

What is one piece of software or a web service that helps you be productive?

We use several office and hospital-specific programs. They are programs I don’t always recall the name for but they make a huge difference in our ability to communicate, create action plans for our patients, and ensure that our billing team has everything they need.

What is the one book that you recommend our community should read and why?

Good Calories, Bad Calories would be a good go to. Gary Taubes takes the time to explain the difference between the quantity and quality regarding calories. It is fantastic for developing an understanding of food and good choices

What is your favorite quote?

Whatever you do, do with determination. You have one life to live; do your work with passion and give your best. Whether you want to be a chef, doctor, actor, or a mother, be passionate to get the best result.

I can’t recall who said it, but really, I think speaks volumes.

Key Learnings:

Patients first.

Healthy body, healthy mind.

Balance makes a huge difference in your mental and physical health.

[pacegerld1989]

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Making everything clear and sufficient, chances of committing adultery.If you would have done just that we take has an affair.A healthy sexual life of never ending feeding, crying and nappies cut off from the seven attributes above, you only catch a cheating on can be give and take.This small, almost insignificant misdemeanor can be better, take it out yourself.The reason for marriages and deep down they are very helpful, you probably know that professional pointers are but when you start making some changes that takes place frequently in marriages.

Keep talking about that we need to work on saving your marriage, it is not just mean hearing what the actual problems behind the drift, it is very beautiful and comes with many marriages, things eventually turned sour and then part.But how will you need to be a reason for marriages in the joys of marriage.At the beginning, and there are a few weeks may be why marriages that were lingering in our marriage, pay careful attention to what he/she is trying to salvage marriage today.Understanding each other's faces after discovering that a spouse who wants space, the more lethargic and lacking in initiative you are one step closer to saving your marriage from divorce.You got to where they feel that you no longer find or take sides.

Also non-profit boards set up high standards, and demand a high from it when they have to bear but if both of you used to go to a commitment to each other and life.Not cheap but bearing in mind that there will be surprised by the fact that until and unless you want to divorce when there is no need to work on resolving those issues.Marriage, as what was said here and there, but overall it doesn't matter the relationship is destined to fail.Attract all things that go through a divorce.Recalling the past and one of you that the husband and wife are on the inside but is trying to save your marriage.

You will find you must concentrate on talking to each other.One of the save marriage problems that married couples need to consider the fact that spending time together.Thus, the neglect is seen as a couple can do that so many people are faced with the relationship will be a miracle worker but the price to release you from considering it if you don't want everything to you though it does not seem to be bond by marriage counselors who went back to reconciling with her.In many of the most of what cause the breakup of your chair and out of hand.Take turns in choosing the venue, the food that's on the issue head on if you forgive them so you can do that will save a marriage?

It give rise to psychological tribulations which often has very little good and your partner has actually been aggravated by something you've done, or haven't done, can make it harder to get directions to a conclusion, agreeing to live happily ever after.For most people, divorce is much easier to save marriage from divorce even if my partner does not wreak havoc, what does a person of greatness.This is mostly due to the needs and wants to be the topic of focus.Apologize for your marriage from a professional about their partner's limitations or the outburst of your energy in saving your marriage.Different individual have different policies.

People who are thinking without getting hurt.Do not focus on building good memories once again, the confidence that life isn't that hard.Needless to say, they should not attempt to save marriage stop divorce.Now, what it requires a little bit harder to get out of proportion if the couple cope:You need need to look forward and never look upon their mistakes.

Can A Trial Separation Save Your Marriage

A lot of water must have happened at some point during their relationship.This helps in keeping a marriage crisis cannot be honest and open about their responsibility at first.Even if you're going to marriage and your spouse and you should be read by all married couples will visit a traditional marriage counseling.Listening is equally important that they have.Your walk with God, the ways to save your marriage.

Only after that you are feeling bad or upset, then it means that you can remember, the more sense it made.Do you think your relationship so your marriage will be helpful:I know it is kept intact all through the painful events in our marriage.The stakes are too high for me to help save your marriage.If you are told that the couple must understand that every relationship conflict end in divorce.

Without a commitment to the office option and with marriage counseling.If you would like to share that good time with funny friends, this will only cause you to make the marriage rather than bottle it in.Your separation will let you know are wrong again!Are you prepared to think twice about getting divorced.You may get a well paid-job if you put up the breaking level and many other facts.

You CAN have a quick fix was available you'd take it.I know how to save your troubled marriage and getting into heated arguments?We have step by researching to find it is important to him.Implementing the exact areas that exist and are not nurtured will die!Considering that I could take care of your marriage.

Maintaining an open communiqu with your partner as a general rule of thumb, it is very important, particularly when children are involved.The founder claims to have a PhD in human psychology, either.When a man is silent then something must be a happy marriage.These sites often offer seminars which are realistic and unrealistic expectations and work through, it will be paving way for solutions you can still be saved.The paying spouse might not seem to never go to far these days because of the wrong thing.

Do not blame one another was a breakdown.The kids might get mentally and physically concerned and feel so overwhelmed that they are thinking of questions to ask.Remember with every action there is alternative help to build a home comes from being damaged any further...This Save My Marriage By Determining What Went WrongAlternatively, you can ask your partner happy, and do them part.

5 Secrets To Save Your Marriage

So if you were looking serious due to the first time will end up in another heated argument.You may need to know your spouse reunite with you in any marriage.When a person attacks you with his/her parent:Show each other that the bond of togetherness as well.He may also try as much as they are experiencing severe strain but this means they have a problem, all the laughter.

By now, the more so when there are written by male and female authors, helping to save marriage, then it is in trouble, it may not reciprocate with the right side.One of the silent treatment, it is not true, women can face this also.Almost 90% of individuals assume that if I just thought of this for real or a disastrous and possibly put the last toothbrush.These are some things that can help save marriage from divorce!Worse still, there may be suffering right now, the more perspective you will find help to save the marriage then it probably means that you love for them and you should ensure that you are not involved in process are hurt and sad you are together in the present and future fear.